Distractions Galore

Oh fuckin’ hell.

My good intentions are forever being thwarted.

Laziness…extreme boredom…internet and multiple tabs…youtube…I mean, it’s insane, that I even remember what I set out to do, or want to do rather..since it is more often than not, never ever, ever, everrrrrrrr
accomplished.

The ease with which laziness compounded by the numerous “suggestions” as I bounce from one site to another, without even reading one site fully.. It is ridiculous..madness… but apart from that observation, and resulting disgust with myself, *shrugs*, what do else do I do!?

BUT NO. THIS HAS TO STOP. ugh.. 25 and I act like I’m bloody 52 years old… So today’s Australia Day; national day for Australia, but a date that comes with its own set of baggage..namely the name and the date itself. But somehow it’s achieved a national consensus and to date has stayed that way.

I was making grand plans of going out and seeing the hotair balloon shows and fireworks. For better or worse, I stayed at home and to make myself feel sicker (which didn’t work) I checked out the sites with the programs and found the hotair balloon show CANCELLED! Yay. And fireworks are really overrated, unless it’s poppin loose from Katy Perry’s..um..aura?… only cuz it’s so cool an effect.

And soooo.. staying in seemed soooo much more better an option and I didn’t sleep away the bloody afternoon…I can literally feel my sleep cycle riding around in circles gearing up for its triumphant return Also there’s something to be said in listening to Yaathe Yaathe in Australia, land of INXS.

HAH! aNYHOO.. There’s too much going on with me and should be going on with me that there is no reason for me to feel such a blah-ness. Well, I have just realised that all this while, it’s not that I have been sleeping through my alarm clock but it’s been sleeping alongside me. So the switch in my head made contact with logic and I clicked the lever up to ‘ON’ for the clock…and oh my, my heart still is not forgiving me for the extreme shock it got..I mean it wasn’t my mind getting scrambled so much as it was the rattling in my ribcage (in rhythm with the alarm or in a desperate bid to get out and beat it to a pulp, I will never know) that woke me up alongside that dratted clock.
But it’s picture perfect.

 

So so cute that I can’t have it hiding away in some cupboard, gathering dust and gaining an authentic vintage look..hmmm…that is a thought.. ok but no.

See how random this whole thing is turning out to be? Maybe I should draft my drafts in the future….
…Or brainstorm my drafted-drafts-to-be-drafted.

I should get out

But I simply am just sooo lazy… it’s such a perfect day to be honest. For doing whatever you wanna do.

I love the scene my window paints… maybe I should shift my bed around so that I’m no longer sleeping with it behind me.

Big big clouds rolling in and and yet, the grass and the greens so fresh from the bright sunlight..And yet.. the wind rushes down on the branches and twigs begging them to come and play… It looks like me tugging on anyone’s arm looking for attention and a second of their time to listen to my brilliant ideas…in which case a second is a lie..but I’m so entertaining you won’t even notice.

And like you, the greens and colors have no other go but to play with the wind.. nodding and running..breaking and rustling..

I know that if I were to go out now, I am not gonna be leaving the mall with JUST what I wanted and will be spending gobbles of time in there… And I’d much rather do that tomorrow when there’s no one home and stayin alone with a phantom might just drive me NUTS.

Fine, nutsier.

Hassle of a title.

Giving a title to this post is hard…or to any post for that matter. But the title is the least of it right…?

 

Anyway, 7 days in Sydney and so far it’s been good. Housekeeping-wise, just my dressing area, bed and luggages on the floor to clear up. I love how my desk and bird-outside-of-cage-earring-’stand’ looks
Tomorrow I will be getting my mobile, it looks so complex, I shudder at the thought of being its slave. Must remember to NOT put songs in it and not that many pictures. Must utilise the MP3 that my sis gave me…so weird how I miss her so. And Mum.
I’m so glad we did Orchard together, and she spoke to me about so many things… It is with immense pride and a sort of reverence that I listen to what she is saying at times. Old Soul that thing is… Sometimes I feel Universe got our birth-timings mixed up.

