I'M FREE! My year of hard work and study involving assignments, research, laboratory reports, tutorials, and lectures is over! Who am I kidding? I have been pretty much free all year. I have been hearing my friends, one by one, rejoicing about their new found free time that they have after exams and study have finally finished, and I felt the same upon leaving my last exam. Chemistry; the bane of my existance. I vowed to drop chemistry at the end of this year and after my exam I walked out with a skip in my step because not only did I not have to study chemistry anymore... I didn't have to study anything for about 5 months. Now, I am not the type who really studies at all; I feel bad for people who wanted to be in my course but missed out on the enTER who probably deserve it more because they will work harder. The freedom that I feel is not freedom from study, it is freedom from worry about how I will get through the next biology lab without having read the chapter about microbes, or how I will join in the discussion during my criminology tute when I haven't been to a lecture since week 2. This freedom, I thought, was just as good. Alas; it is not.
I finished my exams less than a week ago and already I am hearing the boredom attempt to creep up behind me; it is failing to creep as it is a dirty whore who wears high heeled shoes and my house is full of hardwood floors... THAT'S WHY I CAN HEAR IT! If it would only be sensible and wear flats it would be able to pounce on me without me noticing its presence until it was already too late and I was engulfed by the gluttonous belly of the boredom beast. (Yes boredom is gluttonous; boredom is a fat whore in high heels with too much pride to wear flat shoes after 6pm unless she is going to the supermarket on a Tuesday after 11pm in which case she is often seen wearing too much make up, tracksuit pants, a singlet that is too small for her, and some ugg boots). Anyway, the freedom that many of my friends are enjoying allows them to finally relax and concentrate on earning a bit of money while still making time to hang out with their friends during the hot, sweaty, summer months. I have been relaxing all year while concentraring on earning a bit of money while still making time to hang out with my friends, the only difference now is that I have lost the excitement and drama of having deadlines that I constantly ALMOST miss. Without a little drama in my life I will probably just shrivel up and die.
My school slash uni holidays usually fit into the same pattern where everything I do falls into 5 categories and 1 almost category.
CLEANING SLASH ORGANISING
The most exciting passtime for me during these periods of nothing involves 3 day long adventures in which I move everything out of my room and rearrange it all so that my cupboard is colour coordinated, my DVDs are in alphabetical order, and my shelves are spotless. Once my room has been taken care of, I inconsiderately move things around in other rooms and sift through our storage to find things that we put away before extending the house many years back so that I can laugh about how lame my diary was or jump for joy at finding a book containing an Aboriginal story about a baby sun getting lost from the mother sun and then getting bitten by a snake, which upon reading will still make me cry. Being organised makes me so happy and usually it lasts about a month before everything is moved and nothing has a real home; but this time my room is still immaculate from last holidays so I have NOTHING TO REARRANGE. I may just die a little bit.
SEX
During the school year I seem to have an adequate amount of this, but in the holidays there is too much time. There is no need to study or to get up early, and so the result is endless opportunities to have 'the sex' and do other things relating to 'the sex'. The thing is, during the uni year there is also a lot of time for 'the sex' in comparrison to the school year, so this year the holidays wont be that much different. Again, we lack the drama and excitement here.
WORK
I have been working 5 days a week for some time now because I am an absolute machine (working on front end at Safeway really takes a lot of effort). In the old hell hole of a store which I loved to pieces (literally, it was falling to pieces) we had heaps of fun. In the old store and during renovations we had many interesting adventures, usually involving the roof collapsing from excessive rain resulting in a flooded store, but in the newly renovated place nothing crazy ever happens. I will admit that our 2IC of front end getting punched in the throat was pretty crazy but I wasn't there so I don't count that is excitement for me (he is ok by the way... nobody panic). In the new store I basically just stand at self serve and listen to customers complain about how these machines are taking the jobs of young kids; I smile and nod while wishing I could yell something along the lines of "IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO FUCKING USE MY MACHINES THEN LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TELL YOU WHY IT ISN'T WORKING INSTEAD OF YELLING AT THE SCREEN AND THROWING THINGS TO THE GROUND! WHY ARE YOU EVEN USING THE MACHINES IF YOU THINK THEY ARE STEALING JOBS OFF POOR YOUNG CHILDREN! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU COMPLAIN! I AM THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW MUCH I HAVE TO LISTEN TO COMPLAINING EVERY DAY! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET OUT OF MY STORE YOU TECHNOLOGY ILLITERATE TOSSER!" Something along those lines, not exactly that of course. Anyway, holding back the urge to punch many customers right in the ovaries does not exactly count as interesting or exciting; it just kind of makes me need to pee.
COMPUTER
There isn't really much that can be said about how uneventful a computer can be. I spend about 80% of my day on the computer if I am not working on that day. About 70% of the time I spend at home involves a computer. This includes facebook, terrible blogging, tumblr, youtube, downloading music, and watching television shows from my hard drive on my computer screen because I am too lazy to get an HDMI cable for my mum's house and also too lazy to take the one from dad's with me to both places. None of this is very exciting, except when you hear that pre-battle music on Bleach that is the same before nearly every intense fight, then you know shit is going down.
FRIENDS
I am not the sad loner that I sound like on D.I.D a Mess I swear; I actually do have friends who I hang out with on the odd occasion. This category includes going out without drinking because I haven't been paid since Wednesday, going out and getting a little tipsy, going out and getting really drunk so that I am stupid enough to enjoy the music and the Hawthorn, and getting aboslutely slaughtered so I am stupid enough to text everyone in my phonebook with an impressively coherant message stating that I need to take a massive dump, or something of the sort. It also includes shopping trips on which I have fun, but always spend too much money which results in my being poor and not being able to drink when I go out. My friends are incredibly fun and interesting, but not very dramatic. CURSE YOU HOLIDAYS! Why can you not provide me with the intesnity that I so desperately crave?!
