Sunday, April 29, 2007

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Institut Polaire at the Norfolk Hotel, 26 April 2007. They were good. A seven piece band with a violin and trumpet. Their sound is quite unexpected =). Going for gigs is solace to Perth's poor definitions of fashion and fun. It's not that bad, just.. quiet. I miss SG a lot now. SGH replied my mail to say that they would not be able to offer me a placement in January. This is tough. If I decide not to do honors, I might be able to make a placement fit further down in 4th year. All I have to do is.. decide if honors is something I want. I don't know anymore whether I do.


I know the writing's been pretty dull and sparse. I guess I'm turning quiet for a while. I saw this sunset on the way back from the city. And at a traffic light, I stopped and took a picture. It was SO yummy.

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Thursday, April 26, 2007

It was a late morning full of Ouran High and editing VERY LATE progress notes. No, there was no negligence on my part. It's just that they came in VERY LATE. I'm in University now, and I've just handed them in.. Which means I'm home free for stuttering clinic! Then again, I'm going to have to go home and look for more treatment efficacy studies for HCS -_-".. I Just want to watch anime. Wachel! Why did you introduce me to Ouran! (It's quite gay, but it's so funny!)


I've left my phone at home, and Dad isn't on MSN so I can't tell anyone I've not got it with me. I thought about going home for it but then I thought about rising petrol prices as well. Hmm. I'm just going to go for my PD event straight.


Got some good pictures from Mandurah. Awesome sunsets, seaside, boat harbour... Mmm... yummy... some of that next time. I'm taking a slow drive to town! ciao bellas.

Friday, April 20, 2007

As promised, the new camera brings finer detail into the days of my life. (not just in a pixel sense). I don't even need to tell you what I've been doing! Self Explanatory is the new black.

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Last day of clinic. We're all waiting for Hayley to open the doors for us! A little yi yi bu she de gan jue. Booo.


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My awesome groupmates! They've braved it thru thick and thin.. mostly thick.


.The EGg Gigirls.
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Moustache Girl.


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The sane ones.


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WHO'S THAT! (I do have permission to put this one on. hee hee.)

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

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Papa looks classic with the help of my lumix. I reckon my papa's a looker and no one would dare say naught. I call him Sean Connery and when I was a child I used to tell him he was very 'extinguished' (distinguished) looking. He laughed, mostly, but I am sure he took the compliment. I still tell him that sometimes. I call him all manner of things now. Moomoo, beardbeard, popsicle, rascal, beebee. Whatever it is, he still looks like Sean Connery to me. And I like Sean Connery very much. MWAH, papa.

Monday, April 16, 2007

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Say hello to the Panasonic Lumix FX01.

Black, sleek, and Oh-so-sultry. Who can say no to a leica lens? Get set for a whole new era of cam-whoring. Jazz gigs will never be the same again.

My black sheep.. Shhhhh... Mum's the word.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Funky Mama


Rachel once said that my mother was a funky mama. Now I know where she gets it from, because my Grandma is a funky mama too! She's really cute and she's got a great sense of humor. She asked me if I grew fat since I came to Aust (typical gramma question), and I told her that I 'you pang you sou' (get fat and thin a lot). She asked me if I 'you gao you ai' (get tall and short a lot). I had this funny image of me growing tall and short and tall. And it was quite funny.


I met Alma today. She lives nearby and she's an awesome little old lady. I should go visit her tomorrow. She's leaving soon, though, which is such a pity since I only just met her. ;P It seems to be senior citizen's appreciation day.


Clinic has been unbelieveably hectic. I have no time for even the most basic of things: sleep. Simple deduction according to prioritization should show that I thus have little time for any social life these days. I've squeezed in ice cream and dinner. Which is sad. But oh well, I'm looking forward to June break. I think I should go back to Skating then. =)


Clinic has been stress-ridden for the 4 of us girls. Especially with double placements.


Tuesday- Tuition in the morning, workwork, dinner + movie, then work till 3 am.
Wednesday-8.45am at Jess's place to drive us to clinic, 6 pm reach home from clinic, workworkwork till 3 am.
Thursday- 8.30 am to 6 pm clinic and Library, Ice Cream with the Captain till late.
Friday-Wake up, work, slack, workworkworkworkworkworkworkworkwork. Midnight sleep.
Saturday- Training till 2.30, work till 8.30. I'm off now! I'm going to go out. =)

Monday, April 09, 2007

The Top-Hatted Woman


Listening to Mae and watering the garden is very therapeutic, especially since the sun has just set and the porch light makes funny shadows of me. I bend over and my hair obediently follows suit. Ta-dah! I have a top hat and my shadow looks suspishy. Like a runaway from a floating airy-fairy circus.


The tall leaves bend and sway with the force of the water, and the porch light makes everything look beautifully Christmas. These days, I think of family a lot. Mostly ma and pa, because they are so under-appreciated. For the sacrifices they have made have been continuous and the patience they've shown has been more invaluable. They have been such a lifeline.


