Where is my mind

Apart from the fact that I can't hear the words "Make poverty history" now without thinking of Frank from Shameless slurring, "Cheaper drugs now!" after it, Shameless never ceases to entertain me.

Although I'm not a fan of bogans/chavs, there's something about the show that makes it somehow worthwhile, interesting and challenging. Even if I want to beat Frank over the head with a tuna most of the time. He's so annoying.

"Did someone say 'tuna'?"

Sure, Shameless trips along through melodrama and ridiculousness for a lot of each episode, but then there's almost always something that lifts it out of that, makes it human and relevant, shows the struggles people have and doesn't brush their problems off for a sugar-sweet ending.

Last night's episode featured Monica's mum turning up randomly. She's got Alzheimer's disease and wants to make things right before she plans to suicide with the aid of a handbag full of sleeping pills.

My family doesn't have the dysfunctional freakshow stylings of the Gallaghers. In fact, we're oddly above average in the happiness stakes. But my Nanna had Alzheimer's/dementia toward the end of her life and the ep reminded me of that. It only really kicked in when we moved to New South Wales. Perhaps it was there prior to that, but being in familiar surroundings and with Pappa to cover issues, it didn't show up.

So somehow, I got a bit teary when watching Shameless.

I'd visit my Nan a few times each week when I was at uni - her nursing home wasn't that far away from uni, so I'd drop by. It was a soul-destroying place, even though it was one of the nicest in the area apparently. But she had to be in a place where constant care was available due to hip fractures, vertebrae fractures and that dementia thing.

Sometimes she'd be perfectly fine, other times she'd talk about wanting to die. On bad days, she'd be convinced there were people coming to take her away and burn her or gas her or something - it almost seemed like German guilt, even though the family's been in Australia since 1800-whatever. Or someone was trying to poison her, or was spying on her. Or she'd walked the entire way back to our farm in South Australia overnight and seen people she knew in her childhood.

The bemused dementia moments were better than the terrified ones. My family was upset by them, as I was. But I could always find ways to distract Nan and steer conversation to more cheerful topics. Thankfully, she never forgot who any of us were. I think that would be the hardest thing with dementia/Alzheimer's.

When the weather was good, I'd commandeer a wheelchair and take her out for long walks. We'd look at the trees and flowers and she'd reminisce about the farm and who she knew who grew plants like that. She was always a passionate gardener and having her outside in nature just seemed to make things better.

I regret not spending more time with her.

I got teary when Joan suicided on Shameless. My Nan passed away of just pure old age, even though she'd said stuff about wishing she was dead. I don't think, even if the option were there, that she would have done anything like that. She clung to life even though she'd broken her hip three different times and wasn't expected to survive long after each time.

She was a battler, a survivor.

And look at that. I meant to just write a bit about how good Shameless was last night and ended up rambling. Would just delete it, but it's taken a while to write and it would seem a shame...

Random office moments

Copy editor, singing: Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over... *stops singing* CRAP!
Me: What, it is?
Officemate: That's gold!

Qu'ils mangent de les petit gâteaux

If you'll pardon my French...



Mmm... Cupcakes at work make everyone happy.

I made them to inspire cheery cupcakey glee into my department at work. And I think it worked. Especially with the fairy sprinkle decorations. Okay, they look better without them, but it's a bright touch of sugary sprinkled goodness, so it can't hurt. Too much. Got to love the lashings of frosting, too.

*happy sigh*

I just caught my... foot in the fridge...

^ Random drawing while making a shopping list.

Got somewhat distracted while making the list and ended up thinking about various things that have been going on.

One of my oldest friends is in hospital and might have MS. She's just a few years older than me, married a few years, have a little kid. Argh. Will find out more this week when the test results come back. But apparently things aren't looking good.

Was also thinking about someone I saw recently. Knew him when younger and he's got one of those voices that just makes me think of Black Books with Fran saying, "He's got this voice and it just does things to me." I'd meant to avoid him like he's avoided me in the past but somehow ended up in conversation.

Then I remembered I had to make cupcakes to take to work.

^ I bought a random blanket at a store's closing down sale thing. I'm not entirely sure why, but it looked blue and sparkly and reminded me of a jacket I have somewhere with elephants embroidered on it. But it's a pointless purchase.