FOOD
Now, food doesn't really need its own category because it fits into all of these categories, but I love it so much that I wanted to give it a little bit of a mention. In the first category, aka cleaning slash organising, food lives just in the next room in the ice cave of wonderment (aka the fridge). I make multiple trips to the ice cave of wonderment to retrieve snow juice (usually milk or delicious coola cordial; and what the hell kind of flavour is 'coola' anyway?) or delicious fluffy snow treats (such as cheese, hazelnut chocolate, green olives, and savory shapes which are by far the best flavour, that's right all you BBQ lovers.. BBQ shapes are just awful). These snacks are brought back to my batcave (aka my room) during the cleaning process to keep my energy up for the long task ahead. In the second category aka sex, you wouldn't think that food would have any part in it right? Or you would think that food only had a dirty 'I-want-to-smother-you-with-whipped-cream-and-chocolate-sauce-so-I-can-lick-it-off' sort of inclusion; but you would be wrong. I don't know how many of you out there are like me, but there are certain food that I eat that just make me want to make out with somebody; and no it's not the normal things that people say make you randy like oysters anad crazy herbal tea! If I eat some tira misu you better believe I am going to find someone to make out with. After a good souvlaki all the boys better hide because the first one I see will be face raped. What can I say; I love my food. In the third category aka work, food is most important on my breaks. Sure, at the service desk we often have a packet of lollies that were found 'broken' and needed to be written off, but on a long shift in which I have 3 breaks, I feel the need to buy food in all of them even though by my ast break I am never hungry. Work makes me fatter! In the fourth category aka computer, the food is often right next to me while I munch away and watch Bleach. This is why there are many food crumbs inbetween my keys. In the fifth category aka friends, food is just food. We always eat way too much especially when we are bored. The worst offender is Shady Lewis from my other blog; when we are together we just eat sugar coated sugar and drink. Food fits in with all the otehr categories but in its own special way. It is amazing and one of my favourite things in the world; I would die without it (wait... duh). The thing is, food is not DRAMATIC!
As you can see there is not much excitement to be had in the holidays. There is, of course, many fun times to be had, but nothing that can't be done during the uni year and nothing that involves enough tension and excitement.
I apologise for the long post today, but I know how you all love me and miss my writing so I thought I would give you a large helping on which you will probably choke and die. Anyway, the point of this story is that if nobody provides me with some sort of deadline that will impact on my happiness I may have to to move to America to join the Russian Mafia to provide myself with some sort of excitement. I thirst for the blood of the innocent...
Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Reminiscing with Uncle Tongs
*falls out of rocking chair and drops pipe full of embers down shirt and managing to curse profusely and with unmatched innovation at the same time* Well, I'm gonna try a segment again, because they don't last and I can blame a lack of quality on subject matter. Hello and welcome to Reminiscing with Uncle Tongs... because it makes me sound like a loveable old slave from Song of the South or something. *NOTE: This is NOT an example for the level of insensitivity in this post, I'm talking about MY childhood, a series of crude exaggerations of sexual inadequacy... I'm liable to lose my shit at some point and put Mel Gibson to shame, THIS IS YOUR WARNING*
Okay so I got bored and decided to catch a moth alive today, because I'm of good old(er by the day *violent shuddering*) Gen Y, I've been conditioned by the mass media to associate any and all barbarism concerning animals with Pokemon. Nice one guys! Now you know the only one's kicking up a stink about cosmetic testing had hilariously deprived childhoods that never involved the excruciating complex of having 'Catching 'em All!' carved into their brains right before starting off by deciding on the two. fucking. pokemon. you. could. never. ever. own.
Anyway, I've decided, I'm on holidays and to stop me planning the slayings of D-list celebrities I'm gonna play through Pokemon until I get stuck, lose interest or rip my laptop in half because Sand Attack used nine times is FUCKING CHEATING!!!
Oh yeah, I'm playing this illegally too, if you don't realise, but fuck the Nintendo corporation, I bought enough pokemon related shit as a child to retire them all into next week. So here I go, I'm booting this up...
Yeah, it's the newfangled colourful homosexual one, for the record, I wanted BLUE because I'm obsessive over these things
Oh god, how quaint... 'New Skool Pokemon for pussy children who don't know shit about anything' is explaining how to play... If I recall, you press A to talk, B to back out of a selection like I wish I could've done with all my past relationships and directions to walk in them... kids these days suck, you know it. ALRIGHT, LISSEN TO ME GAME AND LISSEN UP GOOD. I HAD 150 FUCKING POKEMON BY LIKE THE END OF 1999 AND THE ONLY REASON I DIDN'T GET ANY CRED FOR IT WAS BECAUSE YOU BASTARDS TACKED THAT MEW THING THAT LOOKS LIKE ABORTION, DON'T. TELL. ME. HOW. TO. DO. THIS.
Well, the ball is rolling, fates are turning... you get the point
'So you'd basically flip out if during the throes of passion I accidentally yelled Digimon Doctor?'
Oh for fuck's sake, I do this to escape the horrors of my reality, I don't need everyone over 60's definition of manhood haunting me here as well...
I want to say NO, I really do, it destroys all social convention... but I'd have to spend another four minutes typing out an alias and working out how the hell I find lower case letters
What the hell is rivalry at the infant stage? Or is it just some other fucked up element of this backwards culture of pitting everything against everything for NO GOOD REASON?!?
Okay, so I call my rival GARY because I'm a purist slut and TWATSODWITHBETTERHAIRTHANME didn't fit. I go downstairs and head off to Prof. Oak's mysterious back shed 'lab' for my free goddamn pokemon to nurture into a merciless killing machine without a hitch, oh, apart from the fact that it makes that funny noise that sounds like a beepy frustrated groan when you try to walk into space occupied by some other character... yeah after eleven minutes of going 'Oh, Ash's mum, OH, OH, OH'... WHAT?!? I'm trying to catch the perspective of immaturity alright?!?, I'm allowed. I arrive at a building that smells like sweat and acetone.
I enter the lab... and the music changes, to some stupid upbeat theme that isn't the battle music... or that really epic Route #-- song that I had for my ringtone for ages because it made me cry with nostalgia... Well, I do what anyone else about to receive their FIRST. REAL. POKEMON. would do... I check out every bookcase looking for free potions, hey, free shit... and I might find whatever kind of distressing pornography that I have no doubt in my mind the old professor is into...
