Rants & Raves

Check out 'The Australian Way' for Oprah

2010-12-08T16:04:00.000+11:00

http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/The-Australian-Way-Video#comments

The school system in Australia is actually a travesty.

2010-12-08T15:29:00.004+11:00

So, as I was looking through Twitter this morning, I saw that Labor had released a statement praising the standard of Australian students as amongst the best in the world.

"The Minister for School Education, Peter Garrett, has welcomed the results of the 2009 OECD Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), which revealed that Australian students remain among the top academic performers worldwide. " http://www.alp.org.au/federal-government/news/australian-school-students-among-best-in-the-oecd/

When I saw that, my heart soared. As an avid propagator of education, I thought that those figures were quite significant, considering my latest loss of faith in the intelleigence of the Australian populationn (think Carrie Bickmore and the soon-to-be-infamous Oprah Report of the Australian way of life; the current douchebags at the head of federal politics; and many, many disappointing people updating their blogs and Facebooks and Twitter accounts daily).

But I digress.

According to this report, a group of 14,250 Australian 15-year-old students from 353 different schools took part in the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), and "performed well above the OECD average in all three assessment areas,”, according to Mr Garrett, our newly appointed Minister for School Education. What I find most amusing about this report is the blatant political spin on results which were, in fact, quite dismal for the country Australia has the potential to be.

As I was browsing the net and doing my morning read, y'know, I came across a vastly different interpretation of the issue from The West Australian. In their reniditon of the events, 'Australian teenagers' reading and maths skills have plummeted in the past decade', scoring 13- points less in reading, and 10-points less in mathematics since the year 2000. Science remained unchanged.

To me, this indicates a problem which has steadily plagued the Australian primary and secondary education system for years: government schooling does NOT receive anywhere NEAR enough funding from the government, remaining at the discretion of the State governments rather than Federal.

Private schools, on the other hand, continue to flourish despite the current government's pledge, and really, their PLATFORM, of evening out the score between private and government schooling. News flash, Julia and drones: creating a website which details the amount of revenue generated by private schools exposes the injustice, but it doesn't actually do anything to fix the problem. Investing actually money, time and thought into the physical reality, for example, does.

The West Australian also reported that 'Geoff Masters, who heads the Australian Council for Educational Research, which manages the tests in Australia, said though the nation achieved above the OECD average, the literacy decline was concerning. He said the achievement gap between students from wealthy and poor backgrounds was equivalent to almost three years of schooling. This put an "unacceptable proportion" of 15-year-olds at serious risk of being unable to read well enough to find work.'

What. the. hell. So what this basically means is that children whose parents are not filthy rich will miss out on countless job opportunities because their standard of education is well below par in relation to the private school system. Now, I don't know about you, but to me, that is so disgusting AND embarrassing, especially as it is occurring within a nation that claims to be based on egalitarian values and an all- encompassing 'working class system'.

Give me a break, Labor and Liberals (or Laberals, as one of my wise professors coined them) - you both only look out for the future of the 'upper' working-class. Labor, you are particularly disappointing: to abandon the future of those who have least opportunity is an act so despicable it makes me want to become an anarchist.

Puppy Factories and Politics

2010-09-19T14:41:00.003+10:00

So, today I found out that Bailleu plans to crack down, rather heavily, on Puppy Factories and the people who run them.

As a staunch leftie, I have always voted for either Labor or the Greens (it varies according to their policies and the reality of their implementation). However, it has come to my attention that of late, the Labor party in particular has managed to severely disappoint me, both in their policy making and in selling out to the right.

Anyway.

For me, a fellow puppy lover, there is nothing more abhorrent than puppy factories. These disgusting institutions, run be equally disgusting people, force female dogs as young as fix months to give birth for the remainder of their lives. They are hormoned up to their eyeballs to start early, and subjected to a caged life, in horrible, dirty conditions and not enough food or water.

From the first time I caught sight of the ad with the beautiful beagle, with her mournful, liquid eyes and grossly disfigured body and teats, my heart broke.

And evidently, so did Bailleu's.

The man (a fellow dog owner and lover) has promised to raise the fines of illegal dog breeders from $1195 to between $20,000 and $30,000, and/ or a year in prison. Even though I think they deserve a harsher penalty, I think this is a exemplary action from the Opposition. In addition, he has promised to give RSPCA the legal rights to investigating animal abuse, something denied by Brumby's current government.

It's ironic that Labor, the 'left' party with heart, denies animals the basic form of treatment.

I think I may just have to switch sides this time around.

Early Spring

2010-09-14T20:23:00.002+10:00

The iridescent sunlight streams through the glass,
its rays illuminating the dust particles dancing within the room.
The fresh, delectable air seeps through the cracks in the walls,
engulfing everything in a cloak of summer promise.
But alas: the warmth it suggests is not yet arrived,
with deceptive brightness and cold, cruel winds piercing the warmest of clothes.
When will I enjoy the day? You think.
When will I be able to leave my warmth at home, only to be cloaked by the heat of nature?
Soon, the frigid wind whispers teasingly,
ruffling the hair and creasing the skin with goosebumps.

CHURCH BANS FOOTY

2010-09-12T16:04:00.002+10:00

So, initially I thought that the Catholic Church had actually banned football all together, just like it had announced a few months ago that female priests are on the same level of sin as pedophiles. (That was highly amusing...) But unlike its stance on female priests, which is evidently very negative (or positive, considering the amount of pedophiles who are forgiven within the Church). But alas, no. It's not quite as amusing as the the Church starting yet another war, this time with, sadly, one of the most integral aspects of Australian culture.

Now, despite being a Catholic myself, I cannot say that of late, I have supported the Church's public endeavors. However, this is something that I do appreciate: the obsession with footy is an embarrassing part of Australian society and culture, and if some organisation wants to ban it, I say go for it. But in this instance, it turns out that the Church is only banning secular songs, which include football anthems.

"Secular items are never to be sung or played at a Catholic funeral, such as romantic ballads, pop or rock music, political songs or football club songs," the guidelines state. (The Herald Sun)

I am of two minds on this actual matter. Firstly, as a Catholic, I do find it rather insulting that and Christina Aguilera could be played within the confines of a holy place. Surely one can have a social celebration for their deceased before the church funeral? I would particularly hate to mix footy and religion simple because I believe that the belief in the Aussie sports 'super star' (read as 'mediocre') is overblown and taken way out of proportion.

On the other hand, I don't see how someone, God bless them, who loved this sport so much should be denied his or her favourite song on their funeral bed. I mean, really: does it matter? Is it really invading the sanctity of church to play a few minuted of, admittedly, tasteless music? But I suppose the Church really stands for everything that's serious and somber and has little time for fun.

So I think, my dislike and contempt for footy in this case is severely tested by my sense of the just. What do you think?

I'M BACK

2010-09-08T19:36:00.002+10:00

So it has been a while since I have blogged.

I am truly a lazy, lazy excuse for a human being - whenever I am asked as to why I have neglected my blog for so long AGAIN, I can always find PLENTY of excuses to support my laziness. However, I will now valiantly try to keep a top this blogging thing once more.

I Am Australia- Katie Noonan. I love this version and her voice.

2010-05-03T23:58:00.000+10:00

Injustices

2010-04-27T17:17:00.004+10:00

I'm currently sitting in the ERC library, killing time before class. I have just finished reading abut the fate of women during any given war, and the horrific experiences they are forced to go through for something that is, in my opinion, completely pointless and orchestrated by men. Sigh. The injustices of the world are really staring to get to me.

Everyday, we are confronted with images and literature regarding issues we cannot fix; sex trafficking, pedophilia, rape, gender inequality, famine and countless other atrocities that have so many ethical, moral, public, private and so on implications.

Call me an idealist, but I'm really, truly beginning to want to change the world.

Parisian Love (so cute)

2010-04-25T12:46:00.001+10:00

Australian Style: My two cents.

2010-04-25T12:02:00.004+10:00

So, I have recently purchased a book on 'Australian Style', written by Melissa Penfold and Jenny Tabakoff, (a stylist and a lifestyle journalist, both from Sydney). It offers not only an interesting read, but also valuable insights into etiquette and morally driven beahviour. The subjects range from "How to pull yourself together" (dressing) to "How to have beautiful manners" and "How to make your house look like a million dollars" etc.

I enjoyed the text's emphasis on empowering one's sense of self, of aiming to respect not only others', but your own sense of worth. The advice on page 27 states that "Every day, do something physical something pleasurable, something intellectual and something for someone else. It will balance out your life." I consider that rather valid, and quite a nice summary of achieving a happy balance in life.

