Tuesday, December 29, 2009

A handful of buttons

The objects that made my day yesterday...

A shell necklace I made two years ago wrapped around an old coca cola bottle. Because to everyone else these objects would be considered garbage.

The beautiful bracelets by Dinosaur Design a friend forgot at mine.

A pair of Loeffler Randall snake skin shoes I had forgotten I even owned. Because rediscovery is better then something new. It doesn't cost a penny.

Two Nurofen, as I woke up with a headache, which was soon forgotten as I marveled at the tiny print on the little pills.

The rain. Because I didn't feel like sunshine.


Sunday, December 27, 2009

Tinsel in the chimney

Our christmas morning breakfast guests. Two kissing lorikeets.

The Australian version of Christmas I have yet to fully come to terms with. Myself being a child of transplanted heritage, origins questioned in all countries I hold passports for, I find myself resorting to television for a grounding center during times of crisis. And what crisis am i going through at the moment you may wonder? The holidays of course! I'm sure you are all having a similar pandemic of the Christmas-crazies in the various far off lands I'm imagining you dear readers (if there are indeed any ;o) herald from.

But my point seems to be momentarily diverted, allow me to resume!

What I am referring to is the Australian Christmas lunch that seems to involve a great excess of liquor, yelling at the neighbors & family while wishing complete strangers a merry christmas, and generally collecting a nice little hangover somehow necessary for the crowded boxing day sales to come. So what is it about this that I don't seem to understand (a fairly normal occurrence in your household maybe?)? Well its the fact that having never experienced a tinseled & bobbled tree myself (jewish father, converted christian mother, Agnostic by choice) I find these christmassy occurrences impossible to coincide with images of smiling (although comically corrupt) families exchanging gifts & becoming even more witty as eggnog flows on TV. Or maybe I've simply (finally) been brainwashed by my mother who really truly believes all Australians drink too much. (My "reality meter" has been on the fritz for some time needless to say). So by the end of the holiday season my mind is left miffed & muffed & generally quite muddled, wondering what all the fuss & bad decorations was about to begin with!

Ah, but relax. It is over, the gentle lull of daily rhythms return without that "here comes Santa Claus" bullshit reverberating in my skull. Deep breath.

But since I'm a hypocrite in the best sense of the word, I'll mention now I spent this internationally celebrated birthday of the western worlds savior sipping bubbly with a dear friend of mine enjoying a splendid lunch! Magnifique!!!

bis bis x

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Treasure Chest of Food

I've always found Japanese culture most fascinating, & was inspired today to create an ode to the Japanese way of life with a traditional bento box lunch.

Left hand comparment: sushi-nori wrapped around smoked salmon & rice with avocado, egg wrapped around Japanese spinach with kecap manis (sweet soy sauce),

Far back right compartment: onigiri (rice ball) filled with pickled apricot & sprinkled with green onion & sesame & grape tomatoes.

Middle right compartment: sushi-cooked tuna, avocado, carrot cucumber, & rice wrapped in nori, with a side of sliced cucumber & wasabi.

Front right compartment: sliced & fried bok-choy & asparagus in sesame oil & soy sauce, & cooked pumpkin with a honey sesame dressing

I also made one for my brother, his consists of much of the same plus a hard boiled egg, pickled onions & salad.

The colours just seemed so cheerful, they made my day, & I had such fun making them!

ex oh

Sunday, November 29, 2009

The cost of me

I'm going on a trip to Thailand in late January. My father payed for the insurance.
In summary:
Amendment or Cancellation Costs: $Unlimited
Additional Expenses: $Unlimited
Personal Liability: $2,500,000
Accidental Death: $25,000

Whatever happened to being "priceless?"

