Not deep enough to never be found

Last week, I was lucky enough to have the chance to check out the one day only Frightened Rabbit Pop-Up Gallery on Carnaby Street. Ah, the joys of working in Soho!

For those who don't know, Frightened Rabbit is an amazing indie Scottish band. Their new album, Pedestrian Verse, was released yesterday and I cannot recommend it enough. Go. Get. It. I've been streaming it basically non-stop for a week, it is brilliant.

Anyway, the pop-up gallery was a promo for the album and featured loads of great prints, including the framed song lyrics from the new album, and objects used to create the album artwork. There were also guitars strewn about the place that were used to record the album, and docos projected on the wall. It was very cool, and an excellent use of our lunch hour.

There was also a free acoustic gig that evening. Now I've only ever seen Frightened Rabbit once (on NYE 2008, at the Purple Sneakers House Party at Manning House, instantly fell in love), so I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity - especially when I don't have tickets to their upcoming London show. So, off I went.

As I headed down after work, I had to stand around for quite some time (being a free show I figured it would fill up pretty quickly and I was definitely right about that) but it was well worth it in the end. Scott and Gordon played a selection of songs from Pedestrian Verse, including the brilliant bonus track 'If you were me' (and 'Holy', my personal favourite), as well as two old songs ('Old, old fashioned', yay!) Scott is such a charmer and with people sitting cross-legged on the floor, and spilling out through the doors into the courtyard, the whole set had a lovely communal atmosphere.

I'm just so thrilled I got to hear the new songs live, if only a couple of them. They're definitely one of my favourite bands around at the moment, such fantastic depth to the songs and often surprisingly twisted, which is the best kind of song, let's face it.

Do yourself a favour and check out Pedestrian Verse. Get February off to a good start for a change!

Music: Backyard Skulls - Frightened Rabbit

Sing, oh January

A whole month has passed since my arrival back in the UK and look, not a single emotional breakdown. Everything’s coming up Millhouse! Much has happened, however. The January blues well and truly blanketed the city, but nonetheless there is plenty to keep you busy. And keeping busy is key.

Most of the month was dominated by talk of a work trip to Frankfurt – I originally wasn’t meant to go, having just (rather sheepishly) returned, but was invited along at the last minute. Well, really, it was just a trip to Frankfurt airport (oh Frankfurt airport, how do I loathe thee, let me count the ways…) but hey, day off work, it’s all cool. Unfortunately, I had a horrendous wine hangover the day we flew out and proceeded to sleep through most of the presentations (that bit is actually not so unfortunate, they were very long-winded), but the festivities that evening made up for the suffering. It was a really fun time, even though it took approximately a week to recover from the lack of sleep and, what I liked to call, Frankfurt Flu. That was also the week of the snow. People freaked out. I was insanely gleeful. I can’t help it.

I don’t think the novelty of it will ever really wear off for me. And hey, it sets the perfect scene when I walk to/from work, listening to Bon Iver, breath puffing in the air. It’s actually all sorts of lovely. Even if it is freezing. And slippery. I was contemplating taking bets for how long it would take me to fall over but it didn’t really stick around very long and I somehow managed to remain upright. Somehow.

The only other major event was Australia Day, where I was the token Aussie in a group consisting of a South African, New Zealander and Americans. At least having a Kiwi in attendance meant that there were two of us to enthusiastically hound DJs all night to play John Farnham’s ‘The Voice.’ Cause it’s Australia Day, mate. It ended up being a very lively evening, even if it did lead us to the Walkabout. Still, was lots of fun. I shouldn’t be allowed on dance floors.

With things being otherwise quite sedate, I spent most of my free time on Abbi’s couch, indulging in all sorts of bad television/film choices. The most horrendous of the lot would have to be This Means War and Footloose, which we sadly watched on the same day. How can we endure such horror in such concentrated doses? You can read Ab’s reviews here. And when I'm actually home, and my lovely flatmate is in, I've been discovering why Wil Wheaton insists there's no such thing as too many dice.

