Sunday 30 December 2012

2012: a retrospective

A lot happened this year; TWWOO, the Ten Minuters, the Jesmond saga, the spirit of the butterfly, the dandelion league and the backwards eight...
And, oh yeah, I moved to Australia.
But there was a theme to all of this: I got what I wanted because I made it happen.

I gave a speech at the dress run of TWWOO, saying how the project had been conceived when I'd had a dream the previous November telling me how to do it. I think most of the cast thought I was just being cheesy, but I was deadly serious. I literally made a dream come true- and the funny thing was, I wasn't going to bother. 2011 was such a fuck factory in terms of trying to get stuff on that I was genuinely just gonna let the haters win and give up.
But I didn't- I stopped butting my head against the brick wall that was Bedlam and embraced the pillowy experimentalism of Relief. And that was one of the best decisions I ever made- people actually told me they were sad I hadn't put on more shows. Not only did the show turn out incredibly, but it was a tonne of fun to do, so I chalk that up as a win.

And of course, there's the matter of getting to Australia in the first place; I had forgotten to hand in a very important form, without which essentially I wouldn't be able to enroll in Melbourne. I needed Phoneybone to sign it, but he was away on research. EXCEPT, he was coming back for the graduation party on the day the form needed handing in. I had a choice; sneak into graduation party or risk not going.
I have never felt so underdressed in all my life.

And what about the Ten Minuters? I wasn't going to bother submitting a script- it was an hour before the deadline and I hadn't written anything; I manned up and got to scribin'. And then I wasn't going to audition because there was a film on I wanted to see. Yet again, I did it anyway. I ended up winning awards for both writing and acting. Now who's laughing?

Do you see what I'm saying repeatedly? I got what I wanted because I tried. I'm hoping I can remember that in 2013- because this has been the best year of my life, and I only want it to get better.

Saturday 29 December 2012

Tabula Rasa

So, what have Blank Slate been up to while I was being all secretive? Well, I believe I can sum it all up in one picture:
There. All your questions answered.

In case you can't tell, and I don't imagine you can, that thing in my hands is a puppet, fashioned from bright yellow bin liners and the travel cushion I bought. It has two heads which, if you have incredibly fine eye sight, you will notice are fashioned from barbecue tongs and a pasta strainer.
Yes, we made puppets. And this was the general quality of them. I jest: Andrew's and the other's were much, much better. Which may be why mine ended up being the predator of the puppet world: theirs were much easier to relate to (there was one which had no legs, and a Glasgow smile, poor thing). So, yes, we made a narrative about an abandoned side show freak who is set upon by a hydra which then tears itself apart in fear when its dog is killed...I guess you had to be there. But I was the hydra.
The next day we made even more puppets and I decided I was going to make a jellyfish, which then turned into God. It happens to us all on occasion. Meanwhile, Andrew made cup bunnies, and we essentially made Bambi, with more fucking and Godlyfish. It was fun.

We also tried our hand at scaring each other with only bin bags (Andrew has a fetish); I won't speak of what happened, but there was a lot of choking, blindfolds and burying alive. You really can't imagine the horror.

The next time we met, 'twas just Andrew and I, and we decided to make a music video. I'll post the video below: I'd explain the logic behind it, but I've always felt director's commentaries ruined films.

Friday 28 December 2012

Chasin' Jason

So, Jason has left. This is saddening- but we must soldier on. We will reforge the shattered pieces into a glorious new jigsaw puzzle, one free of Jason and his incessant boasting of how much he has done with his life.

Right after two days of moping in bed.

'But, Rory!' You cry, spittle flying and a crazed look in your eye (my god, you do get passionate about these blog posts, don't you?), 'I wanna hear about Australian Christmas!' At this point, you stamp your feet and throw all your toys out of the cot because I haven't housebroken you properly. Well, fine, metaphorical baby readers, here's how christmas went down: on christmas eve, Jason and I attended a double bill of Shop Around the Corner and It's a Wonderful Life; we had to leave the second slightly early and so in my mind that film now ends with him committing suicide- I don't know why everyone calls it uplifting.

Pictures from the Astor, where we viewed this depressionfest.
Jason and I then returned home and drunkenly chatted with loved ones on the internet, and showed each other pictures of how we used to look (so much hair...*shudder*).
The next morning, Shane, Jason, me and some douche I've never met before had a barbecue for breakfast.

Not pictured: croissants in the conservatory.
There were sausages, sauce and bread. We'd hunted the bread ourselves, because we're MEN. During this time we tried to name all fifty states of the US because the brain can atrophy like any other muscle.
All that's left of the dropbears that jumped us during the bread hunt.
Then, the douche left, stung by his inability to remember New Hampshire, and the three real men sat down to smoke and ruminate. Not cigarettes, little one, my heavens no, but a hukkah pipe. It was really rather relaxing.
Jason's christmas hukkah.

After this, we watched some christmas movies, including Charlie Brown and, perhaps more bizarrely, Batman the Animated series, then Jason and I went for a walk, wherein we encountered a brown snake. Let me dictate for you how it went down:

JASON: (Thick Gloucestershire accent that is somehow at once both homely and grating) Oi'm not looking where I'm going, so oi'm no!

(The brown snake appears. Jason makes to step on it.)

ME: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!


(I dive between Jason and the snake, and, using my incredible kung fu skills, vanquish the fucker (the snake that is, not Jason))

JASON: Oi've never seen a snake trounced so thouroughly before! Neato!
Starring Rik Hart as the serpent.
Truly, I am both the st Patrick and the shakespeare of our time.

On Boxing Day, I saw the Hobbit, and honestly I was disappointed: they've turned what is an enjoyable fantasy heist movie into a bloated diatribe on what 'home' means. There's a lot to be enjoyed, but also a lot that could be cut.
Gandalf the grumpy.
Interestingly, I saw Les Mis and I would have much preferred for that to have been split into multiple films: or, even better, presented like an old film with an interval in between two two hour parts. So, essentially, a stage play on screen. Hmmm...