I think of other family too. I think of my loyal prettiful daughter and my wonderful confidante husband. Did I mention, that you have a Brother in Mozambique, Rina? I have not written to him since Christmas, and I do feel a little guilty about that. Lao Gong's Birthday is coming soon, and whatever I am going to send will arrive late. So sorry, Lydia!


Meeting Captain Zak Arrow at 8 on the isles of Connor to negotiate parlay. Arrrr, better set sail, the weather looks choppy. Drink up me 'earties!


-Lady Pinkbeard

Escapism


Fantasy. I've been everything from a teleport commuter to Lady Pinkbeard today. I guess it alleviates the boring-ness, and makes me smile a little more to know that the world is in my mind, and that being jailed here within these confines in no way restricts me to my access of the world.


It's frustrating, though, this isolation, this life here.


I dream of Italy, Venice, London, Tuscany, Tuscany!

This post marks my 500th Entry.


I'm growing dismal.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.
His hands reach out and choke me.
And all the time he's mumbling.
Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."
You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough.
You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us.
From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.


-Todd Anderson (DPS, 1989)

A search for something more.
What would serve to feed the mind?
Long past, and past with time long,
Truth embedded in romance.
Caution, hark! A crackling branch.
Does desire outweigh fufillment?
If so, be content to yearn.
Perhaps we have not looked close?
To find a lie, a lie, a lie.
We yearn for the yearning-
Careless, careless.
Want not what is not desired.
But stay not the path.
Simply, sometimes, stand.
Stand and remember the span-
The span of endless time.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, to discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and to be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

Henry David Thoreau.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Just Pull the Wool Over My Eyes

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Who turned out the lights?


It was a very good Wednesday, and as good as that was, Thursday was a disaster to match and more. The awesome high of Wednesday had to sweeten the bitterness of my Thursday to make it palatable. The world is fair. And the gagworthy artificial sweetness of professionalism nauseates me. Urgh.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Well, here's a well used topic. I haven't written about this in ages: it posed no dilemma to me until recently, and I now have new compatriots on the same battlefield. We fight by day- fight thoughts, fight emotions, fight action. We rest at night- and we talk, unravelling out tight little balls of yarn, trying to undo the knots in the shoddy lighting. We lament, we analyse, we patronize and sometimes we turn away so out backs face the only lamplight there is, and we cry. You, and you, and you. We're veterans. We've done this before. We've got our scars to show; not to boast, for we are ashamed of them, but to justify our tiptoeing, our cautious step-step into the receding darkness.


I know your story from a long time ago, as if we had spoken even before there was light between us. Although you hold yourself close and closed, you share, because of who we are, because of what we are, and I know what you say when you say it. There will always be comfort in your presence, even when we are aged, and I am still honored to be privy to your confidence. What a spot you are in, it seems. What a battle you fight now, hanging tight, seeing no end. I admire you, and yet I would not have been you for the world. There's a similarity between us all tonight- we try to do it right and take the road less travelled. Frost would have applauded, but we merely struggle and only those close enough to us see that.


And you. When did you come along, you gun wielding, strong-minded soldier? We plough through your trenches, mostly muddy, but I am sure you shall come out the other end and have a good bath and it will be alright by the time we bring out the s'mores and the marshmallows to frisk over firelight. My prayer is that the Lord be with you; everyone knows you're just a marshmallow heart inside, and those who know you will always harken to that.


So let us fall asleep now: tomorrow is another journey and we shall regroup at night to tell out tales. Take care, my companions- These are memories made that we will laugh over when this war ends and a kindly cup of coffee will be in order between friends.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

A Very Bad Case of Wanderlust

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Ginger&Smart debuted not too long ago, their only shoplot open in Sydney on William Street. Ask for their products anywhere else in Australia and you will have to sneak through designer Australian brands and agents by phone or mail.


I found their catalogue in one of the 3 Australian Designer shops on South Tce in Fremantle today, and was pleasantly surprised to unfold a huge poster identical to the one above. Things seemed to culminate there- it turned into the theme for the afternoon: A Very Bad Case of Wanderlust.


You see, wanderlust has little appeal to one with no money, no imagination, and no means. Unfortunately, I am beginning, just beginning, to have all three. The imagination I have had for years, the means comes with age and the money with work. And wanderlust (the result of imagination with no money or means), when suffocated under an enourmous pile of work that requires isolation in a singular unit, is perturbed, restless, angry, green. And it struggled until it manifested itself in the most fundamental and primitive form : I just wanted to get out of the house for the sake of getting out of the house- speak not of air travel. Who knows, I told myself. I haven't truly looked at the sky for a week, my hours have been atrocious and my attitude deplorable. Maybe by the time I pay fremantle a visit, the shops will have changed. And they had! The bellaroma (was that what it used to be?) has been torn down, and amidst the crowded sunday shopping I was lured by music, aesthetics and solitude. Solitude is the very thing for which I contrived. Solitude in a restless huge crowd. Time, time alone, to be me.