Just like staying up watching Grease is completely pointless. Should so be sleeping instead. But it's such a great trashy movie. And John Travolta was a fantastic dancer. Mreowr.

Argh

I may or may not have uttered "Argh!" as I saw this.

Also was internally saying it when at the train station on Friday and some guy with the makings of a fantastic black eye came up and started talking to the lady next to me, apologising for being late because he'd just had to escape being arrested or some bollocks. Thus he had no phone or wallet and hadn't even put his shoes on.

Oh so comforting.

Worked on subtly inching away from them - the lady had been talking to me before the guy turned up and then wanted to start another convo when he wandered off to smoke. I'm like, "Why do strangers always want to talk to meeeeee?"

Oops

It was only after meetings with my boss and the work boss that I noticed I had a glow-in-the-dark sticker stuck to my leg. Which probably explains the odd looks from people around work as well.


Guess I didn't stick all of the stickers onto the ceiling as thoroughly as I thought I had... I've partially covered the bedroom ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars. Was in a Socrates store and couldn't resist buying them (along with skull and crossbone ice-cube trays - maybe there'll be a post on that one day).

Glow-in-the-dark stickers are such a good childhood memory/nostalgia/retro thing, which is probably why I bought them. Plus they're so cute! And it's fun to make your own constellations. Most of which end up looking somewhat the same when the lights are out. But it's pretty.

And Penguin has the idea of adding more stars to my leg. I kind of like that - add one per day and then feign ignorance of them if/when people ask questions.

Update: Some glow-in-the-dark sticker moments:


It was harder to take photos of the stickers than I'd thought it would be. This was the best shot and it's still blurry.

Anyone for a snowcone?

Christmas stuff in stores so early is wrong enough, but this is what I saw today and sort of thought it made it even a little more wrong. Or maybe I just have a twisted mind. Well. You'd have to have to keep a blog I guess.

I also saw some bird tree decorations that looked like they'd been hung from the neck, 'til dead. Was going to take a photo, but as I was reaching for the camera, a store person rounded the corner.

Apart from the wrong-looking things, I was very tempted by the shiny baubles in gorgeous colours. But I don't need more junk in my house. Instead, I went to the bookshop and bought four more Popular Penguins. Apparently those rumours about a second lot of 50 Popular Penguins may just be true, but we'll find out more in the next few months or something.

And then I head back home and the wrongness continues. There's a fire starting up not too far from home in bushland, which fortunately they managed to get under control in a few hours. And ladybirds were gettin' it on on the rose bush out the front of the house.


What a strange day.

Oh, those Russians

Today I find there's nothing better than singing along to Ra-Ra-Rasputin with the officemates. Especially when the boss walks in and looks at us strangely.

^ Was poking around on the officemate's iPod this afternoon and found this. Because I'm so mature, you can probably see why it amused me... Another thing that was amusing was the officemate dancing around to I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt.

I just finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo for the second time, and enjoyed it perhaps even more than the first time around. There are the little bits you miss on the first time through a book to glean on a second reading, you take a little more time to savour rather than devour and it's a generally pleasant experience.

And what's not to enjoy about The Count of Monte Cristo? It's a rollicking tale of love, loss and revenge with lashings of intrigue, plus some sprinklings of drug use, affairs and sapphic affection. And some murders, bandits and moments of deep generousity and caring.

The officemate, knowing my love of the book, has lent me the serialised production of it starring Gérard Depardieu. In return, I shall lend him the book, and I imagine it will take him a touch longer to get through that than it will for me to finish the DVDs.

I like Gérard Depardieu.

But...

Why on earth do they have to alter things so much when they create these productions? It's well done - and so far more akin to the book than the film with Jim Caviezel and Guy Pearce, which is literally a whole different story - but it's not really like the book at all either in its own way. And some of the alterations are rather grating.

In short, this is not what I imagine the scenes to be (and some of the dubbing is woeful).

I do understand that things are different for books and tv and what works for one may not necessarily work for another, but at times it can and I think the story as it unfurls in the book is enough to grab people's attention and engage them. These stories have survived the decades or centuries with great success, so why the need to alter them now?