I also feel I must somehow acknowledge his kind gesture of buying the insurance by injuring myself & making good use of it. hmmm


Today I actually took time to look at a monument I have walked by nearly every day to & from the bus stop. It is a war memorial acknowledging soldiers of wars gone by. The location of the war is listed above, and the date below.
There is one set of brass letters that are shinier than the rest. They read: "Iraq. 2005"

The only problem with this memorial is the wars are unevenly spaced in relation to one another, and there is a large quantity of unused space.
These spaces are saved to acknowledge the deaths of those in the wars yet to come.

I suppose they are just being practical.


I finally found a grocery store that carries Coca-cola in the old glass bottles (been looking for quite literally years). The entire time I was drinking it I just kept thinking "so this is how traveling back in time would feel!"

I've saved the bottle. Washed it. Then buried it in the back yard. This is so it may 'age.'

I want it to appear authentic when I put wild flowers in it.

Friday, October 23, 2009

I have a soul

I have a soul.
It is being squeezed and tormented by the stacks of text books and work crowding my desk. It's begs to go pack a picnic and spend the day doused in sun.
I have a mind.
And it is laughing at the challenges set before me, and crying out for harder problems, "bring on the statistical inference" it yells.
Hence, I am confused. My mind & my soul will not reconcile, and I am living in binaries. It is exhausting.

Does work only become work when you 'have to' do it? I love my Sunday paper cross words, and other accompanying little puzzle problems. But when I get one of these wrong no one blinks an eye, I shrug and do it all again next Sunday. So maybe its the grade that makes 'work' "work." Those big angry red numbers that accompany exams, scrawled on the front annoying you like an insolent child throwing a tantrum in the middle of a supermarket.

I told my mother the other day that I cannot stand 'warm' colours during exam period. All my highlighters and post-its are greens and blues, occasionally yellow. I always mark my own work with an X or tick in green pen, I'm not sure I even own a red pen anymore. We now both think I have developed a life long phobia to red and associated colours. Just like Pavlov's dogs, I've been conditioned to fear red. Maybe teachers should start marking papers in a calmer colour? Maybe turquoise, its probably the most inoffensive & un-inflammatory colour I can think of right now. .....Or would students then come to fear turquoise?
I think I will seriously consider hiring colour consulting therapist.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

I wish I was a student of life insead of science.


I have no idea why exactly I have this blog, if there was an Oscar for procrastinating bizarre things I'm sure I would at least be nominated. At the start of this winter a very central and key button fell off my warmest jacket, making it impossible to wear. It is now spring and my jacket still is missing its big grey button. (Psychoanalysis anyone?)


I couldn't sleep one night because a mosquito kept flying in my ear, and if you've ever had this happen to you, I'm sure you'll know how annoying it is. Eventually I gave up trying to ignore it and sleep, I turned on all the lights and chased it around with my pillow for nearly and hour. Eventually during a moment of combined years of repressed athleticism, I hurled the pillow and delivered a deadly final blow. But once gravity took hold and this tiny form floated down to land on the death shroud that had been my pillow I suddenly felt very guilty. First thought through my mind: 'I hope he'd had a happy life.' By this time all my misplaced antagonism from not sleeping had evaporated, I emptied out a matchbox and put the little mosquito in it. There is now a mosquito grave in my backyard, he has a pop-cycle stick gravestone, and when I remember I sometimes leave those tiny daisy or lavender flowers that grow at the bottom of my street next to my mosquitoes grave, may he rest in peace.


Are humans the only species that cries when they are sad? Or are there others? If anyone knows the answer to this please don't hesitate to let me know.


Monday, August 24, 2009

Sleeping in places you never thought sleepable

As summer approaches, and our wet, windy (although not snowy) Australian winter slowly slinks away for the tourists to exclaim 'what wonderful weather this country has,' I find my mind wandering to summers past. To the times between school that seemed to hold the very essence of existence, to shady back yard barbecues and air so impregnated with the smell of blooming flowers you just can't seem to inhale enough. It is with this mindset that I start thinking of all the lazy days & accompaniments that travel with summer. There is of course the inevitable 'one too many' drinks at your best friends 'back-yard blitz,' the overstuffed rented cabin by the beach and the moments when you think a hammock should be mandatory. It seems that with with all these summer activities I find myself sleeping in areas and on surfaces that at any other time of year I would likely be declared insane for attempting slumber on/in them. The title of this post isn't a sexual innuendo, so if you were thinking such, I suggest you pull your head out of the gutter, this post is merely a salute to summers versatility when it comes to sleeping. As I start to rattle off a list of all the odd places summer slumber has been possible I wonder if anyone reading this could share with me a similar experience of their own.

