Thiswon'tbeveryfunnysoherehavesomereactiongifs

What is wroooong with me? I have had opportunities to do nice and good things that are nice and good and my brain is like 'now is the time to be cynical and angry for no reason. Enjoy.' In a place right now of... not poverty, because that implies desperation, but financial discomfort. Will have to go and look for work very soon. When I can afford the petrol to drive to places and apply for jobs. Which is pretty damn scary. And phoning people and looking up avaliable jobs is proving ridiculously challenging right now. I'm sorry for being so babyish.

Went back to work for a few hours in the afternoon yesterday and today. Lovely to see the babsies again, but I'm still in a state of continually simmering panic. My comfort zone is infinitely too small and stupidly uncomfortable.
Good night folks.

You Want to Go Home And Rethink Your Life.

This morning I was walking the childrens to storytime at the library, panicking as I went about the fact that November is two thirds over.

"I won't make 50,000 words" I said to myself, "it's totally impossible."

At that exact moment I looked down and immediately caught sight of a four leaf clover... with a FIVE leaf clover right next to it!
 NaNoWrimo, you have not got me beat yet!

Here, have some gratituously optimistic cheesy music on me:

I Am Very Very Distressed In My Mind

Hey.

I know that of late I have not been a happy little blogger and that this has probably been displeasing to some or all of my dear readers (it displeases me also, if that's any consolation), but forgive me yet another rant of unhappiness.

If you have, by chance, encountered my mother in the last week: face to face or facebook to facebook (or whatever) you may have noticed that her topic of conversation has pretty much circled around one topic. This topic.

When something makes me angry I usually avoid talking about it or reading about it or listening to anything about it until I go mad, mad, mad in my strong emotional state... and write a blog about it. Which isn't terribly productive, I realise, in the end; considering that I have an audience of about three people who probably know or can guess what it is I have to say about said topic anyway. But it makes me feel better.

In this case, I would really love it if writing this blog made some sort of difference, though I realise the chances of that are very slim.

Ismail is a young twenty-six year old man who fled Afghanistan when he was about fourteen years old. We all should know that Afghanistan (for a very long time) hasn't been the most peaceful of countries for a boy to grow up in and live out his dreams; add to this the fact that Ismail is an ethnic Hazara - a group systematically persecuted in Afghanistan for hundreds of years, and you might be able to piece together his reason for leaving. He fled to Europe and eventually ended up in Ireland, where he was able to complete a High School Certificate equivalent - but not allowed to seek higher education or employment. So, unable to make a life in Ireland, he obtained a false passport, got on a plane to Australia and handed himself over to the authorities in the belief that he would be treated with humanity in a country that prides itself on 'a fair go for all'.

He has been incarcerated in detention ever since. On Saturday he is going to be 'forcibly returned' to Afghanistan - the first person to be involuntarily deported after seeking asylum in Australia.

We, in Australia, are fed a lot of... bovine poo about refugees. The government parties use the 'boat people problem' as a scare tactic to try and win votes at election time - the media loves to tell us just how much the refugees cost our country in space and money and culture; everywhere our national predilection for racism and paranoia is fed like some sort of sacred flame.

Think of the films you like to watch. Any spy films, dystopian themed films, Holocaust themed films in that bunch? When you watch characters in these films steal away from dangerous enemy territory, clutching a false passport and sneaking their children through ditches, do you feel that they are selfish human beings? Do you feel that they are wrong for disobeying the law? Do you feel that they are cowardly or otherwise immoral?

Refugees aren't just people who didn't make good in their homeland and want to sponge off another country's government - refugee are, well, a good place to start would be refugees are people. Refugees are fleeing from places where bombs fall on their houses. Refugees are fleeing from places where their daughters can't walk to school without being raped, fleeing from places where they cannot make fundamental life choices about what they believe, where (or if) they will live or how they will make a life. Refugees are fleeing from places where they have no hope for a future. They leave places where trouble has come upon them unsought.

