You run with the devil

She left a week to roam
Your protector's coming home
Keep your secrets with you, girl
Safe from the outside world

I have done some sort of damage to my right knee, it's swollen and sore and I am not amused. When something has happened and it hurts, at least there's some justification - this just came on the back of walking a lot yesterday and that's simply not a good enough reason for this kind of insanity. You should be ashamed, knee. Ashamed.

As for the walking, this came from going to Paddington markets with J after work yesterday. After perusing the bohemian wonderfulness of it all, we decided to amble down Oxford street and appreciate all the sales. Now, Paddington is not the cheapest area of this wonderful town and visits to boutiques like Alannah Hill does nothing but increase want beyond means. J and I strayed into Incu, our purveyor of Topshop, and I of course found the only coat they had and promptly fell in love with it. The coat fetish! I can't help it. It was marked down too, $160 from $400-something. That in itself is extortionate if you ask me, I can buy coats on the Topshop website for half that price and have it shipped here, who do they think they're kidding? I did end up buying a t-shirt from Rif Raf, who take great pride in declaring Paris Hilton shops there when she's in town...not exactly what I'd call a great endorsement but it's a nice shirt and it was on sale *shrugs*

We kept going and eventually resolved to merely walk back to the CBD, stopping every now and then for vintage sales, markets, and one opportune garage sale, all rounded off with ice cream. It was a lovely afternoon, J is an endless source of random information and so conversation is never dull. It was only when I got home later that my knee started acting up.

I've dedicated today mostly to sitting around refusing to move and uploading some music.I’ve just compiled a bunch of random alt/elec/indie stuff for Abs so if anyone is interested in some random tunes let me know and I will send you the links. There are full albums by Lykke Li, Animal Collective, Fleet Foxes, Wilco, Bon Iver, The Decemberists, and Lydia; along with two misc folders containing tracks by Florence + The Machine, Bowerbirds, Casiokids, Camera Obscura, Frightened Rabbit, fun., Fyfe Dangerfield, Girls, Grizzly Bear, La Roux, Passion Pit, Phoenix, Royksopp, The Raveonettes, She & Him, Steel Train, The xx and Yes Giantess.

As you lay to die beside me, baby
On the morning that you came
Would you wait for me?
The other one,
would wait for me

Music: Your protector - Fleet Foxes
Mood: Sore

In which I blog as if I were Watson

It had been a day just like any other, a mundane routine that required the barest effort on my part. I had my breakfast and idled away the morning hours with errands and television until the time drew near to depart for work. I stared up at the sky as I made my way to my vehicle, contemplating the chances of the promised storm. The wind had just begun stirring the leaves and there was a certain oppressive quality to the air that made it seem rather likely. I settled into my car with barely any though, fiddled with the audio system, and finally pulled out of the driveway.

I did not go far. I had barely reached the steep incline to the main road when I noticed something was wrong – the car was shaking a great deal more than usual and seemed to be losing speed, rather than gaining it, regardless of how hard I pressed the accelerator. I thought to persevere but before I could turn onto the highway an omen seemed to indicate that I would not make the surgery at this rate. Conceding defeat, I retraced my proverbial steps and with a dejected sigh coasted the car to a stop in front of the garage where it promptly died.

A cursory overview with my father seemed to suggest an innate failure with the power system so with nothing for it, I swapped to his vehicle and set off to work in decidedly worse spirits than a mere half hour before. The surgery was busy but as always it offers little in the way of intellectual stimulation and I had far too much time to contemplate what I could only view as another incident destined to cast me into financial ruin. I must admit my fingernails suffered abysmally for my overactive analytical obsessions. Still, there was nothing to be done until the following business day and I did my best to put it from my mind.

Unfortunately, my obsessive tendencies leave a black mark on my consciousness at the best of times and I spent the evening in the makings of one of my trademark dark moods. I can imagine the picture I painted on the couch, hardly uttering a word nor moving a muscle, while vacantly staring at the flickering image of the television – stuck as it was on UKTV as I could not find the motivation to move for the remote control. The Weakest Link, Gavin and Stacey, The Mitchell and Webb Look, and on it went, drawing ever closer to the inevitable horror of Eastenders, as I feared I would become possessed by the channel. Tellingly, the promised storm broke over the district. My slide into teenaged melodrama and self-loathing was curbed only by my mother’s change to tennis which led to the discovery of the single most hilarious game of doubles I have ever had the privilege to witness in my life. It was an exhibition match featuring Pat Rafter, Henri Leconte, Pat Cash and Wayne Arthurs, and was more circus than tennis. It was well worth our attention and we quite enjoyed ourselves watching the madness.

Yet one cannot ignore reality, and I cast a sad eye at my now abandoned vehicle as I headed off to work yet again in my father’s car. Having this new dilemma to solve, I had to unfortunately cancel an engagement with ever-understanding Elizabeth, and was yet again cast in a less than amused mood. While I was toiling away at the proverbial salt mine, my father set the grounded vehicle alight as he later informed me with barely subdued mirth. No permanent damage was done, but it is still not the most comforting news to receive. After some contemplation, we set off towards the Daihatsu garage and acquired a set of ignition leads that they luckily had in stock. A light lunch later, my father dutifully directed me as I set about replacing these leads. Wonder above wonder, it seemed to do the trick. Two of the old leads were cracked and broken causing spark to escape before it could deliver power to the engine, thus the lack of acceleration and alarming shuddering. After cleaning the engine and allowing it to dry, I drove to the supermarket to replenish my chocolate supply and I can happily report that the car is back to its regular form. All hail Jack, the car that will always revive.

My mood somewhat lightened by this miraculous recovery at a considerably lower price than I feared, and I am feeling a little calmer about the state of my life. I am currently beset by the urge to draw, as per usual little detracted by lack of actual skill in this department (something that usually only bothers me with crushing force once I have completed a drawing), and have turned my rooms upside down searching for my visual art diaries to no avail. I must concede the point and purchase a new one, at which time the others will no doubt make an unexpected re-appearance. That is the law with such things.

I shall now make my best attempt to enjoy the aforementioned chocolate while contemplating the location of my drawing pencils, and perhaps avail myself of a film afterwards. I suspect I may have fallen somewhat in love with RDJ’s Sherlock Holmes but as I cannot watch that film at the present, I feel Iron Man will suffice nicely – “This is the fun-vee, the humdrum-vee is back there.” Tomorrow there is yet more work in my future – unexpected and tiring, but not wholly unwelcome in light of my upcoming travels – and an afternoon hopefully spent in friendly company. Come next week, my mother and I will be preparing to jet off to Afrique du Sud for a weeklong visit with the maternal branch of the family.

And so, as ever, life goes on.

Music: LG Faud - Motion City Soundtrack
Mood: Silly

Artisitic talent, or lack thereof

I'm in one of my drawing moods. I hate this mood cause it's inevitably a disappointment due to my inability to actually draw properly.
--
From Donna, with love.
[[Watch it, spaceman!]]

These aren't the droids you're looking for

This is the first night I've been home in four days. I have in fact been out virtually every day for the last two to three weeks. That has to be a new record for me. This socialness is a rather strange development but today I only left the house to get my hair done, and even then it was in a bit of a slothful haze. After all, it's not as if sitting in a salon for two hours is particularly taxing.

It has been fun though, all the socialness. Like I've mentioned before, I've seen a whole lot of M and R, which has just been fantastic. Although we continue to suck at actually watching the movies we intend to watch - marathons of television shows we manage to do without any drama, but movie marathons tend to go a bit awry unless we have a definite presence to direct us (aka Mon) so we managed about twenty minutes of Star Wars before we veered off into uncharted territories and watched Robin Hood: Men In Tights instead. We also watched Burn After Reading which is just completely underwhelming and bizarre. There was fine company however and rather delicious cake - all hail R, our new baker.