However, despite the insightful advice, I can't help but feel that the book cultivates a very traditional view of gender, segregating men and women into their conventionally sanctioned gender roles. For instance, under the chapter of "How to be a seductress", the authors detail how to "remember to wear a dress or skirt, with pretty heels, at least once a week. It reminds you (and others) that you're a woman." (p. 95). Now, I know I'm a fan of fashion myself, and of course beautiful dresses, but really, this sentence screams to me of dressing for others, especially men, and not for yourself. Sure, wear a dress if that's what you feel like that day, week or even month, but if you're having a pants fortnight, why not explore the different types available to you? No need to be 'sexy' all the time, or ever if you don't wish it.

Another quote which rather bothered me was "walk like a woman, not a gorilla. That means a slight swish of the hips, taking light steps keeping your head up and shoulders back..." and so on. I think that phrase speaks for itself in terms of very clearly dividing men and women in their behavioural processes and the importance of behaving within the 'appropriate' (by whom?) boundaries of your gender.

Overall, I do think it is an enjoyable read, particularly when it mentions simple, yet always relevant rules of developing a 'moral' style in treating people well. The other stuff....take with a grain of salt.

Fashion blog epiphany.

2010-04-21T15:08:00.003+10:00

So, I have recently been employed to keep atop the fashion and lifestyle blogging industry, and to select the most popular ones within which a fashion brand can advertise. It turns out that this job is actually perfect for me.

However, it's not only the viewing of incredible street and designer fashion which has been inspiring me to hone in my own fashion tastes and skills: it's also given me ideas of how to perhaps make my own blog a little more interactive and interesting, especially in terms of my own fashion choices.

So hopefully, I'll start to post my own fashion pieces soon!!

I is idiot.

2010-04-19T01:32:00.001+10:00

Ok, so after all this time, my wonderful friend has figured out why I couldn't log in. And do you know why, f0lks? Because I am a moron. I was using the wrong email to log in, and then ended up confusing myself to the point of incredible frustration and needed someone normal to solve it.

Soon, I shall be updating much more regularly once more.

B is for Beauty.

2010-02-09T17:00:00.002+11:00

Beauty is a very contentious subject, one which elicits many negative and positive reactions.

Beauty is an aesthetic which lights up the world; it may not be an essential part of life, however, its status survives, and will forever survive, simply because it brings people pleasure. Despite many assurances to the contrary, beauty, whether it be found in people, nature, fashion or architecture, is something everyone appreciates, and many aspire to achieve and own beyond all costs.

However, beauty does not only exist on the outside. It is also found in attributes such as kindness, love, happiness; it can illuminate seemingly plain people from the inside, encompassing them in a glow which far surpasses those who have only their outward appearance to offer.

And most importantly, let us not forget that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Love is blind to all faults. And as we all have someone who loves us, we can all be considered beautiful, even if it is not always said out loud.

I yearn, I pine, I perish.

2010-02-09T16:42:00.003+11:00

Can you not see me in this room? It's so pristine and white I could almost become so myself. If I don't spill something all over it, that is.

Crazy couch.

2010-02-09T16:30:00.003+11:00

Now, I don't know about you, but I believe that an elegant and/or unique couch is needed in every home. As I am currently residing with the parentals, I have little to no choice as to our couches. As a result, they are attractive, even sitable, but certainly not within the realm of beauty and craziness that they could be. Honestly though, I will most likely just have the very French inspired, ornate couch, one which will look amazing against a backdrop of opulence, gold and leather bound books, haphazardly (yet artfully) arranged on beautifully crafted bookshelves of light pine wood (naturally complementing the similar wooden floor). I will also have a delicate coffee table, glass, rimmed with white wood, engraved with intricate designs and holding two or three highly prized books - one displaying elegance throughout the years, one attributed to contemporary fashion and perhaps one design book, featuring decadent displays of wealth, architecture and interior design.

I really need a good job. (Or a wealthy husband ;) )

The only reason to have children.

2010-02-08T20:48:00.003+11:00

THIS IS THE LAST ONE, I PROMISE.

I just had to put these up. I have decided that if I accidentally have a child, he/she will be lavished with such a room, because although mummy will be too old to live in it, she will most definitely appreciate it.

My dream home: Viva la France

2010-02-08T20:35:00.003+11:00

Sorry for all the posts! It seems that I have yet to escape my sporadic and almost spastic posting habits. But there are so, so, so many beautiful images out there, just waiting to be discovered and distributed! And as for my dream home...French design, lace, white. That is all I need.

Sublime.

2010-02-08T20:17:00.004+11:00

Ladies and Gentleman, I bring you Collette Dinnigan, designer extraordinaire.

Lace.

2010-02-08T20:08:00.005+11:00

Lately, I have really become interested in all things lace.

Lace is beautiful, feminine and elegant; it is versatile, and representative of many diverse styles, such as punk, rock, goth, Victorian elegance and bridal couture. Whether it be virginal white or hard black, it never fails to impress.

A is for Absence

2010-02-07T20:43:00.001+11:00

It's interesting how every so often, people we haven't known for very long somehow embed themselves into our psyche and our affections. They quickly become a part of our daily thought rituals, and we indulge in many a fantasy regarding their well being and whereabouts.

However, the significance of their impact upon our lives is usually truly determined when they are absent. It is then that we have the time to reassess our attachment, and to see whether this new association is really as solid as we have imagined it to be in the first stages of its life.

Often, it is not. But if it is based on a something solid, it may just go the distance.

Journalism! (and recent events)

2010-01-27T18:27:00.004+11:00

So today, I once again re-entered the realm of writers.

I interviewed a person. And not just any person: a professor at Melbourne University, whose knowledge of online media and journalism has provided very interesting and useful concepts for my up and coming article. That's right, I have actually decided to DO something with my time and research an article (coming out in the next Farrago edition, hopefully, unless I really screw it up), so people, stay tuned for more wise words from Caroline.

Overall, the time is going simultaneously slowly and quickly. I spend it with friends, watching Sailor Moon (shh), reading literature and trash, magazines, looking at fashion and dreaming about the lovely things that will be happening a month from now. March really is the loveliest month of all: FINALLY, I return to my beloved studies, where I can finally exercise my mind beyond the wonders of Sailor Moon and Twilight.

It is also my birthday. Not as significant as the last, and yes, I am becoming older, however, until the day I am told I actually look my age, I will be satisfied to age gracefully and cosmetic- surgery less :D

Also, March is the month I have schedules my internship with The Herald and Weekly Times, so folks, perhaps you will have the chance to enjoy an article or two in the always credible MX, or perhaps even The Herald Sun itself!

And lastly...one more wonderful thing is happening, but that shall remain a secret. Let's just say that it will be the most pleasant occurrence of all. :)

ta ta!

Friends

2010-01-25T11:35:00.002+11:00

So today, I had a bit of a rude awakening. Technically, this has happened before, so I thought it wouldn't hurt so much again: I was wrong.

Throughout life, we all go through stages of friendships. We begin with primary school, where we first become exposed to relationships based on our level- age, interests etc. We form bonds with other children, primarily those of our own sex, and believe them to be the strongest ties in the world.

But then comes high school, and those we thought we could not live without become largely forgotten. This is the time when we are really introduced to the fragility of friendships, and where we gain the knowledge that not everyone we hold in high esteem reciprocates. We find out people talk behind our backs; we find out they lie. We find out how transient human relationship really are, how much they depend on context and the smallest of decisions to either continue, or dissolve. However, a lucky few of us manage to find friends which reverse the trend; over time, the friendships become stronger. They are cultivated into something substantial. They become a permanent fixture of our lives, and they usually remain there.

That's why it hurts so much more when these friends leave us; it is not quite so easy to forget them as it once was.

Boots and Hair.

2010-01-22T15:59:00.002+11:00

I want those boots, and that hair.

lookbook.nu

Beautiful.

2010-01-22T15:56:00.001+11:00

lookbook.nu

Photography

2010-01-22T15:44:00.004+11:00

Nirrimi Hakanson, a 17-year-old Australian photographer, is truly an amazing talent. Although I only discovered her recently, her photography is absolutely magnificent: whimsical and etheral it focuses on small details of beauty, such as succulent lips, bright, startling eyes or freckles dotting a petite nose.

When I was looking through her gallery, her shots made me feel as if I was looking in on a world filled with precious, delicate details and doll-like beauty. They are unique in possessing antique properties, combined with the freshness of nature and the burnished.

