Saturday, 14 December 2013

Roar…?

I have a strong aversion to animal print clothing, especially leopard print. My partner finds this hilarious and often mocks me for it, but I finally questioned it myself the other day and figured out what has caused it.

 I've always been big.
 I fit into ladies clothes from around the age of 11, and that was when I first realised the saturation of plus size clothing with animal prints. Every store I looked at seemed to stock nothing else. I would wander into Autograph and any 'grown up' store with a plus size section shamefully tucked away at the back, and be overwhelmed by my choice between a leopard print giant sack or a zebra print.
(Bear in mind, I know plus size fashion has come a long way in days since, this was mainly in 2003-2006)

I was also treated superbly by the boys at both primary and high school  who took to calling me whatever large African animal they could think of that day. Ironically, rather like a pack of bloodthirsty hyenas.

The clothes felt like they agreed- you aren't human, you're an animal and should dress like one. 'Have a shapeless synthetic tent so the poachers know who to attack.'

To this day, animal print is something I cannot allow myself.

I give every person who can rock it absolute kudos, but with my own personal associations and childhood trauma, the only animal print you'll see me in anytime soon is my giraffe onesie.

Thursday, 9 May 2013

Bragging time again!

My housemate has an amazing voice, and she just finished a stint as Rosemary Pilkington in UMMTA's How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.
We've talked for months about finally sitting down and singing together and last weekend we finally did it after a morning out at the Camberwell markets.
It took us about twenty odd tries to get it right (I'd never really heard the song before) but it was so extremely worth it in the end.
And Luna, our rabbit, chose on camera to be the most adorable and painfully cute just to distract from us.



Anywho, we're hoping to do more, and I may even utilise my mediocre guitar and ukulele skills!
Keep an ear out in the not too far away future!

Wednesday, 8 May 2013

Lately I've been swamped with uni stuff, and also an addiction to design blogs that isn't making me any more productive- But, me being me,  I have found a way to merge the two together!

I had a group project for PR the other week requiring a poster, so took charge and created a typographic beauty about the depressing case studies of Thalidomide and Tylenol. I had a partial breakdown when the submission site didn't accept images and my teacher suggested I just copy and paste the text from it- I believe I repeatedly screamed "But it's so pretty! You don't understand how pretty it is!". 



Since then I've kind of become addicted. I'm still building up my font collection (any suggestions?) and I've been converting my PR lecture slides into beautiful educational posters, which I will put below so anybody who wants to educate themselves about Public Relations theory can do so with added prettiness.
Somehow I'm sure this is beneficial to my education... Somehow...









I'm not gonna lie, this was essentially just a post so I could go LOOK WHAT I MADE LOOK HOW GOOD I AM.
Bragging over.


Thursday, 11 April 2013

Gideon Houdini and Lady Banana-Hammock

Before Christmas last year I took a leap and did something I've always wanted to do: I bought a bunny.


His name was Sir Gideon Houdini, and he was a devilishly charismatic little fellow who spent most of his time snuggled into my chest, falling asleep in my shirt, or wandering around the house balanced on my shoulders like I was the Linguini to his Remy.
I get very attached to pets- I have only had four in my life- Three dogs and Gids. I will admit, I basically treated him like another puppy, and in most respects he acted like one.

I will cut a heartbreaking story (that will have me in tears) short by saying that, even though he survived the 45+ degree heat through the summer, the cold change proved to be too much for him and a month ago I found him passed away in his little cage. 

I buried him in the garden with lots of little flowers and about a million of my tears along with him. The night before he'd been acting especially cute and I have countless videos of him trying to make a burrow in my t-shirt.

My heart broke a lot, and it's taken me a while to get over losing him, but I've missed the unconditional love that comes from a pet, and spent the last few weeks scouring Gumtree for people selling their pets. One person was selling a beautiful Chocolate Mini Lop, and we agreed to meet at Dandenong station, over an hour from where I live... And they never turned up. I waited for another hour and haven't heard from the evil heathens since.