Meanwhile, I had the strangest dream last night and though I cannot remember the fine points, I seem to recall Starbucks, reuniting lost siblings, conspiracy and communion. Oh, and someone taping a large majority of this and pushing someone along on a gurney down the street in the middle of the night. Wtf brain, it sounds like an episode of Castle or something.

Now I better see if I can survive another chapter of Great Expectations, I have been neglecting Pip in favour of Sherlock Holmes.

Randomness of the day from here:

Music: Damn girl - The All American Rejects
Mood: Sleepy

You people and your quaint little categories.

I love that my dad somehow thinks it’s unhealthy for a kid to be raised in a same-sex relationship because it “screws them up” when every single day we are surrounded by supposed conventional families who have completely screwed up their kids. It is my belief that every single family is in some way dysfunctional, and every single parent fucks up their kid in some way or another. I sincerely doubt whether you have two mums or two dads is in anyway going to “screw you up” any more than any other family. Right now we’re watching ‘Two and a half men’ and I’m thinking how fucked up they are as a family, and yet here he sits and presumably thinks a gay couple would be a more detrimental influence on their kids than Charlie’s parents evidently were? Uh yeah okay dad.

It makes me angry that I even have to argue this point with him, and with other people, because you know this is the 21st century for crying out loud, and I would have hoped we were beyond such idiocy. See, my problem is I often forget that it is still a problem because I frequent a world where no one so much as bats an eyelid. This means there’s nothing I have come to loathe more than labels and boxes, and it’s fine in my self-contained world but out there in real life, even amongst my friends, things are said that raise my hackles. It’s the subtle labelling, and the barely veiled discomfiture that settles tension in my shoulders and mostly I let it go because what right have I to interfere with the opinions of others when I so vehemently insist everyone is entitled to their own, and besides, it’s not my fight really. That’s just cowardice though because it is, in a way, and moreover I’ve made it my fight by becoming far too used to a discourse that is so blissfully free of societal constraints and expectations, and utterly devoid of judgement, that entering into the “real world” is often jarring and utterly outrageous. Sometimes I just can’t believe the things that go down, the way people seem to think it’s perfectly fine to judge and box and label individuals they have absolutely no knowledge of. I hate it; I absolutely hate it when people do that.

Maybe this peeve is entirely personal because I make a terrible first impression. People hardly ever have an impression that’s even remotely accurate to the person I am. This is mostly because of the AvPD, and general consensus has always been that I am a cold, stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else. This is what comes from sitting in corners reading and never speaking to anyone. The thing is though I am nothing like that – well okay I am a bit of a bitch but only when I’ve been pushed to my limit, and hey, aren’t we all? But if anyone actually made the effort to talk to me, to get to know me, they’d realise I’m not that bad at all...and you could say that I should make the effort and speak to other people but then I’m not the one drawing conclusions, and I am the one with the “issues." It’s not about making friends or any such nonsense though, this is merely about preconceived notions, and it is not my responsibility to go about making sure people have the “right” idea about me. They shouldn’t be drawing conclusions and making judgements without facts, and that is the point.

I feel like here I have to classify that I realise when you’re different, being scrutinised is unavoidable and this isn’t what essentially bothers me. I don’t mind being gawked at like a freak, what I do mind is people telling me how to live my life. By all means gawk, but don’t ever presume you have the right to judge me for it. All of us are different; some of us have the courage to acknowledge that, none of us have the right to force another person into a particular way of life. This can be anything, from someone's preference in music and art, to their sexuality, or religious preferences. Whatever that person is, whatever they like or believe or want, that is entirely their business. I have gotten so blasé about other people’s preferences, something in no small part due to the TW fandom, that I often worry that in my ever increasing frustration at others’ closed minds, I myself am becoming more judgemental. I mean if I’m judging others for judging, am I not just as bad?

Music: Future freaks me out - Motion City Soundtrack
Mood: Annoyed

The end of time

It is Australia day and as I had the day off, Lizzie came over. We finally got around to watching the End of Time specials and all I can say is I'm glad it's over. I am not a big fan of the two-parter, I must admit. I find it messy and kind of pointless and annoying in bits (For one, why if you can throw the diamond through a holograph, don't you just throw yourself through it? Also, Timothy Dalton *sigh* I knew that wasn't going to go well. And what the hell was with the Master's resurrection scene - um hello, Voldemort, are you in there? AND THEN he becomes Iron Man. Honestly people. Don't even get me started on the faux Han/Luke pod fight against the missiles. There is very little that makes logical sense really, but having seen Four eat a leaf for no apparent reason, I am not going to harp on about logic in the franchise too much.)

Then there were bits that were as entertaining and funny as always, and I must say that I loved the Master's ending. I love it when the bad guys get some justification - that's why I love characters like that, you see, the truly fucked up kind as Abbi always says, because they have the potential and depth that can come out at any moment. John Simm you truly are a master (haha see what I did there? What? Not funny? Oh okay.) Wilf kind of broke my heart a little, but it wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. Near the end there I even thought they were dragging it out a little and I just wanted it to be done with. I mean sure it's nice and nostalgic, but was it really necessary? Maybe knowing what was coming and waiting so long for it just allowed me to steel myself for it, but then I've never been a very emotional watcher save for that one thing which was actually entirely out of character for me and which I will never forgive them for. And on that note - the bar scene, do you want to know what my initial response was? - "oh, fuck you!" Yeah, sanity, it don't live here no more.

But overall, though it felt overstuffed and tried a little too hard, it was a fitting ending for Ten, beloved as he is. It's sad to lose his awesomeness, and no doubt millions over the world seconded his last words. But the story does go on and happily (no doubt some people will hate me for this) Eleven's first antics made me grin. After all the angst and the waiting and the epic horror that has been the Whoniverse this year, that was just an amazing feeling. I cannot wait to see what Matt Smith will do with the role and I am excited. Yes, I said it. Bring on autumn!

A new start, a clean slate, and no harbouring of passive aggressive blame (fare thee well RTD, may you never darken my horizon again...except you know, when you do another season of TW...but please don't do another season...no really, don't...oh I'm so screwed.)

Tonight I'm heading off to Em's for an old school Star Wars marathon - four, five, six, back to back. Nerd out.

Music: Big Bang Theory Season 3
Mood: Hot

All your sanity and wits they will all vanish

Hello and welcome to my attempt to blog like the illustrious Mat Devine, albeit a thousand times less interesting and sans random photos. I was inspired on this little endeavour by the comment on my previous blog, so away we go...

Listening to: When the world comes down - The All American Rejects, Super Taranta! - Gogol Bordello, The Resistance - Muse, De-Lovely Soundtrack, UC Berkely Helene Cixious lecture

Eating: Lindor chocolate, Pariya Pashmak persian fairy floss, Baskin & Robbins cotton candy ice cream, Chicken parmigiana, Mcdonalds.

Drinking: Moon Valley Merlot, shifty Kamikazes from Establishment, Lipton Red Iced Tea, diet coke

Watching: How I met your mother season 1, The big bang theory season 3, Green Street Hooligans

Reading: A study in scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, the latest Rolling Stone magazine

I am home for what feels like a mere few seconds before I am whisked off again on the high school revival tour that seems to be my social life at the moment. I say that, but this is actually a thousand times better than any high school revival tour as it is happily devoid of high school people other than my two compadres, Em and Roze. It just seemed like a fitting way to describe the amount of time we're spending together. Mostly this involves two of us cajoling and annoying another into doing something they really don't want to do, for example Em and I getting R out clubbing last night through our sheer refusal to take no for an answer, and my being dragged off to arts and crafts at Em's in...oh an hour.

The weekend only truly began after I beat a hasty retreat from work, which was so mind-numbingly boring it is enough to drive you to tears. It was a vengeful 41 degrees and the kind of heat that feels as if someone is following you around with a giant hairdryer, so of course M and I decided that going to the fashion markets at Kirribilli was a brilliant idea. We promptly melted, and I am typing this message as a grotesque molten wax statue that was scraped off the pavement and stuffed in a freezer to reset. Not a total loss though, M did acquire some fashionable fashionables and I got a rasberry squishee/slurpee/whatever-you-call-them-wherever-you-are. Since this was the north shore we proceeded to disturb the staff of a fancy cafe by ordering a side of chips and a waffle. I must stress the 'a' preceding that 'waffle', since it truly was only one teeny waffle. And it was delicious.