Then, on the 27th, I stayed up all night with Jason, wishing him farewell and then spent the next two days sleeping it off. Go me. I really will miss the blighter, and am now holding auditions for his replacement, but things aren't looking too swell on that front: I may have to wait til term begins anew. Which is in february. Alack.

P.S. I realise I still owe a Blank slate post and a 'the other stuff I did when I didn't post for ages' post, but hold your horses. They're coming.


Probably.
P.P.S. As of today, this trip is the longest I've ever spent away from home.

Thursday 20 December 2012

Really, really sorry Rachael

...It would seem reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated (I'm looking at you, Spanish Daniel). Yes, despite the best efforts of the world's deadliest continent to boil me to death, the flying crocodiles Jason and I encountered and the spider I found in my coat this morning, I am still entwined within this mortal coil.

But then why have I not been updating?!, you cry, because you're easily excitable; the answer is simple: I was saving it for a christmas present. I was gonna tell you all the exciting things I've been doing this holiday on christmas day itself, thereby rendering that day of days even extra specialer. But you all moaned and whined and lamented and whinged and cried and sneezed and wailed and shrieked and screamed and shouted (Jari was especially bad) that, like that new parent who just wants their infant to shut its freaking face, I'm letting you have your christmas presents early. Lucky you. (especially you, Jari.)

Firstly, apologies to Rachael Murray, who I honestly thought would never read this blog: at least it shows I'm thinking about you (more than what's his face at any rate- you know, the one with the hair). I imagine I'm banned from any Bedlam parties this year. Boo hoo.

Secondly, what have I actually been doing? Well, dear reader(s?), I've really only done one or two uniquely Australian things in the past few weeks. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've been having a ball, but in mostly very conventional ways (cinema trips, coffees with friends, toffees with enemies, banoffees with frenemies): however, I did accompany Jersey Shore (AKA Neato Duh AKA Jason) to the Victorian Parliament House for a tour that was nowhere near as lame as I was expecting. The building really is rather spectacular, with something ridiculous like $6 million worth of gold leaf on the walls, and is mercifully air conditioned: did you know that the Victorian Parliament still has a sergeant at arms present at all meetings in case someone tries to kill the speaker? They're armed with a golden mace: the current sergeant is a 5'1 woman, and honestly the mace is almost as tall as her. I'm not kidding. They also have brains in their street lamps, though they refuse to acknowledge this.
The other ozzie undertaking I undertook was to attend a pool party at one Milly Raso's. A pool party. In the middle of december. Try and get your head around that, ya bloody poms! It was very fun, cos we got to see Neato take his first dip into a pool. And I actually didn't try and submerge him at any point. I'm quite proud of myself for that.

Thirdly, I have been alluding to it throughout this post, and you've no doubt all been pondering on it, so I'll just go ahead and spit it out: it's bloody boiling. Christ on a bike, but it is hot. And it's gonna be hot for a long time to come. I now know why slow-cooking turkeys don't just up and out the oven: it's too friggin' hot to move. Like, seriously. It just saps your energy. I mean, I saw a flash mob the other day and I honestly woulda joined, if not for the forty degree heat. I left them to their sweaty fun and chilled in a lord of the fries (it gets mention on this blog just cos I love the name).
This heat has allowed for some relevations: a) it is fucking amazing that Australians are so unilaterally pale, b) air conditioning should not be a privilege but a RIGHT, protected by Geneva and all and c) Ozzie bartenders cannot prepare pimms to save their lives. One actually tried to serve it to me straight, no lemonade or nothing. I put her in her place. My antipodean pals have naturally never heard of Pimms, and think me a silly beggar for drinking it when there are perfectly good stubbies to be had, but they can suck a lemon. After they've put it in my pimms, which is served with lemonade, ya daftie.

There is more to tell, and I will do so in part 2, expected some time this evening. I will also post some time tomorrow on the advancements made by Blank Slate theatre, which I know you're all salivating to hear, and there is a video which I just can't wait to show you. Well, evidently I can wait, because I am. But, yes, fun times ahead. Get excited.

And Daniel, stop declaring me dead, please. It's frustrating.

Wednesday 14 November 2012

Must dash

Today was the first official day of the summer holidays pour moi. Well, that's a lie. Technically the summer hols began for me on the 16th May this year. They then paused on the 23rd July, and have now resumed. Yes, all you Edinburghians (as previously stated, no Edinburghians are reading) who rubbed your August in my face, I now get a sunny November, December, January and February, and I'm in bloody Australia and you're just in Edinburgh. Neener neener.
I spent today sleeping. I am unashamed of this fact; I did manage to go to coles, so I am so far keeping my promise to leave Yarra house every day of this holiday. Go me.
Then, this evening I went to a movember event, and spectacularly failed to win any of the moustache competitions. I wonder why.
I really have no idea.
P.S. This is the only time I've entered a competition in Yarra  and not won.
And then I tried the cinnamon challenge. Apparently, I was unyielding in my reaction; stoic, unphased, completely, utterly British. After all, I am a cinnaMAN, not a cinnaGIRL. Then we played Halo and I actually managed to kill someone (really, really rare) So, yes, this holiday is off to a good start, and hopefully will continue in this vain. Of course, that's up to me.
Let's do this.

Saturday 10 November 2012

Book the 67th

There is no bookshop in Melbourne Central; this makes me very sad. What there is, however, is the littlest library, which makes me very happy indeed.
Sounds like something from Lemony Snicket.
The idea is very simple- you can take any book you like, no need for membership, and then just return it when you're done. Or, if you want to keep it, you can bring another book that you don't want anymore and do a cosmic balancing act.
I have no idea how many books are stolen every year from this place, but I think it's the name that makes it; you just can't disappoint something called the littlest library- it'd be like skinning a cat (naturally, you can disappoint the library in a multitude of ways). 