Can you imagine what it must be like to BE a 'boat person'? Floating for days and days on the ocean, packed in with other miserable, frightened people with minimal resources of any description on a boat that will probably be two leaks away from sinking to the bottom of the ocean? Besides the almost always nonexistent hygeine facilities and the awful food and the lack of defense against the ravages of weather, there are also pirates. Not jolly, yo ho ho pirates with parrots and peg legs: real modern pirates who steal any kind of material possession you might have managed to bring with you. Pirates who rape and kidnap wives and sisters before the very eyes of their families. I'm not trying to shock or scandalise you for effect - these attacks are real, documented. This stuff happens.

And then, when you reach Australia, a civilised first world country, where poverty means hand-me-downs and Centrelink payments for Australian citizens, we imprison you in a detention centre, give you hope and snatch it away; make you wait YEARS and YEARS without any kind of certainty about your future and without anything vaguely resembling the freedom, liberty and justice that a country like Australia has to offer. People in detention centres suffer from the worst kinds of mental illness and are never offered any treatment.

Not only is Ismail being sent back to a part of Afghanistan where he has never even been before (and he has not been in the country since he was a child) and where he knows no one - the authorities have handed him a bill for the expense of his unwanted journey - over $30,000. This, for a man who has been locked up for two years like a criminal - who came to Australia because he wished to seek education and employment!

Bear in mind, this is a person my mother and brother know (from visits to Villawood detention centre over the last few months). He is not a random money-grabbing opportunist or a scary alien from another planet. I am told that he is a patient, gentle man who is genuinely scared of dying. He has seen three suicides and a riot happen at the detention centre. When he confessed feelings of depression and anxiety he was put in isolation in a video monitored blood stained room.

Ismail left Afghanistan because he feared death. Australians are sending him right back to Afghanistan - and his case will create a precedent for other Hazara people to be sent back into the arms of death. Pray for Australia. Pray for Afghanistan.


Pray for Ismail.

My excitement is pretty much overflowing. BLACKSTUMP IS THIS WEEKEND, YOU GUYS.
Executive decision: I want more messing about in boats, more late night Simon and Garfunkel jam sessions, more hours of chatting, more times of general awesome in my life. I'm not going to pull a 'that's what life's all about', because life isn't all about having splendid experiences. I will say that having a good attitude towards life as a whole is much easier when said life is filled with wondrously lovely friends.

To me, you're strange and you're beautiful...

Finished work early today.

Took Vange and Josh to the park to ride their scooters. Yes, I did have a go on the scooter. Yes, I did take all of the skin off my knee and laddered my stocking all the way up. And, yes, it was humiliating and hurt like billy-oh. The kids thought I was hilarious. I'm very proud of myself for not sobbing like a baby: I figured it wouldn't add anything as far as dignity or mature behaviour went...
Apart from this incident it was a nice afternoon.
I stumbled upon and fell completely in love with some new music the other day - Aqualung. I think Aqualung is a pretty awful name for any artist, but the loveliness of the music makes up for it, I reckon. I only heard Strange and Beautiful for the first time the day before yesterday and I've listened to it about sixty-four times since then. The song is sorta creepy - don't know if I would reach for the nearest weaponlike object or dissolve into mushy goo if someone sang it to me - probably would depend on the person and how literally they meant the lyrics. The creepiness abates somewhat when you realise that the song references Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. Intertextuality to the rescue! I haven't really listened to much else of Aqualung's music apart from Brighter than Sunshine, which was OK but a bit meh; 7 Keys, which was lovely, and Who Are We Fooling - duet with Brooke Fraser. I like discovering new music.

Is that a bow-tie? I like bow-ties. I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN EIGHT DAYS!

Hello.

Finished sweeping some floors and washing some dishes. My dermatitis-y fingers hate me right now.

Just watched the second half of Meet the Robinsons. Such an underrated film. Makes me go all mushy inside. The first half is pretty 'meh', as Disney films go - the jokes are so-so, the characters are very mediocre (though there are standout moments and characters - Goob!) ... but the second half! Aaaahhh! I have no words! I guess I'm a bit of a sucker for time travel stories - Ahem - but not all time travel stories have the capacity to reduce me to a sniveling pile of soppiness like this movie does. Aaaaand I always get that 'don't worry, things will someday be different' vibe from watching it.