Our amazing luck with securing air-conditioned trains continued, and I dropped Em home only to return two hours later now clad in the shortest dress I have ever possibly worn in my life - Miss R got it for me on her travels and as I hardly ever go clubbing and have no real idea what people even wear to clubs, I figured I might as well give it its first outing. R had by this point already tried to convince us to go without her, but heated messages were sent and ignored on both parts, and Em and I showed up at her door with dinner in one hand and the unapologetic resolve to drag her out if we had to in the other. She gave in of course, we always do - can you say peer pressure?

The sad part of it is that not one of us actually really wanted to go, but as promises had already been given and we were expected, we ushered ourselves off to the city sometime around 9 in order to meet up with others. The Establishment is not really what I would call a club, but whatever it actually is, it's got great decor. Most of my evening was however spent lamenting the fact that the bartender had no idea what a kamikaze was, and observing the other patrons in much the same way as Mr. Devine watches reality tv - "with the same keen enthusiasm and wide-eyed interest that Charles Darwin must’ve felt, having first discovered the swimming Iguanas of the Galapagos Islands in 1831. '…A new sub-species! How fascinating! How bizarre!'"

My dubious research into metrosexual clones and the pout-drink-photo habits of my peers were interrupted when it was decided to go locate the reason we were there in the first place, something I excelled at thanks to the fact that in my heels I was taller than virtually everyone there and could scan the crowd like an animated periscope. The height, while handy, is kind of awkward when you're standing against the DJ booth having a conversation and not dancing. Oh, that reminds me, we were promised there would be 80s music. There wasn't - unless I missed the part where someone time-travelled back and introduced Ciara, Timbaland, the Pussycat Dolls and Justin Timberlake to the decade. Now I don't mind r'n'b in a club, but I do mind false advertising, so to avoid future misunderstandings I must point out that playing one 80s song every hour does not equate to "80s night".

After what we thought to be a respectable amount of time had passed, the three of us executed a tactical retreat (much to others' surprise at it being too early which we responded to with blank stares and barely stifled yawns) and declared - yet again - to wash our hands of this clubbing thing. Despite our best efforts, we cannot help but come to the conclusion that we are not cut out for it. For one thing, we fail to see a point, for another clubs only really warm up when we're ready to go home. On the other hand, we will happily sit in a pub or a cocktail bar all night without any complaints whatsoever. So I think we know our niche. Still, we went out, we laughed, we put in an appearance, and so I declare it a successful evening.

During the course of this evening, my resistance to arts and crafts activities (possibly baking?) at M's place was slowly ground down by promises of a late starting time, and lifts there and back. It was all R's idea actually, so I suppose both M and I have been talked into it...and after what we did with the clubbing, there was no doubt some dialogue of obligation running through our heads. Hm. Still, if anyone *cough* Roze *cough* gets so much as glue, glitter, or paint on me, there will be blood. You don't understand, I spent four years in art class with this girl and though I scarpered as soon as she so much as looked at paint, I still ended up with it on my hands/hair/uniform. I'd be on the opposite side of the room, and she'd get it on me. The stuff's attracted to her and she just cannot seem to control it. It's insane. She is like a superhero who has just discovered her powers and is yet to master it, so it causes all sorts of mayhem and destruction around the place. She's Peter Petrelli about to go nuclear at the end of the first season of Heroes. It is a long standing point of contention between us, so I want it understood what a huge personal sacrifice the agreement to this afternoon's activities is.

Now, as I look for a pair of socks that doesn't have holes, wriggle into my skinny jeans and resolutely refuse to apply a scrap of make-up, I bid thee adieu.

Music: Start wearing purple - Gogol Bordello
Mood: Mischievous

All the cards begin to stack up

We are not feeling our best today. I thought I'd have a bit of a nap around 1.30 and woke up 5 hours later. Hmm nap, hey? I'm still completely exhausted. I think I may be having a delayed reaction to the sleeping pills I've been taking, but it doesn't say anything about side effects *scrutinises box* Oh I don't know.

Anyway, the day didn't get off to the best start this morning, and it was later thrown wide open when my appointment at the hairdressers was cancelled cause they hadn't gotten my colour in yet. Thus the napping. Now my dad can't seem to make up his mind whether he wants to go to SA or not even though it was all his idea. Sigh. I'm feeling rather brittle.

I'm definitely going to take French classes this year. I missed out on learning it in school and it's not fair. I had nothing. Well ok I had Zulu from year 5 to 7, not that I absorbed any of that except to say hi, bye, and fetch the milk, and I obviously had Afrikaans until I moved here, but once here, that was the end of language studies. I love languages. I think when I'm done with French, I might take German. Or Dutch. Ik denk dat het zal beetje gemakkelijker zijn.

Um, 'het' is 'dit' right? Where did my mother get to...

Meanwhile, for the procrastinators, check this out - first person tetris! It takes some getting used to but I am committed, even if it does make me feel vaguely sea sick. Courtesy of Mikey Way on twitter.

I will leave you with this (from here):



Music: My blue heaven - Taking Back Sunday
Mood: Sleepy

Fandom Alert: No sanity, topical observations, or actual news for miles

Hey people, guess what? Time for one of my epic Torchwood rambles! Bet you've missed those *cough* The smart thing to do would be to wash my hands and walk away, but I just cannot help myself. I'm wondering why no one has had me committed yet - waiting for the opportune moment, are we?

All the previous nonsense about COE aside, has anyone ever actually watched the thing again after the initial onslaught? It's so relentless and fast-paced at first viewing, it's incredibly easy to get swept up in it, but having every minute etched permanently into my memory, I watched it last night knowing exactly what was going to happen - who was going to quirk an eyebrow, who was going to sigh, who was going to die horribly - and I realised that, without the whole swept-away aspect, the story makes very little logical sense. Now I admit I always suspected this, but it's just blatantly insane. If it wasn't for the gratuitous emotional blackmailing in fact, I don't think anyone would have bought into it. And frankly, if you have to camouflage your writing with overbearing emotion to get it to fly, that's an underlying fault in your writing. Sure, I'm a bitter old hag, but I can still write a thesis on all the ways this was an epic fail as a season of Torchwood, despite its rave ratings.

Which brings me to this Torchwood USA thing. Hey, you asked. I've been bombarded with emails about it since early yesterday morning - if this was CNN, I would be the Torchwood Correspondent - and I really don't know what to make of it. Moving TW to the US just wouldn't be Torchwood. Everything that makes the Whoniverse what it is, is tied to the UK. That's where it belongs. You take that away and what is it, just another sci-fi show? Besides, the US already have the Winchesters fighting off the creepies, they don't need TW.

Let us also not forget that Torchwood was founded by Queen Victoria to protect the British Empire. Last time I checked, the US was not part of the British Empire. You can say that this doesn't really matter, but it does. Everything that TW is, everything that it stands for, is tied intrinsically to its history. You take that away and you don't have Torchwood anymore, you have something new and separate, but relatable. And hey, that's fine, but then make it new for god's sake. Give it a new name, a new spin, don't just change everything and think that's ok.