I walked past the opera singer outside the markets, down the coffee strip of south tce and into a camera shop. After staring at the Panasonic Lumix FX3 for a while, I decided not to give in to the naughty impluse to buy it just then. In truth, I am yearning for a camera. It's like a friend: It gives you reality in a painted picture. There were so many shots I could have taken today that were picture worthy.


As for change, my favourite bookshop has relocated to high street. That's not too far off, but I don't see why anyone would give up prime property on the coffee strip for high street! And the Belgium Waffle-Man has gone. I went to the leather store to ask his friend about it, and he said the Waffle-Man wasn't doing too well and had to throw in the towel. =( That's really sad, he was such a nice guy.


I sussed out cherry tomatoes from the fresh food stalls and a head of cabbage went into my shopping bag as well. I took a second wander around the market, looking at nothing in particular. Nothing caught my eye so much as my stomach, for by then it was already 1.30. The man at the German stall reminded me of the polish philosopher from under a tuscan sun- blue-green eyes with a hint of sadness, polite reservation that served him well and a calm dilligence, plain to see. I like people like that.


I sat outside the markets for a while, watching people pass. A family of 4 sat next to me- quietly loving, outwardly serene. The young man next to him with his collie attracted quite a lot of attention, but most of the crowd seemed to gravitate toward the grimy sword swallower. The sign just in front of my seat read: Buskers allowed for 45 minutes, no amplification. Would I dare, I thought? Just 45 minutes... Just once. I wouldn't do it alone, though.


I had to deliver my body-less cabbage by 2 pm, so I reluctantly made the drive home. The wanderlust was somewhat quenched, and my mind is clearer, but a strange sense of sadness has set in- a sadness that comes with my solitude, my choice: my being alone. My explorations of life and travel- alone, with a means I have and a freedom I cherish- alone. I like this solitude, but with it comes some sadness; the sadness of withdrawing a little more from human contact than I did yesterday.


I told myself not to withdraw; I wanted to stay afloat a little longer until this spell of clinic-work-clinic-sleep-clinic-eat had passed, but the fact is it won't pass for another two years, and the homosapiens around me are becoming something not unlike sandy-granite at a rate proportional to my time-limitations. They are not to be blamed- they are truly human in demonstration; it's just that solitude has begun it's Siren's Song to me.

Timberlake hates your sexy back.


The title is for Avvy. Hahaha. Phish and I were talking about the ___ hates your ___ thing from threadless. Phish got: Cheesecake hates your creaminess. Farnie... I'm so glad to talk to her, even though I am dead tired. I miss her so much. I miss the way we are. I miss the fun we have. I miss not having to figure her out because i KNOW her. For once. A familiar personage that lends herself to me.. It's been so long- It's been 6 years now since we've met and melded into some pseudo siamese set.


Then the babe sent me an unidentified picture of someone. We don't know who it is or why it is in her computer. That's still being investigated. Then we discussed the physique of the unknown person and later revolted at the idea of discussing a stranger so liberally. But then again, what have we NOT discussed liberally? Which led us to the discussion of celibacy. She said I'd never make it as a nun. Really meh?


Then came the bear/bare discussion. And the heads you bare tails I don't bare dicussion which eventually led to heads you bare, tails I bear (the burden of baring?!?!?). Yeah that got me in a spot. :p


And I was very impressed by the night's philosophy!
phish says:
bear and burden are conjoint twins,
Phish says:
separated only by a space between their hips.


Then came the race-calling-
Phish says:
hollish
Phish says:
the lang they speak in e holly trees
Phish says:
and under e mistletoe
[sare] Austen hates your sensationalised romanticism says:
tell me, turkey right? the pple are turkish
[sare] Austen hates your sensationalised romanticism says:
so in hungary, the pple are peckish?


And there followed more: Greenland, greenish? Belgium, Bellish? Turkey, turkish delights, and so on...


And the conversation turned to all things: Shoes, men, music, cheenapokness, graves turning, blood, RELEASE?!!?!?!, resultant gutterbrain (you know you are, woman.), negligence, vets, Cousins, kookoos, brainwhitewasher (you know I am, woman!!), wiggling cuddlefishpop shitake(r), WEAL GOODS = WACHEL, FOCL FOCR , Long Distance Relationships called GGR BFR: and it's longstanding 3 year award., rechargable batteries (just keep billing 'em), Rachel is fully rechargable, skimpy greens and dressed salads, etc.


Me: Why you so non-compliant?

Phish: Because I haven't been stretching.
-__- My friend, we were made for each other's lameness.


You spark in me life I forgot I ever had. I miss you ever so much, cuddlefishpop. And I'm saying this entirely sober- not a sign of drunkopoco. =D.


Spencerina sent me Kutless! IT ROCKS MY MENDED SOCKS.