Productions can run along very closely to the books that inspire them - the BBC versions of Jane Eyre, starring Timothy Dalton and Zelah Clarke, and Pride and Prejudice, with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, are just some of the ones that have remained quite loyal to the books. Actually, the BBC's been great with Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell, too.

But this isn't BBC and I'm only 57 minutes in and I've already loudly exclaimed, "WHAT?!?!?!" a number of times about changes that have been made. Oh well. Shall just sit back and see it purely for entertainment, great sets and interesting outfits.

Okay, enough grumbling...

I obviously feel too passionately about books I love.

Update: Maybe not enough grumbling! They've changed vital elements of the Count's character and added the whole thing of defying God rather than seeing himself as someone who's been blessed by chance/fate to do God's work, etc. Perhaps I won't finish this before the officemate finishes the book. Nyargh *shudder*

And what is this following the pardon of Peppino? Imagine the outfits Colin Firth wore for Pride and Prejudice, but baggier and in shiny black leather. Looks more like he's about to become The Mount of Monte Sadisto.

I am excessively diverted!

On top of everything else in this rather peculiar day, someone came up to me in a shop and said, "Can I help... Oh! Are you Della? Della RBHGM?"*

Had a moment of thinking, "Err... Am I in trouble?" But said, "Yes." And she said that she recognised me because she reads my work and her son wants to submit some stuff and so on. She was really nice and I was really surprised.

At least it was a bit more normal than that time someone in a Body Shop store asked me if I was famous or on Neighbours because I looked so familiar. And to be honest, I can see how being famous and being on Neighbours are not necessarily things that go together.

* Not my real name, obviously. And they didn't call me that, but by my actual name instead.

^ Something more cheerful after burning house stuff.

And I was going to watch Californication, but now I'm watching Compass instead. So much for a night of fluffy entertainment with nary a thought given to politics, let alone the American election.

I was going to write something whinging about how I broke the Mystical Garden (picture above, and lesson number one: don't move them around, or the fluffy crystal stuff falls right off).

But perspective is an interesting thing.

Just as dusk was disappearing, the sound of fire sirens and ambulances pulled me out of the book I was reading and I went outside to see what was happening. I mean, just this afternoon I'd been talking with friends about the impending bushfire season.

Across the valley, there was a huge plume of smoke going up. I dashed up the road and there was more smoke and embers flying up into the air in a wooded area. Horror...

I went up to a neighbour's house and she called me up onto the balcony to see things better. That's when I realised it wasn't a forest fire, but a house fire. The fire teams got it under control relatively quickly, but with how intense the flames were I don't think the house would have survived.

Hopefully there wasn't anyone killed or seriously injured in it.

I found this in my internet poking around this morning and was fascinated by it. Can't really imagine wearing only one colour all the time - even though I almost always wear something black.

The interesting part was the reasons why people wore their single signature colour.

But purely on the colour, I liked the blue. Perhaps because it reminds me of a pair of stilettos my Mum had when I was young - electric blue with a matching handbag. I think I've got the handbag somewhere. Hated the green, though. What a vile shade.

Hmmm.

Marilyn Manson singing the Ramones' KKK Took My Baby Away followed by a Michael Jackson song on iTunes shuffle.

Wrongness.

Getting ditched* via email c'est le suck.

And Milo is not that comforting.

Even by the spoonful.

But here's something about the 2008 Turner Prize that I found interesting. Apparently art-snarking is enough to console me.

It's still why I want to film setting a couch on fire, pelting it with custard and then jumping up and down on the scorched remains. That's sure to get some kind of government grant. And as for the reason for its existence, well, make something up. And the more it sounds like existential bollocks, the better.

*Well, kinda, sorta, mostly, not sure.

^ Hello, possums!

I bought a bunch of gladioli on Friday. My pappa used to grow gladis back on our farm in his garden. He'd come up from the garden with arm-fulls of them, all sorts of colours and varieties. All of them gorgeous, especially some of the hybrid multi-coloured ones.