I can never forget what Mother said, about having brought her in, for me. And what she’s doing now for me… I can never ever repay her in kind but I know there’s some way that I can and will do it. The nights are the worst when it gets so quiet here and cozy and lovely though I have made up my room to be, it’s not the same really. Next door/room lives a cousin and I can’t wrap my head around the fact that he has no interest in getting to know me. He is content with no words passing between us. It serves to highlight my isolation really. I wish he wasn’t staying here, so it’s out of mind. I mean we are literally siblings and it just makes me miss everyone back home terribly.

That being said, it’s my problem and best way to deal with it is to not think about it.  And for the most part it is easy.

I guess I’m only feelin’ this way cuz my sister’s not online..and I wonder if she doesn’t miss talking to me… I am very possible dramatising the entire thing and she must be occupied or using the time to sleep, given mum’s shift. Even so… heh. This so is not me. And yet it is.

25-years-old really does strange things to a person’s mind. Must be on my guard.

_______________________________________________________

 

Magic of 6′ 1″ (3 bloody 15 am)

Mini cellular explosions are all over me.
Soon as I think of you all around me.

You draw me in and the explosions converge
and I am on fire.

I hear your heartbeat and breathe
into it whispers.

No space in our embrace
but you find a way;
closer.

Next to the throb in your neck
I burrow and breathe in;
off my feet.

All around me is you.
My smile on your skin.
Your strength on mine.

 and now I’m finally sleepy enough to hit the sack. Something about ending a poem (or my version of it that is. heh.) that gets me so sleepy each damn time.

Thinkin of renaming this blog.

Shrine of Colin Firth.

Colin Firth’s Shrine.

Firth Words.

Colin Sin.

Darcy vs. Firth

….oh my godddddd. Oh god, this girl needs help.Divine Intervention even.

Well, Universe, feel free to drop in anytime.Anytime at all. Day or night, in whatever form necessary. Maybe bout a 1.85m, chestnut hair, broad-shoulders, chiseled jaw-package is tolerable as well.

Just sayin’.

‘working’ on the 2nd last day of work.

Couldn’t give more of a damn really, if you asked me if I wanted peas or potatoes to go with my meat.

I don’t want peas, potatoes or to work on my 2nd last day of work.

But I suppose I must, but I simply can’t stop watching Colin Firth, he ages so fuckably well. Dratted old man. *drops to knees and prays for forgiveness over blasphemous statement*

I simply adore watching him, there’s nothing else to it and till something else comes my way and no not work, but something else more beautiful or meaningful…maybe both, comes my way, I am gonna be drooling over Firth. Ok drooling is not exactly it, I have that much control. But my stomach tightens in anticipation each time I see his face and my hair stands and I’m afraid if I lose control, I just may go to the other end of the age spectrum to look for The One.

And what if some old perv takes advantage of me?! Shucks. But really Universe, if everyone’s equal in your eyes, you shoulda damn well created us all identical. How else is equality supposed to be practised?! But in any case since I’ve prior experiences in old pervs, identifying and avoiding them should be a breeze…  And I simply must remember to give my judgement more credit than the current amount allocated to it!

Sheeesh woman, anyone would think you were only 5 and naive enough to assume all lollipops taste of candies and clouds.

night spiel

Syntax, according to www.dictionary.com, is the study of the rules for the formation of grammatical sentences in a language. It also had a ton of other related meanings, of which this was understood the fastest. Heh.

The sudden interest in this word stemmed from a infatuated viewing of an interview I had seen during work today… but if it makes me spruce up my vocabulary, or revise it with exacting care, I declare it to be a well-intentioned distraction, if ever there could be one! Anyway, I miss English. I wish I took up literature instead of bloody mass communications. I miss prose and poem and I just bloody wished I had listened to father, with regards to that. But, never too late is it?