Although I've given a brief preview, see for yourself at nirrimiphotography.carbonmade.com

My Strawberries.

2010-01-22T15:07:00.003+11:00

I made that. I am a chef.

Fringe.

2010-01-22T14:04:00.004+11:00

So, two days ago, I got a fringe.

And not just a side fringe- that was a few weeks ago. No. It is a wispy/ blunt fringe which cuts across my forehead in jagged lines, seeking entry into my eyes, yet failing. Ha ha, that's because it's too short to reach.

But alas, I digress.

I have determined that I have a love/hate relationship with fringes. My last adventure into the fringe-world was in year 10, when I was at the tender age of 16. Back then, I had no income (except for the measly $20 my parents dished out reluctantly every week, almost always threatening to take it away if I did not clean my room/house properly), and therefore, no money to spare for such necessities as GOOD HAIRDRESSERS. So instead, I allowed my mother to cut my fringe. I thought I looked nice. I thought it was cute and pretty and became me.

No.

Looking back at those photos, I now see that I, in fact, looked like a little oompa loompa, with red hair (sigh), and a short fringe that curled inward, curtsy of my wavy hair. I had a shoddy hair straightener, no style and no income- think about it.

So what persuaded me to go for the front-chop now, you say? Simple. 'The Devil Wears Prada". Those who know me are by now nodding their heads, rolling their eyes and saying 'of course'. Let me explain; that movie, although 4 years old (which is about a century in fashion), is still, nonetheless, a representation of the world which I wish to enter. The characters, although 'technically' wearing outdated clothes, have true style; they are chic and elegant, and yes, they have fringes. And let me tell you, that a fringe, done WELL, can be the difference between Couture and Supre. Audrey Hepburn and Paris Hilton. You get the drift.

So, although I was horrified at first, I now have come to accept my fringe, and even slightly delight in it. I look shaggy, I look different, I look ok.

Thumbs up for the fringe.

Lookbook.nu

2010-01-20T19:41:00.001+11:00

These.clothes.are.amazing.

MY PIZZA

2010-01-20T19:38:00.003+11:00

That's right, I made this. It may be Viet-My's talent and camera that captured my moment of glory so perfectly, but the raw material was all me.

My breakfast.

2010-01-19T16:52:00.004+11:00

Yum. I am addicted to croissants, smeared in butter and strawberry jam. Add a creamy hot chocolate with marshmallows, and you have a mind-bogglingly delectable breakfast.

Haiti

2010-01-19T16:37:00.003+11:00

I have finally started catching up with the news (which is really despicable, considering that my ambitions lie within the field of journalism), and let me tell you, it's not easy to be constantly reading about the tragedy and horror that is occurring in the world.

Take the recent example of Haiti. It is incomprehensible, especially to those lucky enough to be living in not only a 1st world country, but also a land mass (such as Australia) that is rarely, if ever, affected by natural disasters. And certainly not earthquakes. (Those who claim that the 'shake' which occurred in Melbourne last year was an earthquake should go and live in Haiti, California or Japan. That would probably give you some perspective of what a natural disaster actually is, instead of focusing on something that possibly shook a lamp.)

The flood of images and stories detailing a city saturated with death and disease, anguish and uncertainty tug on my heartstrings every time. Broken homes, broken families, broken hearts; that is mostly what remains of Port-au-Prince, as well as certain rural communities such as Leogane, where the desire for survival is slowly turning people against each other, and even themselves, changing them into people who can only think and feel with instinct, rather than compassion. And why should they not? Food prices are on the rise, water and supplies are scarce, disease and the threat of infection rampant.

So people who can, give. Give something that will ease at least the life of one person, for maybe one day. It's still helping.

I know I will.

Emporio Armani love.

2010-01-15T15:26:00.006+11:00

Ok, even though I haven't paid much attention to the designs of Emporio Armani over the years, I believe I have been converted. The designer is a GENIUS. I have never, in all my years of intense interest in the world of fashion, been exposed to such luxurious, decadent and wonderfully wearable couture as offered by this label.

In particular, it is the Autumn/Winter 2009-2010 Women's Collection which has me begging for more. As I mentioned before, the theme is based on luxury, sophistication, with influences from the baroque era evident not only in the clothing, but also accessories.

The collection focuses heavily on the use of (patterned) knee high/ ankle socks, (think Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl), usually made from wool or a sheer material. Combined with heavy woolen/cotton dresses, designed to accentuate both an hour-glass, womanly shape and of course, the standard coltish body of a couture model, these beautiful creations come in a palette of muted tones, ranging from navy blues, blacks, dark greens, grays and the occasional purple/ brown finish.

The fabrics are simply breathtaking- velvet jackets trimmed with faux-fur and silk, butter soft leather jackets accentuated with elaborate details such as frills, military buttons and diamante chains, delicate little wrist gloves and intricate winter hats, crafted out of smoky olive velvet.

Makeup is also highly do-able: luscious berry lips and smoky eyes, offset by purples, greens and mud browns.

Heaven.

MAC BOOK PRO

2009-12-26T23:50:00.004+11:00

Well, today was an eventful day. Had a wonderful morning, breakfasting at stately Yarraville and then frolicking in windy Williamstown. It's quite a lovely place, if you close your eyes and pretend you can't hear little children screaming and cute dogs relieving themselves, both in liquid and hard form, all over the luscious greenery of the 'park'. (I put that in inverted commas, as today we decided that it's not really a park, but more of a 'reserve', which, although we could not define, we thought that it captured the lack of intimacy and peace that a park would never not posses).

BUT ANYWAY, today I ALSO became the proud owner of a Mac Book Pro. Now let me tell you, despite appreciating the Macs for their beauty, grace and style, I was never much inclined to enter into its extended family circle, simply due to the fact that I could not work them out. Even now, being One Who Owns A Mac, I still cannot fathom how such a beautiful machine can be so different from every other computer I have ever had. But let me tell you this; it sure is easier to type on! And, as a bonus, it does not contain the five million viruses my other computer is currently infested with, and, as a result, must be executed in the near future.

So, travel with me on my journey of Mac Discovery - it should be quite an interesting ride.

I am lesbian, hear me roar.

2009-12-26T00:12:00.005+11:00

So, last night I participated in a very eagerly awaited activity: the viewing of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. And Jesus Christ. I don't know what to do but turn gay, because to refuse that lifestyle change would be to perish from the flames of jealousy currently ravaging my insides.

Those women, nay, ANGELS, are beyond amazing. Although many believe that that show was made primarily for a male audience, I must say I disagree- women are just as, if not MORE so, enthralled to see such specimens of perfection flaunting their stuff down the catwalk, dancing with those giraffe legs to the beats of the Black Eyes Peas, throwing sultry looks and cherry kisses to their adoring fans.

Oh, Miranda. You just make all the Aussies cry with pride.

And Heidi...6 weeks after you had your THIRD child, and you look like that. Seriously, I think I speak for all the women who have had kids, and who will in the future, when I say WHY, WHY ARE YOU SO LUCKY?

Happiness

2009-12-22T11:30:00.002+11:00

I have realised something lately; people are good, people are strong and people are willing to help you understand the meaning of happiness.

Not too long ago, happiness seemed a distant star, twinkling jovially from the sky, reminding those who couldn't reach it just how far away it really was. It would touch only those who have found some inner peace within themselves, those who have discovered the meaning of their own special brand of joy.

Insecurity is one the most destructive emotions of all; it exists to question everything that you do and everything you feel. It beats you down gradually with its stifling doubt, denying you free will, to the point of refusing you your instinct. And that's the one thing no one should ever forget; if it feels right, it's right, and it will make you happy.

And people who are happy are able to make others happy too.

yum

2009-12-22T10:54:00.003+11:00

Do you know what's absolutely delicious? This. (I am currently eating croissants and pretending they are pancakes).

Fashions Owies

2009-12-21T21:49:00.007+11:00

So, today I spent another beautiful day with two wonderful people. I really do love it when I have so many good things to look forward to in the one day- it just makes time whiz by in a cloud of happiness. Ha ha, how corny.

Anyway, one of these said people is a great friend of mine. Aside from her good heart, intelligence and witty (yet sometimes ridiculously random) sense of humour, we share a mutual hatred of People Who Cannot Dress Properly. It really is a tragedy that in our rich and abundant nation, one which offers most people the opportunity to express their indvidualites via any means possible, many still choose to ignore the basic rule of first impressions: dress nicely and appropriately.

Now, this said friend of mine and I have categorised people that we see on the street as dressing in very particular ways according to their age, ethnicity and gender. However, being girls, we are usually primarily interested in other girl's clothes, as we feel that male fashion does not offer as much scope for the imagination.