I hit the jackpot this week though- a beautiful cashmere mini lop was advertised out at Epping- I was a bit tentative about travelling to get her since I'd had such a bad previous experience, but the owner offered to drop her off, and when I got home from uni the next day they were waiting out the front to hand over my new baby. 
It was a bit standoffish at first, understandably. I gave her time to get used to me by giving her free reign of the hall and sitting there with her, letting her come up and explore. I also read online that they like humming, and I know Gideon loved being able to feel my heartbeat and my voice, so I lay on the floor and hummed 'Misty Mountains Cold' from the Hobbit for about an hour. 
I've only had her for two days so far, but this morning we had adventures in the front yard together as she ran around lolloping and eating as many dandelions as she could stomach.

We're definitely bonding, and her personality is emerging more each day- especially with her binky-ing around the lounge room (look up rabbit binky-ing videos, it'll make your day).


I suppose this post was to tell the story of the wonderful Gideon and introduce Lady Luna Consuela-Bananahammock, the prettiest little lady ever and the new addition to our family. 
(If you have me on any social media, you best get used to an influx of constant bunny photos)

Friday, 5 April 2013

Insert Folk Music Pun Here.




Last night one of my friends came down from Brisbane so we decided to have a night on the town. I found out two acts who I know from previous folk festivals were performing at the Toff in Town, and so I demanded we go and watch them.

My bossiness was validated two songs into Aluka's first set, as I peeked at my friend and found her gaping, mesmerised. My housemate managed to miss all of Aluka's set so she is being dragged along to their album launch on the 3rd of May.

Aluka are a purely a capella act, with three lovely ladies arranging original songs with harmonies and beautiful clashing notes building up into a product that had the entire audience utterly mesmerised, trying to follow who was making which noise until eventually giving up and letting the swell of beautiful noise fall over you.

I first met Aluka in September '12, when they hosted a singing tutorial at Roses Gap Folk Music Camp, and fell in love with their unique sound- I'd heard a capella before but never done in quite this way. They held two workshops a day with roughly sixty people at each, the first used to write fairly basic lyrics and then arrange them with beats and noises reminiscent to the camp and the beautiful Grampians surrounding. The result of the weekend was two original songs performed as a collaboration between dozens of people.

I am very glad to have been able to nab their new album 'Spaces', and the cleverness of recording each song in such unique acoustic spots gives each song acoustics and dynamics I've never previously heard recorded- Cave has been permanently stuck in my head since Wednesday, and I haven't stopped humming it once. It's foot stampingly amazing.

My housemate thankfully arrived in time for the beginning of Lucy Wise and the B'Gollies- I own Lucy's first EP, 'Something Pocket Sized', and it has had a fierce workout on my cd player and itunes alike. This event served as the launch for her second album, funded via Pozible by almost 150 people, and I couldn't wait to hear the new songs she'd concocted for this new masterpiece. There's something magical about a live performance of an album, each song having it's story shared and giving the audience and insight and understanding you wish came as standard with all music. Not all music would have such beautiful stories behind it though.

There were songs dedicated to friends present and past, sailing across the ocean, and a woman's dedication to farming organically while raising her children. One personal favourite, currently being played on repeat in my house, is Google Earth, showing a different, whimsical side to a technology that has changed the familiarity people have with the world around them.
To go flying over gardens of Sicily, following the river to the sea, where bouquets of umbrellas have settled in the sun, and the sea grass is shady on the reef. 
Lucy has grown as an artist of her own merit since I first saw her perform at Turramurra around five years ago, and I'm constantly envious of her skill on multiple instruments and her control over lyrics and music, and I'm looking forward to seeing how she and the B'Gollies evolve in the future.


------------------------------------
 Aluka's new album 'Space' and Lucy Wise and the B'Gollies new album 'When We Wander Far From Home' are available on their respective websites

Aluka || Lucy Wise and the B'Gollies




Wednesday, 27 March 2013

Except...


Except

'You're cured!'
 he said, smiling ear to ear.
'Except...'
Except?