This then, is my fundamental problem with the way Russell T Davies has started writing his shows. He's just running around doing what he wants to do with flagrant disregard for anything that has gone before, even his own work. He has absolutely no respect for history or framework, and thinks it's perfectly fine to just wipe the slate clean and start again. I'm sorry, but it is not. You cannot just do that! You cannot just change the framework of an existing universe because it doesn't fit your grand megalomanic visions for a story. This is not the Marvel comic verse, this is a television show. I just think it's so disrespectful to viewers to completely negate everything you've led them to believe before simply because it no longer fits your vision. Your story should fit your framework, not the other way around. How can any viewer become invested in anything you do, when a season later you will do something to completely disregard something that has gone before, how can anything mean anything when nothing is concrete? That's why so many fans don't like Children of Earth, by the end of the first episode we've lost the SUV, and the Hub and consequently the pterodactyl, Janet and everyone else in the vaults. By the end of the second episode we're not even in Cardiff anymore. What is Torchwood if not a show about a bunch of semi-competent alien catchers living in a secret base under the bay with a pet pterodactyl and running about Cardiff, saving the day in their flashy car that everyone recognises? So yeah, COE may have been riveting drama, but it was only a season of Torchwood in the sense that the cast of characters was in it. I know some people will say this is a good thing, that it gave it more depth and that change is as good as a holiday - but I never signed up for riveting drama! I signed up for a bunch of semi-competent alien catchers policing a tear in space and time! Not to even mention that Torchwood is part of the Whoniverse, and as such shares a mythology with Who, that COE completely disregards.

I don't think it's that surprising then that I have extremely mixed feelings over a fourth season, let alone one set in the US. The overwhelming issue is...well why should I bother? Why should I waste my valuable time on something when in the end there is the greatest chance that it'll all be disregarded? Why should I allow myself to become invested in something that will eventually treat its viewers with contempt? If there is a fourth season, it would have to win me over as if it was a completely new show and that is essentially impossible as long as it bears the name Torchwood because of this humongous wheelbarrow of baggage I bring with me *gestures behind self* The thought that we should just mindlessly fall back in line is just ludicrous. It's like...I don't know, someone killing your puppy and then giving you a new one saying it's essentially the same thing. Of course it's not because you loved your puppy and you're traumatised, and while the new puppy may well be cute and clever and adorable, it's not your puppy, and it never will be.

Normally this would be a no-brainer for me, and the only reason it's an issue is simply because I just love the character of Jack Harkness that much. He really is one of my favourite fictional creations and so I feel a strange sort of duty to stick with him, even though they are treating him like utter crap at the moment. I say that knowing about the scene in End of Time, but look, no amount of introductions by Ten is going to cover the fact that he wasn't there when it mattered and that it was all his doing in the first place if you buy into RTD's gleeful notion of the Fires of Pompeii/Frobisher connection (which I must thank the fool for, because I needed that seed of information planted in my over-analytical mind so that I could now harbour a misplaced grudge against Ten and Donna. No really, thanks RTD. You're a champion.)

On that note, the Guardian suggests Jack and Alonso for season four. Hmm. Excuse me a second *gets into plastic soundproof box* JACKANDALONSOJACKANDALONSOWTFNONONONOIDONTWANTJACKHOOKINGUPWITHNOWEREWOLF *gets back out and clears throat*

Let's address their other questions, shall we?
> Could Gwen feasibly return to the frontline now she's a mother?
Oh who cares, I don't think Gwen and her magical ability to make everything about her is all that important. She better not be the only one in the next season though, I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than watch that. Actually, I'm not sure if I even want to watch Torchwood with Gwen in it. I do not want to see her, I do not want to think of her and her white-picket fence ending, and I do not want her anywhere near Jack. Nowhere near him. Look, I'm not really anti-Gwen, when she is consistently written she's quite kick-ass, but the rest of the time she's self-righteous and annoying, and I just can't warm to her. So I feel compelled to swear on the name of everyone's dearly departed fictional welsh boyfriend that drastic measures will be taken upon whatever production company is responsible for it if Jack and Gwen ever get together. Drastic. Measures. And if Rhys dies, oh my god...this is the way vigilante superheroes get their start and I must say, I've always liked masks.

> Should some of the action still unfold in Cardiff?
I liked Cardiff, I liked the Rift and anything coming out, and I liked the familiarity of things like the weevils and their boiler suits (seriously, are they born like that? So many unanswered questions!) Cardiff was like a cast member, like NYC to Law and Order. But then they went and spoiled it all by doing something stupid like exploding it. So, that being said and done, I would actually prefer a fourth season to be set somewhere else. I know, doesn't that just contradict everything I said before? That's why Torchwood and I get on so well, you see, we're creatures of contradiction. I still want it in the UK though, it's the Whoniverse dammit, it's British! The only reason I would prefer a change of scenery is that I cannot stand the thought of things going back to how it was before, of them just carrying on like it never happened. There is a disturbing tendency in the Whoniverse to not acknowledge things that have happened, when those things are so huge that they surely must have had an impact on the character (say for example being tied up and tortured for a year, or oh, being buried alive for 2,000 years.) The thought of re-building the hub, speeding around Cardiff and going about their business without Ianto being there is too much for my poor frazzled heart. It's bad enough that we lost him with the worst plan ever, I don't want them to act like it didn't even matter

> Do you want to see the return of some old friends from Children Of Earth?
No! What friends, what friends? The creepy guy who hugs the glass, whose creepiness is never explained, and who actually makes it out alive? What about the evil bitch assassin woman who goes four days before thinking to look into what's happening with the kids? The daughter who pushes her father away, then suddenly pulls him in again and leaves her child in the hands of strangers? The sister of a man who revealed we actually knew nothing about him, not really, and we never will? The stoic secretary that stands by, thinks a post-it is a good place for a top-level security password, does what has to be done and then has the audacity to be outraged and grow a backbone at the end of it all? Or how about Lois, the PA that knows what everyone needs, "the office girl" that infiltrates a tightly guarded area? I don't think so, thanks. As for the last one, you cannot substitute like that! You just can't (oh, please don't.)

> Or have I called this whole thing completely wrong?
Probably not. Chances are there will be a Torchwood US. I was hoping that if there was another season it'd maybe move to Torchwood House in Scotland, or better yet maybe stumble upon Torchwood 4, the one that's "gone missing." It has to be somewhere under British rule, maybe northern Ireland? Torchwood staff with Irish accents, I won't complain. Or maybe it's in Australia! Hahaha yes. Alien koalas, I can see it now. Those drop bears aren't just a story to frighten campers. Yes, let's move the show here. They can all stay at my place. Except for Russell, he'll have to go somewhere else, only people who don't tell me to go watch Supernatural if I'm upset are allowed in.

The only other quibble I have is that, to be honest, I simply don't like the idea of Jack in America. His whole thing is that he's brash and loud and overbearing, and because of the accent people always put it down to him being American. He never quite fits in, and the fact that he doesn't really belong is highlighted by that. If you dump him amongst other Americans, what is he other than an oddly dressed man, and that doesn't say much other than he may be Mat Devine's older cousin. And here's where I lose faith in this whole US move, cause I just can't see John Barrowman leaving the UK. He has everything over there. And I'm not watching Torchwood without Jack. There is no TW without Jack! Sigh. Can't Steven Moffat take him back? He was so much better to him.

This is all of course based on the notion that it is in fact a continuation of the series, so a season four, as opposed to a remake or revamp in a US setting that has absolutely nothing to do with any of the previous seasons. If that is the case, I have three words for you - Life. On. Mars. No, I don't care if the US have done brilliant remakes of British shows in the past and I don't watch The Office, all I do know is they completely messed up Life on Mars and I have no faith in them. Plus I must reiterate there's no TW without Jack.

Ah well, I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Can't really judge something until you've seen it, can you? I was far too invested, far too close to it, and I got burnt too much to simply be excited or happy about it. Obviously I'm apprehensive to change, look what happened last time things changed, things went to hell! I guess I'm still mourning too (yes I know it's insane) and it's still hard not to feel everything like it's another turn of the knife in your back. Wait, did I just type that? Hahaha I'm beginning to think I am the queen of melodrama. Honestly, I'd much prefer it if there wasn't a new season, if that was that it'd be easier. But yes, wait and see, wait and see.

BUT CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME IF IT'S BEEN CONFIRMED? I'm too tired for this and I am yet to have my first coffee for the day. We are not amused!