CUT TO THE CHASE, I pick squirtle, that thing's a beast. It evolves and gets guns. I'm pretty sure I could wipe one of these small towns off the map with those... For all you bitching about charmander because it's a dragon, grow up. Charizard is a sexual fantasy that can never happen... The fire breathing dragon WILL. NEVER. BE. YOUR. LOYAL. COMPANION. TO. FEND. OFF. BULLIES. AND. LONELINESS. Get over it. Oh and as for Bulbasaur, it's a matter of consistency. You see, Squirtle at least rhymes with 'turtle'... Bulbasaur DOESN'T rhyme with 'cancerous frog'. Cry me a river... you seriously fucked up people for not picking Squirtle...
'Don't choose me, Don't choose me, Don't choose... Oh shit... SHITSHITSHITSODDINGFRIGGEN!!! NO, PLEASE, DON'T LET THIS KID EVEN TOUCH ME, LOOK INTO HIS EYES?!?!? DO YOU SEE A SOUL?!? DO YOU?!?!?!
Just so he knows what kind of person he's dealing with... FOR THE REST OF HIS NO DOUBT SHORT AND HORRIBLY-LADEN-WITH-AWKWARD-SOCIAL-OBLIGATION-TO-AVERT-MY-TEARS-LIFE
GARY goes ahead and takes Bulbasaur. Dick move, GARY, dick move.
And what's the first thing that cocky little bitch does?
Rubs in how my sense of style is more than a decade old now...
So now I'm thrust into yielding my Pokeginity... at least I've known the guy all my life... and so I awkwardly fumble around to determine what I'm comfortable with and trying recall stuff I've seen in the movies. He gets a little weirded out when I try to figure out what other people have done in this situation through subtle questioning and struggling not to look like I'm defensively obsessing over some of Gary's more experienced past RIVALS (because that's what the kids must be calling it now).
Like men of this land of pokemon, we duel to determine our fate...
Yeah, I'm already in tears... I get to watch my first friend get eaten alive while I flail around panicking uselessly... "JUST RUN, WE CAN'T WIN"
TAIL WHIP IS A FUCKING ATTACK. IF I WHIPPED SOMEONE WITH AN APPENDAGE IT WOULD BE CLASSED AS ASSAULT MAKING IT A DAMAGING ATTACK. SERIOUSLY, THEY USED IT AS AN ATTACK IN THE SHOW ALL THE FRIGGEN TIME?!?!?!
So yeah, I lose horribly and everyone is kind of looking in stunned silence at this display of terrifying inadequacy and what it says about the fact that I'll be a voting member of society one day... then they recall this is pokemon land and there's nothing remotely close to democracy, any ol' criminal organisation can run the show... A series of increasingly teary and reluctant retries tricks GARY into commanding his toad to fight like an acid dropping hippy... I'm serious, his attacks just started to miss me regardless... Forcing the game to let me win WAS my scheme however, so I'm cool with this... but for his passive aggression in letting me win I might go let FREND-1 relieve himself in GARY's room later...
So I leave the town... CLEARLY NOONE MISSES ME... and proceed to let FREND-1 eat as much of the native species he feels inclined to. Introducing a grossly dominant species to a fragile ecosystem gets me stupidly drunk on my newfound sense of power over a world that's wronged and ridiculed me for so long. In a stupor of violence I begin nourishing myself on the prospect of an unholy beast army cleansing the world of it's sins... Through imprisonment and extensive waterboarding I convince a small bird that it was placed on this earth as a saviour for all of mankind. Now it can only say it's own newly christened name, over and over again, but it still has claws, which will do nicely... 'FREND-2, FREND-2' it screeches in a euphoric joy as it pulls mice apart at my whim.
Now that society is aware of my deviance, I'm left with no choice but to flee to the woods. The woods are infested with filth. The filth of man's progeny. You see in pokemon land people don't have children, they have Bug Catchers, which sit among detritus the bottom of the predatory chain.
'THEY WILL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY'
Oh god, OH GOD?!? Is there even a pokemon god?!?! NO, I'm in no fit state for worship... I've just assisted my FRENDS in the slaying and subsequent partial consumption of a child?!... oh and I like, totally threw a pokeball at his caterpie, which is a hangable offence in pokemon land... I think I need some serious help, I have a condition... OAK! He's a professor!! Surely he'll know what to do... No maybe I'm taking this all way too seriously, all I need to do is hide what's left of the body and then I'll just chill out and go play some Pokemon on my laptop, yeah, that's it. I've got a feeling everyting will turn out... juuuuuuuuuuust fine...
Mel, the ball is in your court ;)
TONGS AWAY
Okay so I got bored and decided to catch a moth alive today, because I'm of good old(er by the day *violent shuddering*) Gen Y, I've been conditioned by the mass media to associate any and all barbarism concerning animals with Pokemon. Nice one guys! Now you know the only one's kicking up a stink about cosmetic testing had hilariously deprived childhoods that never involved the excruciating complex of having 'Catching 'em All!' carved into their brains right before starting off by deciding on the two. fucking. pokemon. you. could. never. ever. own.
Anyway, I've decided, I'm on holidays and to stop me planning the slayings of D-list celebrities I'm gonna play through Pokemon until I get stuck, lose interest or rip my laptop in half because Sand Attack used nine times is FUCKING CHEATING!!!
Oh yeah, I'm playing this illegally too, if you don't realise, but fuck the Nintendo corporation, I bought enough pokemon related shit as a child to retire them all into next week. So here I go, I'm booting this up...
Yeah, it's the newfangled colourful homosexual one, for the record, I wanted BLUE because I'm obsessive over these things
Oh god, how quaint... 'New Skool Pokemon for pussy children who don't know shit about anything' is explaining how to play... If I recall, you press A to talk, B to back out of a selection like I wish I could've done with all my past relationships and directions to walk in them... kids these days suck, you know it. ALRIGHT, LISSEN TO ME GAME AND LISSEN UP GOOD. I HAD 150 FUCKING POKEMON BY LIKE THE END OF 1999 AND THE ONLY REASON I DIDN'T GET ANY CRED FOR IT WAS BECAUSE YOU BASTARDS TACKED THAT MEW THING THAT LOOKS LIKE ABORTION, DON'T. TELL. ME. HOW. TO. DO. THIS.
Well, the ball is rolling, fates are turning... you get the point
'So you'd basically flip out if during the throes of passion I accidentally yelled Digimon Doctor?'
Oh for fuck's sake, I do this to escape the horrors of my reality, I don't need everyone over 60's definition of manhood haunting me here as well...