In other news, I should be working now, minx that I am.

Tuesday 6 November 2012

Rory, Jason and the knaive of hearts

Adrian has left us, not to return until the spring (or the autumn, as the aussies would call it (freaks)). Behind him, he leaves a string of broken Jasons, who had become fast friends with ole' Goldilocks. But all good things must end, and the two will never see each other again. Ever.
I'm crying on the inside...neato.
In other news, I have now written more works based on Invocal songs than not; if I were a writer of note, this would be of interest but I'm not so it isn't and...where was I going with this? Was I just trying to make myself cry? Well, mission accomplised.
Yes, my writers group had its final meeting on Monday (seems like just yesterday I started my travels with the eleventh doctor, now I'm stuck in past New York), and it all culminated in a reading by actors of the pieces we had worked since August (damn, that's a long time...why was mine so awful?). The reading went well, and the actors certainly gave it their all, but cold readings always lack a certain something, so everyone clapped appropriately, but I'm not sure anyone was entirely satisfied. Alack. Still, it was an incredibly fun thing to be a part of, and I got, like, two friends out of it, so go me. (Gonna go ahead and create tags for 'em- Charlotte and Simon (who already has a quote attributed to him)).

Anything else? Well, uni's being a downer, making me work and such. Oh well, at least I managed to get up before twelve today. Hooray!

Sunday 4 November 2012

Rememer, remember, in Oz there's no fifth of November

So, it turns out I won 'best dressed' at the hallowe'en party: I honestly kinda feel it should've gone to Jess, but I get a cinema ticket out of it, so I won't complain.
And I did look bloody irresistible.
In other news, it was Shane's birthday on saturday, and an almight chekhov's gun was employed; in O-week, we did a scavenger hunt, the purpose of which was to collect the ingredients necessary to make gloop. This included, flour, eggs and food dye. Now, since no one felt like getting glooped, we were allowed to just take the ingredients for ourselves. I got a bag of flour (still untouched) and three bottle of food dye. Fast forward four months (ye gods, four months?!) and Manthy wants to pull a trick on Shane by making him eat mayonnaise disguised as chocolate sauce (I know, I know- Loki would blush with jealousy), but there is a problem- it still looks like mayonnaise. Then I remember that I have four month old food dye just sitting on my shelf. And lo, Shane did eat of the mayo, and it was funny as.
You dare laugh at my pain?
To celebrate cue ball's date of birth we all went out to a casino, and I pulled a Jason in that I'd never been to a casino before- well, I put five dollars in a slot machine (honestly, I don't see the appeal- it's not even fun), and ten dollars on a roulette table and I lost all of it, and let's hope that's my history with gambling done. Although, I did go to the dog races in Dublin once. Maybe I'm just incurable.

The mall near my work is all decorated up for christmas, and I know I've pointed this out before, but it's stupid that there are aussie christmas decorations based on snow and icicles. Oh well, this will be my first christmas alone, and at least part of it will feel like home.

In other news, there have been several mentions of Oz on Once Upon a Time, and every time it happens, I squee a little inside. Plus, the most glorious thing happened on QI a couple of weeks ago (I only found this out yesterday):
http://youtu.be/22q7MViXrq4?t=27m9s
Did Stephen Fry just mention where I live by name? As in, not just Melbourne, but YARRA? Why, yes, yes he did. Be jealous, ya tools.

Saturday 3 November 2012

Tender Lumplings everywhere

Dear reader,
it's that time of year again, all hallow's eve. Or, more accurately, it was that time of year four days ago. But, better late than never, so I will display for you the assorted delights of the Yarra Becostumed Discotheque. I am, obviously saving the best for last, but I'll take you through the runners-up first, cos I'm a tease.
Jason as Dr. Lectre.

Cass as a vamp(ire).

Ellie as a fairy, Jason as an alchie and Cass as a nutjob.

Aiden as....himself but fat?

Shane as Bane Al Ghul.

Smeargle as Slender Man.

Aspen did not wear a costume.

Martin as his mother.

Manthy as Amanda Seyfried in Mean Girls. It's ironically skimpy, see?

Alec as an abortion doctor.

Milly as a nurse.

Logan as Not-Joker. 

Jason gives a lectre on the stupidity of having autumn  decorations up when it's spring in Australia.



The 'Pinata'.

Jess as Corpse Bride.
 Click 'Read More' below to see the bestest hallowe'en costume ever.

Monday 29 October 2012

The unbearable hotness of being

It's quite warm today: 30 degrees celsius, which is the inordinately high-sounding 86 degrees fahrenheit.
This is not unworkable heat- admittedly, it makes things more difficult, but I can still go about my business. This is, sadly, not the hottest it is going to get. I have heard differing accounts, but the range has been between forty and sixty degrees (I presume celsius, because otherwise...). If memory serves, which it doesn't always, the hottest I have ever experienced was forty five degrees in Fatima, Portugal. And that really was unworkable.
Honestly, I'm not surprised that people had 'visions' there; they were more than likely delirious from the heat. The thing I keep telling myself is that I have air conditioning in my room. This is all well and good, but what about when I want to leave my room? For example, if I go to work, or see a film, or just need to buy groceries? What then?
And, truth be told, I don't have an answer. I will just have to suffer through. Probably not in silence, as that's just not how I roll, but with what dignity I can muster. This will at least allow me to gage whether or not I can live in a hot climate in the future, but will probably also leave me dehydrated and grumpy. Alack.

