Tuesday, 29 July 2008

Elimy in Blunderland

Blunderland: A metaphysical state within my own head, in which I am permitted to trip my way merrily down the path of life until I get to where I need to be.

Blunderland is a wonderful place. It is the part of myself I have created to get me through "The Dark Times." Whenever something begins to really stress me out... say I get very stressed over a project... I strip the situation back to its most simplified form, until the story becomes just a chance for me to say what I think, and I find myself in Blunderland.

Contrary to how it sounds, Blunderland is wonderful. Expectations are low, and disappointment is minimal. The entire population are very accepting of the human tendency to make mistakes. Best of all, by spending my days in Blunderland, I am able to find something I love about everything I do.

My happy place is not one of coconut palms and a sunny beach. It isn't even the gothic, turn of the twentieth century library many of those close to me have often heard me describe. It's a little filtering station inside my brain that looks at the real world for all its imperfections and says "You're okay as you are"

Sometimes, things are as bad as they seem, and its wonderful. You know yourself all the better for it.

Spread the Strength,


Tuesday, 22 July 2008

Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?

Why indeed...?

An examination of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland for today's drama workshop has lead me to believe one thing about the English language... It is a weird, weird, weird... wonderful thing.

That to say what i mean is not to mean what i say.
That to see what i eat is not to eat what i see.
To sleep when i breathe is not to breathe when i sleep.


What makes language even better in this case is that there can be so many levels of meaning in one book... that to read it as a child i might have learned one thing, and that in reading it again now, i learn something else.

I also revel in the freedom which comes from the fact that all the absurdism came from a mathematician purposefully denying logic....

My mind jumps all over. I am perhaps a little mad. Mad as a hatter in fact.

Until next week, when hopefully my thoughts are a little more linear.


Tuesday, 15 July 2008

"The Last of the Diehard Romantics"

Oh to write you a sonnet!
But I couldn't find the words
So instead I watched Titanic
And I cried until it hurt
And I wondered what it was
That struck a heartfelt chord in me
For I'm too young to know of love,
And loss, and tragedy
It must be that same thing that
Knows the lines of Juliet
And is waiting for a Romeo, but
Hasn't met one yet
Is this sad romantic thing
A figment of myself?
Or is it an invented thing that
I could quickly shelf
I don't mean to immasculate,
Belittle or confuse
But perhaps I am in love with "Love"
And not in love with you?

Written 26/6/08

Saturday, 5 July 2008

Ad Astra Per Aspera

"A Rough Road Leads To The Stars"

Have I mentioned I love latin? Everything that gets said in this language sounds uplifting and wise. This week's phrase is actually the title of the interlude on the "Phantoms" album by Acceptance. Until Saturday, I hadn't ever bothered to translate it, but now I am glad that I did.

I have lately been reading the classics, and so today I visited some local op shops and second hand bookshops with one of my close friends in Fremantle (in my opinion the cultural heart of Sleepy Perth) and I have acquired copies of Lord of the Flies, Dracula and Vanity Fair for less than $20. I was pretty impressed with that effort, but now I come home to look at my ever growing "To read..." pile, and I feel as though there will never be enough time in the world for me to finish them all. So I start the sport of extreme- reading tonight. I will read in the shower, while I sleep, eat, watch television and all manner of bizarre places, until i have become the most well-read, super human, bizarre author of teen fiction that Sleepy Perth has ever known. But I digress.

We closed up work on Away for the last time on Saturday night, and I am not only glad that all is finished, I am actually proud of what we achieved. Not bad for a drama perfectionist such as myself. I have also come to the conclusion that I do not want to pursue acting any further, and if I am ever involved in the theatre again, it will be as writer, or failing that Director, or possibly even work with stage makeup, as i have discovered i quite like to draw on my friends faces. Thank you to everyone who came to watch, it was much appreciated.

And so i exit, stage left, to read something grand.

Tuesday, 1 July 2008

I'm at a place called Vertigo

The thing about me is that I am incredibly afraid of heights. I'm terrified of the actual height itself, I'm terrified of falling, or of seeing someone fall. So if someone were to lean over a balcony at a dress rehearsal say, I might just break down into a shaking, blubbering mess. I've always been this way. I'm not even terribly fond of the upstairs of our house, which is a shame, because our house is reverse-living, and therefore the kitchen is upstairs.

But I digress. My point is this: all protagonists have some sort of flaw which may prevent them from having reached their goal before, or may eventually aid the plot in some way. Let me give you a few examples from what I have been reading lately.

Catherine Morland reads entirely too many fantastical novels, and has an over active imagination.
Stephanie Plum eats too much junk food and does not work out enough.
Arabella Hicks has writer's block.
Georgie Jutland has insomnia.

Minor set backs. Things that a person could go through life without being bothered overmuch, unless perhaps the person were to experience something specific to the malady itself. So despite the fact that my fear of heights frequently means I encounter roadblocks on my quest for a normal life, I will persevere, because, that is what I would have my characters do, and I will not be a hypocrite. I will not be one of those writers who writes because she cannot do. Who knows? One day I may even bungee jump... but it is not likely.