This afternoon I accidentally had a nanna-nap while reading and ended up dreaming about both my Nanna and Pappa, who are both dead. In the dream, it was back on the farm and I was looking for my dog. My Pappa was down in the wooded area near their house and I ran up to him, embraced him and kissed his cheek, telling him how much I loved him. I could feel the scratchy stubble he almost always had on my cheek. He was gruffly pleased. Then I ran up the yard and around the shed corner and found my Nanna. I hugged and kissed her, again telling her how much I loved her.

All of it was rather strange. But at least it was better than the rest of the dreams during the nanna-nap.

Update: Ended up watching Compass's "Losing The Plots" about Rookwood cemetery tonight. Really interesting, but the people being whiney about "Oh, cemeteries further out of town would be so hard to visit" seemed a little unusual. My grandparents are buried back in the Barossa, hundreds of kilometres away. Now that's hard to visit. Fascinated by the people who are pre-buying their plots to the point of not just having the area picked out, but also tombstones made and engraved with most of the information. And things with how people are so anxious to make sure their ancestors have graves that are big enough to help out with the Sydney rental crisis.

It's obviously true that cemeteries are as much about the living as they are about the dead.

There will be blood oranges

^ Love blood oranges.

They have a potential to look somewhat gruesome, but they're delicious.

When I turned my camera on to take pix of the one I cut in half this morning, something odd was going on. It looked almost like condensation was on the lense, so I cleaned the external lense bit and it wasn't any better. Started to freak out because the camera's just a basic one, not a DSLR where I could get into it a bit more. This one is unable to be dismantled. What if it was broken forever?! What would I do without my camera?!?!?

So I dug around in the bathroom cabinet for the thing I never, ever use - my hairdryer.

Switched it on to fan only and wafted it over the camera. It worked! So who knows what had happened, but I'm so glad things are okay now. Without my camera, I would have ended up curled into a ball, staring at the wall.

(Almost) Domestic Goddess

^ Hoping this chocolate, raspberry and cherry tart tastes okay. I made it for dinner tonight, having never made anything like it before. Had a whole lot of the chocolate stuff left over, so I cooked it in ramekins and it's sort of pudding-like. Interesting at least.

Also whipped up potato dauphinoise and will roast some pumpkin, steam asparagus and make a salad. So domestic.

Update: Chocolate tart was... Err... Delicious. Except the pastry was chewy! And nigh on impossible to cut through with a spoon. Not sure that even a chainsaw would have worked on it. So I'm not totally sure what happened with it. It was crispy-luscious when it came out of the oven, but such is life.

But the dauphinoise and pumpkin and everything else was sooooo good. Next time around, I'll just have to do something different when it comes to the chocolate tart. Perhaps make it separately, like a marquise or something. Considering how ridiculously simple and luscious the chocolate/berry part is, it's a keeper.

Now thinking of retiring with The Count.

Yeah... No.

Thank God we've moved away from the early-90s flannel/lumberjack kind of items on offer over Winter and Spring/Summer's looking a bit more 70s. This led me to say to a friend yesterday that the early 90s were almost worse than the 80s for fashion. My reasoning was that the designer stuff was really conceptual, angular and interesting.

I'm thinking of taking that all back now.

That's mostly thanks to Sam Sparro and Wiley with some truly horrifying 80s-inspired clips. They feature all of the worst of the 80s, all mashed together in two vids of wrongness. That sort of thing should be left back in the 80s, hidden from memory unless you open a family photo album. So I hope they get smothered with happy pants and mullets.

I want Madonna's boots from Give it to me, though.

And I can hear my neighbour shouting at the grand final footy in his lounge room from here in my lounge room.

^ New lamp. Going to have to change things around in the bedroom to suit it a bit more. Too many books, too many shoes, etc. So much for spring cleaning.

Brains, balls and books

This week has been brain frazzling.

And I had intended to write some more serious/thoughtful things on my blog.

As well as the strange thing of being hit with a billiard ball AND a bouncy ball in the foot while shopping on Tuesday and today. What does such a thing mean? Shopping is balls? Who knows. Seriously, who goes around supermarkets/shops aiming balls at people anyway?

Victoria, you are full of freaks!

And that's why I think I enjoy this State.


^ The billiard ball. Strange...

