I was watching the film ‘Julie and Julia’ (or is it ‘Julia and Julie’?) the other day, and realised that Julie is just like me. Ok, I only watched the first half (I can’t go against the magical force which is my bed time), so let’s pretend for the purpose of this blog that the second half of the film doesn’t exist (she could, after all, become a serial killer or something of the sort.)
1. She has a blog... so do I.
2. She writes on her blog very frequently, maybe several times a day..... we can pretend that’s true of me.
3. She is cooking her way through a famous chefs cook book and blogging about it..... I am moving my way through my own life and on rare occasion’s blogging about it.
4. She can cook.... this is the part where I say “I can’t cook”, but that isn’t true, I just don’t cook very often which makes me inexperienced and not the best of cooks (which I’m sure would be the same for Julie, had she not made the decision to love cooking and therefore do it regularly.)
5. Julie has readers who send her gifts and money, she is greatly loved by those who follow her blog...... I’m sure it would be much the same for me if I had my address on here, and a paypal system for all of you to send me money.
6. I don’t like eggs.... neither does Julie (until, of course, she tries an egg for the first time and falls in love with them.)
7. Julie caught the train in one or two shots of the film.... I have caught the train before.
8. Many people read her blog and she is overwhelmed with comments.... my time will come.
As you can see, we’re practically soul mates. The only difference between me and Julie is that she is very busy with her job, meeting friends and cooking her way through a cookbook..... I am sitting at home playing cards by myself (although, I must admit, the delight of beating myself is just wonderful.) I guess I’ll have to patiently wait until mid/late December when I catch a train all the way to NSW to meet James Johnston, that’ll be fun.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
To the Video Store and Back
Her blistered feet thumped across the steaming pavement, there was nothing but a pair of thin plastic thongs between her flesh and the hard concreted ground that ran through the park. She picked up her pace, her head still pounding with the sound of shattered glass and drunken laughter echoing from home. All too quickly she reached the local shops, moderately deserted, only the essential stores.
Not knowing what to do or where to go, she decided hastily to visit the video store. She knew that in there she could walk around leisurely for hours without anyone so much as noticing her. She pushed hard on the store door, which was conveniently closed to keep the cool air inside and the hot air out. Feeling a wave of relief as she entered the air conditioned store, she felt suddenly aware of the light dress she was wearing, feeling its weight on her body as if it hadn’t existed all the time she was outside.
Late Friday afternoon and the video store was packed, parents and their children come to choose a film for the night. Happy families, laughing and playfully teasing each other. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to the video store. She headed to the back of the shop, where the horror and thriller films sat hauntingly awaiting their next victims, ready to jump out at any unsuspecting child who wondered unknowingly to the wrong end of the store. Here it was empty of people. Her eyes flicked over the gory covers until she’d had enough and could no longer withhold the mask of bravery she’d put on.
Her eyes met those of a young boy, perhaps three or four years of age, he stared at her for a while, his mattered hair covering the majority of his oversized glasses, after several seconds the staring became less and less innocent and an eerie sensation that the child was dead crossed her mind.
“Michael, come away from the horror section” a tall man placed his hand on the boys shoulder, his hair was much the same as the boys only more tame and groomed, and his glasses were of a suitable size. The child broke his gaze and looked up at his father longingly “you might see something frightening” the man persisted, and led his son away, guiding him to the counter of the store. The boy turned around and looked at her once more, from the corner of his right eye a line of thin crimson liquid streamed down his cheek, he slowly turned his head, took his father’s hand and they silently approached the counter.
“Excuse me” Lily called after the boy and her father “excuse me!” she repeated louder when neither of them responded. Lily walked closer to them, stood on her toes and tapped the man on the shoulder “excuse me, I think your son’s eye is bleeding” she said in her most mature voice, trying to sound sure of herself despite being only eleven. The man turned around, and Lily was too stunned to scream or even talk when he looked down at her with dripping red eyes, under blood splattered glasses.
He and his son quickened to a sprint and left the store, without so much as putting their film back on the shelf. “You have to pay for that!” the cashier shouted after them, oblivious to all that Lily had seen. Too shocked to pursue the man and his son or tell someone what had happened, Lily fearlessly concluded that a house of drunken men would be safer than the unknown of this seemingly ordinary, and yet spine chillingly unordinary, evening out at the shops, and decided to head home.
The sun had not yet fallen, Lily wasn’t used to being able to see so clearly at 7pm, but was glad the evening sky provided her with some comfort and guidance for the short journey home.
She wacked her headphones on her ears and turned up the volume, as to wash out her own horrifying thoughts. It didn’t take long until she was away from the shops and walking alone, down a street of houses.
The upbeat music with its sweetened lyrics added a somewhat creepy feel to Lily’s walk, but she dared not turn it off and be succumbed to the evil powers of her own imagination. The guitars and drums played a familiar tune in her ears, she tapped her fingers gently on her leg to the rhythm, until a strange unheard of instrument began playing a flicking, scratching noise every three or so beats. Lily figured she just hadn’t noticed this particular instrument in the song before, but became more and more certain that it didn’t belong as the song progressed. Eventually she was jolted to the terrifying realisation that this sound may not be coming from her MP3 played and, with a quickening heart beat, lifted the fluffy black headphones of her ears and heard as the flicking noise got further away with the rest of the music. She exhaled in relief and placed the headphones securely back on. But to her horror, the music was no longer playing and all that could be heard was the rhythmic flicking, like a long nail quickly scratching some hard metal surface. She whipped off her headphones and left them of the floor, she was free of the noise but began to run.
She continued to glance behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed, but kept a focused determination on the road ahead and the desire to be at home in bed. She looked back and noticed the shadow of a person reflecting on the pavement meters behind her own shadow, without checking to see who it was she broke into an electrified sprint and ran with more energy than she thought she had and yet less than what she wanted. The person continued to gain on her, from the shadow she could see that he was much larger than herself. The torture of not knowing what her pursuer looked like finally got to Lily, and she looked down the path behind her. There was no one there. She continued to run, with less speed, turning back to make sure no one was there several times.
It took almost five seconds before she noticed the shadow on the ground, still there, still gaining on her. She looked back and saw no person. Whose shadow was it if there was no one after her? Lily stopped running and watched as the shadow approached her own shadow, pulled out a large shadow knife and stubbed her right in the shadow heart. She watched as her shadow clenched at the wound and fell to its knees, she had to check to make sure she wasn’t making the same movements. Lily bent down and touched the darkened outline of ground, but it was just concrete, just a shadow.
Running all the way back home, the light reflected off her but caused no shadow, she reached the door of her house and went inside. She wasn’t surprised to find it unlooked. She cautiously snuck past her father and his friends, who were asleep on the floor of the kitchen, bottles of bear in each of their hands. Once she reached the stairs she ran up them victoriously, she had made it home alive. She grabbed her pyjamas off the end of her bed and pushed open the bathroom door, locking it behind her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes were a shiny scarlet, dripping heavily from their sockets and onto the sink.
Not knowing what to do or where to go, she decided hastily to visit the video store. She knew that in there she could walk around leisurely for hours without anyone so much as noticing her. She pushed hard on the store door, which was conveniently closed to keep the cool air inside and the hot air out. Feeling a wave of relief as she entered the air conditioned store, she felt suddenly aware of the light dress she was wearing, feeling its weight on her body as if it hadn’t existed all the time she was outside.
Late Friday afternoon and the video store was packed, parents and their children come to choose a film for the night. Happy families, laughing and playfully teasing each other. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to the video store. She headed to the back of the shop, where the horror and thriller films sat hauntingly awaiting their next victims, ready to jump out at any unsuspecting child who wondered unknowingly to the wrong end of the store. Here it was empty of people. Her eyes flicked over the gory covers until she’d had enough and could no longer withhold the mask of bravery she’d put on.
Her eyes met those of a young boy, perhaps three or four years of age, he stared at her for a while, his mattered hair covering the majority of his oversized glasses, after several seconds the staring became less and less innocent and an eerie sensation that the child was dead crossed her mind.
“Michael, come away from the horror section” a tall man placed his hand on the boys shoulder, his hair was much the same as the boys only more tame and groomed, and his glasses were of a suitable size. The child broke his gaze and looked up at his father longingly “you might see something frightening” the man persisted, and led his son away, guiding him to the counter of the store. The boy turned around and looked at her once more, from the corner of his right eye a line of thin crimson liquid streamed down his cheek, he slowly turned his head, took his father’s hand and they silently approached the counter.
“Excuse me” Lily called after the boy and her father “excuse me!” she repeated louder when neither of them responded. Lily walked closer to them, stood on her toes and tapped the man on the shoulder “excuse me, I think your son’s eye is bleeding” she said in her most mature voice, trying to sound sure of herself despite being only eleven. The man turned around, and Lily was too stunned to scream or even talk when he looked down at her with dripping red eyes, under blood splattered glasses.
He and his son quickened to a sprint and left the store, without so much as putting their film back on the shelf. “You have to pay for that!” the cashier shouted after them, oblivious to all that Lily had seen. Too shocked to pursue the man and his son or tell someone what had happened, Lily fearlessly concluded that a house of drunken men would be safer than the unknown of this seemingly ordinary, and yet spine chillingly unordinary, evening out at the shops, and decided to head home.
The sun had not yet fallen, Lily wasn’t used to being able to see so clearly at 7pm, but was glad the evening sky provided her with some comfort and guidance for the short journey home.
She wacked her headphones on her ears and turned up the volume, as to wash out her own horrifying thoughts. It didn’t take long until she was away from the shops and walking alone, down a street of houses.