There is of course the worthy and more than notable simple cool floor, for the moments when sheets feel like you are sleeping on a stove top, then there's the bath tub at the beach house where there are ten people to a two bedroom cabin, as well as the very convertible and newly constructed mound of cushions on the veranda that started off as somewhere to sit for lunch and turned into a siesta. Some of the odder place include a hole dug in the sand with a towel at a veeerrrrryyy long beach party, the bottom of a set of stairs at a rented house after a music festival (very bottom step served as a cushion) or my friends little brothers tree house. Then there have been the many camping trips where the tent looked so neat and tidy in its nylon wrappings we decided to leave it there and move the sleeping bags to where ever the ground was softest. But I think one of the most memorable 'shut-eye' endeavors of mine has been under a willow tree, the leaves swished and hummed the most beautiful lullaby I've ever heard. When I have a backyard of my own, the first thing I'll do is plant a willow tree.





Friday, August 14, 2009

If you'd asked.


Me: "I've kept nearly every tag and price tag from almost all the clothing I've ever bought."

Sister: "Really? What are you going to do with all of them?

Me: "Add them up one day and cry."


Friend: "I cant remember what I did last weekend."

Me: "That sucks. Hope it wasn't anything to bad."

Friend: "I guess I'll have to wait until I die to find out"

Me: "What! How would that help!?"

Friend: "My whole life will flash before my eyes, fill in all the blanks."


Fiction is the kinder sister to reality.

If you'd asked.
If you'd asked, I would have told you.
I'd have answered all your questions.
If you'd asked how much I loved you, I would have tried to tell you, and gone hoarse with the effort.
If you'd asked me what your smile meant to me , I'd have told you I set my day by it, my week by your laugh, and my months by your touch.
If you'd asked me why I loved you, I would have rambled off a list of all your gifts, your quirks, even your bad habits. I would have given you a poem, a song, a thousand kisses to tell you why I loved you; and finished it all with a smile and "just because."
If you'd asked if I thought we were forever, I'd have told you forever wouldn't be long enough for me.
If you'd asked if you could hold me while I cried, danced with me during joy, and lay contentedly next to me during peace, I'd have told you I would want for nothing more.
If you'd asked me what was wrong, I would have told you I wanted to tell you how much I cared for you.
If you'd seen my tears as the door closed, you would have realised all the things you forgot to to ask.
If you'd asked.
I would have told you.

I wish there was a circus in my cereal.

These are some photo's of mine that have had a quick tour of photoshop.
Bon appetite.

Thoughts & memories that fell out of my ear these past few days...


Sudden strange feeling of love for all mankind, even my enemies. Thought accompanying loving feeling: "I wonder if this is how my puppy dog, or buddah feels?" Next thought: "Or maybe this is why people join religious cults?"
Two hours later. Feeling passes.
"Maybe I should join a religious cult?"



The best nights sleep I've ever had was when I slept in my tree house. This also was the worst wake up, as there was a spider hanging over my head.


I learned the other day why it is that babies like to play peekaboo. They don't have what is known as "object permanence" (scientific term, ooh). This means they don't understand that just because they cannot see something it can carry on existing. i.e. I can't see you, therefore you don't exist. Apparently 'I can't see you, but you can still exist' doesn't kick in till about two. Egotistic?



Questionable reasons as to why my friends tolerate me:

Me: "I saw the best music the other day!"

Friend: "You can't see music."