*pause*

*wibble*

*small voice*

Why did they have to take my show from me? To people who thought it was tacky and cheesy, that was the point, don't you see? The entire charm of original TW was the fact that it was tacky and cheesy. As one of the commentators on the Guardian site said, if it's not as bad, it's not as good. And that in a nutshell, is the contradiction that made me love TW.

Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go cry into my latte as Owen so helpfully suggested back in Season 1, because there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of it anyway. Au revoir!

Edit 6:58 -

I actually had a brainwave at work about this whole thing and how it could be wrangled to make some sort of sense that they're mucking about in the US. After the horror of COE, I think its fair to assume TW want nothing to do with the government and the government want nothing to do with TW, effectively cutting them loose. As independent agents, they'd then be free to go wherever the hell they wanted, and that would be as far away from the idiots who made such a big mess of things in the first place. Now again this works beautifully in favour of Australia, that's real distance, but hey whatever. See I don't mind when they mess with frameworks and foundations within reason, I mean obviously it can be done. it's just delicate, and I don't think they should prance around chopping and changing while cackling maniacally and making people watch.

Music: The fan whirring
Mood: Tired

And not a soul sleeps

In a clear view there’s a silhouette
And I watch you and I can’t forget
Knew we were done when you locked that door
Yeah I figured it out now
Breaking’s what the heart is for

When I see you
In a silhouette
And you hold close
Do you feel regret?
Keeping me down when I hit that floor
And I figured it out now
Breaking's what your heart is for

Music: Breakin' - The All American Rejects
Mood: Nostalgic

This story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear

Another day of reluctant journalism behind me. Today I had the dubiously riviting task of collating a list of all the schools in the area, their phone numbers and address, their principals, and the principals' email addresses. Twelve pages later, I still hadn't even rung any of them for the principal info. But still, data collection and analysis is something I excel in, mind-numbing as it is, and I was quite content to sit there all day and just do that. Oh, but they had other ideas. So now here I am yet again stuck with an advertising feature to write about education. It's a dream job, I promise you.

I know it's a terrible thing to say, but I think I have even less interest in journalism now than before. I mean, when you're little you have this perception of journalists and reporters being kinda cool and intense -they're on the tv, writing for the paper, highlighting injustice and righting civil wrongs. Eeeeh not so much. A lot of journalism just seems to be embellishment and pandering to your advertisers. All in this incredibly rigid structure of particularly ordered facts. There's no joy to be had there.

Journalists seem strangely like school teachers to me, in the sense that they appear to live in this little enclosed bubble that seems somehow removed from the rest of the world. There is also a huge amount of leading going on, when getting quotes for stories or such. It's the sort of behaviour that gets you fired if you're a lawyer. In the office today though, things mostly and inevitably led back to Prince William being here. It started when one of the reporters got stuck behind his motorcade this morning, and followed with a live feed of photos being checked. And okay, to be fair, they were writing a story on his visit, but still people, come on. I swear 70% of the news last night was devoted to him. All I could think watching it was that he must be bored out of his mind. I mean honestly, who wants to do things like this? I can't help but draw the conclusion that being a dignitary of any sort most suck.

But anyway, I just hope someone calls me back so that I can finish this bloody article.

Right now though I'm heading over to Em's. They are going to be braving Children of Earth tonight. Well I say they are braving it when they are in fact braving the ball of useless emotional angst it turns me into. This is my first time re-watching it *scrunches nose*

Look at it, six months and it's never even been opened.



But other than the impending angst, slumber party FTW! Wooooo!

Music: Play crack the sky - Brand New
Mood: Apprehensive

Lie awake but dreaming

I love waking up to packages in the morning. One I was expecting because Agent99 told me she had sent it from Cardiff before she left, the other arrived waaaay quicker than I had anticipated. The latter is a custom skin I had made for my laptop, cause I am a loser like that. They were supposed to send an email when it went to print which I never got and it's from San Diego, thus the surprise at its early arrival. Anyway, here is poor Sheldon now that he's been geeked out (like pimping except with much greater social stigma)...




Things like this is the reason I'm constantly broke. Honestly, there is no hope for me.

Sticking to the fandom side of things (ha, like that's something new), Roze sent me a signed poster (one of fifty apparently) wrapped in so much bubblewrap it fills the heart with joy. Bubblewrap! Back on point, the reason I feel this is blog-worthy is simply because Roze has been trying to get me a signed fandom something or other since about Year 10. I don't know if she remembers this, but I do. Always with schemes and plans and plotting, and all because I'm an obsessive nutter. Now she has finally succeeded! You are a fandom enabler, Ms Roze, I salute your efforts and thank you for not only putting up with me, but encouraging me. The madness of it!

But anyway yes, packages are a lovely start to any day :)

Meanwhile, Great Expectations is trying to kill me. I've been reading it for what feels like years of my life (it's only been about two weeks, and I have had to intersperse it with other things) and I'm only 200 pages in. That's not even halfway! I don't know why I'm doing this to myself. Don't get me wrong, I mean it's well written and there are some clever turns of phrase and what have you, but I find it so dull and hard to engage with, it's work to get through it. I hate it when reading feels like work, I'm a page-turner reader, I breeze through a book when it catches my imagination, I have to be transported and not want to put it down. That is why I've never been a fan of canon literature, I find 99% of it to be so terribly hard to become immersed in, and so unrelatable, that I find it painful to read. I read enough dull things for university because of necessity, I don't want to do the same in my free time. But still, I'll struggle through this all the same. I was going to try Jane Eyre again after this, but at this rate I doubt I'll have the will.

Music: Another heart calls - The All American Rejects
Mood: Bored

Life is but a dream for the dead

Feeling subdued today, you know that feeling you get sometimes? Like the curtains are still drawn on the day and your just fumbling around in the semi-dark?

I don't know.

Start my new work roster this week, meaning I no longer work full days Mondays, but have Thursday afternoons to do. No more two days off. I veer between joy and sadness at this. Mostly I just want to go back to uni, these breaks are too long and I am just itching to get started and get it all out of the way.

While I ponder the state of my mind, here's a list of some strange things found while looking for Waldo/Wally.

Music: While you wait for the others - Grizzly Bear
Mood: Hayfever headache

I've got a reason, too long, for songs

Music: How I met your mother
Mood: Still sleepy

It's going to be legendary...

Ah life, what a wonderful mixed bag of comings and goings you are proving to be so far this year. I'm enjoying it.

I have seen both the lovely R and M this weekend, and they have both spoiled me rotten with belated Christmas presents. They truly are far too good to me, those two. Roze and I got together for lunch on Friday to celebrate her return to the continent, and it was absolutely lovely. I just got back from Em's place actually, and am now nomming on some truly amazing chocolate candy floss. It's a miracle of modern science, this stuff.

I had a perfect weekend, all things considered. Ma mere and I headed to the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra on Saturday for the 'Masterpieces from Paris' exhibition. We both thoroughly enjoyed it, our favourite Van Gogh was out as well as my favourite Monets, so definitely left happy. We had a mosey around the rest of the Gallery as well, and it was just lovely. There was quite a crowd, so the exhibition is certainly proving popular - we had to line up for about twenty minutes to get in. We had a late lunch and headed back to Sydney, through a rather impressive storm when we hit Gouldburn, and we were home before dark. An excellent day, I think, all round and an easy day-trip.

All this driving I've been doing over the last two weeks - to Penrith last weekend (approx 64km) and Canberra yesterday (274km) - has made me pontificate on the subject matter somewhat. This is the part of the blog where I wax lyrically about cars so if that sort of thing bores you to tears, now is the time to hit the escape button.

