sex it up for the fish.

Time is a funny little thing isn’t it? The beginning of the new year always seems to bring out those reflective thoughts that quantify our achievements somehow. Then like some cruel joke we write down what we hope to achieve in the next block of time like they’re some sort of contractual obligation and THEN if that isn’t the kicker, we cut ourselves up if we don’t fulfill them. That sounds like fun, eh?

I was looking back at a written journal of mine (it doesn’t get much play anymore) to see what my new years resolution was for 2006 and by all accounts it was a good one; to allow myself…. Yes, that’s it – genius huh? It’s all encompassing – but how far one takes it is personal and ..let’s face it changeable. Looking back, I took the noble cause too far in some respects and not far enough in others. I’m probably the kind of girl that needs strict guidelines – even though I resent them so. This year I was going to leave things vacant and wide open like Paris Hilton but it’s impossible not to have some sort of goal.

The problem with moi is that I can’t do these things without making a grand statement which is impossible to quantify like: Be a better me. Great idea, but what does it mean anyway? Then there are the quantifiable ones that you know you’ll never get round to like learn another language. Again, great idea – not so sure about the execution of it though. About two of you will remember the year of French I took about 2 or 3 years ago. That was interesting – and something that amused me to no end is that I had a dream in French last night. Weird since I am decidedly crap at it. Then there are the new years resolutions that are practical and that you know you could achieve with just a little effort on your part (read classic literature, partake in regular exercise etc)… But somehow you keep making them every year because you never got round to them in the last year. It’s a losing battle I tells ya – but this year I’m going to go with a singular motto like I did last year: I’ll tell you about it next year when I’m going my reflective/non-reflective thing. ha.

Anyway, on to business – I was excited about this soundtrack before it even came out. There are some directors who allow music to dance with film direction rather than just be background noise. They are able to compile soundtracks so they really compliment the film action. Is this a talent? Yes. Tarantino always puts together a polished soundtrack, Zack Braff’s Garden State would have been half a movie without the soundtrack, Cameron Crowe always seems to “bring it” too. I love me a good soundtrack. You can always tell when a director cares about the music. For my tastes Sophia Coppola knows how to bring the soundtrack too. The Virgin Suicides and Lost in Translation are both on high rotation in the world of me. I’m adding Marie Antoinette to that list too. Regardless of whether her movies piss you off to no end or whether you think she’s a genius the soundtracks associated with Sophia Coppola movies are excellent.

I heard that the film Marie Antoinette was booed in France. Okay, these are the same culture of people that stormed the palace and raped the monarchy of their crown – God love ‘em (and I really, really do), but they’re not exactly politest of folks about everything. I loved the film, but I’m not looking at it from a historical/cultural point of view and I don’t want to either. That isn’t the point of the film anyway – it was never supposed to be a purely historical account. Stylistically speaking, I would have this film’s babies – but then I like that half melancholy sunlight through the treetops feel about most things. I feel the same ’special’ giddiness when I listen to the soundtrack. It’s eclectic, sometimes surprising and atmospheric. Not perfect but damn good anyway. I’m not quite sure what genre to put it into – there’s a few postpunk and new wave tracks, a couple of classical ones and a few ambient/electronica ones. Somehow it all works beautifully and I’ve been listening to it almost non-stop for the past two or so weeks.

I had a bit of a hard time picking a track to play, because all of them were so different and interesting. I’ll go with the obvious choice…perfect for its decadence.

Hong Kong Garden – Siouxsie & The Banshees

As for me – what else to do on January 1st 007 but say another hello to the pillow. As a segway from the song – I hope you had a wildly decadent new years eve – mine was decidedly low key, a few drinks, a few friends, food – exactly how it needed to be this year. Happy 007 folks

dreams again

Last night I had a school anxiety dream. This is particularly strange because I’ve only been on holidays for a week and have not been thinking about school more than normal for a teacher. Usually I have school anxiety dreams for a week leading up to going back to work, not at the beginning of the holidays. Maybe there are underlying stresses that are playing havoc with my mind at the moment. God knows, Christmas is usually SUCH a relaxing time. pfe.