Oh! I finally, finally, finished A Dance With Dragons. This is why we can’t have nice things! !! !!! See, it took me so long to finish cause I had to keep stopping when I became too enraged to continue. And now I’m caught up and have to wait with the other people! This is outrageous! I want closure! And happy Starks. Can’t we have happy Starks? *weeps*

But I digress.

I started watching Breaking Bad (so uber stressful) and Community (really enjoy it, but struggling to get into the second season.) I feel like I watch too much stuff. I need to cut back. Write more. Still, I haven’t seen any of the films that came out this month cause I am too flat broke, boo. I’ve never been this desperate for pay day in my life. Only two more days! There may be hope yet.

 Music: January Hymn - The Decemberists

I want all that is not mine

It’s been ages since I blogged, and ages since I blogged anything that wasn’t lame and emo – I originally attempted to write something back in the second week of January and then got distracted…which I shamefully admit is often the way over here. Christmas, for what it’s worth, was brilliant. It was fun having family visit and getting to show them around Sydney, especially since most of them had never been overseas before. So yes, having a proper family Christmas at home made for a nice change.

Now I’m back in London and everything is great and lovely, and it’s baffling how this town feels so much like home. I don’t know how or when or why it happened, but somewhere around the end of last year it did, and so I find myself with a rather stupid grin on my face a lot of the time. It’s good to be back. I made the right call. Seems a bit pointless to do it now, but as I was on a plane on New Year’s day, I think I’ll allow myself this very (month!) late 2012 round up. So. Here goes -

Last year was pretty damn epic, all things told. I visited 14 countries, properly left home for the first time and set up a new life on the other side of the world (again.) There were some pretty significant downs during the year, but in the end it all evened out and I do not regret anything for a moment. Travelling, I think, is one of the best things you can do. And breaking out and standing on your own two feet is certainly a positive thing too. I think I’ve changed a lot, in a good way, so on that front, it was definitely a Good Year. And, to quote The Gaslight Anthem, I found that nothing truly matters that you cannot find for free.

Photo recap? Photo recap.

Best wedding ever?

Where it all began.

Because, Paris. Always charming. 

Lovely Lisboa, with it's many hills and sunshine and ginjinha.

Greatly overestimating the walkability of Barcelona.

Hobo-ing it up in Milan.

Freezing in Verona.

Carnevale!

Because, Venice. Old school decadence.

Budapest. Unexpectedly amazing.

Hostel laundry night = despair.

Austrian National Library, Vienna. Want.

Neuschwanstein Castle in winter, so unbelievably picturesque.

Twitter exchanges about showers and shoe throwing. Ah, the madness in Prague. 

Being physically incapable of walking any further in Berlin.

Stockholm, natural habitat of the hipster...

...and hanging out with cool people.

Copenhagen. That's all. Just, Copenhagen.

London living.

Friends visiting and being touristy together.

And taking cool day trips with them.

Working in a ridiculously fun office.

Oh, and Olympic London. Pretty epic, really.

Also, drinking. Lots of drinking.

Halloween shenanigans.

Harry Potter fangirling.

Deep Scottish Love.

Multiple visits to pretty Edinburgh...

...and hanging out in Lizzie's fave cafe.

The realisation that, although things may change drastically in our lives, we'll always be a little insane.

Weekend in Northern Ireland.

Tourist life, yo.

Summer in Sydney. Still the best.

Afternoon beach walks with my dog. Missed it desperately.

Exploring new places and birthday celebrations.

The mayhem of a Sydney New Year's Eve.

No one does it better.

I’m not really one for making resolutions, but if I had to have a goal for this year, it would to finish one of my novels. And I want to get back to seriously researching, and applying for, my PhD. And I want to make the most of my year in the UK, just really get the most out of London living cause for all I know, this is the last time I’ll have this opportunity. I guess living life in the moment is the most important thing I learned last year, and that’s something I definitely want to keep up. And hell if you make mistakes or get hurt or find yourself disappointed, that’s important too, at least it means you’re actually living.