The upbeat music with its sweetened lyrics added a somewhat creepy feel to Lily’s walk, but she dared not turn it off and be succumbed to the evil powers of her own imagination. The guitars and drums played a familiar tune in her ears, she tapped her fingers gently on her leg to the rhythm, until a strange unheard of instrument began playing a flicking, scratching noise every three or so beats. Lily figured she just hadn’t noticed this particular instrument in the song before, but became more and more certain that it didn’t belong as the song progressed. Eventually she was jolted to the terrifying realisation that this sound may not be coming from her MP3 played and, with a quickening heart beat, lifted the fluffy black headphones of her ears and heard as the flicking noise got further away with the rest of the music. She exhaled in relief and placed the headphones securely back on. But to her horror, the music was no longer playing and all that could be heard was the rhythmic flicking, like a long nail quickly scratching some hard metal surface. She whipped off her headphones and left them of the floor, she was free of the noise but began to run.
She continued to glance behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed, but kept a focused determination on the road ahead and the desire to be at home in bed. She looked back and noticed the shadow of a person reflecting on the pavement meters behind her own shadow, without checking to see who it was she broke into an electrified sprint and ran with more energy than she thought she had and yet less than what she wanted. The person continued to gain on her, from the shadow she could see that he was much larger than herself. The torture of not knowing what her pursuer looked like finally got to Lily, and she looked down the path behind her. There was no one there. She continued to run, with less speed, turning back to make sure no one was there several times.
It took almost five seconds before she noticed the shadow on the ground, still there, still gaining on her. She looked back and saw no person. Whose shadow was it if there was no one after her? Lily stopped running and watched as the shadow approached her own shadow, pulled out a large shadow knife and stubbed her right in the shadow heart. She watched as her shadow clenched at the wound and fell to its knees, she had to check to make sure she wasn’t making the same movements. Lily bent down and touched the darkened outline of ground, but it was just concrete, just a shadow.
Running all the way back home, the light reflected off her but caused no shadow, she reached the door of her house and went inside. She wasn’t surprised to find it unlooked. She cautiously snuck past her father and his friends, who were asleep on the floor of the kitchen, bottles of bear in each of their hands. Once she reached the stairs she ran up them victoriously, she had made it home alive. She grabbed her pyjamas off the end of her bed and pushed open the bathroom door, locking it behind her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes were a shiny scarlet, dripping heavily from their sockets and onto the sink.
Monday, November 2, 2009
lol
It has come to my attention that ‘lol’ is no longer an acronym for ‘laugh out loud.’ These days, when someone actually physically laughs they have to say ‘HAHAHA’ or ‘I actually just loled at that last comment you made!’ even ‘haha’ is often used when the person doesn’t laugh, but is commonly used when they find something funny or amusing. In the present day ‘lol’ is used to ensure that the receiver of the message or comment acknowledges that the conversation is light hearted and not too serious.
For example: “you’re so crazy lol”
Or
“Stop talking about Matthew Lewis lol”
It isn’t an expression of sarcasm, what is being said is meant, but possibly the sender is smiling while writing it or wanting to avoid offending the receiver. ‘lol’ is also commonly used to break up sentences, as a more friendly substitution for a full stop or comer.
For example: “yesterday was so fun lol what are you doing tomorrow?”
Or
“Stop bringing up Matthew Lewis lol ur obsessed”
The moment I realised ‘lol’ no longer represented laughter was when I sent a friend this message:
“Why weren’t you in class today?”
And got the reply
“I was sick lol”
I almost said
“haha yeah that IS pretty funny, I’m laughing out loud at the thought of you being sick at home as well!”
What she actually meant was
“I was sick, but don’t worry, it’s not that bad”
And that’s pretty much all I have to say, this blog is all but dead lol
For example: “you’re so crazy lol”
Or
“Stop talking about Matthew Lewis lol”
It isn’t an expression of sarcasm, what is being said is meant, but possibly the sender is smiling while writing it or wanting to avoid offending the receiver. ‘lol’ is also commonly used to break up sentences, as a more friendly substitution for a full stop or comer.
For example: “yesterday was so fun lol what are you doing tomorrow?”
Or
“Stop bringing up Matthew Lewis lol ur obsessed”
The moment I realised ‘lol’ no longer represented laughter was when I sent a friend this message:
“Why weren’t you in class today?”
And got the reply
“I was sick lol”
I almost said
“haha yeah that IS pretty funny, I’m laughing out loud at the thought of you being sick at home as well!”
What she actually meant was
“I was sick, but don’t worry, it’s not that bad”
And that’s pretty much all I have to say, this blog is all but dead lol
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Who Mowed the Lawns of Eden?
I woke up to this song playing on my radio, and thought it was pretty funny:
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who kept the garden trim?
Adam never volunteered, I'm sure it wasn't him.
Who pruned all the fruit trees to which Genesis refers?
Did the angel Gabriel have some secateurs?
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who kept the garden green?
Eve was not a gardener, and the Cherubs were not keen.
The angels and archangels, they were pretty much the same,
They refused to weed as well as magnify His name.
The Seraphim, they could have helped in several different ways,
But they had all their time used up with singing hymns of praise.
The Heavenly Host was small then, because nobody had died,
But none of them liked digging, even though they'd never tried.
I bet the saints and martyrs would have loved to dig and hoe,
For martyrs up in heaven are the same as here below.
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who helped the garden grow?
Who made of it a Paradise? I'll tell you, 'cos I know.
God. He fixed the garden, the first one that he made,
He pruned all the roses, and was handy with his spade.
On Sunday, nice and early He went out to smell the dew.
(There wasn't any Church then, so He'd nothing much to do).
He wandered to the potting-shed, behind the Tree of Life,
And got his spade and trowel out, His fork and pruning knife.
He looked after Eden, and He watched the lilies grow,
And Eden's still a Paradise where gardeners can go.
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? God mowed the lawns and more,
Adam couldn't help Him, for his rib was still quite sore.
The beasts that God created never helped in any way,
The lion lay down with the lamb, bone idle all the day.
God built all the trellises for clematis to climb,
Cut back the wisteria and trained the columbine.
He pruned all the fruit trees: apple, peach and pear,
He had so many jobs to do, you always find Him there.
So if I get to Heaven, I'll just ask Peter if I can
Potter about in Eden, just to help out the Old Man.
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who kept the garden trim?
Adam never volunteered, I'm sure it wasn't him.
Who pruned all the fruit trees to which Genesis refers?
Did the angel Gabriel have some secateurs?
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who kept the garden green?
Eve was not a gardener, and the Cherubs were not keen.
The angels and archangels, they were pretty much the same,
They refused to weed as well as magnify His name.
The Seraphim, they could have helped in several different ways,
But they had all their time used up with singing hymns of praise.
The Heavenly Host was small then, because nobody had died,
But none of them liked digging, even though they'd never tried.
I bet the saints and martyrs would have loved to dig and hoe,
For martyrs up in heaven are the same as here below.
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who helped the garden grow?
Who made of it a Paradise? I'll tell you, 'cos I know.
God. He fixed the garden, the first one that he made,
He pruned all the roses, and was handy with his spade.
On Sunday, nice and early He went out to smell the dew.
(There wasn't any Church then, so He'd nothing much to do).
He wandered to the potting-shed, behind the Tree of Life,
And got his spade and trowel out, His fork and pruning knife.
He looked after Eden, and He watched the lilies grow,
And Eden's still a Paradise where gardeners can go.
Who mowed the lawns of Eden? God mowed the lawns and more,
Adam couldn't help Him, for his rib was still quite sore.
The beasts that God created never helped in any way,
The lion lay down with the lamb, bone idle all the day.
God built all the trellises for clematis to climb,
Cut back the wisteria and trained the columbine.
He pruned all the fruit trees: apple, peach and pear,
He had so many jobs to do, you always find Him there.
So if I get to Heaven, I'll just ask Peter if I can
Potter about in Eden, just to help out the Old Man.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Cashew
Here's a story I didn't write for my blog but then remembered I haven't posted anything in a very long time, so decided to share it with you.
Cashew lay silently on her back, gazing up at the shadowed ceiling, wondering why on earth she had been named after a nut. When all of a sudden it dawned on her, as the sun crept through the windows, Cashew realised that she had to make a name for herself. What was the use of having such an off centre name if she wasn’t going to use it to her advantage? So she hopped out of bed, got dressed, brushed her teeth and did all those other routine things that normal people with normal names do in the morning, before stuffing a backpack full of clothes and food and declaring to her mother that she was “going on a wild adventure that no one has ever dreamt of” her mother said “be back in time for supper, dear” and Cashew swung her bag around her shoulders, leaving the house with nothing but excitement on her mind.
Standing outside in the morning air, the long grass under her elf like boots, Cashew came to the conclusion that there was no adventure to be had. She looked across the grassy field, it stretched on as far as she could see. It would be tiring to push through and she doubted it would ever end, but she’d promised herself an adventure and she never broke her word. She adjusted the straps of her backpack picked up a suitable sized stick to aid in walking, and set off.
“Once I’ve seen beyond the grassy field I’ll be famous and everyone will know my name!” she declared aloud to herself “when they hear the name ‘Cashew’ they will no longer laugh, they will instead be reminded of me and the greatness I have achieved!” it didn’t occur to Cashew that the world may already extend beyond her village, that there may actually be other civilisations beyond what she could see. But she was an explorer and was determined to be the first to discover the world beyond her town. Leaving her family and friends behind, she began her journey to “whatever it is that lies beyond the grass!”