The dream involved me having to traffic all the grades to their respective classes. All the rooms were arranged so that you had to walk through one room to get to another. Despite reminding my ‘grade’ to be well behaved and quiet as they walked through the other classrooms, the grades that I was ‘delivering’ were always disruptive and behaving like idiots. No matter what I did, nothing seemed to be able to calm the kids down. At the end of that dream one of my ex-colleagues showed me her new classroom – for the world’s messiest woman she had certainly cleaned up! It was immaculate. I stood there wondering how she had become so polished while I was having such a hard time being the “traffic warden”. Then she presented to me her new pet dog. It was a Shitzu Maltese but scruffier looking. I went to pet it and it bared it’s teeth but didn’t growl. I petted it anyway but was wary of being bitten.

In the next dream I felt like I had a split personality. I was a man who was being accused of murdering 4 people. I was also all of the people being murdered, I was also the judge listening to the testimony and I was the impartial reporter on scene to relay the story. The dream actually started with a montage of the killings with flashes of newspaper headlines in-between each killing. Then I was the guy, pacing up and down a grey coloured room with only a long table in it. Each newspaper cut out (which I had also written) and headline of the killing were evenly spread out across the table. As I moved along the table towards each individual newspaper article, I was asked to explain to the judge (myself) how I had killed each person. In the dream, the murderer (me) was also a doctor. Each victim was a patient (me) who had come to the doctor (me) with pain in their muscles. I, the murderer doctor explained to the judge (me) that I was only trying to help each patient with their pain by administering a pain reliever by injection to the side of the head. As the judge I tried to think of only the facts without all the extra emotion I also happened to be feeling as the murderer. Then, as I was explaining how I did it, I became each patient living through the excruciating pain of having a needle put through the side of my head and feeling the poison travel through my muscles and veins and killing all my brain cells. I was in so much pain, I woke up.

In happier news today I made myself pancakes and I flipped them all by myself and they didn’t stick to the pan and they didn’t even burn! I may be a murderer in my own dreams but when it comes to breakfast foods, I rock.

*edit* I almost forgot. Yesterday I got a phone call from the psychic. She even called bro trying to get a hold of me – but didn’t call other people who had also gone to see her (I know because I checked with other people). She’s not even in the country! She said, I don’t know when I’ll be back but I’ll see you when I do. That can’t be good. Quite frankly, I’m shitting myself.

reflections of…

questions I ask myself.

Is it wrong to get the Mexican Hat Dance song in your head every time you go out for Mexican food?

Is it wrong to not clean your car for a whole year?

Is it wrong to beat your 6 year old cousin at connect four and yell in your FACE, I WIN AGAIN?

Is it wrong to eat for 5 hours in one day?

Is it wrong to wish that Christmas would all soon be over so we can get back to normal (crappy) life?

Is it wrong to buy the soundtrack without seeing the movie?

Is it wrong to think about undie-wettingly hot sex when you’re in the middle of Mass?

Is it wrong to stay in bed all day?

Is it wrong to have a shower and put your pjs BACK ON?

Is it wrong to eat pavlova for breakfast (for two days straight)?

Is it wrong to say no to all your friends just because you’re “not up for it”?

Is it wrong to try to get through Christmas by drinking as much wine as possible without (hopefully) appearing like a lush?

Is it wrong to be all happy because it’s raining on Christmas day and “not like summer at all”?

Is it wrong to have a conversation with someone and rather than concentrating on what they’re saying be thinking I’m wearing pink polka dot french knickers with a black lacy trim and I bet you’re not, neh neh?

mmmmm?

Hark!

let it snow!! um..

Ahhh, Christmas – full of alcohol-laden cheer and little children squealing with glee because they get to sit on the lap of a man with a big sack who offers them candy. Whatever happened to “stranger danger” I wonder? Anyway the year has been a very interesting one. I’ve…okay it’s been as boring as fuck. I became an art teacher, made a movie, created a mural, piss farted around, reconfirmed that yes I am in my LATE TWENTIES (no going back), piss farted around some more, started looking for a house (but realised that being a singleton afforded me no joy in this matter), um…then I think I piss farted around even more and then I got sad. Wow, I sure am one of those doers – how on earth did I keep a blog and update nearly every day with so little going on? Will 2007 be more of the same? Probably. Perhaps I should get you guys to write me a ‘to do’ list or something to keep me busy. Obviously, I need one.