Friday 26 October 2012

When God closes a door

I had a room inspection yesterday, and I passed with flying colours! It only took three years! I'll admit that I had to do a bit of a spruce-up afore the landlord came a-knockin', but there's no law against that (although Mark seemed to be under the impression that I keep my room that way all the time. I decided not to disillusion him. However, when I was tidying up I decided to do a bit of decorating, since I had some light weight mementos and more blu-tac than I knew what to do with.
Opportunity came a-knockin' and got its hand stuck on the blu-tac.
So I bedazzled my door with memories. It might not look too impressive in the photo, but all three people who've been in my room since I did this have commented on how cool it looks. And I really like the effect; every time I enter or leave my room, I'm reminded of all the cool stuff I've done since I came here (I'll admit, there are a lot of penguin pictures); I've got my tickets of admission to the opera, the sea life centre, Looper and something funny happened on the way to the forum on there. I've also got some maps of Melbourne, the coles Gift card I won at the open mic night and a drawing of me that Milly did during my first week here. 

In other news, I went to see Frankenweenie with Adrien and it's...fine. The animation is gorgeous and the story is fun, but the script is lacking. Alack.

Sunday 21 October 2012

Pretty little picture

This weekend I bought some pink headphones: I needed headphones and the pink ones were the cheapest. The shop hand tried to play on my insecurities and said 'yeah, they're cheaper, but they're pink', and when I took them to the counter, he raised his eyebrows and said 'oh, you've gone for the pink ones' and I replied, no joke, 'yes, I'm secure enough in myself'. So, I walked out, having saved seven dollars, and feeling very good about myself. I relate this story only to share my moment of glory and explain to those of you who skype me know that I haven't suddenly admitted to a newfound love of pink.

In other news, Geoffrey Rush was fantastic. The show was amazingly funny, and Jason, Adrian and I have a whole gamut of new inside jokes; it was actually very sweet, because this was lil' Jason's first trip to the theatre and he was obviously enraptured.


They don't really mean what they're saying! What is this magic?! 

The music was delightful, the cast were exceptionally strong (apart from Geoffrey Rush, there was a guy playing the slave Hysterium who was bloody hilarious). So, money and time well spent.Yay!

And finally, I may have made a friend at work, which is nice: she's from Dublin, she's a cinephile, she's heard of the bechdel test. We went to see 'Savages' together because we'd both turned up to a shift that wasn't on, and were the only ones in the cinema, and spent the screening sporadically laughing at the ridiculousness of that. It was very fun. Her name's Queeva and I'm making her a tag now, because it worked out so swimmingly with George.

Wednesday 17 October 2012

Educate good times, come on!

George returned yesterday, proving it's never too early to create a tag for someone. I also got another 'I no speak English', proving I defy the god of CATI*, whom I've deemed Katy, and am some sort of Telephone Marketing Research messiah.

I'm now done with tutorials for the year; take that, people from Uni back home (depressingly, I don't think that there are any Edinburgh students reading this- you don't count, Dr. Fowkes, being a staff member and all). I have one more week of lectures and then I am done with Uni 2012, which is kinda scary. Thinking back to January this year, and how absolutely awful I felt about my course, I couldn't have imagined I'd actually be interested in what I was studying- but, looking over my Language, Society and Culture text book today, in preparation for my upcoming test, I was actually genuinely piqued by the ideas inside. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if I have a future in Linguistics, it's in Socio-**. Syntax continues to prove the bane of my very soul and the enemy of life itself, but I guess you can't have it all (and with Syntax, you really shouldn't have any).

I must say, I prefer the Australian school system- the idea of choosing modules (including some which aren't directly related to your major), and thus not feeling trapped into drawing upside-down trees for however bloody long, is much more condusive to work, if you ask me. If I ever have children, I'd want them to be in a university system like this (I believe the American system is similar), because it allows you to actually find out what you like, as opposed to the British system, which just tells you what to take, like it or lump it. And I lumped it. Of course, were I enrolled in Edinburgh this year (and when I eventually return), I would be given a degree of choice within my degree of choice, but I kind of see this as too little too late. Alack.

*Computer Assisted Telephone Interviewing
**Fuck you, James Reid.

Tuesday 16 October 2012

Consistently congenial

Hey guys, just a quick note to let you know I had my first shift at work yesterday, and that there are a LOT of disconnected phone lines in Australia. I think about 40% of the calls I made came up with 'I'm sorry, the number you have dialled has been disconnected', a further 50% was answering machines and only about 10% got through to actual people...about one third of whom would actually answer my questions.
That's a 3% success rate. Go me. Also, interesting story, my first call ended in 'I no speak English', which I was told happens once in a blue moon- so I'm not expecting another one for another 1.7 years. Or until there suddenly appears before me the only one my arms will ever hold.
Not what I meant, but I'll take it.
In other news, this week is hellish. I'm working again tonight, have a class test tomorrow and a syntax assignment due on Friday. But then, on Friday night, something brilliant will happen. It will be my treat for surviving. For, on Friday, I will see Captain Barbossa perform live on stage. And he will be singing this:

 
Almost, almost, almost worth doing syntax for.

Saturday 13 October 2012

Suma-ho!

The walk I just came back from read like a bad piece of fanfiction; Aspen started off by talking about how much everyone loves her, and how lame her best friend is by comparison. There were some pop culture references- "have you played the Pokemon PETA game?" "When will Blizzard make a Warcraft 4?"- which served no purpose other than to date the fic for anyone who reads it in two months' time. There was a section where we spoke about our feelings in overwraught language-" I think I want kids" "It's just so hard, you know, being this perfect?". There was even a really awkwardly shoe-horned in Chekohov's gun, when Aspen, for no reason, pointed out a random path and said "that leads up to my favourite restaurant", which came in handy to solve the completely contrived plot conflict- another key indicator of bad fanfic- which appeared when we got completely lost and had to clambour up a slippy hill in the rain, grabbing onto random weeds, which our scrambled brain kept on seeing as snakes; Aspen spotted the same path and managed to lead us back. And, of course, Jason delivered his catchphrase:
Neato!...Derp.
Honestly, my dialogue was handled well, it was extremely sharp and made me by far the most likable character in the history of ever, but apart from that it was overly long, kinda repetitive and just a bit...wet. (Get it?! cos it was raining!)