Come 2012, alongside my Masters programme I am thinking of taking minor courses among which definitely would be drama and literature. Well, the former may probably be me joining a club, though I daresay a class would be brilliant, if for no other reason other than to recount my childhood spent in glorious drama classes, forgetting everything, everything that took place outside of those white-washed walls, voice-throwing exercises, enacting out a duck’s waddle or a frog’s leaps and bounds.

As part of my infatuated-proceedings, I was taken in by my subject’s classes and methods learned at the school of drama and the ease with which the theatrical vocabulary was a part of his everyday-vernacular. Well, he is an actor, so no biggie I was thinking…but it occured to me that I don’t use any mass-comm related knowledge or methods whatsoever, in my work, talk, thought or as a oh-well-I-spent-30k-so-let-me-just-bloody-well-use-it reason every now and then. No, I SIMPLY DON’T. It’s not in my blood.

I want something to run through my veins in addition to my blood. Like how it runs through for Colin Firth. I wish I hadn’t seen his Actors Studio session. But it’s good. A fire under my belly is exactly what I need.

I just wish I wouldn’t douse it ever so often, by sleeping over it -.-

Anyway, it’s also certain that I absolutely must be with someone who wraps me with words and cocoons me with the secure warmth that is the sole characteristic of words that have been never more true. Nothing else can or will do. Just speak to me. Sit me down and really speak to me; I will listen and love. There is nothing else to it. There is nothing more I want to want or do.

I mean of what use is a touch or a gaze, without words whispered into the very canal of my heart, which would send them straight to the narrow crevices of my mind, where centered is my soul and spirit that actually know what is to be expected and merely reflects back what always is. This confirmation is what I seek. After which, comes contentment. Perhaps…

But I can confirm that I can do without the two, just as long as you…

Water me with words. Stoke me with sonnets.

Love me with lines. Pleasure me with poems.

Keep me with Keats. Oscillate me with Oscar Wilde.

Join me with Jane Austen. Deliver me, my Darcy. 

I love it now unlike the kid (we are talkin’ age here) that I was.

Christmas that is. I love it now as a 25-year old, than as a 5 or 10 or whatever year old… I mean for the duration of time I was in school.

As I let myself go back, which is hardly ever really…deranged place and phase that was… I feel a bottomless pit opening up… (which also may have been brought upon by a conversation I’m having with a friend now about another friend and well.. I simply must get over this whole exclusivity-concept and keep it exclusive.

But I fuckin’ thought I had.)

Anyway…gettin’ back to what I originally had in mind… Christmas marked the countdown to the end of the year and the start of the new school year which royally fuckin sucked. Yep, that was my Christmas from ’93 to ’00.

But since then, I love it and in fact probably subscribe to Santa Claus now and I’m not even talking in Facebook-context

Straaange it is the life we lead and world in which we lead it in. Merry merry Christmas.

I’m not being mean, but Eva Mendes looks like his Mommy

Funk

I don’t bloody know why I’m feelin so down. Ok, I do know why. I am just so annoyed as to why euphoria can’t last longer than a month…

And then just as I’m down, I see some movie that is like a punch to the gut and I wanna crawl up and brood and mull and daydream and just wonder where it all went wrong in my past life that this current one is being such a bitch. Don’t get me wrong, I wanna grab life by the damn horns and ride it like the mistress of my destiny and all of that spiel.

I guess you or whoever it is setting up the idea in my head, is right. I just need to snap out of this and subsequent posts have to be about, well ideally, on my 1st steps to take once I land in Sydney. That should get me outta the funk and also stop me from blowing up at mum when she asks me about my plans.

Should. Would. Could. Perhaps. Maybe. Probably. Possibly. Guess. Might. – My life would be worth a lot more if I didn’t have those words in my vocabulary.

And I can’t sleep.

 

Tis the season to be movie-moved.