Me: "Oh, guess not. But I can drink food! When I had a tooth removed and couldn't chew anything I put spaghetti in the blender."

Friend: (sarcastic tone) "Really, how was it?"

Me: "I've had better."

(I don't think they knew I wasn't joking, I really did put spaghetti in the blender. Tasted terrible)


Mission for this week: Make a funny face at a passing motorist from the safety of public transport, preferably the back of the bus.

ex oh

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

If I could give you the world, I'd gift wrap it in blue.

Bassike shirt, DIY skirt, Marni Socks, Chloe shoes, Cutler And Gross of London sunglasses


Thoughts that fell out of my ear this week:

'If I knew the answers to all my questions, I wouldn't bother getting out of bed in the morning'


'I've never remembered the all the words to any song in my entire life. And if anyone thinks I'm joking, I assure you I'M NOT!'


'Screw National Anthems, what about a Global Anthem?'


    She wore petals on her eyelids, pollen in her hair.

    A few days ago I went to a black tie wedding, which gave me the perfect excuse to 'play' dress up. It was a lovely afternoon tea and crumpets affair, I wish more people I knew were getting married!

    Tuesday, August 11, 2009

    Call me crazy. Call me insane. Never call me 'in love.'


    This next story I did not write, I read it in a book & thought it was such a lovely little story I wanted to share:

    Two Nickles & Five Pennies
    In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?"
    "Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
    The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" He inquired.
    Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely.
    The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.
    The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table, and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickles and five pennies - her tip.
    (The Best of Bits & Pieces)


    Saturday, August 8, 2009

    I said I know. You said you understood.

    A few words of wisdom for the road......

    I am only one, but still I am one; I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.
    Edward E. Hale

    For everything you have missed, you have gained something else.
    Ralph Waldo Emerson

    Things don't change. You changer you way of looking, that's all.
    Carlos Castanneda

    If your house is on fire, warm yourself by it.
    Spanish Proverb

    Obstacles cannot crush me; every obstacle yields to stern resolve.
    Leonardo do Vinci


    Thursday, August 6, 2009

    The Questionable Side of Blogging

    Recently read a slightly 'down in the dumps' toned post of Susie Bubbles (Style Bubble) & then read the some of the story behind it at: http://www.godammit.com/2009/08/04/blog-wars/comment-page-1/#comment-51198

    And I have to say: wow, I did not see that coming.

    The fashion industry has always reminded me of a junior girls high school, full of silent exclusion, high strung egos and deluded 'it' girls. And as I was tippy tappying away at my computer visiting various blogs and starting my own, I found myself wondering why these prissy Pre-Madona's weren't running a-muck in the virtual world, posting snide comments with seemingly clever double meanings, especially when it came to fashion blogs. I remember thinking 'surely not everyone blogging was sweet and left equally sweet comments on everyone's posts?' Well now I know the ugly truth, you don't know who's checking out whoms blogging until someone is rubbed the wrong way, and out comes the claws.

    Now don't misunderstand me, I'm not condemning any one involved in that unfortunate little tiff, for this one I'm staying firmly on the fence, since, in my usual manner I find myself understanding and feeling empathy for both sides, I'm just rather surprised. I've always been a firm believer that people should 'think what you like, and choose to say whatever you think.' However, these days with the phenomena of instant blogging informing the world of every opinion you've ever had, people are forgetting to "choose" which thought to share and which should be kept back. If you have a strong opinion about something, go right ahead and voice it, but maybe before you hit that final 'publish' button just take 5seconds to consider why you are posting whatever you are posting, and then another 5 just to think of the impact of such a post. If your answers to these questions have strange, questionable or even malicious motives, maybe you should reconsider what you are posting.

    It has been somewhat disappointing that fashion blogging has come out a bit more battered then most, especially since their are some really great fashion blogs out there, and not all are made by, and for, "bubble heads." Although if I ever start turning into, as they say; 'bubble heads,' I hope someone who genuinely cares about me will take me aside, and in soft tones and gentle words inform me I need to get my head on straight. I really don't ever want to be informed by a complete stranger, who in actuality is really not posting constructive criticism, but merely enjoying systematical and cruel degradation of their fellow human being.