Wednesday 10 October 2012

Echo de Menos

I'm forgetting people's names. I don't know if I should be worried. Last week, it took me three days to try and remember Amadeus Alasdair's full name- this was someone with whom I shared a room for five days during NSDF, and I genuinely couldn't think of his surname. It was distressing. I actually exclaimed "Wilson!" aloud in the street when it occurred to me- I was tempted to go the full Tom Hanks, but I haven't actually seen that movie and I didn't want to get it wrong and look like a freak.

Now today I can't think of the second name of Rachel-who's-the-ents-manager back in Edinburgh. I want to say 'Madow', but that's a left-wing newsreader from Americaland; I have a feeling it's 'Meyrick' but if I had to put money on it, I just wouldn't and keep the money for myself.

But on the reverse side, a couple of nights I dreamt that Rosie limped up to me in the street (she'd broken her foot again); I keep seeing Thom Louis in the street, or Chris Craig Harvey on the tram. These aren't people with whom I'm particularly close (although I did lock lips with Chris SEVEN TIMES), but I keep seeing them. I don't know if this is normal, but I didn't see Shrewsbury people in Edinburgh, and it's not like it's just a physical resemblance- they always seem to be wearing clothes that I associate with them.

The natural conclusion is just that I miss them (it's true I miss Chris' lips), but then why am I not seeing Esmond, or Daniel, or Rice Krispies?
These are the clothes I associate with Daniel. They are, naturally, his mother's.

It's harmless, obviously, but it's weird to keep double-taking at strangers on the street. Also, if this blog isn't here for me to obsess over minor details then what is?

P.S. Rachel's second name was 'Murray' (just looked it up) but I'm pretty sure I had a 'Rachel Meyrick' on Facebook. The plot thickens.

EDIT: Rachel Meyrick was in my year at sixth form.

Tuesday 9 October 2012

Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants my will

I had to do something unusual during training on Monday (no, not that, it's not that kind of call centre)- I had to decide where my 'super' would go if I didn't claim it before I died. This apparently refers to a superannuation fund, and I think it's like a pension- they were using lots of unfamiliar words like 'work' and 'standard'.
Anyway, I'm not gonna say who I decided to leave it to, but I want this on record- if they do get ahold of the money, then they have to use it to par-TAY. And I mean so hard it hurts. I want them to shave at least five years off their lifespan over the course of a Krazy (with a Kapital 'K') weekend, spent doing all manner of depraved things in which I can no longer partake. Game's on, Mr. Sage. Damn, gave it away.

In other news, training was alright, my co-workers seem cool, the job doesn't seem too difficult, but I imagine the first time I actually make a call to someone I'll freak out and end up insulting their mothers- true fact, this is how 90% of first conversations go with me.

We just had a meeting of the Blank Slate theatre company, of which I am the Producer; queue to the left for the casting couch. It was really fun; we played some games (name games are another facet of theatre that is universal), then we made some tableaus on the theme of 'connections' (honestly less wanky than it sounds). Hopefully, we'll be meeting weekly, and it'll be nice to get back into some theatre stuff- this has been my first semester without doing any plays at all, and I've missed the camraderie and sense of whimsy that accompanies the best productions; I've not missed the self-consciousness and irritation that accompanies not-so-good productions ('Alack! The Killer flees!' 'Killer fleas? Where?!). But I have a good feeling about Blank Slate; I have a lot of good feelings now-a-days.

Saturday 6 October 2012

Oh, look at that I'm ahead of you

Just a quick note to all those reading this blog, I am now ten hours ahead of the UK, as opposed to the previous nine, just so y'all adjust your phone calls and whatnots accordingly.
P.S. The title should be read like this:

http://youtu.be/AdtQ-zW0fHM?t=3m13s

Friday 5 October 2012

First world problems

I am facing an essential dilemma, and one I would genuinely appreciate opinions on, so please leave a comment telling me what you think.

So, I was just asked by an Aussie friend to show them a picture of Esmond; I searched on my computer and found exactly one picture. I then searched on Google and found exactly one picture. That's two that I have access to; one for every year he's been my friend.
I know I'm being precious- I still know what he looks like, I still have the memories that photos are meant to invoke, and, most importantly, I'll see him again, and can take pictures then if I so wish. But I got to thinking: I have few pictures of my first term in Edinburgh. Or my second. I uploaded them to Facebook and then deleted them from my hard drive, supposedly to save space (notably my flight details for Belgium are still on there). Now I no longer have Facebook, access to those photos is gone. And this is where the dilemma comes in: I could easily reactivate my account, download all the photos I have stored on there, and then redeactivate it (remember how I snuck back on a few months ago to create the cast page?*). The problem this creates is that my Facebook page is finally gone for good- I don't get updates, or pleas for my return, and if I want to reactivate my account then it will take a full 24 hours (I've done my research); if I reopen it, however briefly, I go back to getting invited to crap I wouldn't go to even if I were in Edinburgh, people who blatantly haven't paid attention to anything I've said for the last five months writing to me as though I'm their best friend...all the stuff I've come to resent. I don't want to seem a contrarian- I freely admit that Facebook is a brilliant social tool, just not one I can allow myself access to, and so I have to play up its negative aspects. But this isn't even really a problem- I can just ignore it, I'm a big lad. The problem is the moralizing that inevitably accompanies this move.
See, I feel I shouldn't need the photos; I reiterate- I still have the memories. But even memories need stimuli, they rarely come unbidden. But then, not all my memories are positive ones- do I want to go remember all the bad stuff that happened over those two years? On the other hand, if I somehow forget all the bad stuff, don't I run the risk of making the same mistakes? However, there are some extremely positive memories, which I want to hold onto, some of which are probably already starting to fade, if my inability to remember names or events are any indication (which is kind of scary).
But then, I come back to the idea that I shouldn't need the photos. I'm meant to be living in the moment. And I don't mean that as in a 'this is a philosophy I'm espousing at the moment' kind of way. I genuinely think it's healthier to focus on where one is currently than where one's been/where one's going. I want to live that way. I want to be healthy. I want to be able to let stuff go, not hold grudges, not be bitter and resentful. Leaving has helped with this, but it can't do all the work- I have to make a concentrated effort not to dwell on things I can't change.
But the photos would make me happy...I think. Or, at least, they'd sate a thirst. But then, sating some thirsts can just lead to bad habits (alcoholism springs to mind)...