I want to say NO, I really do, it destroys all social convention... but I'd have to spend another four minutes typing out an alias and working out how the hell I find lower case letters
What the hell is rivalry at the infant stage? Or is it just some other fucked up element of this backwards culture of pitting everything against everything for NO GOOD REASON?!?
Okay, so I call my rival GARY because I'm a purist slut and TWATSODWITHBETTERHAIRTHANME didn't fit. I go downstairs and head off to Prof. Oak's mysterious back shed 'lab' for my free goddamn pokemon to nurture into a merciless killing machine without a hitch, oh, apart from the fact that it makes that funny noise that sounds like a beepy frustrated groan when you try to walk into space occupied by some other character... yeah after eleven minutes of going 'Oh, Ash's mum, OH, OH, OH'... WHAT?!? I'm trying to catch the perspective of immaturity alright?!?, I'm allowed. I arrive at a building that smells like sweat and acetone.
I enter the lab... and the music changes, to some stupid upbeat theme that isn't the battle music... or that really epic Route #-- song that I had for my ringtone for ages because it made me cry with nostalgia... Well, I do what anyone else about to receive their FIRST. REAL. POKEMON. would do... I check out every bookcase looking for free potions, hey, free shit... and I might find whatever kind of distressing pornography that I have no doubt in my mind the old professor is into...
CUT TO THE CHASE, I pick squirtle, that thing's a beast. It evolves and gets guns. I'm pretty sure I could wipe one of these small towns off the map with those... For all you bitching about charmander because it's a dragon, grow up. Charizard is a sexual fantasy that can never happen... The fire breathing dragon WILL. NEVER. BE. YOUR. LOYAL. COMPANION. TO. FEND. OFF. BULLIES. AND. LONELINESS. Get over it. Oh and as for Bulbasaur, it's a matter of consistency. You see, Squirtle at least rhymes with 'turtle'... Bulbasaur DOESN'T rhyme with 'cancerous frog'. Cry me a river... you seriously fucked up people for not picking Squirtle...
'Don't choose me, Don't choose me, Don't choose... Oh shit... SHITSHITSHITSODDINGFRIGGEN!!! NO, PLEASE, DON'T LET THIS KID EVEN TOUCH ME, LOOK INTO HIS EYES?!?!? DO YOU SEE A SOUL?!? DO YOU?!?!?!
Just so he knows what kind of person he's dealing with... FOR THE REST OF HIS NO DOUBT SHORT AND HORRIBLY-LADEN-WITH-AWKWARD-SOCIAL-OBLIGATION-TO-AVERT-MY-TEARS-LIFE
GARY goes ahead and takes Bulbasaur. Dick move, GARY, dick move.
And what's the first thing that cocky little bitch does?
Rubs in how my sense of style is more than a decade old now...
So now I'm thrust into yielding my Pokeginity... at least I've known the guy all my life... and so I awkwardly fumble around to determine what I'm comfortable with and trying recall stuff I've seen in the movies. He gets a little weirded out when I try to figure out what other people have done in this situation through subtle questioning and struggling not to look like I'm defensively obsessing over some of Gary's more experienced past RIVALS (because that's what the kids must be calling it now).
Like men of this land of pokemon, we duel to determine our fate...
Yeah, I'm already in tears... I get to watch my first friend get eaten alive while I flail around panicking uselessly... "JUST RUN, WE CAN'T WIN"
TAIL WHIP IS A FUCKING ATTACK. IF I WHIPPED SOMEONE WITH AN APPENDAGE IT WOULD BE CLASSED AS ASSAULT MAKING IT A DAMAGING ATTACK. SERIOUSLY, THEY USED IT AS AN ATTACK IN THE SHOW ALL THE FRIGGEN TIME?!?!?!
So yeah, I lose horribly and everyone is kind of looking in stunned silence at this display of terrifying inadequacy and what it says about the fact that I'll be a voting member of society one day... then they recall this is pokemon land and there's nothing remotely close to democracy, any ol' criminal organisation can run the show... A series of increasingly teary and reluctant retries tricks GARY into commanding his toad to fight like an acid dropping hippy... I'm serious, his attacks just started to miss me regardless... Forcing the game to let me win WAS my scheme however, so I'm cool with this... but for his passive aggression in letting me win I might go let FREND-1 relieve himself in GARY's room later...
So I leave the town... CLEARLY NOONE MISSES ME... and proceed to let FREND-1 eat as much of the native species he feels inclined to. Introducing a grossly dominant species to a fragile ecosystem gets me stupidly drunk on my newfound sense of power over a world that's wronged and ridiculed me for so long. In a stupor of violence I begin nourishing myself on the prospect of an unholy beast army cleansing the world of it's sins... Through imprisonment and extensive waterboarding I convince a small bird that it was placed on this earth as a saviour for all of mankind. Now it can only say it's own newly christened name, over and over again, but it still has claws, which will do nicely... 'FREND-2, FREND-2' it screeches in a euphoric joy as it pulls mice apart at my whim.
Now that society is aware of my deviance, I'm left with no choice but to flee to the woods. The woods are infested with filth. The filth of man's progeny. You see in pokemon land people don't have children, they have Bug Catchers, which sit among detritus the bottom of the predatory chain.
'THEY WILL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY'
Oh god, OH GOD?!? Is there even a pokemon god?!?! NO, I'm in no fit state for worship... I've just assisted my FRENDS in the slaying and subsequent partial consumption of a child?!... oh and I like, totally threw a pokeball at his caterpie, which is a hangable offence in pokemon land... I think I need some serious help, I have a condition... OAK! He's a professor!! Surely he'll know what to do... No maybe I'm taking this all way too seriously, all I need to do is hide what's left of the body and then I'll just chill out and go play some Pokemon on my laptop, yeah, that's it. I've got a feeling everyting will turn out... juuuuuuuuuuust fine...
Mel, the ball is in your court ;)
TONGS AWAY
Friday, November 12, 2010
reflections...
So after what can be described as the end of a very successful period of anything but study I feel it is only approriate to look back and just have look at some of the time wasting creations. Doodling is always the best last resort option becuase it can be just done right over the top of your study notes.