I think I was going to write something about early-Christmas rage, too. Saw Santa teddybears in the shop on Tuesday night and was horrified (also felt an intense desire to stuff one in the freezer cabinets with the ice-cream). They had Christmas trees and tinsel and so on in stores I was at today, though. Tinsel's a whole other matter, though. That doesn't induce early-Christmas rage, probably because it's shiny and so much fun in an utterly impractical way (ie: "The world's on the brink of recession. But look at the tinsel shine!").


^ The offending bear. And no, I didn't do that to it.

Apart from all of that, The Count of Monte Cristo has been absorbing all of my spare time. Again. And it means I've been going to bed late, as well. Somehow it's an enormously enjoyable read and although it's 11pm, you think, "Oh... Just one more chapter before I turn the light off can't hurt." And then one more chapter has become a whole lot more and it's 11.45pm and you've got to be up for work in six-and-a-half hours.

Tempted to go read more of it now...

My excuse can be that I've got seven completely new and unread books on my bedside table and the sooner I finish The Count, the sooner I can move on to them. Not like I'm going to say I should just stop buying books for the time being, is it?

The reviews about Embedded with Sheik Hilaly saying it's like shooting fish in a barrel is basically correct. But here I am, watching it anyway. Mainly because The Bill repeat is on late on ABC2 tonight and I need something to distract me before I gaze adoringly at hot British blokes. In police uniforms.

*ahem*

It's interesting enough. And a little bizarre, especially with delving further into the "uncovered meat" thing, which seems more like getting out a spade and digging the hole a bit deeper. Mostly with that exchange, I wished Keyser Trad would shush. Regardless, it still sounded ridiculous.

I don't think this documentary did anyone any favours and perhaps SBS could have done better. I mean, we had Salam Cafe, which was excellent and I think it made Muslim-related practices and beliefs a little more accessible to the general public. Perhaps it seems so much better than the doco because it's more fluid. Embedded seemed more like a bunch of things thrown together and didn't gel too well.

Anyway. I hear Newstopia's returning soon, so that's something to look forward to.

^ To see through a water bottle, darkly...

I hate leggings.

Went to the NGV Ian Potter Centre to see the New Perspectives on the Contemporary Collection before it closes. It was somehow less exciting than I thought it would be. Maybe because a lot of contemporary art is underwhelming.

No, I will go further than that (perhaps because I'm extremely tired). A lot of contemporary art is a flaming pile of bollocks.

But the great thing was the Klippel/Klippel: Opus 2008 exhibit.

A little old Indian security guard guy showed me around the exhibit and was rather helpful and full of information in general. I loved how tiny and delicate the majority of Klippel's sculptures were. But the best thing was the use of lighting. The first room was really rather dark, with the second being blindingly white when you enter it. When your eyes adjust, there's another lot of minature sculptures, all rather mechanical.

Not so fussed on the sculptures, but I loved the lighting.

And the stark white room. It was almost oppressive, somewhat embracing but alienating and I would love to know what it would be like without the boxes of sculptures in it. Sort of sensory deprivatory, perhaps, which has a strange appeal.

Ugh.

Dentist appointment on the horizon.

With the dentist I don't like.

Double ugh.

Why did I have to inherit the teeth genes from the English side of the family? I worry I'll end up with teeth like Jaws. Not the shark. I mean the Bond henchman.

Update: Not so bad. They don't have the dentist I don't like there any more. Other dentist was rough, but thorough. Jaw still somewhat sore, but what can you do. Was the longest time I've ever been drilled and filled by a dentist, though. Ouch. And wasn't that happy with the cut lip, either.

Fran: And so what? So they blanked you.
Bernard: So what?! So what?! They blanked me! That's like an awesomely powerful thing to do in civilised society! It's like, it's like, it's like when the Mafia send each other fish through the post.
- The Blackout, Black Books.

This quote reminded me of today. Which was just bizarre.

In other thoughts, how completely unsurprising was the Brendan Nelson/Malcolm Turnbull thing today? Had meant to blog about it last night, but forgot. Kind of felt a little sorry for Brendoc somehow. But Turnbull has more charisma and seems far more calm, cool and collected when it comes to working with the media. Plus, I liked Julie Bishop's heels at the press conference.

But that's about it.

^ Snow and ice.

^ Coming down from the snow tonight.