And, to end, here’s my top song of 2012. This band basically soundtracked the year.

Music: Smother - Daughter

Built of living light

I realised today that I haven’t even been home a month yet. It feels so much longer. And I know that makes what I’m now going to say sound completely nuts but, well, I’ve decided to go back to London.

For weeks before I left I was wavering over whether or not coming home was the right move for me – I had panic attacks, the whole lot. Even the day before I got on the plane, I still wasn’t sold. But I missed summer, and my family, my friends, and my dog – so I told myself it’d be fine. It was an amazing career opportunity and I couldn’t just turn it down because I was having a good time…so I left.

The problem is, no matter how great an opportunity it is, I cannot for a moment say that I find any satisfaction in the job. I’ve been desperately unhappy. And it’s not just the relentless stress of editorial work – I’ve actually managed to get a decent hand on the work involved in being an editor – it’s just the whole culture of the industry. I know what this type of work involves, I’ve done it before and I was utterly miserable. I don’t know why I thought it would be different this time, but I’d hoped. Sadly, it wasn’t the case though. I’ve already been working extra hours, getting in at 8am, taking work home with me, working through lunch. And you know what? I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be stressed all the time, and work extra hours and constantly be pushed beyond my limit. I don’t want to wake up in the mornings dreading the day, and spend every moment counting down to a moment when I can escape. I don't want to live like this if I don’t have to.

Surely there comes a point where you have to ask yourself if an opportunity is worth what it will cost you. And then suddenly I heard there was a position going on the team I worked for in London and my first thought was ‘oh thank god, I can go back.’ Thankfully, it turned out that they’d have me back. It all happened over two days, which I know seems very quick, but I did put a lot of thought into it. I canvassed opinion. I was afraid I was being crazy. But my instincts told me to do it, and so I did. After all, my visa will only last one more year. If I don’t do it now, I won’t have the opportunity again.

I must admit that I’ve been surprised by the response I’ve gotten. Most people actually seem to think I’m doing the right thing…I just assumed people would think I’m nuts, but hey. Apparently some people even think it’s a very mature thing to do. What. Even. The worst prospect was telling my team and handing in my notice. I thought for sure I’d be run out of town after putting them through this – but everyone has been so incredibly accommodating.

The thing is, I made a mistake. It’s as simple as that. I wasn’t ready to come home. I wasn’t ready to take on a job that would cost me my life, not when I had just started to finally have one. I love Sydney, obviously, and I love my friends and family, but I just need to do this.

This morning as I left for work my dad said to me that I was so much happier now that I’d decided to go back. And it’s true. After I handed in my notice, it was like a weight had been lifted from me and everything just made sense again. As dad pointed out, I will have to come back eventually. But by then, hopefully, I’ll be ready.

Music: The house that heaven built - Japandroids

Reflections

Leaving your home, knowing you won't be back for months, is hard.
Coming back is also hard.
Letting yourself become invested is hard.
Falling for someone is hard.
Making serious decisions is hard.
Leaving people behind is hard.
All evidence suggests life is hard. (Ten points to Gryffindor for pointing out the obvious)

And it's so annoying when all you want is to be a carefree twenty-something, but your brain never really shuts up long enough to forget all these things.

You think taking a year off to indulge in that carefree side is going to make everything easier, get it out of your system, but really once you get a taste for that life, the "reality" you knew before becomes this weird alien concept. And trying to get back into that is...well, hard.

Frankly, I don't even know why I'm trying. Part of me just wants to pack up and get straight back on a plane to London. Another part of me wants to pack up and go straight to NZ for a new adventure. And then there's the part of me that knows no matter where I go, or what I do, I'll always feel like this. I'll always struggle to consolidate my life into a whole. I've had lives on three continents, crossed oceans, and every journey irrevocably changes you, and every time you return, the places have changed too. It's transient. And if you're always coming and going, then you can never belong anywhere.

So, what do you do? Do you give up and lose yourself to mediocrity because it's easier? Do you continue to flit about the world, tearing yourself into little pieces every time? Do you wait for someone to give you a reason to stay?  What do you do?

