Thursday, 23 February 2012

Nice warm bath and a cup of tea.

I’m pretty sure that my brain only has a finite amount of space inside. Like an underwear drawer. Sometimes that amount of space even seems to get smaller, and stuff comes out when I don’t put more in. Which seems unfair, and not scientific at all.

When this happens, it’s usually my mum who suggests a nice warm bath and a cup of tea.

These two things have always been my mum’s solution to everything. When I was little, I was pretty suspicious that everything could be fixed with various forms of warm water. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realise that even though there are some things my parents shouldn’t get to have an opinion on (i.e whether Dawson’s Creek is ‘rubbish’), there are some things that make more sense than they first seem to. That, plus the fact that I don’t see thoughts falling out of my mum’s brain onto the ground, is why I should probably trust her about the about the nice warm bath and a cup of tea (NWBaaCOT) thing.

The problem with NWBaaCOTs, is that they always seem like such a waste of time.


The problem with this kind of reaction is that if you don’t do the NWBaaCOT thing, eventually everything will fall out of your brain onto the ground anyway. And then you are entirely useless and crazy, with no friends, no bath and no tea.

So what is my point here? What IS it?

I guess it’s that mum was and still is right. But not about the Dawson’s Creek thing, because I leant a lot of big words from that show.

My lovely old boots.

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Mid-Brunswick Street

A mid-Brunswick Street cafe is the perfect place to reflect on the diversity of living in the city.
To my right is a presumably wealthy young American woman, having a business-like conversation with her colleague “the dress is like, classic, you know? And I thought I’d wear my hair like, classic, you know?” To my left is a presumably homeless man falling asleep in his cup of coffee, which has been provided by the cafe.
With no job to my name yet still having paid for my coffee, I decide that sitting in the middle of these two parties is probably a symbolically accurate place for me.
The bottom end (or city end) of Brunswick Street rises high on one side with social housing complexes. On the other side is a range of happily-placed community service facilities. Walking past I see:
1.              A man aged 70-ish sitting with his small dog
2.              Three middle aged men chatting outside the laundry mat
3.              Two young women walking with their young children
4.              Teenage girls in their school uniforms sitting and talking 

On initial observation, these people seem less wealthy, more culturally diverse, having more spontaneous social experiences, and (at a very superficial glance) more happy.
The top end of Brunswick Street boasts a number of cafes, restaurants, vintage clothing stores and upper-class dress shops. Walking past I see:
1.              People quietly waiting for the tram
2.              People walking to work alone
3.              People sitting in cafes “And I thought I’d wear my hair like.. classic, you know?”
4.              People buying things in shops

People are seemingly more wealthy, less social (in the spontaneous sense), more poorly dressed and (at a very superficial glance), less happy.
The middle of Brunswick Street houses a few cafes, a few dress shops, some sparse social housing and me.  In my building, people don’t talk to each other, and I don’t talk to people, because they don’t talk to me. Strange, I think.
So this gets me thinking... Why is it that when I walk past the sky-rise social housing mysteries at the bottom of Brunswick Street, people seem happier?  I’m not saying it’s a perfect observation, but maybe sometimes less money does equal more happiness.

I made these.
Also, I am playing at Libation, Fitzroy at 8.30 on Wed 22 Feb, and the Rainbow Hotel, Fitzroy at 8.30 on Thursday 23 Feb. Come see!

Thursday, 9 February 2012

Being Awake at 3am (not on purpose)

Lately I have been experiencing a large number of sleepless nights, for no obvious reason. Here is my list of ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ associated with being awake at 3am (not on purpose).

Pros associated with being awake at 3am (not on purpose).

ü     I have more time for thinking.
ü     I have more time to read the second Harry Potter (again).
ü     As Liv Tyler says in Empire Records, “There are 24 usable hours in every day”. The movie also suggests I bake cupcakes instead of sleeping, which sounds like a delicious solution to my problem.
ü     I could count sheep if I wanted to. Just imagine how many I could count.
ü     I have more time to watch Season 3 of The West Wing.
ü     Sleeplessness adds a sense of purpose to any and all sooking that takes place the following day.
ü     Sleeplessness gives me a reason to wear make-up (to cover any bags that have taken residence under my eyes while I wasn’t sleeping – possibly while I was watching The West Wing).

Cons associated with being awake at 3am (not on purpose).

Ë   Everything seems like the worst at 3am. Definitely not the time for productive thinking.
Ë   I’d forgotten that the second Harry Potter is kind of boring. (i.e. no signs yet of possible Ron/Hermione romance.)
Ë   Hours are only usable if they are between 7am and 11pm. Before/after that they become, at most, cupcake eating time. (I also think Liv’s character’s efficient sleeplessness was drug induced and I’m not into that).
Ë   I don’t want to count sheep because that’s really boring.
Ë   Watching Season 3 of The West Wing has been found to be counter-productive. In the past this activity has resulted in 1) Me becoming so sleepy that I miss the dialogue, or 2) Me becoming so over-stimulated that rather than sleeping, for the next three hours I lie awake considering the drama, romance and comedy of the American political system.
Ë   The previous days’ sooking probably will act as a give-away that sleeplessness is not the only possible reason for me to sooking.
Ë   I have no skill in make-up - certainly not enough to be able to pretend I’m not sleepy (but maybe enough to look like a reverse panda).

Maybe tonight I’ll start on the third Harry Potter… I remember that one being better. 

Cupcakes my sister's flatmate made for Australia Day (possibly she lives with Liv Tyler).

Thursday, 2 February 2012

It was either this or blogging about sandwiches.

I know that I should probably get a job soon when I start doing things that bored people do.  Like dying my hair. And considering getting a nose ring. And wondering whether I could get the same tattoo as Scarlett Johansson without regretting it.
 It’s not like I don’t have better things I could be doing with my time. I’ve got plenty do; volunteering, songwriting, job searching. Loads. But I’ve noticed lately that the part of my psyche that wants a quick-fix of success is starting to kick in.
 I think this is because I'm not giving it enough attention. When I had a job, it was the part of my brain that I took shopping, and to the movies. Now, without the cash, it’s bored and in need of fast entertainment. 
As far as I can tell there are loads of ways to entertain oneself, that don’t require cash, or self mutilation. One easy answer to this is social media, which I think is kind of upsetting (Whatever, I know blogging is social media).
 For the purpose of this post I will discuss facebook. I get that facebook is great. It’s really great. It helps me invite people to gigs, I get invited to parties, and I can get good deals on stuff like moving vans, through enquiring generally to my 250 closest friends. In a matter of moments I can know which of my friends are engaged, eating sandwiches, watching the tennis, preparing for a mountain bike ride or eating sandwiches. Awesome.
 From experience, I also know that facebook is where time goes to die. The border-er (?) you are, the more you check facebook. The more you check facebook, the more you update your status. The more you update your status the more you check facebook in case someone comments on your awesome status (i.e. Kathryn Kelly is eating a sandwich). And the more people comment on your awesome status, the more  that you think you are some kind of status-updating-queen. And the more you believe that you are a status-updating-queen, the more you should DEFINITELY FIND SOME WAY TO GET OFF THIS THING BECAUSE YOU ARE TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED.
But I guess my only real problem that I really have with facebook is that I’m totally addicted to it. I hate it but I love it. And I’m not sure what the solution is.
 I could quit, but then I’d have to start blogging about sandwiches.

The dying-hair thing turned out to be serious (see photo, left-aligned).