This goes on and on. And on. And I never reach the end. I don't know what to do, I don't know which argument to listen to, and, unusually, I don't know what I want. So, I beg you for your opinions- I implore your wisdom.

*And somehow failed to get any pictures of Esmond. Alack.

Diary of a call girl

'Twould seem a first is going to be broached while in Oz-land; I have gained my first proper, salaried job.
Laying the foundations for my future. Get it?
I've had jobs before, obviously- I was the longest serving paperboy the Shropshire Star ever had, thank you very much- but this is my first adult job in that I will be paid a fixed salary and will be working for predetermined shifts (the paper round took me between forty five minutes and two and a half hours- depending on how much I let the OAPs talk at me).
When he started talking he was just a joey.
I imagine this is going to be one of those facts about me that I think are fascinating but never seem to hold the same amount of interest for anyone else. If I read in one of Stephen Fry's autobiographies that his first salaried emploi was antipodean in nature, I would have given a 'huh' or a 'fancy that' (I don't think anyone from Cherry Orchard is reading this, but if you are, that was for you); for some undiscernible reason, I do not hold the same sway as Mr. Fry. Alack.
 I can't possibly imagine why.
If you're interested (or, like Daniel, are merely pretending to be interested out of a misplaced sense of gratitude), I'll be conducting telephone surveys for a living. Just like Phoebe in that friends episode. No, wait, she was selling toner. No...no I can't think of anyone who conducted telephone interviews in fiction; I guess I'll be the first. Ever.*
This has been a year of many firsts.
Of course, having a salary does change the dynamic of this year: if I'm thrifty, I could maybe stay longer; if not, I'll at least have more money to blow on luxuries. Yes, believe it or not, this development could end up extending my stay a further month and a half- my visa isn't up until August 30th. Sadly, my ticket runs out mid-July; I'd can't ask my parents to pay for another ticket just so I can have more jollies, but if I can afford a ticket myself, then there's no guilt attached. It could also mean more travelling (because more money), and will hopefully help stem the holiday blues a wee bit (because something to do). Yes, the implications are endful. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to last the first day.

*That's right, Logan, I went there. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Wednesday 3 October 2012

Ice to meet you

I turned on the air conditioning last night. I felt bad (not just cos I didn't really know how to work it and ended up chilling my room to Morgue levels), I know there are horrid environmental impacts, but I was just so hot. It was giving me headaches. Sleeping with the window open is out since I've now had dreams where I've encountered a) spiders, b) rats and c) adders (why?) in my room, having let themselves in through the window. I'm still not sure if the spider one was a dream, which is concerning because the bugger was the size of my fist.

Meanwhile, my writing was compared to Joss Whedon, again. Someone in my writer's group compared my script to Buffy and I was over the moon. Sadly, it wasn't the doctor himself, but it was gratifying all the same.
You'll soon be mine, precious.
I met with Andrew again, and the theatre company (of which I'm secretary, don't you know?) has been officially created, so, yay! There was even a suggestion of putting something on; a very special something; something both ancient and modern all at once; something that has marked every single journey I've made since I started tertiary education. But more on that later. Or probably never.

I went back to Queery, and we discussed gender. It was...polite; I can't bring myself to 'interesting' or even 'informative' because we all just seemed to espouse different versions of 'gender is a spectrum' (is anything not a spectrum these days?) with a side order of 'aren't labels terrible?' (I kept oddly silent on this matter). As I've said, the people there seem cool, but I've found that trying to form a friendship with someone just cos you're both gay, or not heteronormative, in this case, doesn't really work. I'm sure I'd get along with these people if I met them in a different context, it's just that meeting in the queerspace dictates that we should talk about being queer, and I've been queer so long, it just no longer interests me.

Finally, I had a job interview yesterday- it was a group interview, which I'd never done before, and I was the best dressed there, which is also an unprecedented event, plus, I didn't make a tit of myself, which marks a turning point in human history, I think. Sadly, I was also the least experienced person there, so I'm not holding my breath- but, at least if I don't get the job I'll know it's not cos who I am but because of what I've done, or not, as the case may be and, in fact, is.

Sunday 30 September 2012

What I did on my holidays

Academy of Moving Images
Adrian and I were at a loose end on Thursday, the 20th- we were originally gonna hunt elephants in the great concrete jungle that is the CBD, but then we realised there weren't any, so we instead decided to visit the Academy of Moving Images, otherwise known as AcMI; sadly, they don't stock dynamite. In spite of this, I enjoyed myself, one may be tempted to say immensely. The first room detailed the history of the moving images in its various forms (TV, films, video games, etc.), and although I noticed a mistake (Snow White was NOT the first animated feature film), it was mildly interesting and there were enough clips/games to entertain even the most distractable of kids, i.e. me. 