So, Asian: We have determined that two main prominent types exist. (There are certainly many, many girls who dress incredibly well ). There is the super cutesy Asian girl, always wearing her white, patent leather high heels, coupled with a denim or tartan mini (white and pink checks), and a little fluffy cardigan that is never complete without a massive bow, usually lined with dimontes. She has permed hair, also containing a bow or a cute little headband, and hobbles along on her heels in such a fashion, that it is both frightening and comical to watch.

The other type? Well, she is uber trendy, always coordinated and wearing the latest magazine/catwalk finds. She dresses in Gasp/Bettina Liano jeans, with the white stitching down the side, carries the 'It' bag, and matches is to her cropped leather jacket. (Which I have nothing against, but please, make it somehow UNIQUE). Oh, and they also wear the newest shoes, whether they be the studded black leather heels or snakeskin pointy pumps. Now, this outfit does not sound as horrendous as the other one, but it has one main problem: it totally lack any individuality, self expression and true style. Please people, let's look BEYOND what Cleo and Cosmo tell us, and try to purchase clothing from places other than Bardot, Sportsgirl, and Supre. (That said, all three are fantastic, just MIX THINGS UP A LITTLE).

Now, the white chicks. They also have a standard uniform, one which ensures that they never actually stand out. In this group, you will most likely find items of apparel such as: gladiator sandals, footless tights, worn correctly (if there IS such a thing) or pulled down half over the foot. (I don't understand). You may also, however, stumble upon tiny denim shorts, coupled with a long, cotton singlet (I'm visualising navy blue, coral, yellow and white) with that little pocket sewn in at the breast, or some kind of floaty top, worn over the top of said singlet or underneath. Then there is the ribbon, which is used to tie the hair up in a high ponytail, whose colour usually matches some article of clothing, or perhaps a shade in the tight, tiny Supre dress that has also recently made an appearance.

Ahh, people.

ME AND MULLETS

2009-12-15T14:11:00.005+11:00

Ok. So a few people (mainly two) have been, to various degrees, HEAVILY encouraging me to write something. ANYTHING. Just to get myself started again. It's funny how once you get into a rut, it's so incredibly difficult to get yourself out of that comfortable yet unproductive existence, telling yourself that everyday, something is going to change; that you'll get up, have some breakfast, read the news and then get started on some GROUNDBREAKING story that will make you the new Journalist of the World ( I made that up, but it would be so cool if that was actually an award).

So for the past year or so, perhaps a little less, I have been on a total roller coaster. (I was going to put 'of emotion', but I just couldn't.) So now, things are finally looking up. I believe that the most incredible feeling in the world is when your mind suddenly awakens from a long and relentless nightmare, slowly clawing its way up to begin working towards that long- lost dream. The spark of ambition begins to return, and you start to remember that there is so much shit out there that you've lost, and must gather up again into a pretty basket, decoarted with the shining material of success.

Hopefully these two people know who they are - one will for sure, for she is always (delicately, of course) telling me that I should really throw myself into writing and fashion and all things delicious and just WRITE.

Well, let me share just a few of my observations then, that I have been carrying in my head for the past however months I have not updated anything here.

1). Now, I promise I am not trying to be offensive, but I really want to know WHO finds mullets attractive. As a resident of Werribee, I have noticed that most days, I will encounter a walking mullet. Today, as I was quietly and quickily walking down the ramp at Werribee station, I saw not only a mullet, but a CURLY, RED mullet strutting its stuff in front of me. Who, you may be asking, did this piece of artwork belong to? A woman in a very thick, navy jacket, with black raybans and nazy working pants from Kmart. (

And now a question: Can people, anyone is welcome, let me know if they find mullets attarctive? And WHY? OR if they perhaps are open enough to understand the concept of the mullet? I really would like to hear the response.

Boho Glam/ Boho Elegant

2009-08-04T16:45:00.007+10:00

I want this coat.
Love.

The very definition of boho glam.

Apparently, I need to return to my 'boho glam' roots.

I do admit that I miss my tans, oranges, reds, gentle greens and deep purples, offset by turquoise, aquamarine and bronze/ gold jewellery.

I also want fur. Not real, of course, but a big stole would be beeaautiful .

Love & Forgiveness

2009-07-13T14:44:00.003+10:00

I have recently learned that some people truly do have an unfathomable capacity to forgive.

As someone who finds it very hard to forgive and forget the ills committed against me, I truly admire those who, despite history and their better judgement, can still find it within themselves to give those they love another chance. For many, forgiveness is not an emotion that comes naturally: it is an acquired gift that often only emerges in the most heartbreaking of circumstances, when one feels they love another person too much to let it all disintegrate. Forgiveness can come about reluctantly, yet still be the better alternative than to let go and hold onto the hurt.

For others, forgiveness comes naturally; it is a form of unconditional love that persists despite any adversary and hardship, and one that enables amour to exist, unencumbered by spite.

Love, as I am slowly learning, really is a remarkable thing. As painful, irrational and all -consuming as it can be, once found, it is always hard to let go off. Some types of love are worth saving, some are destructive, and for the lucky few, love is a salvation, easy to receive and even easier to give.

Love.

2009-06-01T22:26:00.006+10:00

I love this outfit more than any words can ever express.

Even I get disappointed by couture.

2009-04-21T23:59:00.005+10:00

My god, is it just me, or are these HIDEOUS? From afar, the clothes look quite nice. Then you take a closer look at the models...and you lose your appetite. At least I did.

Karla's Closet

2009-04-21T23:34:00.005+10:00

God, I adore karlacloset.com.

If you haven't visited her blog yet, you are MISSING OUT. I cannot believe that she FINDS those outfits in second hand shops. Oh, shush you, I get that it's 'vintage', but we all know that the word has just become the fashionable way of describing clothing which is, essentially, old. Oh, how I love euphemisms.

Nevertheless, I digress. She always manages to find the most fabulous sheaths of fabric, intricately woven or sewn or whatever the words people use to describe the process of making clothes, together in order to create masterpieces. These are some of my favourites:

She is my insipration. Her sense of style, her wonderful classy individuality shines through the way she dresses. Just by looking at her, you can immediately tell she has innate style, one that transcends any trend. Her clothes, I have noticed, are primarily comprised of timeless, classic pieces which I suspect have been tailord expertly to her shape. These classics are usually combined with some quirky/ eclectic accessory, often a fabulous shoe, bag or scarf.

2009-04-19T20:35:00.002+10:00

I am so miserable right now, I just cannot see it getting better.

Well, it's more that I'm preparing myself for the worst, but that in itself is costing me energy, my concentration and my health, and I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I NEED to know if things will work out ok, because I can't stand the thought of hoping all this time, and then just getting shot down.

I need stability, and I need love. And I only want it from the one person.

Street Fashion.

2009-04-18T11:43:00.005+10:00

Stylesightings.com

The Sartorialist

Stylesightings.com

OK, I may not be the most stylish person in the world, and maybe I have just begun to scrape the surface of fantastic fashion, but one thing that The Sartorialist and Stylesighings.com, as well as various magazines, shows and other fashion vessels have convinced me of is that true elegance can only be found in Europe.

New York fashion, as quirky, eclectic and imaginative as it is, can simply not compete with the sheer chic of European style. LA, as distinctive and, ahem, revealing as it is, simply does not have the innate markings of individuality and class. Asian fashion, in all of its cutesy glory, has certainly carved a niche of its own, and is, in many aspects, a fantastic representation of its surrounding culture. Nevertheless, my heart belongs to Europe.

Paris...it's just innate. I wish I was Parisian. I could pull of quirky leather trousers, 7 inch leopard heels and a sheer, chiffon olive green pussy bow blouse. Or even wear a firefighter hat.

In Milan, I would be able to ride a bike in my sailor's platforms, my long, luxurious hair flowing freely from under my green cap...and looking beyond alluring. Sigh.

I am going to Europe.

Glass-like

2009-04-17T11:49:00.004+10:00

What do you do when you feel like your whole world is turning on you? How do you begin to sift through the mess that is your brain? How do you force yourself to face your fears, however minuscule they may seem to others?

It's interesting how the person you present yourself to others can often be so different from the person you feel you are inside. How do some people start of sweet and understanding, and turn into dragons and backstabbers once you make them angry? How do some, seemingly arrogant and heartless, turn out to be the sweetest and most loyal?

And how do some put up veneer of casual independence, and then drown in their own feelings of insecurity, projecting them onto those they love most?