Each exam period brings about a new trend to my doodling crazy so to keep you up with the latest trends I will provide you with a piss poor excuse of a blog. So the fashion of the field for the spring of 2010 was arrows. Nobody really saw it comming they had been out for a while but you find once you draw one arrow it must be followed by another arrow. I mean an arrow cant point to nowhere hence another arrow must be drawn. The trend was enourmous and covered many practice exams and blank sheets of paper that could have been used for good. So now I shall leave you with just a small taster of what was on offer...
...who would have ever thought ethics were boring
phyiscs is a sorry excuse of subject and the purple pen really just makes this one so much more than a doodle....
... Some of my earlier work
To be honest a tree wasted its life for this peice of paper it came to no use and it is only here out of my own guilt.
So I hope you enjoyed this taster of boredem
MF
Each exam period brings about a new trend to my doodling crazy so to keep you up with the latest trends I will provide you with a piss poor excuse of a blog. So the fashion of the field for the spring of 2010 was arrows. Nobody really saw it comming they had been out for a while but you find once you draw one arrow it must be followed by another arrow. I mean an arrow cant point to nowhere hence another arrow must be drawn. The trend was enourmous and covered many practice exams and blank sheets of paper that could have been used for good. So now I shall leave you with just a small taster of what was on offer...
...who would have ever thought ethics were boring
To be honest a tree wasted its life for this peice of paper it came to no use and it is only here out of my own guilt.
So I hope you enjoyed this taster of boredem
MF
Monday, November 8, 2010
"There's always someone else having a worse day... like being chained to a wall in someone's sex dungeon."
So I just got out of the bath, and it made that suctioning noise that makes you cringe. You know that noise? Maybe you don't, but it's a kind of sucking, suctioning noise of water draining that happens at odd Tourettes-esque bursts and makes you feel slightly uneasy and embarrassed, like something dreadfully awkward is happening that you're not REALLY at fault for, but you ARE related to.
I felt embarrassed. I felt embarrassed FOR the bathtub.
Anyway, the point of my bathtub rant is probably due to the fact that I've been sucked into, as the french say, L'Exam Study Void.
I spent the entire day today listening to 100 different excerpts from approx. forty different pieces, over and over again, trying to differentiate between them. When I wasn't doing that I was researching the composers of them.
Suffice to say, that if I have to listen to one more minimalist/serialist/pre-emptive electronic piece with a soprano shrieking over the top, I will attempt to headbutt myself into a fine paste.
The other issue with studying is also obviously procrastination. There are far too many things I don't want to consider the amount of time I've spent doing... them.. I don't... want to... consider the amount of time I've spent doing things... too... much... I don't --- LOOK, YOU FUCKING GET THE POINT, GO AND PUT A SQUIGGLY GREEN LINE UNDER IT AND CONSIDER REVISING IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.
But anyway. For your reading pleasure, I will consider the things I don't want to consider that I've done too much of that shouldn't be things you should do much of at all.
Yeah. We got there in the end.
LIST OF THE THINGS I JUST MENTIONED ABOVE THAT I DON'T WANT TO WRITE AGAIN.
Playing Procrastination Tetris
So I got this macbook about six months ago. It and I besties. We became better besties when I actually learned how to use it properly and got a bunch of programs installed on it that were halfway useful. Anyway, the thing is, with these programs I got tetris. I haven't played Tetris since I was about seven and spent time at my Dutch grandparents' house, playing the games on my Papa's ancient computer. Interesting fact: Being yelled at and berated by a morbidly obese man with a combover and glasses in a some kind of thickly veiled version of English rife with Dutch swear words because you didn't put the right shape in the right play, while a small and feisty elderly lady in clogs force feeds you ostrich meat and Dutch liquorice is not fun for anyone, in any country, regardless of your heritage. And I shit you not about this previous description.
Anyway. So it just sat there on my desktop for a while, and I didn't think about it. Until I had to write a 3000 word essay. It started with one game. "I'll just see how I go", I thought (foolishly). I, of course, lost at high speed. But then I needed more.
The thing they don't tell you about Tetris is, it's like crack. That should be the tagline for it, in fact: Tetris - JUST LIKE CRACK.
You need it ALL THE TIME. You need to beat that last score, there are bright coloured blocks falling, FASTER AND FASTER, AND IF YOU DON'T SLOT THEM INTO A GEOMETRICALLY CORRECT PLACE, FAILURE IS IMMINENT. YOU MUST PLAY. YOU MUST WIN. But you can't. The battle is endless.
The other warning I can offer about Tetris is: it is scarily similar to a gambling addiction. Quit while you're ahead and the loan shark hasn't broken your knee caps.
Procrastination Weepin' and Gorgin'
Oh, how I wish this one weren't true.
But alas, it is.
If a career could be made out of weeping and eating (and yes, I do mean this SIMULTANEOUSLY. You cannot just WEEP and NOT GORGE. It doesn't work like that. The full effect can only be achieved by simultaneously gorging oneself and crying like Bridget Jones while you lament about all men being bastards through a mouthful of cheesecake). ANYWAY. If a career could be made out of weeping and eating, I would be the CEO. If there were a weeping and eating test, I WOULD BLITZ IT.
JT, I could cry you a river, baby, and pack my sinuses with camembert simultaneously.
Okay, so let me straighten things out: I don't actually cry THAT much. Just like, contrary to popular belief, I don't actually vom EVERY TIME I DRINK. The nickname "Vomasaur" is at LEAST mildly deceptive.
Also, I am not a thousand pound Chunk Monster. I just really like food, but my actually body type could best be described as "frail, jagged and birdlike".
The thing is, at high levels of stress, and anxiety, and general world bitterness, I occasionally have finished my day at uni, bought a block of chocolate, and wept in my car on the peak hour drive home, while listening to "Bittersweet Symphony" and stuffing my head with Cadbury.
Yeah. judge me.
But when I get my PHD in Weepin' and Gorgin', THEN WHO'LL BE LAUGHING?!??!!
A: not me. I will be doing the aforementioned.
Procrastination General Screaming and Bitterness.
Depending on who you speak to, I seem to come across in a number of different ways:
1. Friendly, exceptionally hyperactive and bubbly.
2. Vaguely careless, loud, overly sweary.
3. Generally bitter towards everything and everyone, including (and especially) inanimate objects and random passers by, and excessively sarcastic.
Sometimes I mix them up, just to keep things fresh.