But the second room is where it really kicked off; it was more experimental in its approach to motion pictures, and it really paid off. There was a room where you could see clips from different films (different Australian films) presented in surround viewing- there were three different screens (one in front and one either side) and whenever the camera view changed, the screens switched as well. There were experiments with silhouettes, adding weird animated clip arts to one's shadow, and a section where you could versus another player, with one of you playing wii tennis and the other pong.  It was really rather cool. There was also a room with a cone of light being projected across some dry ice; it may sound lame, but it created a really cool effect. Hopefully, I'll post a video tomorrow of me walking toward the camera with the light behind me and looking like every sci fi villain in the history of ever.
There was also the opportunity to create your own flickbook, and Adrian and I decided upon one of me punching him in the face. 'A wordless masterpiece', the critics are calling it; we're considering submitting it for a Pulitzer prize. They also had a genuine Academy Award, behind a glass case to stop idiots like myself from stealing it practicing their speeches.
*Sigh* Thanks, I guess.
Sufficient Grace
I also attended a book launch with Mistress Raso- the book was called Sufficient Grace, and was written by one of Milly's professors. I went hoping to land a publishing deal, but instead ending up spending the night talking to Frank, an RMIT architect. Alack.

Bonfire
A couple of months ago, I expressed to Aspen how I wanted to see a controlled burning- where the bush is set on fire to keep it from getting overgrown or something. She responded by inviting me to a bonfire at her house. She also invited almost everyone else from Yarra, so it didn't feel quite so special.
The bonfire was still a lot of fun, though.

I drove out with Aspen (and Manthy and Jason and Smeargle) on Friday, a day ahead of everyone else, and met her parents and stayed in her house. This was technically the first time I'd left Melbourne, as Philip Island and Frankston were both counted as some kind of suburb, apparently.
Aspen's parents were pretty fly, and the dinner was really yum. Aspen's mum had actually cooked a birthday cake for me, which was random, but sweet (in both senses of the word). We then watched Airplane (Australians know it as 'Flying High') and then gossiped late into the night.

The next day, we went for a bush walk, so I can officially say I've been into the bush. It was peaceful, but untamed, and there was a distinct air of potential danger to the place (there were poisonous snakes hiding in the grass, after all). There were kangaroos (which I missed), Blue-tongued lizards (which I missed) and an echidna, which I watched for about twenty minutes. That's right, I got to see an echidna in the wild; that's extremely rare, just so you know. My friend Jason filmed it walking (some idiot insisted on singing the Baby Elephant Walk) and the video will be added to the Wildlife page.

Then of course, there was the bonfire itself, which I got to light! Jason was also afforded the honor, but he kinda messed it up and his flame went out, whereas mine spread much faster than anticipated, no doubt fueled by pyromania. We danced around it naked, roasted marshmallows, played never have I ever, you know, the typical boy scout activities.
I got a little bit tipsy, but then sobered up pretty quickly and spent the rest of the night wondering whether or not I should reintoxicate myself. I decided not.

Sydney
Periodically, I need to be reminded to not leave everything to the last minute. It happened in first year, with Bedlam stuff, second year with Exchange paperwork, and this year with my flight to Sydney. I actually planned my journey to the airport and arrived at the train station with ample time. I just had no money on my Myki card; this was a problem because it meant I wouldn't be able to leave the station on the other side, and thus couldn't catch the airport shuttle bus. I tried using my cards, but both were declined. I tried getting cash out at the Petrol station, but it didn't work, I tried getting a lift, but no one was in- time was running out. I then ran to the nearest cash point, and tried one of my British cards in there; it granted me $20 and I dashed back to the train station, and I just managed by the skin of my teeth to catch a train there- if I'd missed it, I wouldn't have made my flight. I arrived at the airport two minutes before check-in closed. I didn't have my flight info but I did have my passport (even that was a fluke), and they printed out a reciept which was meant to count as a flight pass.
It is worth noting that Tiger airways, who took me to Sydney, were the least professional airline I've flown with. I was warned before booking that they'd been sued for flying low (like, literally, not having their zippers undone), and I did notice that the ground was much more visible during this flight than many others I've taken. I also felt much more ill during landing than usual, but I can't really blame that on them (unless altitude poisoning is a thing...to HOUSE!).
Still totally me.
When I actually arrived, I found I'd been upgraded at the hostel from a 36 person dorm to a 6 person dorm, which I think is the only reason I didn't suffocate because the rooms were windowless, with no air conditioning in the Sydney heat. This had a surprising benefit in that all the guys in the room (save me) slept in their underwear sans blankets. So, y'know, silver linings. However, this also meant that I had to sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed, which those of who know me will know is a problem for me. Alack. I managed.

Sydney was beautiful- the juxtaposition of ocean and metropolis was so striking that I spent most of my time riding ferries and just admiring the view. It was extremely satisfying. I had a travel ticket, so I could use all the public transport as much as I wanted, so I just zipped around the harbor in boats. They even had water taxis, which I've probably seen before in London but I'm gonna pretend are exclusive to Sydney. I can see why my dad was so enthusiastic about Sydney now because he's quite the marinophile.
I saw all the famous sites, because they're all within like three feet of each other, which is certainly convenient, but probably makes the rest of the city feel unpretty. After all, people are only there to see the bridge and the opera house- who cares about downtown Sydney, honestly? Anyway, not only did I see the opera house, I actually saw an opera in it. They did a thing called 'student rush' which allowed me to get $170 tickets for $50. It was Madama Butterfly, and it sounded so beautiful, but lacked substance in the plot- I really wanna see an opera where something actually happens, because I think it'd be a lovely mix of beauty and awesomeness. Also, in the Opera house, there was a tall, dark, solitary man who for a moment I thought was following me, and I realized this would've been an awesome place to have met my Antipodean Paramour, but then he stopped following me and I didn't see him again. Darn.
On top of this, I went to the Sydney Aquarium, which was pretty unremarkable, except I paid the child's rate for the glass bottom boat ride cos the woman running it liked me. I learnt alot, and I always like things like aquariums, so it wasn't unenjoyable, it was just the only part of the trip where I felt lonely (Jason was meant to come, but backed out). Alack.
I also took the 'famous' Manly ferry, which was a very cool boat ride and then paddled at night on the beach- there were shark or stinger nets up, which worried me slightly, but I decided to ignore that anyway and paddle outside the netted area anyway. Like a badass. On the ferry back, I found an iphone, and considered just keeping it, because free iphone, but then the owner phoned it and I felt I had to give it back once I could attach a voice to the person I was depriving. Anyway, I returned it to him, he offered me money, I refused, he offered me a lift, I refused and that was that. I thought this would've been another great jumping-off point for a whirlwind romance, but it seems it was not to be. So much for naming my first-born 'Sydney'.