Humans are made up of a labyrinth of emotions, actions, perceptions and interpretations, and only lately I've begun to scratch at the reflective, glass-like surface of their complexity.

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

2009-04-17T11:31:00.003+10:00

Is this not just one of the most stunning, simple yet elegant poems??

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud one night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling -my darling -my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Bec and Bridge - opulance through lace, metallics, leather and black

2009-04-15T16:26:00.010+10:00

Need I say anything else? They always say that a picture speaks a thousand words...I believe this one is a thesis then.

Oh, the JACKET. EXACTLY WHAT I WANT. The hair would be nice too.

And there you go. Absolutely gorgeous.

Something I covet...a simple black cotton/ woolen dress, ideally dressed down with a black leather biker jacket, black opaques and lace up ankle boots, or ballet flats. Set off against a palette of gold, chunky jewellery and leather cuffs, and you have an amazingly chic, day time outifit.

For nighttime, just add sky high heels, preferably in silver, bare legs, smoky, cat eyes, and an elegant bracelet from Tiffany & Co. Bam.

The hair, the jacket and the massive bracelet... sheer rock chick elegance.

Simple, chic, yet requiring a certain flair to pull off. I'd probably be really cold in the sleeveless jacket, but we all must make sacrifices for fashion.

Tim O'Connon '09 - Love them all

2009-04-15T16:09:00.004+10:00

2009-04-15T15:53:00.003+10:00

Some of the images from the current Kirrily Johnston autumn/winter '09 collection. I was just browsing around, looking for any particular designers I would like, and stumbled upon her new line. I've been an admirer of the Australian for quite a while: she creates beautiful, simple clothing, using clean lines and block colours, easy to combine. Really, there's nothing more elegant than simplicity.

Revelations.

2009-04-15T00:15:00.004+10:00

So today I cut out, or at least began to cut out, something that's been rotting from the inside for quite a while now.

It's the most definitive step I have taken so far, and it feels as if a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Even though I suspect I'll be lonely, I think that I need this both for myself, and for the issue to be resolved.

Fingers crossed.

Gossip Girl

2009-04-11T23:00:00.002+10:00

As always, this show is ruining my life.

Instead of doing my homework, which I have in abundance, I am sitting down in my bathroom, in front of the heater, and watching the latest episode of what I will refer to as that 'addictive devil show'.

I was just about to say that I don't know why I like it, but it's pretty obvious that I do: the fashion. Really, that's all it has to recommend it. Fashion and beautiful highschoolers doing more interesting things with their lives than most people get to do, ever. I suppose the allure of it lies in the escapism of its 'plot lines' (and I use the term loosely, as I have never encountered secret societies, teacher-student affairs, rich society ladies getting it on with their daughter's boyfriend's (or ex boyfriends, depends on the episode) fathers, or some random Countess having an affair with both the show's resident sweetheart and her own stepson, who, on the other hand, seems to be having a good time courting the resident spoilt, revengful (albeit well dressed) brat.) which, you'd hope, are nore really part of your everyday teenager's life.

Oh, but the clothes...they evoke within every girl (I hope) a fantasy of beautiful bags and shoes and dresses, all tailor made to perfection, corresponding with the outifits of their friends as well as their surroundings perfectly, with just the right amount of fashionable juxtaposition and contrast to set off a new trend.

Oh Gossip Girl, as a show, you sure are shit; but when it comes to fashion, no one, (dare I say it?) not even Sex and the City, can do it better.

Ode to Connex

2009-04-11T23:00:00.001+10:00

I hate Connex more than anything or anyone I have ever hated in my life. In fact, until I met Connex, I don't believe I really hated anything at all. Oh, I've often believed that I despised certain things such as seafood, trackies, jelly and the cold, but now I realise these 'hates' are simply mild dislikes. Connex, on the other hand, is a whole different ball game.

Oh Connex, now I wish to express to you the amazingly wonderful contribution you have made to my life. You have taught me that it IS possible to wish, endlessly...unpleasant things...upon certain corporations (and their heads). You have taught me that true hatred knows no bounds. You have extended me in the art of stressing. You have instilled within me such a deep seated resentment that even I am astounded at the strength of my disgust at your 'service'.

You have made me angry in the mornings when I do not wish to be angry, and you have, unforgivably, made me late for class. For that, I will forever hold you responsible, as I had to endure the mortification of coming into my first tute of the year 30 minutes late.

I also do not forgive you for taking up countless 'vent your spleens' and pissing off every single person that has ever travelled by train in Melbourne.

I sincerely thank you for cancelling my express train every day this week, and for raising your prices while declining in service. Top effort.

I also deeply impressed by the sausage sizzle you hosted last weekend, as I do believe that a sausage will definately appease your incompetance, as well as make us all love you again. Oh, Connex, you're so generous. :)

I believe in democracy, and I believe that democracy can help solve this problem. We just all have to voten you out. I realise that I care about very little in life; I have extremely limited interests, and it takes a lot to raise any passion out of me if it is not directly related to my sphere of understanding or interest.

But, alas! You have succeeded in making me passionate. So well done, Connex, I sure applaud your disgraceful efforts, because really, nothing on this planet has ever failed this badly, except for perhaps true Communism. Please go back to France where you belong.

And now, a short verse:

Oh, Connex,
you make me so happy,
to travel within your shitty
carriages,
where in summer it's hot,
and in winter it's not,
and where students get fined
for not carrying concession cards,
while filthy commuters smear greasy feet
all over the seats,
and sweat through their cheap,
Polyester suits.
But of course! you don't see,
you only charge,
titanic prices for lateness and terminations,
whilst we all, by and large,
promise ourselves that one day
we'll get you.

Clothes

2009-04-11T22:59:00.000+10:00

They are my passion, my love, my life. I pine for them, I dream about them, I am endlessly entertained simply by looking at the magnitude of the choices available. Buttery soft leather jackets, tight cigarette pants, silky and woollen and cashmere scarves, patterned blouses, glittery and wooden bangles, pinafores, tassels, lace stockings, tartan skirts and skinny leg jeans are all beautiful creations, waiting patiently for someone warm hearted and loving to accept them into their family. I am usually that person.

I do not understand why, or what it is that is so enticing about these pieces of branded cloth, but their allure burns bright in my mind, forever binding me to their beauty and variation.

How can I pass up the chance to own another pair of stunning suede boots, or yet another gorgeous necklace that simply works wonders in bringing any outfit together? Then there are the colours and tones and shapes and sizes, all appropriate for different occasions, yet all beguiling in their own sweet way.

How can I love inanimate objects so much? How can I value style so highly? I don't know, blame the media :P

Last Days

2009-04-11T22:58:00.000+10:00

So, my life has been reduced to waking up in the afternoon, reading a book for the next three hours, then having a shower and finally reading again while I wait for my fake tan to dry.

Sometimes I iron clothes or something, or cook dinner (to those who know me, I am not what you'd call a whiz in the kitchen or the home, so the mere fact that I'd consider doing those things, let alone do them, should indicate my increasing level of boredom).

But alas, there IS light at the end of the tunnel!! This time next week, not only will I be 21 (woot woot) but I shall also be, once again, embedded within the world of study and knowledge that I miss so much. I miss having a purpose for which to get out of bed for; I miss socialising with random people I have just met in my tutorials. I miss seeing friends, both close and fleeting, and I miss the atmosphere of a world removed from the mindless existence I currently lead at home.

I haven't even been writing in my blog, because literally, there is NOTHING TO TELL. I go out, I come home, I do nothing. I work. Till midnight. And it's boring, unless there's someone stealing or something, like the old lady yesterday, whose efforts I thwarted by my amazing stealth and cunning, stemming from the utter tedium that is work.

But soon, I shall be riveted again!!! I'll have a goal, of not many, to strive to!

Love.

My last days.

2009-02-24T15:10:00.003+11:00

BORED

2009-02-11T18:15:00.001+11:00

I am so effing bored I should cut off my left hand just for something to do.

I heart Chick Lit.

2009-02-08T19:43:00.005+11:00

Do you know what would be amazing? To live inside a chick lit book. I'm serious. It would be, by far, the most wonderful existence for a woman, as all chick literature basically follows the same model of beauty, wealth and glamour. Add a hot, rich/adorably poor man and his charm, and you have yourself a guaranteed happy ending.