Except for the drugs you need
to swallow daily until you die,
turning your once viscous blood to water.
Except for the fact that if you fly away from here
your limbs might not let you,
may battle against you again.
Except that it all may happen once more
with no warning,
you may go back to your hell.
'But you're cured!'
You're still fertile- You can still be pregnant,
a mother for those few weeks until
the blood running through you
will kill your babies.
You can be a mother
but never hold your child.
But that's alright because-
'You're cured!'
Doctor, thank you for saving my life.
Except...
'Except?'
I don't feel 'cured' at all.

I wrote this earlier this year about the after effects of my illness. At my one year appointment since being admitted I heard the word 'cured twice, followed by numerous reasons why I technically wasn't. 
It was a kind of bitter humour I felt at the time, I don't identify 'cured' with a lifetime of daily drugs, regular blood tests, likelihood of miscarriage and blood clotting, and a chance of chorea returning once more.
I feel pretty strongly about it from time to time and it overflows into this.




Wednesday, 20 March 2013

The Hornet's Nest




Last night I posted to Facebook a commentary from Tumblr based on the situation of the Steubenville rape case that was presented in American court yesterday. The basics of the post were this: some people were using the case to ‘remind us all to speak to our daughters about parties and drinking’, and the writer pointed out that this is already happening. This is all we seem to do as a society, constantly warn girls of the myriad of dangers lurking around every corner and how to conduct themselves in a manner where they can dissuade harm from coming to them, and at the root of all these warnings and ‘lessons’ is the fact that: Girls. Still. Get. Attacked.
Maybe this means it's time for a different approach, as the author of the piece says.
“We should shift focus to talking to and lecturing our young boys and men in our communities. Maybe they need to hear from their adult male role models and peers that there is never ever a time when they can assume consent or force themselves on a woman... Our young women don’t need any more lectures. They hear them from childhood on up. Stop blaming your daughters and start educating your... sons.”
This post caught my eye as a rationalized yet emotive summary of the problem of victim blaming that has plagued our society and continues to, and was made prevalent yesterday in the persecution of the Steubenville rapists. It is never someone's fault if they are raped. Never. Ever. No matter what they wear, who they kiss, how much they drink.
I posted this to Facebook, as I have done many times in the past with similar material, and, as per usual, only the females in my friends list seemed to take notice of it/like it. This always concerns me slightly, that the men I deem my 'friends' don't seem to think it their place to read or comment on such material, or simply dismiss me as a 'mad feminist'.
Then I received a notification that a male friend from high school had commented on it with the charming outburst of "Oh boy, I sure am glad Tumblr's here to tell us men how we're all awful rapists. I mean...that new Arab at my work must be a suicide bomber too.”
This continued on to him defending himself by rationalizing "these things quickly turn from pro-women to anti-male", obviously encouraging him to defend his gender, and the fact that men's feelings are usually unacknowledged in the debate about female rape victims and rape culture.
Let's review that sentence: he felt victimised by women talking freely about the culture of fear we live with in our daily lives, and he felt attacked by the suggestion that the 'don't rape' message needs to go to boys instead of the 'don't get raped' message perpetuated towards females.
After an ongoing discussion, involving interception from another male friend pointing out the argues initial misinterpretation, he admitted making 'his point a little poorly' before informing me the reason no other men would take notice of the post was because 'most guys likely saw it and thought "shit, I ain't touching that hornets nest".
 
There you go. 
Rape culture and feminism- the hornet’s nest. The men fear the women's words; the women fear the men's actions. I spy a dangerous cycle.
(screencap of original post and conversation under cut)

Tuesday, 19 March 2013

Returneth

The last post I made on this blog was over a year ago, before I was hospitalised with undiagnosed Antiphospholipid syndrome that attacked my brain, and severe chorea.
It was hell, and I had to learn how to walk and talk again, essentially progressed rapidly through childhood. It's a ridiculously long and painful story that I'll post about about one day, but I can't handle it at the moment.

Instead, this is an official blog resurrection post!

I'm back!
I'm currently doing a combination of first and second year PR subjects at RMIT, and I live in a share house in Ascot Vale. Since I last posted I've developed a minor obsession with Les Miserables, and anything else of consequence I'm sure will be learned through the content of the blog.