I'm tired of worrying about things and people and futures. Ugh.

Went to the zoo yesterday with the littlest of the kiddiwinks. The pictures are pretty awful, sadly, because I forgot to change the size before I took them:

Lots of people don't like zoos because animals don't belong in enclosures and stuff, but I'm a lifelong Gerald Durrell fan, so I've been indoctrinated with pro-zoo propaganda for quite some time. Besides, I think it's nice when people get to see real animals face to face instead of watching documentaries all the time. I'm very un-PC.

Besides... oh, my gosh! It's Aslan!!! *chortles of joy* I could have stayed at this part of the zoo forever...

``Yes, sir,'' said Jeeves in a low, cold voice, as if he had been bitten in the leg by a personal friend.

Woke up this morning in a great cloud of existential angst. Normally this doesn't happen to me - God be praised! - but sometimes everybody has moments of 'What am I doing here? What is the point of my life? Nobody loves me!'
So I got out of bed, went to the kitchen and put some toast in the toaster. As I was doing so a voice boomed from around the doorway, "Look, you've got food, what are you whinging for?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin, until it became apparent that Grandad was talking to the cat and not myself.
I'm not sure what the point of this story is, but it made me laugh and laughter and angst are nearly impossible to sustain simultaneously.
When I sit down and think about it, I'm sort of glad that I don't have a plan (as such) for my life. God's brought me to where I am now (and I happen to like where I am now) without any particular plotting or scheming on my part and I thank Him. It's difficult to trust Him with the future sometimes, but, at the same time, absolutely necessary.
I try not to post here when I'm feeling a bit down, but I feel today's post has kind of a happy ending, so I have indulged myself.

I got up this morning... at 9.22. My alarm was going off like nobody's business - I'd slept through about six hundred automatic snoozes! A bit of a nasty head cold can drag you down in odd ways.
So delighted with all the bloggin' that's been happening - folks, you brighten up my day - you know who you are :-)
Speaking of brightening things up... I know that hating pop music has been a perfectly respectable part of my schtick for, well, forever, but lately I've been giving it a chance and I'm finally willing to admit that some of the stuff is pretty fun. I'm not about to go out and buy me a Katy Perry album any time soon - not a chance, my dears! - but I no longer feel totally repulsed when trapped in the supermarket with those awful radio stations infiltrating every aisle. And tell me that this is not totally catchy!

I may be a living legend, but that sure don't help when I've got to change a flat tyre. - Roy Orbison

So.
I have that strange feeling of simultaneous frustration and triumph that comes from having just changed a car tyre.
Frustration because, hey! Now I have to go spend time and money on getting the wrecked tyre checked out and fixed. Plus, I wasted about an hour of my life crouching in a knee length skirt on wet tarmac. And the photo in no way expresses the amount of filth that will require hours of soaking to detach from my fingers (why are cars such dirty things, anyhow? I'm a terribly wimpy greasemonkey.)
But also triumph, because - you know - I changed a tyre! All by myself! (All right, Gen provided lots of moral support.) I feel like a strong, capable person who changes tyres.