I'm talking about Jemima J, or Bridget Jones, or Sparkles and Glamour, Bergdof Blondes or Gold Diggers. (Yes, these books are all on my heavily overflowing bookshelf, their colourful and shiny covers proudly displayed amongst my media and journalism textbooks, the considerably deeper writings of Jodi Picoult and of course, the classics.) These are the ultimate pick me ups, provided you don't mind the rather cliched endings and beautifying processes, the endless shopping trips and descriptions of unattainable brand names such as Prada, Gucci, Miu Miu etc (bliss...) and the constant stream of sexy, sexy men. Personally, I am a fan. I love pretending that I have millions of dollars and a million men at my disposal, and if not, at least the long, brown body and silky blonde/brown/chestnut hair, cascading down my back in a waterfall of luscious curls.

Upon opening that golden cover, I know that I am entering a world of romance, Ritz and glamour and that absolutely nothing will make me feel as wonderful as pretending I am the next heiress to a massive fortune, which I can use to further my career as a brilliant lawyer or journalist.

But above all, the best kind of chick lit heroine is the daughter of a happy couple, content within her loving family, facing little to no problems from obstinate family members who are beyond difficult to live with.

I think I shall go and read my book now.

Poor little animals

2009-02-03T19:45:00.003+11:00

I just finished reading about the poor possums with burnt feet, and the horrible deaths of many injured kangaroos, baby birds and flying foxes.

It's so sad :(

Like that poor little koala who climbed into a woman's laundry, desperately hoping to benefit from the relatively cool indoors. After having a bowl filled up with water, it happily climbed in, resting from the intense heat of its natural home. At least he was lucky.

So, as stupid as this may sound, this is my tribute to all those little critters who suffered intensely during this heatwave.

2009-02-03T15:05:00.008+11:00

So, once again, I have been absent.

Shit going on, emotional crisis, you know how it is. As a friend aptly put it, my life is a drama, and it would be nice to be able to switch the channel sometimes, perhaps to a mindless comedy or even the news.

So, I have finally decided to get my shit together, and actually compile a folder of samples of my writing and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Sure, staring at my published articles certainly evokes feelings of some pride and accomplishment, but let's face it; I'm not going to advance unless I make it happen. So, to risk sounding like all those annoyingly annoying motivational speakers we are forced to listen to at the beginning of year 12, I'm going to pat myself on the back and tell myself I CAN DO IT.

A close friend of mine has just started full time work for the first time. Seeing him all suited up, looking professional, businesslike and ready to move into the next stage of his life has made me yearn for the career I desperately want. Seeing him after work, having a drink, excitedly telling me about his future plans and all the work and socialising that still awaits him, has made me realise that life CAN be moulded according to my perseverance, desire and opportunities, and that all I have to do is simply get off my fat, lazy ass and hand in some well written articles.

On another note, I had a blood test today, which I'm sure everyone who has me on Facebook is by now well aware of. As I have severe 'needlephobia', I was not exactly looking forward to having my arm invaded with a sharp, metallic object, nor having an old, non-sympathetic, grouchy woman masquerading as a nurse tie a cord tightly around my forearm and force me to pump blood by closing and opening my hand in quick succession, all the while watching the veins swell under my skin, pulsating with the richness of my purple blood. EWWW. IT WAS SO GROSS I WANTED TO VOMIT. And the the nurse left the needle inside me for what seemed like HOURS, stealing not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE containers of blood. It was so horrific.

Change

2009-01-19T23:30:00.003+11:00

Yesterday, I realised I want to change.

A few friends told me once that although I have said these words before, I have never really attempted to change my outlook on life, as well as the 'afflictions' I always believed were inherent and as a result, unchangeable.

Well, now I'm starting to realise that simply wishing to be a better person is not going to get me anywhere. To truly want to change, one must first change one's actions; there is no other first step. There should be no putting it off until tomorrow, no excuses about self weakness and character flaws or extraneous circumstances, but instead acknowledgment of these faults and a deep set desire to genuinely alter them.

Lately, I've been the unfortunate recipient of some very blunt and rather cruel comments; however, once I got past my anger, I really started to think; maybe they have a point. Otherwise, why else would I be angry? Was is self righteous anger, or perhaps annoyance that was masking guilt?

Either way, only one person knows how truly bad I feel, and that I'm actually trying to fix my mistakes for the first time in my life. She knows who she is. :) It's always hard to face your own demons, but I guess once you truly decide to, there's only one way to go.

People

2009-01-11T20:59:00.000+11:00

I ask you this: why do some people feel the need to lie and/ or exaggerate situations simply to their own advantage? Disregarding other's feelings, causing commotion and unneccessary trouble, it is a wonder that some don't get found out for who they are before they actively seek to destroy someone else's happiness.

Argh, people confuse me.

Criticism

2009-01-11T20:00:00.000+11:00

As has been pointed out to me by my very honest parents, (often brutally so), I have what you could refer to as a problem with accepting criticism. No, it is not in the sense that I believe that I am better than everyone else, and therefore exempt from receiving any truthful insights into my 'flawless' character; it's more the fact that I consider most constructive criticisms, or even advice, to be a personal attack.

Now, I'm no psychologist. But even I can understand that that is not necessarily a normal reaction. So naturally, when my parents informed me that I am, in fact, still a child and consequently, it is still their duty to educate and raise me, I should gladly accept their 'advice' on everything from how I dress and eat to what I should be doing this weekend and thank them for their wonderful and oh-so-welcome penetration into my life.

But alas, I digress. This issue has been brought to my attention recently by a new friend, a friend who knows me very well already. And as much as it pains me to admit it, yes, I know that I can be tactless and rash, and snap when it is unnecessary. Similarly, I have received some comments on my other blog that carry some grain of truth amidst the sarcasm and the both creative, and not so creative, insults.

So lesson no. 126785 in life: learn to accept criticism and not get so angry :D

Age

2009-01-07T14:35:00.001+11:00

Yesterday, I saw 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button', and, as I suspected, it was a beautiful movie.

Impressive in both its simplicity and fantasy, the narrative focused on how we evolve as people, and how each one of us is unique in their own way. Age was obviously also a prominent feature of the movie, following Benjamin's strange beginnings all the way throughout his life. While watching it, I realised that for the first time, I did now know how the movie would end. Nor did I know HOW I wanted it to finish. However, once it came down to it, the story finished perfectly, and just as beautifully as I would have liked it to. It wasn't a dramatic ending, nor was it an action packed, fantasy filled film; it was simply another portrayal of love, friendship and the hardships of human nature through the eyes of one special individual.

Watching it, I went through all these stages within my own mind. First, I was filled with despair at the thought of getting old. It's not something I am ready to face, and I imagine that it's a fact of life that I won't be able to reconcile myself with until I'm much, much older. At least, I hope so. I remember something my mum told me a few years ago while I was watching her apply anti- wrinkle creams and specially formulated makeup to help prevent the ageing of skin. She said:
"You look at yourself in the mirror, and you see yourself getting older, even though inside, you still feel 20 years old."

I don't know if that's just her view, but it scared me, because I have always assumed that when I became older, I would be ready for it mentally. I would accept it, and even embrace it, content with the knowledge that I had lived my life to the best of my ability, and now I had all this time to look forward to a happy retirement with the ones I loved. I guess everyone takes life and its stages differently.

But also, during the movie, I was also filled with unexpected excitement, especially as I saw Benjamin begin to truly live his life as he 'aged'. He visited Paris, Russia, America and many other countries, experimenting with different jobs and experiencing various cultures. It just got me thinking how much I still want to do, and how much there still IS to do. There is more to life than finishing university, getting a job and starting a family, all the while saving up for your retirement.

I guess that's just my two cents.

The New Year - 2009

2009-01-05T22:31:00.000+11:00

Recently having read a fantastic blog entry by one of my closest friends, I realised, for the millionth time, that nothing makes me happier than reading and writing. Her entry, as superb in its use of language as it was for the depth of feeling and true honesty she revealed, is really the type of writing I should be focusing on; self exploration through prose.

So, V, thanks for the inspiration, and I think I'll do a similar re cap of my years thus far. Your emotional and frank recollections actually tugged on a few heartstrings, because although I certainly knew the general gist of your troubles, I didn't quite begin to grasp their significance and the toll they took on you until of late.

Now, me.

2005:

From what I remember, it was the year of VCE, of study scores and of slowly becoming adult. It was also a time where I first began to feel the very cliched and common pain of heartbreak, and the slow disintegration of a relationship with a person I loved very much, even if I did not know it. In terms of friends, I was still close to a girl I thought was honest and kind, and did not give much thought to any stories circling around me. I was very naive, and in my ignorance, I mist admit, I lived a reasonably content life.