I have spent many a day recently in my stompin' and clompin' boots, and unnecessarily see-through/lacey-ridiculous clothing, glaring bitterly behind my sunglasses at innocent people in the street, and throwing back double shot coffee after double shot coffee.
A nice girl takes my change. EYES NARROW.
A charity worker asks for money. JAW CLENCHES.
A slight breeze blows a strand of hair out of place. INSTANT DOOM FOR ALL MANKIND, ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY WALK INTO MORDOR, ETC. ETC. FIERY EYE OF DOOM.
Anyway. I really, REALLY need the exam period to end.
Well. Right now I have to go write about some Australian composer who essentially wrote a piece about the Northern Territory that spends the entire time wanking itself off with Australian culture.
YOU HAVE A GOOD NIGHT.
xx Anna
I felt embarrassed. I felt embarrassed FOR the bathtub.
Anyway, the point of my bathtub rant is probably due to the fact that I've been sucked into, as the french say, L'Exam Study Void.
I spent the entire day today listening to 100 different excerpts from approx. forty different pieces, over and over again, trying to differentiate between them. When I wasn't doing that I was researching the composers of them.
Suffice to say, that if I have to listen to one more minimalist/serialist/pre-emptive electronic piece with a soprano shrieking over the top, I will attempt to headbutt myself into a fine paste.
The other issue with studying is also obviously procrastination. There are far too many things I don't want to consider the amount of time I've spent doing... them.. I don't... want to... consider the amount of time I've spent doing things... too... much... I don't --- LOOK, YOU FUCKING GET THE POINT, GO AND PUT A SQUIGGLY GREEN LINE UNDER IT AND CONSIDER REVISING IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.
But anyway. For your reading pleasure, I will consider the things I don't want to consider that I've done too much of that shouldn't be things you should do much of at all.
Yeah. We got there in the end.
LIST OF THE THINGS I JUST MENTIONED ABOVE THAT I DON'T WANT TO WRITE AGAIN.
Playing Procrastination Tetris
So I got this macbook about six months ago. It and I besties. We became better besties when I actually learned how to use it properly and got a bunch of programs installed on it that were halfway useful. Anyway, the thing is, with these programs I got tetris. I haven't played Tetris since I was about seven and spent time at my Dutch grandparents' house, playing the games on my Papa's ancient computer. Interesting fact: Being yelled at and berated by a morbidly obese man with a combover and glasses in a some kind of thickly veiled version of English rife with Dutch swear words because you didn't put the right shape in the right play, while a small and feisty elderly lady in clogs force feeds you ostrich meat and Dutch liquorice is not fun for anyone, in any country, regardless of your heritage. And I shit you not about this previous description.
Anyway. So it just sat there on my desktop for a while, and I didn't think about it. Until I had to write a 3000 word essay. It started with one game. "I'll just see how I go", I thought (foolishly). I, of course, lost at high speed. But then I needed more.
The thing they don't tell you about Tetris is, it's like crack. That should be the tagline for it, in fact: Tetris - JUST LIKE CRACK.
You need it ALL THE TIME. You need to beat that last score, there are bright coloured blocks falling, FASTER AND FASTER, AND IF YOU DON'T SLOT THEM INTO A GEOMETRICALLY CORRECT PLACE, FAILURE IS IMMINENT. YOU MUST PLAY. YOU MUST WIN. But you can't. The battle is endless.
The other warning I can offer about Tetris is: it is scarily similar to a gambling addiction. Quit while you're ahead and the loan shark hasn't broken your knee caps.
Procrastination Weepin' and Gorgin'
Oh, how I wish this one weren't true.
But alas, it is.
If a career could be made out of weeping and eating (and yes, I do mean this SIMULTANEOUSLY. You cannot just WEEP and NOT GORGE. It doesn't work like that. The full effect can only be achieved by simultaneously gorging oneself and crying like Bridget Jones while you lament about all men being bastards through a mouthful of cheesecake). ANYWAY. If a career could be made out of weeping and eating, I would be the CEO. If there were a weeping and eating test, I WOULD BLITZ IT.
JT, I could cry you a river, baby, and pack my sinuses with camembert simultaneously.
Okay, so let me straighten things out: I don't actually cry THAT much. Just like, contrary to popular belief, I don't actually vom EVERY TIME I DRINK. The nickname "Vomasaur" is at LEAST mildly deceptive.
Also, I am not a thousand pound Chunk Monster. I just really like food, but my actually body type could best be described as "frail, jagged and birdlike".
The thing is, at high levels of stress, and anxiety, and general world bitterness, I occasionally have finished my day at uni, bought a block of chocolate, and wept in my car on the peak hour drive home, while listening to "Bittersweet Symphony" and stuffing my head with Cadbury.
Yeah. judge me.
But when I get my PHD in Weepin' and Gorgin', THEN WHO'LL BE LAUGHING?!??!!
A: not me. I will be doing the aforementioned.
Procrastination General Screaming and Bitterness.
Depending on who you speak to, I seem to come across in a number of different ways:
1. Friendly, exceptionally hyperactive and bubbly.
2. Vaguely careless, loud, overly sweary.
3. Generally bitter towards everything and everyone, including (and especially) inanimate objects and random passers by, and excessively sarcastic.
Sometimes I mix them up, just to keep things fresh.
I have spent many a day recently in my stompin' and clompin' boots, and unnecessarily see-through/lacey-ridiculous clothing, glaring bitterly behind my sunglasses at innocent people in the street, and throwing back double shot coffee after double shot coffee.
A nice girl takes my change. EYES NARROW.
A charity worker asks for money. JAW CLENCHES.
A slight breeze blows a strand of hair out of place. INSTANT DOOM FOR ALL MANKIND, ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY WALK INTO MORDOR, ETC. ETC. FIERY EYE OF DOOM.
Anyway. I really, REALLY need the exam period to end.
Well. Right now I have to go write about some Australian composer who essentially wrote a piece about the Northern Territory that spends the entire time wanking itself off with Australian culture.
YOU HAVE A GOOD NIGHT.
xx Anna
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
VALIDATE ME. CRITIQUE ME.