After walking nonstop for several intense and exhausting minutes, Cashew threw her bag to the ground and lay on the ground staring up at the sun, she wondered “how long will it take for me to go blind if I continue staring at the sun like this?” but as her eyes began to sting and water she made the wise decision not to venture any further and find the answer. She rubbed her eyes until a gentle hand touched hers and a voice said “staring at the sun like that will make you blind.” Cashew opened her eyes and found a boy standing over her, his hand was outstretched to help her up, she took it and clumsily stood beside him. His hand was twice the size of hers, but he didn’t look nearly as old as her dad.
“Thanks” she said “I just wanted to know how long it would take”
“How long what would take?” the boy asked conversationally
“For me to go blind” she answer “but it hurt too much and I couldn’t bear it any longer”
“I’m not surprised”
“That I was so silly?”
“No. That you gave up”
“I didn’t ‘give up’ I just decided I would rather keep my vision than find out the answer”
“That, you see, is the reason why no one knows the answer. The smarter of us just presume we’ll go blind if we look at the sun, and don’t really care about discovering the answer to your query”
Cashew thought momentarily about questioning him, and arguing that maybe staring at the sun has never even been a cause of blindness. But she felt intimidated by the young man and began to nervously twiddle with the plastic Barbie watch around her dainty wrist.
“What are you doing all by yourself out in this open field anyway? Anything could happen to you and nobody would know” the man had managed to change Cashew’s outlook of a marvellous adventure down a path of self doubt.
“I... um... just wanted to go exploring?” she hoped very much for his approval
“Well you shouldn’t go alone. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you” but it was no fun anymore, he had taken the spontaneity and excitement away. “What were you thinking of doing?” he asked, half curious but half in anticipation to get it over with. This made Cashew feel rather stupid, how could she say ‘I was just going to roam around anywhere hoping something exciting would happen,’ he would just think her a fool.
“I’m.... looking for my pet dog...”
“Did he run away? I thought you said you were exploring?”
“Oh... yeah. Um, I’m exploring around to find my lost dog” she was partially satisfied with this response, as it seemed to give her an air of purpose although it didn’t fully support her ‘I just wanted to go exploring’ statement from earlier on, and she knew he was aware of that.
“Right then. Let’s get looking. We don’t want to boil away under the sun” the man began to scan the field with his eyes as he walked forwards. At least her adventure had some sense of direction now, Cashew concluded that this was a good thing, and happily followed the clever boy.
“Spot!” she called to the sky so their search would appear more genuine, he soon mimicked her calls. She was pleased that calling her (however imaginary) dog’s name had been seen as a good move to make.
“What’s your name by the way?” the man asked, after a tiring day of walking forwards and calling to nothing.
“Lucy” Cashew replied, for she didn’t think her name would sit well with the man.
“mm, that’s fairly ordinary” he said with a gentle smile. She wished she’d told him her real name, maybe he would have said ‘wow! That’s very unique and special! I love it’ but no, she had to lie. She was now seen as dull and ordinary and it was entirely her fault.
“I’m just going to go over there for a moment, I’ll be back shortly” the man informed her, pointing towards an identical area of never ending grass just over to the left. The town was no longer in sight, and the sun was beginning to set. Cashew didn’t ask what he was doing, in fear that his sentence would end with ‘...what else would I have been doing, you stupid child.’ He walked so far to the left that, in the hazy black sky, Cashew could no longer see him. She began to think about what he’d said earlier about something bad possibly happening to her if she were alone. The day had been warm, but the night was chilly. The moon shone bright enough that Cashew could make out the intricate details of the friendship bracelet around her ankle. This ignited her on a whirlwind of thoughts: if you wear a bracelet around your ankle is it still a bracelet? Do you call it an anklet even though it was made as a bracelet? Why can’t I tell which threads are purple and which are green in this light? Why is it that the night changes brightness and also colour? Does the sun hold all the colour? She continued to wonder as little girls do, until, very suddenly, she was knocked forward by a galloping horse.
“Shit! Sorry” said a voice, a tanned boy with dark hair swung off his horse and gently helped Cashew to her feet. He looked at her with a pure honesty, she could see into his soul and it was clear he didn’t mean to hurt her for he obviously cared. “Are you hurt? Would you like me to give you a ride on my horse? Where are you off to?” he asked tenderly, he looked at her as if he’d never cared about anything more in his entire life. Like she was special.
“No no” she reassured him “I’m fine”
“You’re shivering” he exclaimed “why didn’t you tell me? Here, take my jacket” and without waiting for her response, he gave Cashew his puffy brown leather coat.
“Thanks”
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, genuinely curious and genuinely concerned
“I was going to go on an adventure”
“Sounds fun! I’d be up for that” Cashew loved that he liked her for who she was and wondered if the other man would have been the same if she’d been honest, but then she remembered how intimated he had made her feel.
“Would you really!? We should go on an adventure together”
“Do you often go on adventures?” he asked
“No, I never have before”
“Then this will be your first real adventure?”
“Yeah, I suppose it will be! We’ll have to make it fun and exciting”
“Fun and exciting is my specialty!” he smiled and winked at her and she felt very content within herself.
“I love your horse” she commented, feeling that she could say anything without being negatively judged
“Why thank you” he bowed “she is the horse of the night, I call her Nightmare”
“She’s beautiful”
“Do you want to ride her?”
“I would love to ride her! That would be very fun and exciting!”
And with that he jumped upon his black mare and swept Cashew up with his hand. As they galloped off into the night Cashew remembered the other man and worried about whether he would feel left behind, but she figured he hadn’t really liked her that much anyway and would probably be better off without her around.
After only a very short while she noticed that the grass land was coming to an end and could see a forest just over in the distance
“Oh! Look! The grassland does end! This is a great adventure” she cried, holding onto his waste so she wouldn’t slip off the lighting fast horse.
“This is only the beginning my lovely” he announced and they sped even faster towards the tall trees. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Cashew”
“Bless you”
“Haha, no, that’s my name!” she laughed
“It’s sweet” he said earnestly. She was so happy she could fly. They were soon at the forest and the pair of them were very excited. He flung her off the horse and they went running about in the forest, she felt as free as a bird and didn’t hesitate to hold back as she leaped about and absorbed how wonderful the forest was. It was during this time, however, that she remembered her mother’s warnings ‘be back by supper,’ it was now long past supper, it was long past bed time. If only she’d stayed with the other man, he would have got her safely home. Even though she couldn’t be honest or herself around him, he would surely have made certain she got home in time. Now she was more worried than she ever had to be, she no longer even felt safe. She knew she couldn’t trust this boy.
“What’s wrong?” the boy asked
“I think I should go home now”
“But we’ve only just started having fun! There’s so much more I need to show you” but Cashew had never wanted to go beyond what was beyond the grass field, she had merely wanted evidence that it ended. She knew it would be fun to stay but never the less it was too much excitement for her to deal with, she was already late and would have to go home.
Without question he saddled up Nightmare and took Cashew home
“Goodnight. We’ll have to do something fun and exciting again someday” she said as she stumbled off his horse and handed him back his jacket
“No problems. I’ll catch you round” he waited until she was safely inside her house and then galloped off into the night. She doubted he would even remember her, he would continue to go on many adventures without her. Cashew felt bad. Not bad as in sick or upset, but bad as in naughty. Her mum felt much the same. She went to bed straight away without supper.
The next morning there came a knock at the door. “It must be the boy with the horse!” Cashew thought when her mum announced that it was for her. But it wasn’t. It was the other man. She was very excited to see him, although she couldn’t fathom why, he seemed a much better friend to have than the ridder of Nightmare
“Hi Lucy” he said sweetly, smiling gently “I just wanted to say sorry for walking off so far. I hope you’ll forgive me, I never meant to abandon you”
“That’s fine, I understand” she said, feeling incredibly guilty for abandoning him and running off with the other boy. She wished very much that she hadn’t left him behind, even if it meant she may not have seen the forest.
“My name isn’t Lucy, by the way” she added impulsively “It’s Cashew” for a second he was confused and shocked, but then he said “I wish you’d told me that earlier...that’s the most wonderful name I’ve ever heard, and I shall never forget it for as long as I live.”
Cashew lay silently on her back, gazing up at the shadowed ceiling, wondering why on earth she had been named after a nut. When all of a sudden it dawned on her, as the sun crept through the windows, Cashew realised that she had to make a name for herself. What was the use of having such an off centre name if she wasn’t going to use it to her advantage? So she hopped out of bed, got dressed, brushed her teeth and did all those other routine things that normal people with normal names do in the morning, before stuffing a backpack full of clothes and food and declaring to her mother that she was “going on a wild adventure that no one has ever dreamt of” her mother said “be back in time for supper, dear” and Cashew swung her bag around her shoulders, leaving the house with nothing but excitement on her mind.
Standing outside in the morning air, the long grass under her elf like boots, Cashew came to the conclusion that there was no adventure to be had. She looked across the grassy field, it stretched on as far as she could see. It would be tiring to push through and she doubted it would ever end, but she’d promised herself an adventure and she never broke her word. She adjusted the straps of her backpack picked up a suitable sized stick to aid in walking, and set off.
“Once I’ve seen beyond the grassy field I’ll be famous and everyone will know my name!” she declared aloud to herself “when they hear the name ‘Cashew’ they will no longer laugh, they will instead be reminded of me and the greatness I have achieved!” it didn’t occur to Cashew that the world may already extend beyond her village, that there may actually be other civilisations beyond what she could see. But she was an explorer and was determined to be the first to discover the world beyond her town. Leaving her family and friends behind, she began her journey to “whatever it is that lies beyond the grass!”