Firstly I have to say that, to me, driving, in the right car, is one of the most simple, pleasurable things you can do. I think it is an absolute joy to drive a car that *wants* to be driven along highways and byways, straights and winding roads, in any condition. A lot of people don't appreciate the simple pleasure of driving - here because we can't really drive properly, and in other places often because public transport is more prevalent, and then again some people just find it dull. Having grown up in South Africa though, with a completely car-mad male faction of the family, I often think appreciation for cars (and racing) is in my DNA. Cars (and bikes), in short, are one of my passions. It's true that I'm a pretty feeble rev head, I don't care how many gs its putting out on the corner or how much torque it has. The only thing I care about is looks, and how fast it is (and handling but I don't absorb much mechanical talk, all I need to know is if it sticks properly on a corner without feeling like it's going to roll over).

I found myself particularly mulling over my cars and driving on the way back from Canberra - an easy daytrip on an absolutely gorgeous road that is one of the few decent freeways in this state, straightforward with no traffic, it is a pleasure...and hard to resist just flooring it to the horizon - and no doubt helped by the huge amounts of Top Gear I've been watching lately. Anyway, my mother seems to think I'm a Jay Leno in the making because I love my cars and cannot imagine parting company with Jack, though he is old and beyond his prime, when I get a new car. I'd much rather polish him up and park him a garage for the rest of my natural life, to take out for spins when the urge takes me. He's my first car, he means a lot to me.

Sure, when I talk about the "pleasures of driving" I am not talking about Jack. He is not the smoothest car to drive, I mean we get on well enough and he sits fantastically on a corner (though that is more tyres than anything else) but he is still 20 years old, and he drives like it. His steering is difficult (he has no power-steering), his gearbox is sluggish on a steep incline, and he absolutely hates, hates driving 110. Which is, for some unfathomable reason, the general speed limit in this country. It's absurd, no car likes doing 110, they're made to do 120, 110 is just some misguided fool's idea of making things safer. Jack is incredibly nervy at 110, the engine doesn't like it and the entire body shakes, but if I push him just that little bit more, he settles fine...which isn't bad for a car his age really. He is a 1.3L fuel injected version true, but he also runs an aircon which sucks up virtually any power he has.

Martha (not really mine, but which I will no doubt inherit when dad gets a new one in a year cause he is physically incapable of owning a car more than 2 years) on the other hand, is an absolute dream to drive. There is no doubt in my mind that the Hyundai Getz is the best value small car on the market. They are brilliant little cars. Absolutely brilliant. Considering what you get for it, you cannot possibly ask for more. She is a little slow on the change sometimes, but this is probably my own fault for giving her too much gas on a pull-away than anything else, but other than that, she is gorgeous. She is also quite quick, and I think her top speed is reasonably good - on the open road I think you should easily be able to get her to 150. With the aircon on, which would kill poor Jack.

Seriously though, if someone is thinking about getting an economical small car, the Getz is the way to go. You get comfortable fittings and safety in a great spacious little car that can really motor. It's a bargain really.

All of which leads up to me simply stating that I love Martha and I'd hate to part company with her too, so in the fictional car garage, I'd polish her up and park her next to Jack. So now I've got two cars...what's next?

Well, ladies and gentleman, in 2006 when my parents headed off to Jeep-Chrysler to pick up the latest Wrangler, I fell in love with a zippy little convertible commonly known as a Crossfire. I still insist this is one of the single most gorgeous cars I've ever had the pleasure of mucking about in, and Top Gear agrees with me! Though they believe it to be absolute rubbish technically. But it's not as if I could actually drive it like a proper sports car in the city anyway, so in this this instance I don't care if it's just a car in disguise. It is just that good looking.



I love this car. It is *gorgeous* and it is the car I'm buying as soon as I have the means. I won't even think twice about it.

Then, if by some stroke of fortune I find myself in the position to do so, I will buy my dream car. A 1966 Mustang. I've wanted this car all my life, all my life I tell you.



And now, since we've left the world of reality well behind, my next acquisition would be a Porsche 911 Turbo. Why? Because it is a Porsche 911 people and if I am to have a fictional garage full of cars I have hypothetically loved in my life, it needs to have a Porsche 911 in it. Also, my mum would want to drive it. She loves these.



But I figure why stop there? Why not make sure I have a hypothetical car for every day of the week? So, with that logic, we have the brand I've wanted almost as long as I've wanted a Mustang, namely Ferrari. The thing is, I've always been sort of torn over which one. The other night I thought I finally found the perfect model in the F430.



It is not only absolutely stunning to look at it, but it always drives incredibly well. And that's not really something you hear about a sports car all that often. But then there is of course the Enzo, which is hard to pass up...we are living in fantasy land at the moment after all.



The final car-of-the-week in my fictional garage, would be an Aston Martin Vanquish...



That's right, that is the Sunday car.

Then, just because I can, I'd have an emergency car in the Masserati GranTurismo S.



Or maybe a Lamborghini Murcielago...



Hmm.

I have delusions of grandeur, what can I say...

Music: How I met your mother
Mood: Sleepy

Failbook wins

see more funny facebook stuff!

Music: Total eclipse of the heart - Bonnie Tyler
Mood: Working

I want candy

Well, as you can tell, I survived. It wasn't particularly enjoyable, but it wasn't horrific either. I did about four weeks worth of gig guides, sat in on a meeting (which, with just 2 people excluding me, is barely a meeting), and was then sent off to interview someone for the advertising feature. I've just finished that piece and I am supposed to do another one for tomorrow but I haven't heard back from the source yet...it's too late to call now right? I am going with yes. So that's what I have to follow up on tomorrow.

Uh...yes. That's all I've got to say about the day. I really don't think journalism is my forte, but then I never really have. It's just something to fill up the time. They seem quite willing to keep me on for as long as I want, and why wouldn't they, I'm doing the work no one else wants to do for free. I'm just doing it to get some experience really, and while it's interesting, I don't think I'll be able to maintain this along with uni and everything else I have going on.

There is absolutely nothing on television, my dad insists on watching crazy shows on Discovery like 'Air Crash Investigation' or 'Mega Builders' or 'When buildings explode!' (I made the last one up, but I'm sure there's something like that out there). I keep saying "Let's watch How I met your mother/Top Gear" but it falls on deaf ears. Ugh.

Anyway, as I'm getting progressively more annoyed, I think I may take my leave and do some reading. And I don't know how long I can keep holding out on watching End of Time, it's gnawing at my subconscious every time I find myself with a moment to spare.

Music: Discovery Channel
Mood: Lethargic

In which we bite off more than we can chew

Currently sitting in a cafe outside mum's work having a chocolate milkshake while I wait for 5 o'clock to roll round so I can bum a ride home. I'm such a slacker, I had to get money off her for the milkshake in the first place. I haven't been this broke since I started working, it's appalling. But it is a rather delicious milkshake and the only thing to compliment this sort of weather, it's about 30 in the city but it feels a bit hotter thanks to the 68% humidity. So yes, another reason why I have taken refuge in the blissful airconditioned sanctuary that just so happens to dispense yummy beverages. Hmmm. I think I might make this my writing cafe, it's very nice, has internet and is quiet as it's a business cafe - at the moment there are three suits congregated around their Mac like a campfire. They seemed rather perplex when I dragged my blue and black striped self in *grins*

Anywaaaay, have made a rather successful dash to the UTS library after work to pick up a book I had shipped in from the Kuring-Gai campus, and since I was there I got a few others as well. I figure I might as well read them while I have some time, although why I think I have time is beyond me really. I had to go past Basement Books and nearly imploded with want at all the new stock they have in - they sell all the stock other bookstores can't move at discount prices. The thing that got me the most was that they had the complete works of Emily Dickinson for $9.95! I'm so broke I don't even have that in my account! The woe. I hope they still have it next week, then I shall go in and spend money I should be saving. They also have the last James Bond one for $2, there were two girls standing there pontificating over how they never knew Ian Fleming was a pseudonym until i felt compelled to interrupt and point out that it wasn't, he's just dead and Sebastian Faulks is masquerading as him. Score one for Jen not minding her own business. They had their usual collection of classical literature, including a bunch of Sherlock Holmes mysteries for $3. I had that in coins so I bought one. Books! I want you all!

