In between it all, we sort of watched some of the MTV Australia awards. It is just so lame. I mean really. I never understood why we even had our own MTV awards. We're just one country. The MTV Europe Awards is a collection, so that's alright, and the main MTVs, well it started in the US so that's justifiable as well. But honestly, this is just stupid. It's always a huge painful waste of time. This year their biggest mistake was letting fans accept awards on behalf of artists who weren't here. It led to many painfully awkward moments and stupidity. There really was no other way for that to play out. Hilarious to follow all this via the wonders of Twitter though as all week I've been watching Pete Wentz and Mark Hoppus' tweets as they ambled about my city. First was the hysterical laughter that came from Pete being trapped in the airport thanks to our impromptu storms (for some reason this really amused me) and Mark just generally being touristy. The thing that really got me however (other than MTV fucking up everything as I try to take a shortcut through the SEC parking garage and Town Hall being a mad house) was Pete deciding to hide two passes to the show in Dymocks George st. Where I spend a significant amount of my free time. He also hid them in the classics section, which is awkwardly located and I couldn't help but picture the staff's faces as various incarnations of emo kids came scrambling into the store, manhandling their Dickens novels. The thought of these WTF faces alone sent me into a hysterical fit of giggles. Too bad he didn't hide them the same time yesterday, I could have picked them up up and started my own treasure hunt, leaving post-its in my wake. Really make them work for it. I'd have put it somewhere really silly (like on the monorail), or somewhere difficult (like Centerpoint), or somewhere random (like the Marble Bar)...or perhaps give them to the 'Free Hugs' guy, who was back in Town Hall again (still wearing the purple suit). Just because Wentz doesn't have the time to make this needlessly complicated doesn't mean I don't have the inclination to do so. Such a mind fuck. Sadly, I missed this golden opportunity for pointless mayhem while getting my hair done. Well you know what they say, priorities. Ah well, next time.
Still, I'm going to miss the inane updates of random people from around my city, it's always fun to observe things you take for granted from a slightly removed perpective. For example, I love how visitors are always completely obsessed with the size of our bats.
Now let's see. I need an short essay idea that "shows some appreciation of the ways in which a writing self calls upon key problems about where and when an 'I' exists to be written about." Any ideas? In fact, any ideas about what that actually means?
How about this one - a paper addressing "the themes of experimentation and inventiveness in creative approach." Hm? Anything?
Ugh. I really need to get a move on. Really. Not sit around watching Moulin Rouge and Across The Universe, which is what I did last night.
I've been eating so much lately. It's disgusting. Don't know what's gotten into me. Stress? I've never been a stress eater. Hm. Need to drink more coffee methinks.
Oh yeah, have to mention this. Yesterday on the train into uni, I was sitting there minding my own business watching Merlin as I am wont to do on Thursdays, and this woman gets on - perfectly dressed business woman - turns around and starts talking to me. So obviously I blink stupidly and remove my earphones and politely ask her to repeat herself. What do you think she says? "Oh, I just wanted to say you look like a beatnik", before turning around again. I have been called a lot of things in my life, but I have to say this is the first time I've been called a beatnik. I don't even know why. I was wearing my Beckett jeans, cowboy boots, Jack Sparrow shirt and waistcoat with my 'Kill Hannah' and 'My Passion' buttons. And really, I was just minding my own business. Very strange. Class followng this was similarly perplexing. It always has the same effect on me - the one that imediately makes me question what.the.fuck I'm doing there in the first place.
Anyway. I think I'd best go to bed and do some reading. I started Brideshead Revisted last night and I'm already in love with it.
I shall leave with some random lyrics, for I decree it necessary and have been obsessed with this song all week.
Well you can hide a lot about yourself,
But honey, what're you gonna do?
And you can sleep in a coffin,
But the past ain't through with you.
'Cause we are all a bunch of liars,
Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be?
And we are all about to sell it,
'Cause it's tragic with a capital T.
Let it be, Let it be, Let it be!
'Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends.
And we all get together when we bury our friends.
It's been eight bitter years since I've been seeing your face.
And you're walking away, and I will die in this place.
Sometimes you scrape and sink so low,
I'm shocked at what you're capable of.
And if this is a coronation, I ain't feeling the love.
'Cause we are all a bunch of animals
That never paid attention in school.
So tell me all about your problems;
I was killing before killing was cool.
You're so cool. You're so cool. So cool!
'Cause we all wanna party when a funeral ends
And we all get together when we bury our friends.
It's been nine bitter years since I've been seeing your face.
And you're walking away, and I will die in this place.
You'll never take me alive. You'll never take me alive.
Do what it takes to survive,'Cause I'm still here.
You'll never get me alive. You'll never take me alive.
Do what it takes to survive, and I'm still here.
You'll never take me alive. You'll never get me alive.
Do what it takes to survive, and I'm still here.
You'll never get me. You'll never take me
You'll never get me alive.
'Cause we all wanna party when a funeral ends.
And we all get together when we bury our friends.
It's been ten fucking years since I've been seeing your face 'round here.
And you're walking away, I will drown in the fear.
Music: Kill all your friends - My Chemical Romance
Mood: Working
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