After walking nonstop for several intense and exhausting minutes, Cashew threw her bag to the ground and lay on the ground staring up at the sun, she wondered “how long will it take for me to go blind if I continue staring at the sun like this?” but as her eyes began to sting and water she made the wise decision not to venture any further and find the answer. She rubbed her eyes until a gentle hand touched hers and a voice said “staring at the sun like that will make you blind.” Cashew opened her eyes and found a boy standing over her, his hand was outstretched to help her up, she took it and clumsily stood beside him. His hand was twice the size of hers, but he didn’t look nearly as old as her dad.
“Thanks” she said “I just wanted to know how long it would take”
“How long what would take?” the boy asked conversationally
“For me to go blind” she answer “but it hurt too much and I couldn’t bear it any longer”
“I’m not surprised”
“That I was so silly?”
“No. That you gave up”
“I didn’t ‘give up’ I just decided I would rather keep my vision than find out the answer”
“That, you see, is the reason why no one knows the answer. The smarter of us just presume we’ll go blind if we look at the sun, and don’t really care about discovering the answer to your query”
Cashew thought momentarily about questioning him, and arguing that maybe staring at the sun has never even been a cause of blindness. But she felt intimidated by the young man and began to nervously twiddle with the plastic Barbie watch around her dainty wrist.
“What are you doing all by yourself out in this open field anyway? Anything could happen to you and nobody would know” the man had managed to change Cashew’s outlook of a marvellous adventure down a path of self doubt.
“I... um... just wanted to go exploring?” she hoped very much for his approval
“Well you shouldn’t go alone. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you” but it was no fun anymore, he had taken the spontaneity and excitement away. “What were you thinking of doing?” he asked, half curious but half in anticipation to get it over with. This made Cashew feel rather stupid, how could she say ‘I was just going to roam around anywhere hoping something exciting would happen,’ he would just think her a fool.
“I’m.... looking for my pet dog...”
“Did he run away? I thought you said you were exploring?”
“Oh... yeah. Um, I’m exploring around to find my lost dog” she was partially satisfied with this response, as it seemed to give her an air of purpose although it didn’t fully support her ‘I just wanted to go exploring’ statement from earlier on, and she knew he was aware of that.
“Right then. Let’s get looking. We don’t want to boil away under the sun” the man began to scan the field with his eyes as he walked forwards. At least her adventure had some sense of direction now, Cashew concluded that this was a good thing, and happily followed the clever boy.
“Spot!” she called to the sky so their search would appear more genuine, he soon mimicked her calls. She was pleased that calling her (however imaginary) dog’s name had been seen as a good move to make.
“What’s your name by the way?” the man asked, after a tiring day of walking forwards and calling to nothing.
“Lucy” Cashew replied, for she didn’t think her name would sit well with the man.
“mm, that’s fairly ordinary” he said with a gentle smile. She wished she’d told him her real name, maybe he would have said ‘wow! That’s very unique and special! I love it’ but no, she had to lie. She was now seen as dull and ordinary and it was entirely her fault.
“I’m just going to go over there for a moment, I’ll be back shortly” the man informed her, pointing towards an identical area of never ending grass just over to the left. The town was no longer in sight, and the sun was beginning to set. Cashew didn’t ask what he was doing, in fear that his sentence would end with ‘...what else would I have been doing, you stupid child.’ He walked so far to the left that, in the hazy black sky, Cashew could no longer see him. She began to think about what he’d said earlier about something bad possibly happening to her if she were alone. The day had been warm, but the night was chilly. The moon shone bright enough that Cashew could make out the intricate details of the friendship bracelet around her ankle. This ignited her on a whirlwind of thoughts: if you wear a bracelet around your ankle is it still a bracelet? Do you call it an anklet even though it was made as a bracelet? Why can’t I tell which threads are purple and which are green in this light? Why is it that the night changes brightness and also colour? Does the sun hold all the colour? She continued to wonder as little girls do, until, very suddenly, she was knocked forward by a galloping horse.
“Shit! Sorry” said a voice, a tanned boy with dark hair swung off his horse and gently helped Cashew to her feet. He looked at her with a pure honesty, she could see into his soul and it was clear he didn’t mean to hurt her for he obviously cared. “Are you hurt? Would you like me to give you a ride on my horse? Where are you off to?” he asked tenderly, he looked at her as if he’d never cared about anything more in his entire life. Like she was special.
“No no” she reassured him “I’m fine”
“You’re shivering” he exclaimed “why didn’t you tell me? Here, take my jacket” and without waiting for her response, he gave Cashew his puffy brown leather coat.
“Thanks”
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, genuinely curious and genuinely concerned
“I was going to go on an adventure”
“Sounds fun! I’d be up for that” Cashew loved that he liked her for who she was and wondered if the other man would have been the same if she’d been honest, but then she remembered how intimated he had made her feel.
“Would you really!? We should go on an adventure together”
“Do you often go on adventures?” he asked
“No, I never have before”
“Then this will be your first real adventure?”
“Yeah, I suppose it will be! We’ll have to make it fun and exciting”
“Fun and exciting is my specialty!” he smiled and winked at her and she felt very content within herself.
“I love your horse” she commented, feeling that she could say anything without being negatively judged
“Why thank you” he bowed “she is the horse of the night, I call her Nightmare”
“She’s beautiful”
“Do you want to ride her?”
“I would love to ride her! That would be very fun and exciting!”
And with that he jumped upon his black mare and swept Cashew up with his hand. As they galloped off into the night Cashew remembered the other man and worried about whether he would feel left behind, but she figured he hadn’t really liked her that much anyway and would probably be better off without her around.
After only a very short while she noticed that the grass land was coming to an end and could see a forest just over in the distance
“Oh! Look! The grassland does end! This is a great adventure” she cried, holding onto his waste so she wouldn’t slip off the lighting fast horse.
“This is only the beginning my lovely” he announced and they sped even faster towards the tall trees. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Cashew”
“Bless you”
“Haha, no, that’s my name!” she laughed
“It’s sweet” he said earnestly. She was so happy she could fly. They were soon at the forest and the pair of them were very excited. He flung her off the horse and they went running about in the forest, she felt as free as a bird and didn’t hesitate to hold back as she leaped about and absorbed how wonderful the forest was. It was during this time, however, that she remembered her mother’s warnings ‘be back by supper,’ it was now long past supper, it was long past bed time. If only she’d stayed with the other man, he would have got her safely home. Even though she couldn’t be honest or herself around him, he would surely have made certain she got home in time. Now she was more worried than she ever had to be, she no longer even felt safe. She knew she couldn’t trust this boy.
“What’s wrong?” the boy asked
“I think I should go home now”
“But we’ve only just started having fun! There’s so much more I need to show you” but Cashew had never wanted to go beyond what was beyond the grass field, she had merely wanted evidence that it ended. She knew it would be fun to stay but never the less it was too much excitement for her to deal with, she was already late and would have to go home.
Without question he saddled up Nightmare and took Cashew home
“Goodnight. We’ll have to do something fun and exciting again someday” she said as she stumbled off his horse and handed him back his jacket
“No problems. I’ll catch you round” he waited until she was safely inside her house and then galloped off into the night. She doubted he would even remember her, he would continue to go on many adventures without her. Cashew felt bad. Not bad as in sick or upset, but bad as in naughty. Her mum felt much the same. She went to bed straight away without supper.
The next morning there came a knock at the door. “It must be the boy with the horse!” Cashew thought when her mum announced that it was for her. But it wasn’t. It was the other man. She was very excited to see him, although she couldn’t fathom why, he seemed a much better friend to have than the ridder of Nightmare
“Hi Lucy” he said sweetly, smiling gently “I just wanted to say sorry for walking off so far. I hope you’ll forgive me, I never meant to abandon you”
“That’s fine, I understand” she said, feeling incredibly guilty for abandoning him and running off with the other boy. She wished very much that she hadn’t left him behind, even if it meant she may not have seen the forest.
“My name isn’t Lucy, by the way” she added impulsively “It’s Cashew” for a second he was confused and shocked, but then he said “I wish you’d told me that earlier...that’s the most wonderful name I’ve ever heard, and I shall never forget it for as long as I live.”
Friday, August 28, 2009
Magic Coffee Story
This was meant to be a story about a man who has a magical adventure with a coffee cup that gives him whatever drink he desires, depending on what he presses down on the top of the plastic take away cup lid. This story, however, is nothing like that. Enjoy anyway.....
He fumbled around his pockets for his wallet, he was wearing a new jacket and was unfamiliar with the whereabouts of the pockets, more specifically the whereabouts of his wallet. The cosy little cafe was deserted and quiet except for the gentle, agitated tapping of the waitresses’ fingers against the cash register. “Just a moment” he reassured her “it’s here somewhere” eventually he thought to try his back jean pocket, and was somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t looked there first.
“Two dollars fifty” the waitress reminded him expecting his memory of all things to be pitiable, but he placed the correct sum of money on the counter before she had finished speaking. She begrudgingly set to work constructing the caramel flavoured hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and cream, which he had previously ordered.
“Thank you” he said with great sincerity, trying to make his smile as suggestive as possible. The waitress seemed oblivious to his emotions (or else she simply didn’t care) and continued to read her murder mystery novel to pass the time while waiting for the next costumer she knew wouldn’t be coming. After six years of coming to the same cafe, he had never gone as far as leaving a suggestive smile and was rather pumped with adrenaline as he took a seat in his usual corner. He had been preparing for the all revealing smile for some time now, and wasn’t sure what to think of her indifferent response.