"This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!" thought Lucy

Huzzah! My new (well, not really new, and not really mine) wardrobe is installed and my room is looking more like the habitation of a human being and less like a small storage cupboard after an earthquake. I won't take pictures or anything yet, until I can get rid of the old wardrobe which is clogging up my space like a big ugly space clogger, but at least my books are no longer strewn all over the floor like so many autumn leaves. Have that sort of mad nervous energy one gets after going to bed at 1.30 in the am and waking up at 6.30 - I'll probably crash and burn at about 2 in the afternoon (or eleven in the morning) and feel horrible for the rest of the day, but right now I'm very productive and early-birdish. I had a lovely weekend, despite the mad, mad rushy-ness of yesterday (is Sunday not supposed to be a day of rest?)
The wardrobe itself is a big antique heavy thing that fits all of my clothes and adds a sort of sombre, grownup tone to the decor of my room, but I like it. It's a very Narnia wardrobe. And I've never had a legit place to put my hats before - there's a little space specially set aside for hats :-)
Listened to the commentary on the Sherlock DVDs as I rearranged my books and folded my clothes - which is probably why I ended up staying up so darn late! Seriously love this show. It frustrates me sometimes that there are so many movies and TV shows made every year that just turn out rubbish - when a show is really enjoyable I jump in with both feet and go all fangirly (apologies: I realise how annoying fangirls can be). I already had a hearty adoration for the Sherlock Holmes stories and to see an adaptation of those stories - even in the modern day - made by people who love them at least as much as I do... particularly when those people can be lavish with beautiful scripts, music and editing... OK, I'm going to shut up now. Particularly when I notice that the rest of the Sherlock fandom seems to be made of creepy people who don't know the difference between bromance and romance. Ew. But that always happens with my favourite characters - Frodo & Sam, Bertie and Jeeves...

I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation.

The rule by which he had always lived was that the best would have to do until something better came along.

Been an odd, but on the whole, good sort of week. Lots of audiobooks. ;-)
I have very little laptop battery left so this shall probably be another of those deplorably short posts I've been specialising in. Listening to lots of Hans Zimmer music on youtube right now, because it's awesome. Should go and get dressed and vacuum + tidy. Also, I learned only about an hour ago that I'm supposed to be getting a new wardrobe in today: gaaah!
I'm so disorganised. There goes the battery... my laptop is making unhappy bleeping sounds...

Mine is a refined and poetic nature. I like to be surrounded by joy and life, and I know nothing more joyless and deader than a dead fish.

The Dog Days are OVER!

This is a blog post for no apparent reason. I feel happy this evening.
I should probably go and study and make/eat some dinner, get into pajama gear, and drink some tea.
Positive interactions with other human beings ftw.
Did you know I'm related by marriage to a baronet? A descendant of Anthony Trollope, no less. My great aunt Mary was a Lady Mary and her husband was a Sir Anthony. That is cool, no?



Currently listening to:

He walked as if on air, and the whole soul had obviously expanded, like a bath sponge placed in water.

A lovely day

Hello lovely ones.

Spent a wonderful day with my sister yesterday - we decided to go into the city without a plan. So we rode the monorail, browsed the bookshops, bought an umbrella and laughed like hyenas at nothing in particular... and saw a movie.


I enjoyed Arthur quite a bit. It was heartfelt, funny, visually spectacular, and bedazzlingly scripted. Russell Brand was fascinating to watch - I don't know if I particularly cared about his character's fate in the end, which is sort of awful - but I was certainly entertained. Helen Mirren was brilliant - of course, but I felt that most of the other female characters (and what other male characters there were) weren't very well developed. Greta Gerwig was very forgettable as Arthur's love interest: I haven't seen her in any other films or heard of her before and won't recognise her if I see her again. I loved the soundtrack of this movie - unfortunately I can't seem to find more than one or two tracks on youtube to listen to. If this turns out to be my favourite film of 2011 I will have the right to be very disappointed, but I did enjoy it.

“If you wait to do everything until you're sure it's right, you'll probably never do much of anything."

My laziness knows no bounds. Which is why I only got out of bed at ten to twelve today. And only just had my, erm... brunch about five minutes ago. Above is a picture of my brunch - I note that this picture was only taken because I realised that the pieces of toast were starting to look like little boots or bad representations of the country of Italy. I didn't meddle with them at all, I swear, the bootlikeness of the toast was completely serendipitous. And the food and tea went cold whilst I went to get the (phone) camera, so I even had to suffer (a teensy tiny bit) to give you this picture. I should probably go and get dressed and study and bring in washing (it's not raining!) and houseclean now.

"Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?"