Oh dear, just got a text from the boy to hang out tonight. I turned him down, I start my work experience tomorrow and I am already too nervous about it without adding vodka headache and late night to it. Oh, and the cash issue I suppose. I keep forgetting that. It's not my fault, it's society! Ask Karl Marx, he'll tell you.

Anyway, I am keeping myself as busy as possible this year. On top of work and uni and this work experience deal (not sure how long that'll last for, at the moment it's only for the two weeks), I am also tagging a community on LJ (although to be fair, this takes all of ten minutes) and I am going to be doing some editing for MobyMag - an online magazine made specifically for mobile phones. I've always thought it was a very clever idea to make the most of the boom in handheld devices accessing the net, so I'm looking forward to getting involved. It's all submissions, so you (you know who I'm talking to, yes you, the amazing writers that lurk here sometimes) should consider submitting something. It'll be fun!

Meanwhile, I'm also going to be volunteering at the Sydney Writers Festival and the Sydney Supanova, I'm just waiting for the registration to open up.

Hm. I think this year is off to a busy, promising start really, all things considered.

The sun is shining right on my back and it is far too hot for this *sigh*

Next up on my agenda, editing the mess that is my NaNo novel.

Oh god, work at the paper tomorrow. What if I suck epically? What if people?? Gah. Wish me luck and, you know, standard avenge-my-death-if-I-die protocol applies.

Music: What you waiting for? - Gwen Stefani
Mood: Hot

We all deserve something

Aaaah. Got a call from the paper I'm doing work experience at asking me what section I would prefer to work in. Now, having expected the filing, research and coffee-making type of "work experience", I said I really didn't have a preference. She then goes on about how she'll find somewhere and how she expects me to write. This is the part where I start panicking slightly. I haven't done any kind of journalism in well over three years really, I'm just going to make an idiot of myself *breathes into paper bag*

I did buy a nice suit though, so at least I'll look good. Yes, I have finally given in to the temptation of acquiring a decent suit. I actually just wanted to get the waistcoat, and inadvertently ended up with the set. It's an investment really...or so I keep telling myself. Plus now I have something proper to wear when I have to fly business class again, instead of trying to pass off my black jeans as dress jeans (it's a staff travel thing).

I had a nice day with Lizzie yesterday. We drove up to Leura to have a bit of a look around and catch the promenade production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in the Everglades Gardens. It was absolutely brilliant, and the setting was pretty great too once we got past the original five minutes of rain. I am such a Shakespeare fangirl, it's crazy. I just think there's nothing better than seeing it on stage. The Bell Shakespeare Company are doing King Lear and Twelfth Night at the Opera House, so I may go check out one of those as well.

I have a much quieter week this week which I am thankful for. I'm just trying to save money and accumulate some funds for the whole going to SA and Supanova things. The only concrete plans I seem to have at the moment are heading to the library tomorrow to pick up some uni books I requested and going to the National Gallery in Canberra on the weekend to catch their visiting Musee D'Orsay exhibition. As mum keeps pointing out, I have seen these works before, but it's nice to appreciate culture in your own backyard (for a change). Besides, with some things it really doesn't matter how often you see it, it's still amazing. Oh, I'm also seeing Roze as she returns home from her escapades around the UK this week. She has one hell of a climate adjustment in her future.

So yes, that's my week. Do some uni work, read some Great Expectations, freak out over not being a journalist, do some writing, and hang out...and away I go.

If you knew I was dying would it change you?

So when you see me falling backwards down the wall that says I'm still alive,
Don't be cautious when I'm cautiously approaching on the other side
Everybody has their reasons, that's the reason we're all going to die

Because if seeing is believing,
Then believe that we have lost our eyes

Is it possible to be in love with a song?

Music: I can barely breathe - Manchester Orchestra
Mood: Tired

Of fandom and change

I stumbled upon this, and though it makes me feel sort of sick and traitorous just to admit it, it does kind of make me excited for season 5 (and no I still haven't seen the regeneration so shhh).



I've also heard Chris Chibnall has written a two-parter for the season. He wrote 4 of my favourite TW eps, I'm so glad to have him back. They've also got Gareth Roberts ('The Shakespeare Code' and 'The unicorn and the wasp' - both of which I adore), and Toby Withouse ('School Reunion', 'Greeks bearing gifts', and virtually the brain behind Being Human) amongst others. It's rather enticing.

Hmm. Just realised it's been six months since that day, the day it was finally confirmed that I was completely unhinged on the particular topic of *stage whisper* Torchwood. I can't believe it's been half a year. It doesn't feel that long.

And on that topic, I'm not sure why anyone is even remotely surprised by this so-called Torchwood musical scored by ABBA that never was. There's been talk about a musical ep forever, maybe not specifically who or how, but there were whispers all the same. It's kind of funny though because the foundations for that is all over the EU stuff, off the top of my head Gwen and Ianto discuss ABBA in 'The Twilight Streets', it's mentioned again in 'Risk Assessment' by Jack, and again in the radio play 'The Dead Line'. There was also one occurrence where Owen was contemplating writing a musical based on his experiences with TW...jokingly of course (and to be called Weevil Rock You.) But who cares, this is just a set up to say check out the comments to the io9 piece on it because loons have started adapting ABBA songs, atm there's Waterloo and Fernando - "Can you hear the drums Jack Harkness?" indeed. Epic. I love geeks.

Music: Rebeccas - The View
Mood: Geeky

Flotsam junk will do just fine

The point is, we can always get better. We can always get more eccentric. When was the last time you wore a cape? When was the last time you wore diamond rings over your leather gloves? Do they make leashes small enough for hamsters? If so, how many will it take to pull me on a skateboard? One hundred? Two hundred? Will they obey my commands? These are the questions you should be asking yourself in 2010.

I concur, Mr. Devine. I concur.

Can I also just point out that I love Castle? It's so much fun. Although I must admit I miss the super stylised opening scenes they did for the first season, there was something strangely beautiful in all that.

"Unemployed divas who live in glass houses rent free should not throw stones."

I also got the End of Time specials so as soon as Lizzie and I can get together, we'll be getting that out of the way...and probably weeping. Hm. Something to look forward to.

Oh oh, Neil Patrick Harris ended up winning the poll. By something like 30%. I'm going to miss the insane tweets and not-so-subtle innuendo. Well played gentlemen, it's been entertaining *tips hat*

Finally, why must absolutely everything be a massive issue? And by that of course I am referring to the KFC ad madness, why does the US care about our ads? Especially one that's cricket-centric? They don't even have cricket in the US...and besides, everyone knows Australian TV operates on an entirely different platform than anywhere else. I personally don't think the ad was racist, it never even crossed my mind, to me it is the critics that have made it racist by giving it context it was never meant to have in this country.

Music: Law & Order
Mood: Thirsty

The wavelength gently grows

You know, I've done more in the past few weeks to go outside my personal comfort zone (that same zone that exists under my duvet) than the last four years combined. It seems 2010 is already kinda a huge year. But I think I've had enough now and I'll happily retreat back. Perhaps that makes me weird, but I have never pretended to be anything other. But hey, I resisted the overwhelming urge to run, I took Abs suggested approach, and it's all for the better really. For me, I mean. It's good to start the new year by not giving in to my myriad of social issues.

I hung out with the boy in the city again last night, well we started off in the city - copious drinks and dinner. It was followed by geeking out, Dr Horrible, Buffy ect etc. I was completely 110% honest, which I've been the entire time (and that in itself has surprised me) and I will probably never hear from him again. But hey, it was a fun little exprience these past few weeks. Trying to get home at 4am is not so much fun, but eh *shrugs* I got here in the end.

I'm itching to get caught up on some television, it just keeps adding up. I also need to do some writing, aaaaand there's some more applications to be sent in. And it's only the 7th of January? All this socialness takes some co-ordination. Try though I might, I still fail. I was going to go to Stono's gig tonight, then on the train last night I realised it was actually on the 6th. Soooo disappointed, I had it all worked out *headdesk*

My elbow still hurts.