Once seated, he took another glance in her direction, she must have felt the lingering stare because she looked up from her novel after a few minutes “what’s that you’re reading?” he asked her spontaneously. He was astounded at himself and it took him several moments to release the words had left his mouth. Why, after years of planning a smile, had he suddenly asked a personal question? His heart accelerated to beyond what should be healthy, and he wondered if she could hear it.
“Just something I picked up from the library” she replied casually, and continued reading to avoid talking further. She goes to library! he thought with intense excitement. He had no real reason for being excited, but he was undoubtedly over the moon.
“It’s funny you should say that” he said not thinking twice, or even once “because I went to the library the other day, and got a book as well!” he immediately realised how foolish his comment was and closed his eyes in anguished embarrassment. She looked up at him briefly and as their eyes met he wished he could bottle the moment and revisit the connection at a later date. It didn’t last long and she had a why-does-my-only-costumer-have-to-be-so-strange look on her face, but he placed it high on his list of heaven like moments all the same.
His usual cautious self kicked back in and he averted his gaze, leaving her to read. Read the book she always read. The book she picked up from the library. The same library he goes to. Maybe one day he’ll bump into her there.... maybe they’ll talk again there.... perhaps things would be better in a different context... he went on to imagine the pretty waitress falling to her knees by his feet, in the murder mystery isle of the library, declaring her love and begging him to go out with her. His daydreams never involved him making the first move. He couldn’t even imagine doing such a thing.
He looked down to his coffee cup. He wondered for the five hundredth time why she always gives him a take away cup. Surely she must know by now that he always stays in the cafe to finish his coffee? Why not give him one of the deep blue mugs that hang above the coffee machine? She hates me, he thought fiddling with the plastic lid, she gives me a take away cup because she wishes I wouldn’t hang around. She hates me. Deciding that his thoughts were unmistakably the truth, he stood up, pulled out the gun he kept in his inner jacket pocket, and shot her square in the head.
He fumbled around his pockets for his wallet, he was wearing a new jacket and was unfamiliar with the whereabouts of the pockets, more specifically the whereabouts of his wallet. The cosy little cafe was deserted and quiet except for the gentle, agitated tapping of the waitresses’ fingers against the cash register. “Just a moment” he reassured her “it’s here somewhere” eventually he thought to try his back jean pocket, and was somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t looked there first.
“Two dollars fifty” the waitress reminded him expecting his memory of all things to be pitiable, but he placed the correct sum of money on the counter before she had finished speaking. She begrudgingly set to work constructing the caramel flavoured hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and cream, which he had previously ordered.
“Thank you” he said with great sincerity, trying to make his smile as suggestive as possible. The waitress seemed oblivious to his emotions (or else she simply didn’t care) and continued to read her murder mystery novel to pass the time while waiting for the next costumer she knew wouldn’t be coming. After six years of coming to the same cafe, he had never gone as far as leaving a suggestive smile and was rather pumped with adrenaline as he took a seat in his usual corner. He had been preparing for the all revealing smile for some time now, and wasn’t sure what to think of her indifferent response.
Once seated, he took another glance in her direction, she must have felt the lingering stare because she looked up from her novel after a few minutes “what’s that you’re reading?” he asked her spontaneously. He was astounded at himself and it took him several moments to release the words had left his mouth. Why, after years of planning a smile, had he suddenly asked a personal question? His heart accelerated to beyond what should be healthy, and he wondered if she could hear it.
“Just something I picked up from the library” she replied casually, and continued reading to avoid talking further. She goes to library! he thought with intense excitement. He had no real reason for being excited, but he was undoubtedly over the moon.
“It’s funny you should say that” he said not thinking twice, or even once “because I went to the library the other day, and got a book as well!” he immediately realised how foolish his comment was and closed his eyes in anguished embarrassment. She looked up at him briefly and as their eyes met he wished he could bottle the moment and revisit the connection at a later date. It didn’t last long and she had a why-does-my-only-costumer-have-to-be-so-strange look on her face, but he placed it high on his list of heaven like moments all the same.
His usual cautious self kicked back in and he averted his gaze, leaving her to read. Read the book she always read. The book she picked up from the library. The same library he goes to. Maybe one day he’ll bump into her there.... maybe they’ll talk again there.... perhaps things would be better in a different context... he went on to imagine the pretty waitress falling to her knees by his feet, in the murder mystery isle of the library, declaring her love and begging him to go out with her. His daydreams never involved him making the first move. He couldn’t even imagine doing such a thing.
He looked down to his coffee cup. He wondered for the five hundredth time why she always gives him a take away cup. Surely she must know by now that he always stays in the cafe to finish his coffee? Why not give him one of the deep blue mugs that hang above the coffee machine? She hates me, he thought fiddling with the plastic lid, she gives me a take away cup because she wishes I wouldn’t hang around. She hates me. Deciding that his thoughts were unmistakably the truth, he stood up, pulled out the gun he kept in his inner jacket pocket, and shot her square in the head.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Snow White
Today is a bad day. Today is the day I realised that life isn’t at all like a movie. In reality exciting things are rather rare and adventures even rarer. This morning it was raining and the umbrella I bought to replace my disintegrating old one, was locked away at school. I had no choice but to use my former, less caring, ‘umbrella.’ It looks identical to my new one, so I tend to call it the ‘evil twin’..... actually, I don’t, I just made that up then. I think the world must have a personal grudge against me, why else would it rain on the one day I didn’t have a whole umbrella. So, I was walking from the train station to school with the protection of half an umbrella above my head. I mean quite literally ‘half’ an umbrella, as it stays moderately stiff and umbrella-ish on one side and the other side simply droops down and dangles pointlessly from the stiff half. Well, not pointlessly, the dead half’s purpose is to tip the water collected from the solid half and drain it onto me and my bag (my little non-waterproof bag, which was a substitute for the normal bag I left at school along with the ‘good twin.’)
So I’m walking down the street, drench in rain, people are pointing and whispering at my mutated ‘umbrella’, I’ve ruined my non-existent reputation and I’m freezing cold because my blazer is also in my locker at school. Then it happened. The dead half of the umbrella swung down and hit me in the face. It didn’t hurt. But I cried. It was the strangest moment of my life. It took me a while to figure out why I was crying, but I came to this conclusion: this moment in my life was like the opening to a film, where they introduce the protagonist as having a bad day or possibly just as being an unlucky person in general, this film will involve the main character going on an adventure of some kind, falling in love, accomplishing things she never dreamed she could, finding out she’s magic and will finish with her walking down the same street on a sunny day with a big smile on her face. That won’t happen to me.
This somehow reminded me of fairytales (specifically, Disney princess fairytales) and so I thought I would share with you a more realistic ending to the Snow White film. The setting and time period remain the same:
Snow White was lying unconscious on a bed covered in rose petals. She had been in this state for quite a while now and the dwarfs were all very worried that she may never wake up again. They feared her to be dead. But, alas! Who should come galloping to her rescue but Prince Charming! He flung himself swiftly off his gallant steed and strode passionately to Snow White’s side. Upon kissing Snow White, she fluttered open her eyelids and sat up, her strength was miraculously back to normal.
“Are you alright?” asked the prince “do you need some water or something? I could dash back to the palace and get you some medicine?”
“You fool!” she hissed through closed teeth “you’re supposed to just sweep me off my feet and ride off with me into the sunset, so we can live happily ever after!”
“Oh. OK. Sorry. So do you want me to do that now then?” he asked, simply trying to give her what she wanted.
“No. You’ve ruined the moment now. Idiot. It’s supposed to be a spontaneous act of love. You’ve just stuffed the whole thing up by discussing it” she was now disgusted at his lack of spontaneity and could think of no way he could fix the situation.
“Spontaneous love? Do you love me?” Price Charming was astonished at the thought.
“You daft, dim witted moron” she replied calmly “only true loves kiss could have woken me up. We obviously love each other”
“I don’t even know you” argued the prince delicately “could we not get more acquainted first?” this last sentence enraged Snow White and she stood up from her coffin of a bed.
“This is just stupid. I’m going back inside. I’m sure the dwarfs will appreciate me more than you do” but she didn’t move.
“Alright. Well, I’ll see you around then..... er.... what was your name?”
“Snow White” she replied, almost in tears. He got back on his horse before she went on to say “we could try again” and then “I could pretend to be dying again and you could come and whisk me off to your kingdom in the hills”
“Look... I’ve actually got a lot of prince things to deal with at the moment. You know, ordering people to be beheaded, that kind of thing. I don’t really have time for all this” his horse was slowly trotting away with him.
“I can still come with you! You can do your prince stuff and I’ll do my princess stuff! We’ll both be busy but we can still be together. This is true love Prince Charming”
“Princess stuff?”
“Singing to birds. Knitting. Waiting for my prince to come.... oh, well that will have already happened. But I can do the other princess things”
“Fine. Whatever. Get on. I’m in a bit of a hurry” little did he know that this was the wrong thing to say
“Do you love me?” Snow White asked, realising that he may not
“I don’t know you!”
“But you kissed me!?”
“You were dying! I couldn’t just let you die!”
“You’ve messed everything up” Snow White concluded “if you aren’t capable of romantically sweeping me off my feet, then I’m just going back inside”
“Good!” he bellowed and galloped off into the distance. Snow White sat down and cried.
So I’m walking down the street, drench in rain, people are pointing and whispering at my mutated ‘umbrella’, I’ve ruined my non-existent reputation and I’m freezing cold because my blazer is also in my locker at school. Then it happened. The dead half of the umbrella swung down and hit me in the face. It didn’t hurt. But I cried. It was the strangest moment of my life. It took me a while to figure out why I was crying, but I came to this conclusion: this moment in my life was like the opening to a film, where they introduce the protagonist as having a bad day or possibly just as being an unlucky person in general, this film will involve the main character going on an adventure of some kind, falling in love, accomplishing things she never dreamed she could, finding out she’s magic and will finish with her walking down the same street on a sunny day with a big smile on her face. That won’t happen to me.