Guten Abend

Just lately I've noticed that my voice is becoming higher and higher pitched. This worries me. I've only become aware of the fact slowly, over recent days. I think it comes from spending a lot of time with very small children.
Ugh, that just made me sound all fake! Like I put on a sappy high pitched voice for little children! But really, one sort of has to. And it's instinctual. And makes one sound less like a big scary person, which is always nice, particularly around little kids. But when I found myself buying a bus ticket at a pitch only bats can hear I made up my mind to spend all of tomorrow doing Jeremy Irons impersonations, just so my voice doesn't decide to permanently default to its Minnie Mouse setting. Wow: in my almost non-existent research for this post I learned that there actually is a market for people who want deeper voices and are willing to pay money to buy a book of exercises or even get testosterone injections (I'm not even kidding) to make their voices deeper. I am sort of offended to note that they only cater to the masculine market. But I have plenty enough testosterone as it is anyway, I'm sure.
I really want it to not rain tomorrow. I have washing that has been on the line for over a week now, and more in the washing basket that needs to take its place.
I'm lonely for reading material again. Reading too much Stephen Fry at a time is like overdosing on Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
I should write a book blog (I have a book blog, for the previously ignorant!) about Unseen Academicals and Never Let Me Go, but I'm not in the frame of mind for it.

Good night and sweet repose, my dears.

I have an infantile sense of humour:

"One of the advantages of being disorganized is that one is always having surprising discoveries."

I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me so I can say this is the way that I used to be

I feel like I've been doing a bit of a bad job lately. Not just of working or studying, but of everything in general. Not a totally terrible botch-up mess, but certainly not a very good job.

Wind blowing dress

+

Talking to mechanic about car

=

MAJOR EMBARRASSMENT.

But not the worst thing to happen to me this afternoon. (The morning was lovely!)

Her Teeth! Good Grief, Her TEETH!

Just watched the proposal scene from the new-er version of Pride and Prejudice. I wish I could have enjoyed that film more, but it was completely ruined by terrible casting decisions. I wish Keira Knightley had been holidaying in Antarctica when the casting director was seeing auditions. I really do. (Almost as much as I wish Alex Kingston, actress who plays 'River Song' would have a big fight with the makers of Doctor Who and leave.) Ugh, just got attacked by a moth. Maybe that moth likes Alex Kingston and Keira Knightley. Stupid moth.
I rather enjoy watching Keira Knightley's Elizabeth get dragged over the coals by Matthew McFayden's Mr Darcy - but I physically laugh every time she does that stupid thing with her mouth when talking... it's so distracting! How can anybody watch that without just staring at her enormous teeth?
I'm particularly annoyed because Elizabeth Bennet is my favourite fictional female character ever. I can't quite say why, but she is one of the only heroines I have ever completely identified with and enjoyed reading about. Just perfectly written, is all. I hope someday I am able to create such a character, but I fear this is a futile dream.
And the film isn't so bad a film. I mean, the lead cast is awful, the pacing sucks and have I mentioned that the lead cast is awful? But it's really quite a lovely film visually - the art direction is glorious and the costumes are divine - apart from a few weird outfits worn by, you guessed it, Miss Knightley. *Internal groan* Why, when given a period whose costume accentuates the chest, would you cast a girl who doesn't have one? Come to think of it, the clothes aren't that bad, they just look terrible on her.

I wish I had that dress. Perhaps only four sizes larger.

I had to leave work early today because of an enormous sinus headache. Have been in bed since 2.30. My head is a bubbling caldron of pain sometimes. Forgive the venom behind this post, dear ones.

Am I ready for the bigness of this year?

I feel so little.

"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."

Oooft! I'm so incredibly stiff! It never occurred to me that my job was any kind of strenuous, but after some sadly lazy holidays, my arms and shoulders are realising that baby lifting is no joke at all.
Funny anecdote:
It was so unbearably hot yesterday. Not a breath of breeze the livelong night - I woke up at dawn, roasting where I lay, looked out of the window despairingly, and rolled over. And as I rolled over my hand struck the cup of cold, icy water that stood by my bed. And it landed on my head. After the initial shock and the lasting annoyance of being totally awake, it was pleasantly cool.
At least today we have a bit of breeze...

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying." - Oscar Wilde