Music: MK Ultra - Muse
Mood: Bored

I never claimed to be an angel though

Good morning starshine, the earth says hellooooo.

Last night proved quite the adventure, as all things inevitably do. Lizzie and I just can't help ourselves, when we're together I think our brainwaves cancel each other out. It started off well enough, we had dinner - and there was no one else inside so it was like the staff was watching us eat, but anyway. We got into the city and we had to stand around waiting for the support to come on for aaaages - an hour at least. It took far too long, but it was rather amusing to observe the crowd who were by far the most boisterous lot I've ever really encountered. There were Scottish flags of every description and a lot of chanting and signing what may or may not have been Scottish songs. I think all the Scots in Sydney found each other there and congregated. It was rather amusing to watch the spectacle. The View were amazing too, they were so energetic and twitchy and adorable. Good times. We then spent a good portion of the evening outside fending off unwelcome advances from insects as we waited for the NRMA to show up and revive Lloyd's battery so Lizzie could undertake the torturous drive home. See, always an adventure.

My right elbow is hurting like crazy. It feels like the entire thing is bruised but there's nothing there. Sigh.

I've been throwing out requests for work experience and internships all over the place, just cause, and today our local paper called me to invite me in for two days this month with potential for a longer spot. So hey, that's something at least. I start on Wednesday.

I have so much to do but I'm watching 'Love the Beast' with dad at the moment. Oh well. I should probably focus on that properly.

Things to pursue - Camera Obscura and Grizzly Bear at Beck's Festival Bar, King Lear and Tosca at the Opera House.

Music: Love the beast
Mood: Lazy

In which we organise ourselves

If you haven't caught sight of the whole "big gay battle" thing, I highly recommend you check it out because it is rather amusing. I only saw it thanks to Neil Gaiman's tweet and, I like Neil, would like to vote Team Barrowman. I think NPH is brilliant, but come on, it's Jack we're talking about here. Anywho, it is good fun to watch it all happening. People are loons, and I mean that in the good way - which doesn't happen very often, I must say.

As for me, every fibre of my being wants to crawl under my duvet and resume the hermitism I so love. I am trying very hard not to listen to every fibre of my being, though it is hard when the epic list of things to do seems to grow exponentially. I've got things on well into next week, and even then I have occasions clamouring for attention. Being social is exhausting. And I am still broke, which is...well my own stupidity really, I suppose. Luckily I'm working again *shakes fist at capitalism*

Tonight I am off to see The View with Lizzie, by far one of my favourite discoveries of last year (thanks to Abbi, of course). Scottish bands FTW. However, I am actually jaw-snappingly tired (from all the yawning, you see), so I am concerned how I am going to survive. Red bull, probably. Hmmm caffeinated goodness.

I need to get some notebooks and a diary, to cross-reference my comings and goings with Donna. I mean her organiser is very good, but something a bit more tactile to scribble in may prove more effective at actually keeping me organised.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm itching to get back to uni. I'm even looking forward to having theory to complain about and essays to leave until the last minute and then berate myself over. I don't know. It's just too weird to sit at home with nothing to really do in that line, that's why I've started reading theory of my own accord. If that's not a worrying sign about one's sanity, then I don't know what is.

Now *cracks fingers* to-do lists:

Today:
> Paint nails
> Look up SSO/Psycho performance for M
> Apply for internships
> Volunteer for festival work
> Look up cinema screen-times
> Look up Sydney Festival times - Grizzly Bear, Camera Obscura etc

Before going back to uni:
> Get books from lib
> Beach day
> Who marathon for R
> Acquire diary/notebooks
> Finish Cixious theory
> Finish Great Expectations, Jane Eyre

Um...um...there's so much more but I am far too hungry to focus right now and I know that once I've wandered off, I won't come back and this post will never be published. So I'll leave it there and go forage.

Music: Another heart calls - The All American Rejects
Mood: Hungry

I go back to...

And we, looking at them, we see thought taking its leave. We see thought. It is a portrait of thought, according to Rembrandt. Thought is not the weighty thinker seated. It passes, inside, distracted, traveling, it is the foreigner, the stranger.
He paints the foreigner, the stranger in me, in you.
The times when under the letter’s sway—
we suddenly become the stranger, the foreigner in ourselves. We separate ourselves from ourselves. We lose ourselves. From sight also.

[Helene Cixous. Stigmata : Escaping Texts, p 17.]

Theory, it is but two months since I thought I'd banished you, and here we meet yet again. I've printed up a list of all the books for review and reference I will be needing in my semester and located them in the State and UTS libraries. I might go in on Wednesday and dredge them all up. One is online, which is what I'm reading now. Sigh. I've sorted my timetable as well, as long as the university doesn't go changing subjects as they are so fond of doing.

So, first semester I have Non-Fiction Writing, Advanced Narrative Writing, and Critical Writing. Spring semester I'm doing Theory and Writing, Popular Fiction, and the Writing Seminar (which is unfortunately a tute and a lecture). Then my final semester will be Professional Editing and my Professional Writing Project. Followed hopefully by a paid internship overseas.

All my classes are 3 hours and they're all at night. What fun.

The Soundwave timetable has been announced. There are of course clashes, but nothing too major. For example, You Me At Six are on the same time as TBS, which is a shame. I'd love to see them, but I've never seen TBS live and I'm afraid they win out. I still have to run times past Miss L, but my tentative line-up goes in the following order:
Closure in Moscow
Sunny Day Real Estate
Taking Back Sunday
Eagles of Death Metal
Motion City Soundtrack
Placebo
AFI
All Time Low
My Chemical Romance
HIM

Of course it all depends how far the stages are apart too. Definite subject to change.

Anyway, back to the theory.

Music: Back to black - Amy Winehouse
Mood: Working

Some day I'll fly, some day I'll soar

Happy New Year!



I hope everyone had a good time seeing out the decade. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. We had dinner at the only place open in the surrounding area, much to my surprise, caught a session of Sherlock Holmes which I loved, and ended the evening with cocktails. Not nearly as many as I anticipated and I now have more alcohol than strictly necessary, so if anyone wants to come over for cocktails, I can happily oblige! I barely slept and spent the 1st on the couch with Lizzie watching various eps of Doctor Who, including an old-school one that did nothing but perplex us and encourage mocking. I know, we're terrible, what can we say.

The most important thing of course is that 2010 is finally here, and let's just give three cheers for that. I'm feeling optimistic about this year, I feel like I can keep building. I'm not really very good with resolutions but I really want to push myself this year to do new things, and to make An Effort. I'm going to try and really put a lot of work into uni for a change, I'm going to hopefully take French classes, I'm going to be unapologetically myself - no more pretenses, no more feeling awkward. I'm going to volunteer for stupid things and try and do a few interships. I'm going to exercise regularly. I'm going to write every single day, and keep doing too much of everything until my fingers threaten to fall off. I'm going to go out and enjoy myself, I'll try to go to as many gigs and geekfests as I possibly can. I want to make 2010 count. I have a feeling it's important somehow.

"Life is to stay in places and to leave…to trust, to distrust…to no longer believe and believe again…to watch the changes in the seasons…to be out in boats….to watch the snow come, to watch it go…to hear the rain…and to know where I can find what I want.”
- Hemingway

In other news, I went to the movies with mum and a family friend last night before making milkshakes and watching Center Stage with family friends' daughter. I really do love that movie. Today, I have taken down the Christmas decorations (well the indoor ones) and am yet again covered in glitter. It is unavoidable. Although I did finish reading Stardust last night so I can pretend the glitter is apt, I suppose.

One last thing that we need to get straight before I trot off to do other things, I do not have a boyfriend. I've been on two dates with a guy, that is it. Can we please not make issues out of things before there are issues to be made? Okay? Okay.

Now, to the book depository!

Music: Love song - Sara Bareilles
Mood: Glitter fairy