2006:

A year I would not repeat, ever. It was the most confusing and painful time of my life, a time I had absolutely no idea who I was, what I wanted and where I was heading. I was a mess; I cared for nothing. I immersed myself in the world of books, lost myself in the stories of other, happier characters. I lost friends and sought solace in the arms of boys, who did nothing for me. I studied my heart out; never had I, or have I since, put in as much energy, time, effort and heart into my studies as I did in year 12. Driven partly by ambition and partly by the need to forget my life, I never enjoyed school more. I have also never loved anyone as much since that time.

2007:

The start of new beginnings!! With the start of University and the promise of a whole new life, I was filled with an optimism I have not felt since year 9. Finally, I was pursuing something I never really realised I should be doing until I was thrust into doing it; by not getting into law, I sent that (dream? I would have once called it that, but now I'm not so sure...) ambition to the back of my mind, instead concentrating on my writing, and actually discovering that there was something that I loved to the point of studying it, just for its pleasure. Although Uni did not turn out to be the all consuming, party experience I expected it to be, I nevertheless started to unearth a group of friends who I felt would stay with me for life. I was happy in my relationship, I was happy with my new and old friends. University itself felt very confusing, the workload sometimes unmanageable and the concepts so new and difficult to grasp; but I made it :)

2008:

Finally, the year that everything fell into place, in terms of academics. I realised that I want to be a journalist, and that I love writing more than I would love the lavish lifestyle I could only get from Law. I made a whole new group of friends, all with similar interests and views, and I completely and irrevocably fell in love with my course. However, as per usual, I once again got lost in terms of love, and watched as my relationship began to unravel. Despite wanting with all my heart to fix it, I could not mend the cracks, and finally, it fell apart. What followed was confusion, pain and a lot more unnecessary commotion which, to this day, is unresolved.

2009:

Still feeling quite confused, but I'm working through it. Happiness will come.

Uninspired

2009-01-05T22:14:00.000+11:00

Ok.

Despite the encouragement of a very good and wise friend of mine, I have not being updating my blog with the regularity I hoped to achieve when I re-opened it. This is, of course, partly due to my laziness, but also the unfortunate consequence of working so much I cannot even be bothered to turn on a computer, let alone sit down, ponder my day/life/ whatever it may be, and jot it down as food for thought.

However, today, despite feeling sick and worn out, I had an inspiration; why not write about the joys of creativity and the importance of actually pursuing and working within a field you actually have interest in, rather than settling for a job that only reaps monetary rewards? Seriously, working full time at a brain dead, dreary job, where the only joy comes from asking the customer where she is going tonight, does have its repercussions. For one, not even the money I am making makes it worthwhile, because I know that at the end of the day, I only have a few hours at home to unwind, and then I'm back for round 1000000000000000000000.

So, to all those out there who believe that making money anywhere, from anything and at anytime, and actually have choices not to, is the most important thing in the world, I'd strongly urge you to reconsider, sit down, and follow what you're passionate about. Nothing beats being paid to do what you love.

Lost and Found

2008-12-08T22:36:00.000+11:00

Love is like a tree. It always blooms in spring, grows to become exotic and colourful in summer, cools down to the subtle hues of greens, tans and burnt oranges in autumn and freezes over in winter, bare, cold and resistant to any warmth. Looking at the couple sitting across from me, I believe that they’re in summer, because she’s no longer smiling shyly, but coquettishly, and he’s comfortable enough to lay a heavy, tanned hand just above her knee.

I glance away, looking around Cookie Lounge, taking in the smells of pizza and bacon wafting from the kitchen, mixing with the wonderful aromas of coffee and liqueur. Occasionally I can smell the bitter stench of beer, but unlike in my youth, it doesn’t repulse me anymore. Hell, I’ve drank a few bottles since then.

The atmosphere is foreign to me, but I can feel myself slowly relaxing, adapting. I sip my Kaluha with milk, savouring the chocolate taste. I always did have a sweet tooth. I’m becoming giddier as I finish my fifth drink; catching the eye of an attractive businessman type, I smile a shallow, hollow and flirtatious smile, and am about to crook my finger invitingly when I hear my name.

“Anna…?” The voice is familiar, yet deeper to the one I remember. I can smell the cologne, Bruce, even before I see him.

“Hello Andrew.” Turning around slowly, I want to prolong the moment for as long as I can. My heart is pounding a mile a minute, and I feel like crying, but I don’t. I look up at him, taking in his shaggy blonde hair and eyebrow piercing, recalling the small ‘bum fluff’ that he used to call his ‘beard’. The little black and blonde hairs have matured, forming a goatee where his chin piercing used to be. His face, although still as smooth as a baby’s, has lost most of its roundness and hollowed out to give him a more masculine edge. He is not handsome, but oh, is he attractive.

“I didn’t realise that you were back in Australia.” It’s such an ironic statement to make that I accidentally snort the drink up my nose, spitting and coughing all over my new ruffled silk, cream jacket. He grabs a serviette and wipes at the jacket, taking care to avoid my breasts.

“I see you haven’t changed that much.” He says, a note of laugher in his voice. But his robin egg blues betray his anxiety, and his voice catches a little as I meet his eyes. His fashion sense has also changed; he’s wearing a buttery soft, cream shirt, rolled up at the elbows, just as I like it. His jeans, although old, fit him like second skin, and he has finally learned not to expose his underwear. Or perhaps that is only because he is out in public. I don’t know. I don’t know him anymore.

Andrew sits down, not looking at me. He’s suddenly finding the small cigarette hole burnt into the wooden table a very fascinating phenomenon.

“I can’t believe I ran into you, here of all places! You don’t like fancy lounges…” But I stop, because I can’t tell him what he does and doesn’t like anymore. It’s funny how easily I slipped into that role as soon as I saw him. It’s as if those six years have never happened. I can still see his room, the double bed made up beautifully with a set of brand new black, white and brown sheets and the brown elephant rug he bought at the discount store in Hoppers Crossing lying next to the bed, covering the otherwise cold, wooden floor. I can picture the fifty candles, costing only four dollars, but so effective, burning merrily on his furniture, and the smell of cannabis incense filling my nose with its sickly sweetness.

“Would you have tried to find me if we hadn’t bumped into each other now?” He asks casually, and I try to pretend that’s exactly what this meeting is; casual, fun and comfortable.

I don’t want to answer him, because I don’t know what to say. From the moment I set foot on the airplane in Frankfurt, knowing that I was going to be back in Melbourne in twenty hours, I didn’t think about anything or anyone else. But would I have contacted him?

“Andrew…it’s been so long. Sometimes it’s good to forget.” God, am I a hypocrite. I haven’t even forgotten that tie I gave him for his twentieth birthday, the shiny, smooth, silk black one with the intense orange lines, sewed in diagonally and spaced out every seven centimetres. Or the one CD he always played in his car, ‘Ministry of Sound: 2007’, because he couldn’t be bothered burning another one, even though we were both sick to death of ‘Changes’, ‘Deep Throat’ and ‘Put your hands up for Detroit’. I would nag him to at least let me burn something of mine, but he’d always say, “Naaaaaaaah. Baby, no offence, but you have terrible taste in music. But you’re beautiful, so it’s ok.” That used to make me laugh so much, because every time I was bad at something, for instance playing pool, or got something wrong, he’d say, “That’s ok, because you’re beautiful,” and give me a big smack on the cheek, all wet and sloppy like.

Now, the candlelight from the antique glass chandelier bathes us in a golden light, his blonde hair shining silver, my highlighted hair a soft caramel.

“I regretted it straight away, you know. When you screamed at me to have the nerve to let you get on that plane, I wanted to prove to you that I could do it. That I could turn away from you, like you always expected me to. It was the worst decision I ever made.” He can’t look at me, nor I at him. The pain’s still too raw, still makes me tear up. Not sob hysterically everyday like I used to, and then just quietly every few weeks or so, until it gradually faded into an ache I felt especially when in the company of another man.

“I was going to propose the day you told me you were being transferred to Germany for a few years. The news hit me so hard, I couldn’t forgive you. But as soon as you got on the plane and out of sight, I tried calling you, but you wouldn’t answer. I called and called.” I know this, because I felt my phone vibrate for a good fifteen minutes before we were told to shut them off. And after, I just didn’t turn it back on. As soon as I got to Singapore for the stop over, I placed it under the running water to ruin it for good, and then carelessly thew it in the bin. It still didn’t erase his face or his voice or even his number from my mind.