Anyway, I shall finish off by wishing all those who read/comment (and the one lurker) a Merry Christmas (or other assorted holiday – yes, satanists you too deserve good cheer). And at the risk of sounding like a complete sap I want to say thanks for being my friends. You are much, much more than electronic blips on the computer screen to me – and are sometimes even more real than the friends I have in what I term the reality zone (overrated).

Now every year I have a Christmas message – but this year I couldn’t decide – so I’m going to have two. One is an all time favourite from artist Anne Taintor. It’s an apt message for me in 2006 – it’s exactly how I feel – featured at the beginning of the post. The other is recycled from a card bro gave me a few years ago – I still find it HILARIOUS and absolutely true.

Oh come on, you KNOW you agree

And just in case I don’t have time. I have a lot of favourite Christmas songs. One of my all time favourites is Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Judy Garland (bless!) but if I play it I know I’ll cry so I’m not going to, this year. Instead one from my childhood – Santa Baby – Marilyn Monroe. I used to have the Madonna version on tape somewhere and played it a bazillion times until even I got sick of it (I imagine bro wasn’t that impressed either). I tried to put the cassette tape into the computer but it wouldn’t go! – anyway if I can’t get Mads to play for ya, then Maz will have to do:

Santa Baby – Marilyn Monroe

(and count yourselves lucky because it was going to be Feliz Navidad by Boney M – don’t think I’m not playing it right now, because I am!)

tard.

Little Miss Crap With Money

heartbeats

We’re feeling the effects of the fires blazing in the North East of Victoria through the distinct smell of smoke in the air and haze blocking view of building and tree tops in Melbourne. You know things are bad when you can smell the burn of bushland a few hours north in the heart of the city. The land is ripe for burning – not just Victoria, everywhere really.

Everyone is talking about the heat..or not talking at all because it’s too much effort – escaping to the smokey beaches, or smokey backyard pools, or anywhere that has air conditioning. I’m thinking about the people in thick of it – making decisions about whether to evacuate or not. Is a house just a house, or is it more than that? I don’t know – I’m reminded of Ash Wednesday and how smokey the city was then. I hope the cool change brings some relief for the fire fighters.

My Musical Monday today has no back story, it has no big meaning in my life. It’s just a song I like and hell, I first heard it on a television commercial! So kill me for being so pedestrian but hey – I like it, and it’s perfect for this little mood I’m going through. I hope you like it too. It’s sweet and just a little bit on the sad side.

Jose Gonzales – Heartbeats

Damned Whores and Fashion Police

Why is it that women in parliament are always attacked for the way they look and the men aren’t? John Howard, in terms of looks, is a LAUGH RIOT. I don’t know why Parliament Question Time isn’t our top comedy show. Those eyebrows! The stupid grin. The way he carries himself. But are there whole articles dedicated to it? Does it make the front page? No. Julia Gillard however, 10 seconds into the job is being attacked left, right and centre for not being stylish enough. Welcome to the 21st century girls.

The opinion piece click for opinion piece written in the Herald Sun makes a point of saying that in this day and age women cannot afford to leave themselves wide open to personal attack by being anything less than perfectly styled. Here’s an interesting quote:

Of course, you will never appeal to everyone but the reality is your misfortune is to be 40-something in an era when 40-something women are forbidden to be complacent about their looks.

Meanwhile Gillard herself argues that in her reply

“I think the Australian people are pretty smart and pretty wise and they know that whether or not someone’s got the capacity to make a contribution to the future of this nation is about what they say, how they think and what they believe in and I’ll seek to be judged on those.”

I had this conversation with E many times whose personal belief on girls at work is that if you’ve got it you need to flaunt it and if you don’t then you need to learn how to get it. Why? Because
1) men at the top think with their dicks (actually they think that way in any capacity eh eh eh?)
2) the world is cruel to women who aren’t hot.
The truth of the matter is that you could have the biggest neanderthal ever be the president of a company with his manner and poise never bought into question but you can bet that the only females he is surrounded by are token and impeccably groomed.

So what say you? Are women naive to think that they can be judged on their own merits? Is it a losing fight for a woman to want to be “herself” in politics and the work environment? Is “working it” simply a necessary part of being a career woman?