    If you are reading this and find you disagree, well that's fine, you have an opinion of your own and you are more than welcome to stop reading. But in my ten seconds before hitting 'publish' I considered why I'm posting this and the impacts of this post. The 'why' here is I needed to personally make peace with some of my own opinions and problems with blogging. The impact I'm hoping to achieve here is to offer readers a written invitation to stop reading my blog if they don't like it, but more importantly that the next time they post or comment on something to just consider their own motivations and impact, and then maybe this whole phenomena of blogging won't go down in a flaming torrent of unfocused and unnecessary cruel words.


    Since I don't want to end on such a depressing note, here's a picture of my puppy dog.

    "Waiter, there are clouds in my soup!"

    Over the years I've there have been a few people who have told me I have 'cloudy eyes.' This is not in reference to the Native American saying of 'cloud eyed children,' describing children who have been emotionally scarred having seen death too young, or anything literal, like cataracts. It is said to me in the sense that I will often carry with me a hazed look, like I'm not actually 'seeing' anything through my own eyes. Please don't mistake this look for deep concentration or a paranormal sixth sense, I am in fact not really seeing anything that clearly. This is due to the fact that I rather rarely wear my glasses, and although I've tried contacts I've found them such a horrible experience it will be years before I go near them again. And while my friends will sometimes get annoyed at having to read a high menu to me, or I wont know what buss is coming until its right at the stop, it is actually a very liberating thing. I've never had to go out of my way to avoid an ex at a party or been obsessed with a dirty mark high on the wall where it can't be cleaned, or even noticed that sleazy cretin across the club trying to get my attention, all these things I simply don't see. I'm left to my own hazed world, like the soft focus cameras of yesterday Hollywood blurring the edges of the young starlets closeups, the worlds a gentler place in soft focus. I'm allowed to focus on the larger picture, I'll always looking at scenery with and then without my glasses, it takes on a whole different slant, it seems like even angles of light shift to give a whole new perspective. It feels like I have two versions of the world to look at, one where I see it as it really is, and the other just a more blurry version where I can simply choose to focus on the lighter and cheerier aspects. And while some may argue semi blindness is a form of ignorance, and ignorance is a twisted sort of bliss, I'd probably have to concede and agree with them.... but I still wont wear my glasses.


    Photos from moving cars, I have to say I end up really liking many of them. What did they do before cars were invented to take photos from... oh wait, camera's in those times were big clunky thing...

    Wednesday, August 5, 2009

    I read my tea leaves this morning, they were written in Russian

    This week:

    Me: "why worry about things you can't change?"

    Friend: "how do you know you can't change it unless you try?"


    Me: "Excuse me, do you have the time?"

    Stranger: "11:00"

    Me: "Thanks," look at own watch

    Stranger: "Did you watch stop?"

    Me: "No. It didn't stop, just never started."


    Me: "I feel like watching a dvd while having a bubble bath, can i use your lap top?"

    Mother: "Yes, but be very careful, if you drop it in the water my laptop will be ruined & all my files will be lost."


    Tuesday, August 4, 2009

    Looking through key holes

    Most prized possession of the moment: great great grandmothers (my name sake) engagement ring

    Bookcase: 50% books, 30% paraphernalia, 20% magazines

    Stacked silver rings; all vintage, gold & turquoise; CC Skye, Rose ring; bought in Sydney's china town

    Mmmm, Dries....

    Most recent ring purchase: gold paua shell ring bought in the Blue Mountains (bottom right)

    Mini 'Marie Antoinette'

    Pebbles & feathers collected backpacking in Africa

    The little scotch whisky and other liqueur bottles (bottom right) are nearing the 100yr old mark, strange keep sakes but I love them!