I should be studying for exams, but I'll pass anyway. Why? Because I'm a middle class white male. THAT'S WHY *blocks ears*
Anyway lately I've been hating on everything I write seriously rather than for artistic merit. In the last few days though I think I've been improving... but that shouldn't be for me to decide, so here's some stuff I'm chipping away at. This stuff's all pretty unfinished... but less unfinished than my usual angsty verbal wank. So judge and puke at the lack of stylistic control.
-STUFF THAT'S SOMEWHAT THOUGHT OUT-
Our hearts are on our sleeves
Because it's all we need
Fisherman's tales not to be believed
Never see someone swim so deep
I thought this sounded a bit too simple and boring but now I'm sort of warming to it. I want to write something on the importance of face value rather than the usual 'what's inside counts'. I mean, I even realise how I think I present and how things have shaped me is very different to their outward effects... Hell, I think you're reading and enjoying this...
The boiling turmoil
Right to reach for eyes in the sky
Trembling in tremors
The earth splits it's words in it's surface
Mispelled and rearranged
Again, and like everything else my noncommital births, this isn't finished, I know where I want to take it but the words aren't coming yet, if you dig. It's similar to the first one, but I'm feeling a slight variation in theme, rather misrepresentation, but I'd like to present it as both good and bad... which I'm finding hard right now.
An excellent hiding place found
Unremarkable, no movement, no sound.
Search carries on, wills never gave way
Found a corpse left behind
Given away by the stench, a stubborn decay
I tend to find my stuff too wordy and grammatical obsession taking up too much time, so this is good to get me to loosen up a bit (and not freak over 'inventing' words and stuff which noone's going to kill me for... I came up with 'lobotomic' the other day... it's awesome). Anyway, I've tried to kill some useless words and get the point across anyway.
This pride imprints in a sinister prince
Inky spectres in control
of the sphincter to the soul
Feeling fearful and forlorn
Not the reason you were born
The path you follow seems unknown
I'm thinking of splitting this into two or three different things and using them as focus points for two or three different poems or whatever I call these. Anyway, I actually like how alot of this sounds, at least the first couple of lines. I'm thinking of scratching all the 'in's because the repetitive alliteration seems to cover it anyway. Just observations.
This stake to rape a heart
that's been tearing you apart
Both have terrors in their eyes
Conceal their need for ties
This is a little lacking in actual direction I think. I THINK I know where it's going but again it's not coming to me yet (I WRITE USING FEIGNED PSYCHIC POWERS). This does strike me as a little too lyrical... and needs a little more alliterative flamboyance... I like the idea that we're not really all that separated from our own fears.
-LINES THAT SOUND TOO COOL NOT TO USE-
'Born of cold, plastic womb'
I got this from Mysterious Follower's links to abandoned building galleries. It was an amazing description for a plastic coating to stop a bannister from rusting. I really like that image with that description so I'm gonna steal it and write something using it... I just don't know where it fits yet, any ideas?
'Fogged up compliments with sales pitch'
I wrote this down in my douchey little black book of lines and sketches and words after some street preacher or whatever commented on my jumper... and in characteristic paranoid melodrama read into this a universally acquired autism. Possibly wrongly, but I think it's a good point, sometimes I know I get confused with people's motives thanks to being bombarded with advertising and stuff. I was thinking of turning this into some kind of scathing critique, but I haven't been feeling subtle enough to pull it off.
'Withdrawals from what I wished to exist'
A bit of an angsty interpretation from a bit in Naked Lunch where Burroughs types up a letter for help explaining he's become addicted to a substance that he doesn't think exists. Anyway, I occasionally slip into thinking that sometimes the things I'm aspiring for aren't real. For people familiar with Catcher in the Rye, it's a fear of phonyness. For normal people who now realise my perceptions of the universe are largely plagiaristic it's a fear for the loss of authenticity in favour of things like insecurity. But yeah, I want to use this for something, sometime.
'There's too much noise to discern sound anymore. Everything's falling into a cacophony of silence.'
'My life became the remote I held, flicking identical channels like identical people'
These are a bit scathing and angsting in here, but I thought they might suit some kind of dialogue for an idea I had watching Fight Club (AGAIN) the other day. I like the idea of maybe a short film narrated by someone in that pit of misery to just emphasize how it morphs and distorts the outside world.
'In this premade world I sit and must imagine it's destruction'
I wrote this down sitting on a park bench thinking about the idea of 'making your mark on the world'. The point, I thought, was so many other people have made marks on the world and manipulated it for themselves. My mark would be made over someone else's. I also thought it presented an idea of a world that seems to be doing alright. One where nobody has to work very hard to stay alive, everything we get is 'prepackaged'... which I think I might change 'premade' to (THIS IS WHY I DO THIS, IT GIVES PERSPEX... no... PERSPECTIVE!!!).
'Only madmen smile forever'
"Life's sinusoidal, you see" I said to someone once, no doubt waving my hand around in pseudo-intellectualism... Well, life has ups and downs and it's not life without them, opposites define each other. But this was the temptation of illusion, the idea to ignore all misery... but it also struck me as innocent. To ignore the normal option and instead smile regardless... I dunno, it's a bit weird but it's some random idea I had.
'I want a knight in shining armour, so hard they'll never hurt'
I like to play with tropes, I heard someone talking about being swept off their feet by a knight in shining armour. I liked the idea of necessitating the armour. I mean, we have an amazing capability to hurt people, among other things. But I like the idea of vulnerability in saviours, it's one of the things you realise as you mature.
'We think we're so deep, but six feet isn't out of reach'
This is a response to people complaining about how miserable they are and how beyond help they are and stuff... yeah... uh... *ducks under desk to avoid barrage of thrown implements*. Okay, well, it's just sort of thinking that maybe using your tragedy as the crux of your identity isn't a fantastic idea...
I might leave it there, everything else is still revolting and this is probably getting really boring. But I really want criticism and stuff. It helps to get ideas and improve and all that cal. So there's a comment section and I'll post a facebook link so you can comment there if you'd really rather. Hell, pm me on facebook or something if you really must warn me of how laughably awful I am. Or if you've had any ideas sound them off, I'd be happy to swipe... uuh... give my critique... (because it's SO worth something) or just read it if you'd prefer. Anyway I'm normally just enamoured with other people's talent anyway...
So, hope this was a somewhat interesting insight into my process and next time I'll try to post something substantial for a change...
TONGS AWAY!!!!!