This somehow reminded me of fairytales (specifically, Disney princess fairytales) and so I thought I would share with you a more realistic ending to the Snow White film. The setting and time period remain the same:
Snow White was lying unconscious on a bed covered in rose petals. She had been in this state for quite a while now and the dwarfs were all very worried that she may never wake up again. They feared her to be dead. But, alas! Who should come galloping to her rescue but Prince Charming! He flung himself swiftly off his gallant steed and strode passionately to Snow White’s side. Upon kissing Snow White, she fluttered open her eyelids and sat up, her strength was miraculously back to normal.
“Are you alright?” asked the prince “do you need some water or something? I could dash back to the palace and get you some medicine?”
“You fool!” she hissed through closed teeth “you’re supposed to just sweep me off my feet and ride off with me into the sunset, so we can live happily ever after!”
“Oh. OK. Sorry. So do you want me to do that now then?” he asked, simply trying to give her what she wanted.
“No. You’ve ruined the moment now. Idiot. It’s supposed to be a spontaneous act of love. You’ve just stuffed the whole thing up by discussing it” she was now disgusted at his lack of spontaneity and could think of no way he could fix the situation.
“Spontaneous love? Do you love me?” Price Charming was astonished at the thought.
“You daft, dim witted moron” she replied calmly “only true loves kiss could have woken me up. We obviously love each other”
“I don’t even know you” argued the prince delicately “could we not get more acquainted first?” this last sentence enraged Snow White and she stood up from her coffin of a bed.
“This is just stupid. I’m going back inside. I’m sure the dwarfs will appreciate me more than you do” but she didn’t move.
“Alright. Well, I’ll see you around then..... er.... what was your name?”
“Snow White” she replied, almost in tears. He got back on his horse before she went on to say “we could try again” and then “I could pretend to be dying again and you could come and whisk me off to your kingdom in the hills”
“Look... I’ve actually got a lot of prince things to deal with at the moment. You know, ordering people to be beheaded, that kind of thing. I don’t really have time for all this” his horse was slowly trotting away with him.
“I can still come with you! You can do your prince stuff and I’ll do my princess stuff! We’ll both be busy but we can still be together. This is true love Prince Charming”
“Princess stuff?”
“Singing to birds. Knitting. Waiting for my prince to come.... oh, well that will have already happened. But I can do the other princess things”
“Fine. Whatever. Get on. I’m in a bit of a hurry” little did he know that this was the wrong thing to say
“Do you love me?” Snow White asked, realising that he may not
“I don’t know you!”
“But you kissed me!?”
“You were dying! I couldn’t just let you die!”
“You’ve messed everything up” Snow White concluded “if you aren’t capable of romantically sweeping me off my feet, then I’m just going back inside”
“Good!” he bellowed and galloped off into the distance. Snow White sat down and cried.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Murder Mystery
The gate outside slammed heavily against the brick fence, the wind bustled amongst the moonlit leaves like an empty switched on blender and a delicate black cat arched her back before hastily tiptoeing away. So, now that we’ve set the scene for a place entirely devoid of the actual story, I feel it’s time we began..... Becky sat on a sopping wet towel, her moist legs enjoying the rays of warm sun that were beating down against her already tanned skin. A boy and what appeared to be his girlfriend were busy building a sand castle, laughing tipsily every time the waves washed their work away. Not far from the couple a little boy splashed his friends, one of which got salty water in their eye and raced ashore to report this to his all caring mother, who was reading a book under the shade of an umbrella rather close to Becky. A middle aged man jogged along the picturesque shoreline, looking happier than a squirrel with several hundred acorns in its possession. His large Border-collie dog bounded beside him looking, just when it were thought impossible, even more happy than the man. An odd looking women, dressed in black from head to toe, stood about three metres away from the water, staring blankly out to sea.
Becky heard a sudden shuffling come from the bushes behind her, and automatically spun around to see what it was, her sunglasses flying off in the process. The sun momentarily blinded her and by the time her eyes had adjusted, whatever she had heard, was gone. A bellowing scream came from the water, echoing across the beach and possibly right round to Sweden as well. Becky instantly stood up and squinted down towards the sea, she rushed down to the water as quickly as she could, so did the mother.
As Becky got nearer, she could see that the young women was standing knee deep in water, her boyfriend lying head down in the shallow water. Her hands were dripping with diluted blood, which Becky was surprised to find smelt of rusty iron. The sea around the boy was gradually becoming more and more dense with red, he was obviously still bleeding and bleeding a lot. The women had not stopped screaming. She howled continuously as if a giant penguin with razor blades for teeth was chasing her. Then she stopped. The noise ringed around Becky’s head even after the bellowing had seized. The women collapsed feebly onto the water.
The running man was shock frozen, several meters away from the dead couple. Yes, the dead COUPLE, meaning both halves of the couple were dead. Deceased. The two of them. The man and his girlfriend. Yes, the girlfriend as well. His dog barked furiously, tugging at his lead, trying to get a closer sniff of the action. The mother had gathered up the little boys and they stood together in a cluster, she failed to shield all of their eyes at once. The gothic women began to approach the ever growing pool of blood, she checked their pulses and turned to Becky “they’re dead” she whispered, and casually strolled off. Once the jogger realized that something ought to be done, he pulled out his phone, called the police and ambulance and that was the end of that.
Now it’s up to you! Solve the murder and you shall win the Luna Mooney Detective Prize. Good luck!
Hint: every little thing in this post can help you unravel the mystery of the deaths.
Becky heard a sudden shuffling come from the bushes behind her, and automatically spun around to see what it was, her sunglasses flying off in the process. The sun momentarily blinded her and by the time her eyes had adjusted, whatever she had heard, was gone. A bellowing scream came from the water, echoing across the beach and possibly right round to Sweden as well. Becky instantly stood up and squinted down towards the sea, she rushed down to the water as quickly as she could, so did the mother.
As Becky got nearer, she could see that the young women was standing knee deep in water, her boyfriend lying head down in the shallow water. Her hands were dripping with diluted blood, which Becky was surprised to find smelt of rusty iron. The sea around the boy was gradually becoming more and more dense with red, he was obviously still bleeding and bleeding a lot. The women had not stopped screaming. She howled continuously as if a giant penguin with razor blades for teeth was chasing her. Then she stopped. The noise ringed around Becky’s head even after the bellowing had seized. The women collapsed feebly onto the water.
The running man was shock frozen, several meters away from the dead couple. Yes, the dead COUPLE, meaning both halves of the couple were dead. Deceased. The two of them. The man and his girlfriend. Yes, the girlfriend as well. His dog barked furiously, tugging at his lead, trying to get a closer sniff of the action. The mother had gathered up the little boys and they stood together in a cluster, she failed to shield all of their eyes at once. The gothic women began to approach the ever growing pool of blood, she checked their pulses and turned to Becky “they’re dead” she whispered, and casually strolled off. Once the jogger realized that something ought to be done, he pulled out his phone, called the police and ambulance and that was the end of that.
Now it’s up to you! Solve the murder and you shall win the Luna Mooney Detective Prize. Good luck!
Hint: every little thing in this post can help you unravel the mystery of the deaths.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Children's Story
Here is a little children’s story I whipped up when I couldn’t be bothered doing homework:
Matthew appeared to be an average boy. He was an average height, an average size, had average brown hair, lived in an average house with an average family, had an average pet dog, got average marks in all his average VCE subjects, brushed his teeth in the morning and afternoons (which is a fairly average thing to do) and he even ate his meals at the average time of day. But Matthew was anything but average.
At the beginning of high school the other boys were kind to him and welcomed him warmly into their lunch time conversations, but Matthew didn’t like wasting time talking about the latest computer games or how complicated maths class was getting, and so he turned down their offers of friendship and went on a mission to find someone more fun. He missed primary school profusely, he longed for a game of chasey, hide and seek, four square or British Bulldog, but mostly Matthew just wanted to play adventure games. At his old school the boys tended not to play imagination games and were more into running around or playing sport, so Matthew almost always played with the girls. There were no girls at his new school, but his older sister had wisely told him a few days before he finished primary school “when kids go to high school they stop playing games, Matt. No one runs around and no one plays adventure games. Everyone sits and talks” Matthew couldn’t believe what he was hearing
“What do they talk about?” he asked his all-knowing sister
“Boys” she sighed gloomily as if she was rather sick of talking about boys all the time. On his first day of high school Matthew soon realised that his sister had been right, everyone did sit and talk at play time. So he sat down with a friendly looking bunch of boys and said
“There’s a boy who works at the bakery near my house. His name’s George and he’s worked there for fifty years” the other boys stared at Matthew for a second or two and then burst into a flood of laughter. Matthew couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong, George was one of the most interesting boys he knew and if his sister had been right (and his sister was always right) then striking up a conversation about boys should have been a great way to start.