I place my hand over his. Andrew finally turns around and looks at me, so hopefully that my heart hurts. It must show in my face, because as soon as I begin to respond, he cuts me off. “Don’t say it! There’s someone else, isn’t there? As if there wouldn’t be, look at you! I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry. I just saw you, and I thought that finally I can say something to fix what I did. I thought…I just thought…that it would be enough…” He hangs his head, and I can feel what he feels.

“Andrew. Look at me.” And he does, slowly. “I’m sorry, but we can’t go back.” He’s about to interrupt again, but I quickly continue. “But, we can try again.”

He smiles, and suddenly we’re in spring, and those six years never happened.

Avoidance

2008-12-08T15:36:00.000+11:00

It's a funny concept, avoidance. We all avoid something in life, whether consciously or not.

I have long since realised that my avoidance is primarily exercised when it comes to anything unpleasant.

For instance, I don't like conflict between people, especially my friends and myself. Lately, I've not been faced, but rather thrown head first into a situation I do not particularly want to be in the middle of, despite any assurances that nothing will have changed. Considering my recent not-too-happy and confusing circumstances, I think that including me in some sordid and unrealistic fantasy will only end up hurting everyone involved.

So what do I do? I avoid it. I can't forget it, even though I want to, but I still can't bring myself to face it head on, talk it out, make sure that everything I am thinking and want to know in return is out in the open. I acknowledge my part in this situation, however, for once, I think that it is not my selfishness that got me into it, but rather, will help to get me out. Because I know what I want, and in this instance, I can't get it, so therefore, I won't try.

I also avoid anything that will cause me pain. Understandable, many may think. But really, in my case, it has caused others a lot of pain in the process. Only a few of my friends are aware of my, uh, issues :P, and as much as they may piss me off at times, I realised it's me that I'm equally annoyed with.

Hm.

Silence.

2008-12-08T01:11:00.000+11:00

For those who know me, I am one of those people who simply does not tolerate silence.

To me, silence is not the absence of sound: it is the compression of all that cannot be heard, yet still exists.

Being a person who enjoys knowing what others are thinking, I do not understand those who do not feel the need to speak or move, content inside their own private world, thinking secrets I will only hear if they wish to tell me.

When in company, I often fill the silences, however comfortable or uncomfortable they may seem, simply to continue a conversation filled with mindless dribble and wasteful words.

I'm slowly learning that silence is not necessarily a bad thing; in fact, its potential to reflect more than words is both ironic and true.

3rd entry

2008-12-07T21:20:00.000+11:00

So.

It has been a year and a half since I have last written in this blog.

I knew that would happen, but I was hoping it wouldn't. For the life of me, I cannot understand how I can be so passionate about having a career in journalism but at the same time being totally unable to commit to sustaining a simple blog.

V, Biya, thanks for being my faithful readers, but I understand that even you have your limitations.

Lol, and V, I just read your comments about my Target piece or whatever it is, and thanks for your criticism. Can always count on you to bring me back to earth :P. By the way, that piece was NOT my best work. It's amazing how clearly you see your faults a year later. At least I know the 15 grand I'm forking out for my university education is somewhat useful.

Aaaaaanyway, as V recommended, I should publicly docoument my life. Hmm.

My 2nd entry

2007-05-29T22:17:00.000+10:00

As always, this blog is going to last approximately....until I get bored. Like the MsnSpaces thing, which I tried to follow religiously or at least as much as a normal blogger would, I will fail at this. I have the attention span of a 10 year old, and aside from homework, boyfriends and (some) friends, I am not usually what you would call consistent.

But hello again! My third (or is it fourth?) attempt at keeping an online journal. Biya you better read this, and Viet My too, and maybe others you can drag into reading this, because I'm pretty sure that no one else will.

And Aaron! That's right, he has to, it's his responsibility as my other half. Yay, that's three people I can guilt into supporting me! I rule.

See, like now, I feel like writing coz I just started something new and I am ALWAYS excited and consistent when I start something new. But I don't know what to write about.

CROWN! That's right, on the weekend Aaron booked a Crown suite for us and it was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO awesome. Plasma, MASSIVE bed, complementary champagne (I got drunk) and breakfast, jacuzzi. We had some time alone, and the Greg, Claire, Hopcraft and his two little minions and Ash came, and we had a great time. Can't wait to do it again.

My PNA

2007-05-29T22:03:00.000+10:00

Ok, don't judge me on this, I have to do it for Uni. I have to post my Personal Narrative Article on this blog. Wow, great first entry :P

Gucci, Estée Lauder or…happiness?

I arrive at Melbourne city Target at 8 am in the cold and dreary morning simply to purchase one item of Stella McCartney’s fashion range for Target. However, the moment those steel doors open, the flurry of the overly excited women comes to life, their elbows jamming into my sides and stomach, their faces distorted by the sheer concentration of making it into the store before the woman in front. And what for? For a piece of cloth with a famous label? Well, yep. Welcome to the world of women and fashion.

Unfortunately for us girls, the current emphasis on beauty and being ‘trendy’ is constantly being emphasised by the relentless stream of fashion magazines, ‘do it yourself’ beauty formulas and the general importance of ‘appearing’ stylish and well put together. However, why does the way you dress have to indicate the class you belong to, or the type of friends you have? Look, I’ll be honest. I too am a fashion victim and trust me, I understand the mad desire to obtain the Chanels and the Versaces of the world. The other day, I was walking down one of the charming alley ways we have here in Melbourne CBD, when I noticed an outlet for expensive label clothing like Gucci, Fendi etc. I went crazy. I thought I’d finally be able to afford a genuine pair of Versace jeans! Alas, it was not be, as this ‘outlet’ store was definitely the most expensive one I’d ever been in. So trust me when I say that when a woman possesses an original Chloé handbag, she is immediately envied. Unfortunately, for the majority of us, splurging on a $3,000 bag will continue to remain a dream. About a year ago, when I actually managed to find a ‘vintage’ original Chanel handbag, I noticed that admitting to that fact does inspire a little spark of jealousy and admiration in a fellow woman.

Another thing I have observed is that women often tend to dress according to the environment they circulate in; I, as a uni student, try to wear pretty and fashionable clothes, but due to my, shall we say, lack of finances, I often have to resort to good old jeans and a comfortable hoodie. However, in the workforce, there is a definite unspoken rule as to what is appropriate and what is not. In some offices, women have to wear well tailored and modest skirt suits; in others, women must dress according to fashion, while in others still, women are expected to wear as little clothing as possible. Clothing is an important part of our lives and whether we like it or not, we are often judged by what we choose to wear, and what we choose to represent us externally.

Ah, and of course, this leads us onto the issue of identity and confidence. Clothing offers an opportunity for any woman to choose which outward identity she will adopt, simply by the cut, feel, and price of a garment. Personally, I love feeling like a princess. So, whenever I buy a 100% silk shirt, I know that I look feminine, stylish and rich (I have a lot of satin and silky tops, by the way); whereas someone who wears ripped jeans (not the intentionally ripped ones, of course, as they are considered urban chic) or a very short, very tight mini skirt with a sloppy, skimpy halter neck top is straight away labelled as ‘cheap’ and, well, ‘lacking in virtue’.

Unfortunately, (I am also guilty of this) us girls tend to judge ourselves and other women somewhat quickly, based on our and their clothing, makeup, accessories and hair. It is interesting how much we think that outward appearance contributes to our happiness and fulfilment. Everyday I get up, and I really hope that my hair looks ok, or that I haven’t suddenly broken out into a million pimples (oh, the teenage battles), as if it’s going to significantly change my life. It’s really not. So then, why do we still place value on the only part of us guaranteed to fade with age?

A few weeks ago, after using an especially strong face cream, my skin erupted in what seemed like raw and red patches of swollen flesh; I cried, I panicked, I made sure to wear plenty of makeup and my best outfits for those two horrible days to make up for my ‘gross’ face. In the end, it turned out no one had even noticed it. After thinking about why this incident had affected my opinion of myself so drastically, I realised that seeing all those ads of women and celebrities with ‘perfect’ skin and killer, designer clothes had really narrowed my outlook. Yes, it may sound clichéd, and it has been said before, but girls across the world can hopefully realise that while experimenting with (designer) clothes and makeup is fun, we shouldn’t really stake our self esteem on them. In the end, it’s good to know that people really do see us for more than what we appear outwardly, even though initially it may not seem so.

So the next time you decide to spend hundreds of dollars on a singular item of clothing, just think about its value and whether it will make you truly happy. And, as I have learnt from my many bargain hunting trips for designer haven, the best things in life really do come cheap and contain flair; like a good heart and a killer sense of humour.