Anyway lately I've been hating on everything I write seriously rather than for artistic merit. In the last few days though I think I've been improving... but that shouldn't be for me to decide, so here's some stuff I'm chipping away at. This stuff's all pretty unfinished... but less unfinished than my usual angsty verbal wank. So judge and puke at the lack of stylistic control.
-STUFF THAT'S SOMEWHAT THOUGHT OUT-
Our hearts are on our sleeves
Because it's all we need
Fisherman's tales not to be believed
Never see someone swim so deep
I thought this sounded a bit too simple and boring but now I'm sort of warming to it. I want to write something on the importance of face value rather than the usual 'what's inside counts'. I mean, I even realise how I think I present and how things have shaped me is very different to their outward effects... Hell, I think you're reading and enjoying this...
The boiling turmoil
Right to reach for eyes in the sky
Trembling in tremors
The earth splits it's words in it's surface
Mispelled and rearranged
Again, and like everything else my noncommital births, this isn't finished, I know where I want to take it but the words aren't coming yet, if you dig. It's similar to the first one, but I'm feeling a slight variation in theme, rather misrepresentation, but I'd like to present it as both good and bad... which I'm finding hard right now.
An excellent hiding place found
Unremarkable, no movement, no sound.
Search carries on, wills never gave way
Found a corpse left behind
Given away by the stench, a stubborn decay
I tend to find my stuff too wordy and grammatical obsession taking up too much time, so this is good to get me to loosen up a bit (and not freak over 'inventing' words and stuff which noone's going to kill me for... I came up with 'lobotomic' the other day... it's awesome). Anyway, I've tried to kill some useless words and get the point across anyway.
This pride imprints in a sinister prince
Inky spectres in control
of the sphincter to the soul
Feeling fearful and forlorn
Not the reason you were born
The path you follow seems unknown
I'm thinking of splitting this into two or three different things and using them as focus points for two or three different poems or whatever I call these. Anyway, I actually like how alot of this sounds, at least the first couple of lines. I'm thinking of scratching all the 'in's because the repetitive alliteration seems to cover it anyway. Just observations.
This stake to rape a heart
that's been tearing you apart
Both have terrors in their eyes
Conceal their need for ties
This is a little lacking in actual direction I think. I THINK I know where it's going but again it's not coming to me yet (I WRITE USING FEIGNED PSYCHIC POWERS). This does strike me as a little too lyrical... and needs a little more alliterative flamboyance... I like the idea that we're not really all that separated from our own fears.
-LINES THAT SOUND TOO COOL NOT TO USE-
'Born of cold, plastic womb'
I got this from Mysterious Follower's links to abandoned building galleries. It was an amazing description for a plastic coating to stop a bannister from rusting. I really like that image with that description so I'm gonna steal it and write something using it... I just don't know where it fits yet, any ideas?
'Fogged up compliments with sales pitch'
I wrote this down in my douchey little black book of lines and sketches and words after some street preacher or whatever commented on my jumper... and in characteristic paranoid melodrama read into this a universally acquired autism. Possibly wrongly, but I think it's a good point, sometimes I know I get confused with people's motives thanks to being bombarded with advertising and stuff. I was thinking of turning this into some kind of scathing critique, but I haven't been feeling subtle enough to pull it off.
'Withdrawals from what I wished to exist'
A bit of an angsty interpretation from a bit in Naked Lunch where Burroughs types up a letter for help explaining he's become addicted to a substance that he doesn't think exists. Anyway, I occasionally slip into thinking that sometimes the things I'm aspiring for aren't real. For people familiar with Catcher in the Rye, it's a fear of phonyness. For normal people who now realise my perceptions of the universe are largely plagiaristic it's a fear for the loss of authenticity in favour of things like insecurity. But yeah, I want to use this for something, sometime.
'There's too much noise to discern sound anymore. Everything's falling into a cacophony of silence.'
'My life became the remote I held, flicking identical channels like identical people'
These are a bit scathing and angsting in here, but I thought they might suit some kind of dialogue for an idea I had watching Fight Club (AGAIN) the other day. I like the idea of maybe a short film narrated by someone in that pit of misery to just emphasize how it morphs and distorts the outside world.
'In this premade world I sit and must imagine it's destruction'
I wrote this down sitting on a park bench thinking about the idea of 'making your mark on the world'. The point, I thought, was so many other people have made marks on the world and manipulated it for themselves. My mark would be made over someone else's. I also thought it presented an idea of a world that seems to be doing alright. One where nobody has to work very hard to stay alive, everything we get is 'prepackaged'... which I think I might change 'premade' to (THIS IS WHY I DO THIS, IT GIVES PERSPEX... no... PERSPECTIVE!!!).
'Only madmen smile forever'
"Life's sinusoidal, you see" I said to someone once, no doubt waving my hand around in pseudo-intellectualism... Well, life has ups and downs and it's not life without them, opposites define each other. But this was the temptation of illusion, the idea to ignore all misery... but it also struck me as innocent. To ignore the normal option and instead smile regardless... I dunno, it's a bit weird but it's some random idea I had.
'I want a knight in shining armour, so hard they'll never hurt'
I like to play with tropes, I heard someone talking about being swept off their feet by a knight in shining armour. I liked the idea of necessitating the armour. I mean, we have an amazing capability to hurt people, among other things. But I like the idea of vulnerability in saviours, it's one of the things you realise as you mature.
'We think we're so deep, but six feet isn't out of reach'
This is a response to people complaining about how miserable they are and how beyond help they are and stuff... yeah... uh... *ducks under desk to avoid barrage of thrown implements*. Okay, well, it's just sort of thinking that maybe using your tragedy as the crux of your identity isn't a fantastic idea...
I might leave it there, everything else is still revolting and this is probably getting really boring. But I really want criticism and stuff. It helps to get ideas and improve and all that cal. So there's a comment section and I'll post a facebook link so you can comment there if you'd really rather. Hell, pm me on facebook or something if you really must warn me of how laughably awful I am. Or if you've had any ideas sound them off, I'd be happy to swipe... uuh... give my critique... (because it's SO worth something) or just read it if you'd prefer. Anyway I'm normally just enamoured with other people's talent anyway...
So, hope this was a somewhat interesting insight into my process and next time I'll try to post something substantial for a change...
TONGS AWAY!!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)