I love Sydney, I do. I love the beaches, and the harbour, and the history of my life here - my friends, my family, the familiarity of growing up. My restlessness is not a reflection on any of that. But I hate the job, and the complacency, and just how narrowed life becomes.

I don't know. I guess I feel like I discovered a part of me overseas that I feel I can't sustain here, and I really liked that part of me. The thought of losing it devastates me. And I felt part of something, something fun and filled with so much energy. There were days that were utter shit, yes, but there was potential. And now I'm just treading water. And for what? I'm doing it so I can get "experience", so I can put it on a piece of paper that will one day lead to a career, something I don't even want.

And I know what you'll say. That's growing up. That's life. That's reality. But why? Why should that be it? Who decides these things? And why do we just fall in line with it?

It all seems so ridiculously contrived.

Music: Skinny love - Bon Iver

Happy Hour: Grandma's Bar, Sydney

After spending the better part of the year loitering in London pubs, I was quite bereft at the thought of returning to Sydney’s characterless pubs. What can I say, you get used to a certain lifestyle when you’ve been falling out of Soho pubs on an alarmingly regular basis (stand by for the future thesis on London’s terrible influence on one’s liver). I had barely been back a week before I was already desperately missing it.

Luckily, in my absence, small bars have popped up all over Sydney like little cocktail-fuelled mushrooms. I say in my absence, I think some of them were around before I left, but I was obviously not quite hipster enough back then to be in the know. But now that I do know about it, I have made it my mission to visit as many of these bars as I can. Sure, it’s not remotely the same as the London pub scene, but it is pretty cool and much better than sitting at home, alone, crying into my whisky.

So, in the interest of not being a sad loser, I gathered some friends and headed off to Grandma’s Bar on Clarence Street. I’ll be honest and admit that my fascination with laneway/basement bars comes mainly from the difficulty in finding them. So clandestine! Fun! Grandma’s doesn’t disappoint on that front, it’s in the basement beneath a guitar shop with the barest slit of window facing the street. Try giving your friends directions to that. “No, not that guitar shop, the other guitar shop! The one across from the Games place!” And then it’s down the stairs and into a world of exposed brick, tropical wallpaper and an almost pseudo tiki bar charm.

First observation, the place is tiiiiiny. The second, the bar staff are all incredibly nice. From the friendly welcome to the excellent service all through the night, I really couldn’t fault them on anything. They also seem to be quite the talented bunch who know what they’re doing; I loved watching them make our many cocktails, you can just tell when someone actually cares about doing it right.

Grandma’s is so called because it takes its inspiration from the sort of cheesiness you’d find in a dusty house that has remained unaltered since the 70s – or as they say on their website “retro-sexual haven of cosmopolitan kitsch and faded granny glamour.” It could have gone horribly wrong, but it works brilliantly. And, cliché as it may sound, the place does feel very homey. Elegantly dishevelled, if you will.

The cocktail menu is decent enough, with the average price being around $16. My favourite was the Fa’fafene, I have absolutely no recollection of what was in it except for the overwhelming memory of grenadine and mint, but it was exactly what I needed on a hot, humid Saturday night. Very refreshing. I also had a wonderfully well-balanced Rum & Rye Sour, while my friends sampled the Paloma #2, the Wibble, Thunderclap and Mango ‘Ting – no complaints about any of them. Oh and for the non-drinkers and designated drivers, they’re happy to mix up a mocktail of your choice.

The main party trick at Grandma’s is the Ultimate Mai Tai. Yep, they set them on fire. And when my friend discovered this she would not rest until I ordered “a Flaming Moe.” It was quite the spectacle as the rum is lit and then poured into the drink, leaving the lime flaming. All served in a tiki mug. I was handed a straw and told not to stick it in the flames…I’m sort of sad that it’s even necessary to tell people that. Really? No plastic in the fire? Outrageous. I’m not a massive fan of Mai Tais, I think it’s the Curaçao I don’t enjoy, but I’ll put this one up there with one of the better ones I’ve had.