One afternoon Matthew’s sister had a friend over, her name was Clarissa and she was very pretty. Matthew told Clarissa all about his first day of high school and she laughed when he said “I don’t know why they didn’t want to talk about George, Phoebe told me that high school kids just talk about boys”
“Don’t be silly” she had said “boys don’t talk about boys.” This had made Matthew very confused, and it took him a whole two years of solitude to understand it. At the start of year 9 Matthew fell in love with Clarissa, he had never seen his sister’s best friend the way he did at the Christmas party that year. After a fairly awkward conversation with his mother, Matthew realised that he wasn’t ‘in love’ with Clarissa but was simply experiencing his ‘first crush.’ Apparently his mother had been waiting several years for this moment, Matthew blushed and promised himself he would never like another girl again. He had decided that girls were far too complicated (it had, after all, taken him two years to understand that girls talk about boys and boys talk about completely different things entirely.) He was still disappointed that girls, as well as boys, didn’t play adventure games anymore.
Another couple of years passed until Matthew entered his final year of school. He still hadn’t managed to make any friends, the other boys still just talked all the time and no one had signed Matthew’s “Adventure Game Players Club” poster, which he had pinned up on the notice board. He knew that he had been by himself for too long now to make any friends anyway, he had lasted five years alone, surely he could last just one more? But no, Matthew was tired of being called a ‘loner’ and wanted to fit in, so he went to his sister for help.
“I’ve decided that I want some friends”
“Is that right?” his sister replied, not looking up from her college report which was due in two weeks
“Yeah. I’m sick of spending lunch time and play time by myself”
“When will you stop calling recess ‘play time’ what are you, 5?”
“I wish” he mumbled under his breath
“Look” she said, putting her pen down and facing him “you can either be normal and get yourself some friends, or stay the way you are and..... pretend to have friends... whatever.” What Matthew’s sister hadn’t expected was that he would take ‘pretend to have friends’ incredibly seriously.
Matthew had a very productive holiday. On his first day of year 12 he walked to school with his new best friend: Archibald. Archie was a dashing young man and was in the same year as Matthew, luckily he was enrolled to start at the same school as Matthew, this made the two of them very happy indeed. Archie’s family was still living in the Himalayas and so Matthew let him stay at his place over the summer “we should find you a place to stay once school starts” Matthew had told his friend, but he knew that Archie would have no were to go and so added “you’re welcome to stay at my place until everything’s certain, of course.”
Archie was a lot of fun. He enthusiastically played adventure games with Matthew all through play time and lunch. They took all the same subjects, Archie was very smart and Matthew encouraged him to contribute to class discussions but Archie was simply too shy. One day Archie banged his leg rather hard on the teacher’s desk, but the nurse refused to treat him. Matthew was furious and stood up for his quite friend “this is because he’s from the Himalayas isn’t it!? You’re just a prejudiced old cow!” this bought Matthew a trip to the principal’s office.
“Archibald doesn’t fit in, just like me. He’s too different to play-I mean, talk- with the other boys. It’s bad enough that no one but me pays him any attention, and then the school nurse goes and refuses to fix his leg!”
“Matthew” began the principle, a concerned look had spread across his face “you’re far too old for imaginary friends. I’m going to recommend you see a good friend of mine, his name is Dr Carter, I think he might be able to help you” Matthew’s eyes widened, was the principle accusing him of being mad? “You’re a bright student, Matthew” he went on, flicking through what appeared to be Matthew’s files “but not very social, I see”
“I don’t want to be friends with any of the other boys!” Matthew sobbed “all I want to do is play the adventure games I used to play at primary school with the girls, but there are no girls here, and even if there were they would just sit and talk about boys” the principle looked overwhelmed with confusion “but Archie’s different” Matthew continued “he doesn’t tease me for calling recess ‘play time’, he doesn’t laugh when I play in the playground on the way to school, he doesn’t judge me for wanting to escape this world and create my own, he’s always there for me and he always supports me” Matthew whipped back the tears which had uncontrollably streamed down his face “but most importantly” he paused to swallow down some tears “Archie misses playing games as well.” There was an intense silence as the principle absorbed all that had been said, Matthew concluded by saying “don’t call me mad. Don’t call Archie imaginary. Because, if you do, then I’ll go back to having no one.”
Matthew appeared to be an average boy. He was an average height, an average size, had average brown hair, lived in an average house with an average family, had an average pet dog, got average marks in all his average VCE subjects, brushed his teeth in the morning and afternoons (which is a fairly average thing to do) and he even ate his meals at the average time of day. But Matthew was anything but average.
At the beginning of high school the other boys were kind to him and welcomed him warmly into their lunch time conversations, but Matthew didn’t like wasting time talking about the latest computer games or how complicated maths class was getting, and so he turned down their offers of friendship and went on a mission to find someone more fun. He missed primary school profusely, he longed for a game of chasey, hide and seek, four square or British Bulldog, but mostly Matthew just wanted to play adventure games. At his old school the boys tended not to play imagination games and were more into running around or playing sport, so Matthew almost always played with the girls. There were no girls at his new school, but his older sister had wisely told him a few days before he finished primary school “when kids go to high school they stop playing games, Matt. No one runs around and no one plays adventure games. Everyone sits and talks” Matthew couldn’t believe what he was hearing
“What do they talk about?” he asked his all-knowing sister
“Boys” she sighed gloomily as if she was rather sick of talking about boys all the time. On his first day of high school Matthew soon realised that his sister had been right, everyone did sit and talk at play time. So he sat down with a friendly looking bunch of boys and said
“There’s a boy who works at the bakery near my house. His name’s George and he’s worked there for fifty years” the other boys stared at Matthew for a second or two and then burst into a flood of laughter. Matthew couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong, George was one of the most interesting boys he knew and if his sister had been right (and his sister was always right) then striking up a conversation about boys should have been a great way to start.
One afternoon Matthew’s sister had a friend over, her name was Clarissa and she was very pretty. Matthew told Clarissa all about his first day of high school and she laughed when he said “I don’t know why they didn’t want to talk about George, Phoebe told me that high school kids just talk about boys”
“Don’t be silly” she had said “boys don’t talk about boys.” This had made Matthew very confused, and it took him a whole two years of solitude to understand it. At the start of year 9 Matthew fell in love with Clarissa, he had never seen his sister’s best friend the way he did at the Christmas party that year. After a fairly awkward conversation with his mother, Matthew realised that he wasn’t ‘in love’ with Clarissa but was simply experiencing his ‘first crush.’ Apparently his mother had been waiting several years for this moment, Matthew blushed and promised himself he would never like another girl again. He had decided that girls were far too complicated (it had, after all, taken him two years to understand that girls talk about boys and boys talk about completely different things entirely.) He was still disappointed that girls, as well as boys, didn’t play adventure games anymore.
Another couple of years passed until Matthew entered his final year of school. He still hadn’t managed to make any friends, the other boys still just talked all the time and no one had signed Matthew’s “Adventure Game Players Club” poster, which he had pinned up on the notice board. He knew that he had been by himself for too long now to make any friends anyway, he had lasted five years alone, surely he could last just one more? But no, Matthew was tired of being called a ‘loner’ and wanted to fit in, so he went to his sister for help.
“I’ve decided that I want some friends”
“Is that right?” his sister replied, not looking up from her college report which was due in two weeks
“Yeah. I’m sick of spending lunch time and play time by myself”
“When will you stop calling recess ‘play time’ what are you, 5?”
“I wish” he mumbled under his breath
“Look” she said, putting her pen down and facing him “you can either be normal and get yourself some friends, or stay the way you are and..... pretend to have friends... whatever.” What Matthew’s sister hadn’t expected was that he would take ‘pretend to have friends’ incredibly seriously.
Matthew had a very productive holiday. On his first day of year 12 he walked to school with his new best friend: Archibald. Archie was a dashing young man and was in the same year as Matthew, luckily he was enrolled to start at the same school as Matthew, this made the two of them very happy indeed. Archie’s family was still living in the Himalayas and so Matthew let him stay at his place over the summer “we should find you a place to stay once school starts” Matthew had told his friend, but he knew that Archie would have no were to go and so added “you’re welcome to stay at my place until everything’s certain, of course.”
Archie was a lot of fun. He enthusiastically played adventure games with Matthew all through play time and lunch. They took all the same subjects, Archie was very smart and Matthew encouraged him to contribute to class discussions but Archie was simply too shy. One day Archie banged his leg rather hard on the teacher’s desk, but the nurse refused to treat him. Matthew was furious and stood up for his quite friend “this is because he’s from the Himalayas isn’t it!? You’re just a prejudiced old cow!” this bought Matthew a trip to the principal’s office.
“Archibald doesn’t fit in, just like me. He’s too different to play-I mean, talk- with the other boys. It’s bad enough that no one but me pays him any attention, and then the school nurse goes and refuses to fix his leg!”
“Matthew” began the principle, a concerned look had spread across his face “you’re far too old for imaginary friends. I’m going to recommend you see a good friend of mine, his name is Dr Carter, I think he might be able to help you” Matthew’s eyes widened, was the principle accusing him of being mad? “You’re a bright student, Matthew” he went on, flicking through what appeared to be Matthew’s files “but not very social, I see”
“I don’t want to be friends with any of the other boys!” Matthew sobbed “all I want to do is play the adventure games I used to play at primary school with the girls, but there are no girls here, and even if there were they would just sit and talk about boys” the principle looked overwhelmed with confusion “but Archie’s different” Matthew continued “he doesn’t tease me for calling recess ‘play time’, he doesn’t laugh when I play in the playground on the way to school, he doesn’t judge me for wanting to escape this world and create my own, he’s always there for me and he always supports me” Matthew whipped back the tears which had uncontrollably streamed down his face “but most importantly” he paused to swallow down some tears “Archie misses playing games as well.” There was an intense silence as the principle absorbed all that had been said, Matthew concluded by saying “don’t call me mad. Don’t call Archie imaginary. Because, if you do, then I’ll go back to having no one.”