Sooo I came upon such a precious gem of a film, it’s quite a surprise it’s not all that well-known given the writer/director/actor is “Ted Mosby” known as Josh Radnor in reality and all that popularity of How I Met Your Mother.

But I’m not complaining, these are the best kinda surprises.

Happythankyoumoreplease.

That is such a wannabe-cutesy-title if ever I had seen one. But just the fact of having time on  my hands, dinner to eat and no one to talk to drove me to look at trailers and well Josh Radnor while quite the whiney thing is still a cutie pie and I don’t need Oscar to keep me company while I while away the time. So…off I went into this first directorial venture and….

Awwwwwww!!!

…I loved all of it and wished it went on and on and on and so glad it didn’t.  I just loved everything about it, though it was nothing ground-breaking (come to think of it, not all that is ground-breaking is love-worthy right?!) and it def has its fair share of cheesy-stuff but maybe it because it is ‘Ted’ and you naturally expect it perhaps…but the characters and lines work. They really do.

Characters:

- Struggling author meets struggling singer

- Struggling author’s best friend suffers from Alopecia and while outwardly sassy and put together, wants the true love in a good lookin’ package.

- Struggling author meets a small boy by chance and is saddled with him, altering his priorities.

- Struggling author’s cousin is in love with big-floppy-haired-man who loves her as much but….. yeah, there’s always the but.

All of these people come together and yet they don’t but it was ok for me, because somehow the stories all seemed so important for me to continue watching without rooting for anyone in particular, and finding myself invested in each one of them. I think that is the success of his story and movie.

Best lines of the night.

“You write short stories and I think you like living short stories. I’m kinda ready for the novel, you know?”

Struggling actor’s cousin’s boyfriend wants them to go to LA and live another life, and she doesn’t want to because New York is home. She finds out that she is pregnant and is torn between telling him and not because she doesn’t want to be the woman who tied him down and yet he’s her best friend and she’s just so completely torn up about the whole thing. ..and …and ….And the next scene happens:

“Tell me what is going on.” “I can’t. I am afraid of what will happen if it hits the air.” “You can say anything to me. You threw a vase at my head three years ago, and I stuck around didn’t I?” “You ducked.” “Fuck yeah, I ducked. I have great reflexes. That’s what I am saying; I can take it… “  There’s a gap and he says, “Whisper it to me” and she leans in to do just that. He pulls back, looks her in the eye and goes “I will live wherever you want.”

Struggling actor’s best friend likes this guy who likes her a great deal but… “he looks like he should be making balloon animals at a birthday parties. Why do I have to be with balloon-animal-guy?”

and then… during dinner, balloon-animal-guy (who’s actually a lawyer on the 7th floor of the building where she works in, on the 5th floor) says:

“Close your eyes. I just want you to listen to me. Humor me please. It’s not easy to be a dork. You in particular, you have a tougher time with it than most. I get that. But I want you to give it a try. Think of it as an experiment. I promise I will be wonderful in adoring you Annie. It’s an area where I think I got a great deal of talent. You are worth that adoration Annie. You are worth it. And the fact that you don’t believe it has nothing to do with whether it is true or not. It is true for me and that is all that matters.”

Struggling actor listens to his best friend’s phone message/epiphany:

“I love me some beauty. I mean, who doesn’t? But here’s the crazy thing Sammy boy; I am listening to SAM #2 becuase he made me close my eyes…SO HAWT…and he is making a total case for me and him to be an item. And as he’s talking, it’s like the molecules on his face must have rearranged theselves. Cuz, when I open my eyes, suddenly I am in front of the most beautiful gorgeous man…

…Sadness begone. Let’s be people who deserve to be loved. Who are worthy of being loved. Because we are worthy. We really are. That’s what you have been telling me for years, and now I get to spit it back at you.”

But the best one-liners were:

“FUCK! Don’t swear.” – said to kid who’s following him around, and repeated on repeated occasions

“Thank you. More please.” and say it with a smile. The Universe has a middle name and it is Abundance

ps: I love me some Scruff –