As for food, the menu is a bit sparse. Going on its size, it’s probably not the sort of place they want people wasting time eating. Bar snacks aside (which for some reason includes biltong), there are four different kinds of jaffle available. I sampled the vegetarian one and it was tasty enough. Who doesn’t love a jaffle?

If you can tear yourself away from the cocktails long enough (something I’m struggling with because I’m still adjusting to the price of beer in Sydney – wait, you want how much for that??), Grandma’s has a variety of beers and ciders available as well. So go forth, and be merry. Just don’t tell everyone cause I don’t want to have to line up.

Grandma’s is in the CBD at 275 Clarence Street, they have a sparse little website.

I’m really thrilled by all these lovely bars tucked away all over town. It’s so Melbourne, but better, because it’s Sydney. Sorry, I am biased, can’t help myself.

Originally posted at Savannah Sunset

Music: I can't make you love me - Bon Iver (cover)

Faded jeans and faraway eyes

Long, frantic day featuring a photo shoot, proofs and articles. Only thing I wanted to do when I left was take my dog to the beach and just chill for a bit.

Would you come for a drive?
You can lean into me
If you ain't been in love for a while


Music: Mae - The Gaslight Anthem

On a wire

The weather today is mostly apathetic with scattered bouts of self-loathing.

Music: The River - PJ Harvey

Things we used to rely on

Blogging at work as I've already fallen back into my old habit of procrastination. Writing is such a strange thing to do for a job. For me it's always been arbitrary and I struggle having to do it because, well, I have to.

First week isn't going too horribly though. Panic is starting to set in over the sheer amount of work I'm going to have to get my head around very quickly. I don't even know where to start so I don't want to start at all. But if I have any hope of getting on top of things, I need to finish writing this intro and three interviews today, and then we can worry about this whole editor nonsense.

Can't believe I'm back to this. Everything feels weird. Twilight Zone-y. All the same, yet subtly different. Just enough to be unsettling. I am baffled by what a timid creature I was when I first started here, nearly three  years ago. And I'm absolutely refusing to become the run down, stressed out, desperately unhappy person I was when I left.

I don't know. Everything feels strange at the moment. Transitional period, I suppose. While I'm finding my feet on a professional level, I'm dissatisfied on a personal one where I'm still not entirely sure coming back was the right move for me. But that's life, I guess. What can you do.

In the meantime, I'll just listen to lots of loud music and get on with it.

Did you sleep last night and do you remember dreams?
Do I ever cross your mind and do you ever think of me?
When you think about your life are there things you would reverse?
I still remember holding you, just out of sight of her
In the deep, dark parking lot pressed up against my car
With your hands around my neck I felt the pounding of your heart
And the summer night was giving in to the lure of autumn’s sway
I can’t seem to forget that night or how I heard you say

That I’d just die if you ever took your love away
Oh and I'd just die if you ever took your love away
Would you miss me if I was gone and all the simple things were lost?
Would you ever wait on me to say
Oh that I’d just die if you ever took your love away

Music: Mulholland Drive - The Gaslight Anthem

The pros and cons of leaving

My lungs are staging a mutiny. I fear that I am yet again going to be taking home a chest infection as my main souvenir from London. We clearly have an abusive relationship.

I've finally made my peace with going home - not much to be done about it after all, everything has been settled now. I can only resign myself to my fate. Had my last day on Friday followed by leaving drinks and some overenthusiastic karaoke. We were all out again last night as well - completely mental.

Things I am looking forward to:

> Seeing my dog again
> Getting a huge hug from the parentals
> Beach!
> Going to the hairdresser for the first time in basically a year

And so on and so forth. There are some definite pros to this going home business. I just have so much shit to sort out though, sort of makes me want to curl into a ball and cry. Not only for finalising things over here but also for getting organised back home - for example, how to get to work? Gah.

In other news, love this song...

He's already on the outskirts
I'm still pulling at his sweatshirt
He says, fate is not a factor
I'm in love with every actor

Music: Want it back - Amanda Palmer