Ballarat Wildlife Park/My Birthday
Not that anyone remembered (not even Spanish Daniel, who I reminded not two weeks ago that it was coming up) but Friday was my birthday. Milly, Martin, Aspen and I (Jason was meant to come but backed out- starting to become a recurring thing with him) drove out to Ballarat Wildlife park.
I chose this location because visitors are allowed to feed kangaroos and hold koalas- sadly, the koalas were kept inside cos of the rain (like it never rains where they're from). But, I did get to feed kangaroos and emus and llamas, and there were other typically Australian animals like crocodiles and wombats and taipans, so I completed my Australian animal bucket list. I felt up a boa constrictor and got extremely close with an eagle (if you know what I mean). I also got to witness an emu shit all over a baby kangaroo (called a joey, you know), so that was something.
It was good fun, but quite a drive- it wasn't very expensive, though, which was refreshing for Australia. The rain was unavoidable, sadly, and did slightly hamper the enjoyment of the day (not to mention keeping me from getting Koala chlamydia).

When we got back, I skyped my mom then we went out for dinner to a local pub- I had chicken curry. Then we got back, had cake, and got drunk. Well, I got drunk. It's not really particularly clear after that point, but I remember finding Taken hilarious (it was just so bad), and singing Annie loudly in the street, so I clearly enjoyed myself and didn't smash any glasses this time. Progress.

I haven't done that much this weekend (apart from hearing the best insult ever, see yesterday's post) and class starts back tomorrow, but I think all in all this was an extremely enjoyable Spring Break (woo! Spring Break!) and I have officially left Melbourne and also been to another state, so no one can say I'm not seeing the rest of Australia. I can put another pin in my map.

Saturday 29 September 2012

Feel the Burn

Dear listeners,
tomorrow I am going to write up everything I've done this wonderful holiday, and that was fully intended to be my fiftieth post; I thought it had the requisite glamour to it. But it has been outdone. Oh yes. Because, mere minutes ago, I heard possibly the greatest put down of my life. Flawless in its cruelty, perfect in its utter unprovokedness. This one takes the Oscar for Most Damaging Comment.
I'd like to thank the academy, you cunts.
You see, Aspen, Jason, Logan, Martin and I were driving along in Aspen's car, having just frequented the local supermarché. Jason had just made another querulous remark about his admittedly spartan childhood, specifically relating to the lack of birthday parties in his life. And Aspen responded, unquaveringly deadpan,
Isn't it depressing Jason?The only friends you'll ever make, and they'll vanish before your birthday.
They say you could feel the burn from Auckland. Having been at the epicenter of the detonation, I certainly felt the heat; such intensity, but it didn't scorch me- it felt healing, as though the fire bleached all the impurities from my body. I don't know if Jason felt quite so positively about it, though.
I'm crying on the inside.
But yes, that is what I hand to you for our fiftieth outing together, reader: the greatest insult I have ever heard, and sadly I was not the one to deliver it. Alack.

Tuesday 18 September 2012

They took all the condors and put em in a condor museum

My word, I haven't updated you in a long time; I'm sure you're all clamouring to find out what I've been doing during spring break (woo! Spring break!). Don't worry, I have a good excuse for this catastrophic lack of updates. I was building a house.


Travis, eat your heart out.
As you can see, construction was complex, arduous and colourful. But my god, it was worth it. Jason just built some stupid robot of which no photographic evidence exists whatsoever- it was sadly destroyed when my house collapsed. Because I pelted it with bricks until it fell apart. Good times.

These pictures were taken at the Melbourne Museum, which was a mix of nearly all the museums I've ever visited, with the exception of the museum of torture: it had art, it had skeletons, it had condors (more condors than necessary, if you ask me); there was even a space for nap time!
It was divided into two floors- on the bottom floor, there were all the animals (it was the first museum I've seen which contained live animals- it had ants, flies and (shudder) redback spiders)- this was where we spent the majority of our time, especially in a Noah's ark type room with literally hundreds of specimens judging you from their plinths (pictures below). The second was split between an exhibition on the mind, themed like a labyrinth, with chambers that simulated dreams and pods where people ranted at you about how they're special, which I found interesting but have no pictures of, because my battery ran out, and one on puberty which Jason didn't let me see because he wanted to visit the giftshop- now I'll never know what happened to Peter, Jane and their rapidly changing bodies.

It really was a lot of fun- I got to see whales
It was skinless when I found it. Honest.
and dinosaurs



and bugs



and a tonne of taxidermied critters














Look, birds! Nowhere else I can see them, nosiree. 

It really was a lot of fun, and I didn't even see it all. I got in for free too, which was the icing on the cake.

I also got to see The Dark Knight Rises in IMAX, which I guess was the marzipan figurine on the cake. It's awesome in IMAX, but it does make some glaring continuity errors more noticeable, namely who's driving the truck. But well worth the money to see it again, only this time seven storeys high. The Melbourne Museum actually has the world's 3rd largest screen- the second largest is in Sydney, where I'm going next week (squee!), but I probably won't check it out. Alack.