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
“I have to do this!” Draco whimpers as he holds his wand at the ready towards a defenceless Dumbledore. “I have to do this!” I say to myself when I foolishly realise what a good idea it would be to write a Half-Blood Prince review, almost a week after actually seeing the film.
If you’re reading this then you’re either one of my many(~) blog readers or you typed ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince film review’ into Google and read so many reviews that you’ve now reached page 14 where this little blog post was waiting for you. This means you would have read a lot of other opinions and are looking for something new, if you’ve stumbled across my blog in a desperate attempt to find more things Harry Potter then you’ve also probably seen the film. So, I won’t try and hide important climax’ or sensor anything. I actually already wrote a page long review for a friend and that was only describing the first half hour, so it will be tricky to narrow this review down to an internet browser friendly length. I shall try my best:
1. If you haven’t seen the film, watch out for the Hogwarts Express. Everyone I know who has seen it didn’t notice, but the train seems to have lost its magic. In the other films the Hogwarts Express is a shiny, bright crimson, in this film it’s a faded red. It’s almost as if the film makers misplaced the old train (as trains are very easy things to lose~) and had to make do with spray painting an average train from the undergrounds of London... although the trains in London are double deckers. It was like they were amateurs trying to mimic the Hogwarts Express of the first films. Why on earth would we care about your dislike towards the new Hogwarts Express? You may ask. I might ask myself the same question.
2. Lupin and Tonks. Being the Lupin fan that I am, I was glad to find that my favourite sub plot of the book was one of the main focuses of the film ~. Throughout the book we are given clues as to why Tonks has undergone a personality change (from her optimistic, fun self to something quite the opposite.)Tonks features heavily in the novel and even shows up at Hogwarts a few times. In the end we find out that Tonks loves Lupin and has been upset because he claims he’s ‘too old, too poor and too dangerous’ for her. In the film Tonks and Lupin appear for about five minutes, within those five minutes Tonks calls him ‘sweetheart’ and we are to assume they’re together. Never mind, I’m sure we’ll see plenty of the couple in The Deathly Hallows, just as we saw plenty of Bill and Fleur in this one ~.
3. Draco Malfoy. I must say that I thought Tom Felton was the standout actor of this film, having said that I should mention that I’ve never been a fan of his (just in case you thought I was being biased), he’s always been one of my least favourite characters and I never really thought a great deal for or against Tom Felton’s acting. I wasn’t expecting a lot from him and was surprised by how much I liked Malfoy in this film. I think I’ll go as far as to say that he was better in the film than in the book. Maybe not ‘better’ but I certainly felt sorrier for him in the film. For example: in the book when Harry uses Sectumsempra against Malfoy, I was more concerned that Sectumsempra was an unexpectedly dark spell for the Half-Blood Prince, in the film I was more concerned for the welfare of Malfoy and was actually kind of glad that Sectumsempra wasn’t as extreme as it is in the book. Of all the humorous lines and magical moments, my favourite part of the film was the look on Malfoy’s face when Bellatrix all but obliterated the Great Hall.
4. Several people in this world will roll their eyes when they read the next few sentences. Why was Neville’s role so incredibly small? He was little more than an extra.
“Good luck at the game, Ron!”
“Drink, Harry?.... I didn’t get into the Slug Club, but it’s alright.”
And that was it for the wonderful Matthew Lewis and his great acting (note that there is no ~ at the end of that sentence.) They gave Luna a lot of bonus camera time though, which was nice even though sometimes she appeared only to fill in for the disregarded Tonks.
5. I fully accept the change of script in regards to the cabinet. I think that telling the audience that it was a cabinet from the beginning and exposing its purpose gradually, served as a good way to adapt this part of the story into film. By doing this we didn’t have to watch Harry trying to get into the room of requirements again and again and we had some visual stimulus to keep us guessing and thinking about what Malfoy was up to.
6. Harry and Ginny. “You’re shoelace” she says and then bends down to tie it up for him “Merry Christmas” she adds “thankyou Ginny, I’ve always wanted someone to do up my shoelace for Christmas, you must have found that Christmas list of mine I left lying around.” The pause between Ginny’s ‘Merry Christmas’ and when she leans in to kiss him was a little long and made several people in the cinema laugh.
7. And then there’s Dumbledore’s death. I can imagine Alan Rickman (Snape) spending hours in front of his bathroom mirror practising the Avada Kedavra that sends Dumbledore to his end. Holding his toothbrush at the ready and shouting the killing curse at his reflection. Unfortunately, I actually did imagine this at the moment of Dumbledore’s death, as he fell from the tower I wasn’t thinking ‘this is sad’ or ‘Michael Gambon seems to be pulling this off alright’ I was thinking ‘Alan Rickman must have tried a million different ways of saying that.’ Anyway, you’ve probably had enough of my odd little so called ‘reviews,’ but I do need to mention how nonsensical I thought it was that Harry wasn’t under his invisibility cloak and/or paralysed when Dumbledore died. The words of Dumbledore (“It is imperative that you stay hidden, Harry. Trust me”) was the only thing stopping Harry from saving his headmaster and good friends’ life. Knowing Harry (which of course I do, as I’ve met him numerous times ~) he would have tried with all his might to save Dumbledore’s life, regardless of a few words of caution and Snape saying “shh.” I think it was a fair enough decision to dispose of Dumbledore immobilising Harry, but when Snape came across Harry in hiding, it would have been a perfect moment for Snape to simply say Pertificus Totalus so that there would be no one standing in his way as he finished of what Malfoy couldn’t.
8. The credits. Who cares about the credits? I do. I was just wondering how they decide who gets to go before who in the credits at the end of the film. One at a time the names of the actors appear on the screen: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Helena Bonham Carter, some other adult actors who are barely in it including David Thewlis and then Tom Felton’s name pops up onto the screen accompanied by some other, virtually unknown, actor. Why does David Thewlis’ name get to be shown before Tom Felton’s? I’m a bit of a David Thewlis fan, so this isn’t a biased comment. Malfoy features way more than Lupin, and Tom Felton’s name wasn’t even by itself. I considered that they may show the names alphabetically after the main three, but then Thewlis wouldn’t have come before Felton. I think they show the more famous actors first. You don’t care? I didn’t expect you would.
If you’re reading this then you’re either one of my many(~) blog readers or you typed ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince film review’ into Google and read so many reviews that you’ve now reached page 14 where this little blog post was waiting for you. This means you would have read a lot of other opinions and are looking for something new, if you’ve stumbled across my blog in a desperate attempt to find more things Harry Potter then you’ve also probably seen the film. So, I won’t try and hide important climax’ or sensor anything. I actually already wrote a page long review for a friend and that was only describing the first half hour, so it will be tricky to narrow this review down to an internet browser friendly length. I shall try my best:
1. If you haven’t seen the film, watch out for the Hogwarts Express. Everyone I know who has seen it didn’t notice, but the train seems to have lost its magic. In the other films the Hogwarts Express is a shiny, bright crimson, in this film it’s a faded red. It’s almost as if the film makers misplaced the old train (as trains are very easy things to lose~) and had to make do with spray painting an average train from the undergrounds of London... although the trains in London are double deckers. It was like they were amateurs trying to mimic the Hogwarts Express of the first films. Why on earth would we care about your dislike towards the new Hogwarts Express? You may ask. I might ask myself the same question.
2. Lupin and Tonks. Being the Lupin fan that I am, I was glad to find that my favourite sub plot of the book was one of the main focuses of the film ~. Throughout the book we are given clues as to why Tonks has undergone a personality change (from her optimistic, fun self to something quite the opposite.)Tonks features heavily in the novel and even shows up at Hogwarts a few times. In the end we find out that Tonks loves Lupin and has been upset because he claims he’s ‘too old, too poor and too dangerous’ for her. In the film Tonks and Lupin appear for about five minutes, within those five minutes Tonks calls him ‘sweetheart’ and we are to assume they’re together. Never mind, I’m sure we’ll see plenty of the couple in The Deathly Hallows, just as we saw plenty of Bill and Fleur in this one ~.
3. Draco Malfoy. I must say that I thought Tom Felton was the standout actor of this film, having said that I should mention that I’ve never been a fan of his (just in case you thought I was being biased), he’s always been one of my least favourite characters and I never really thought a great deal for or against Tom Felton’s acting. I wasn’t expecting a lot from him and was surprised by how much I liked Malfoy in this film. I think I’ll go as far as to say that he was better in the film than in the book. Maybe not ‘better’ but I certainly felt sorrier for him in the film. For example: in the book when Harry uses Sectumsempra against Malfoy, I was more concerned that Sectumsempra was an unexpectedly dark spell for the Half-Blood Prince, in the film I was more concerned for the welfare of Malfoy and was actually kind of glad that Sectumsempra wasn’t as extreme as it is in the book. Of all the humorous lines and magical moments, my favourite part of the film was the look on Malfoy’s face when Bellatrix all but obliterated the Great Hall.
4. Several people in this world will roll their eyes when they read the next few sentences. Why was Neville’s role so incredibly small? He was little more than an extra.
“Good luck at the game, Ron!”
“Drink, Harry?.... I didn’t get into the Slug Club, but it’s alright.”
And that was it for the wonderful Matthew Lewis and his great acting (note that there is no ~ at the end of that sentence.) They gave Luna a lot of bonus camera time though, which was nice even though sometimes she appeared only to fill in for the disregarded Tonks.
5. I fully accept the change of script in regards to the cabinet. I think that telling the audience that it was a cabinet from the beginning and exposing its purpose gradually, served as a good way to adapt this part of the story into film. By doing this we didn’t have to watch Harry trying to get into the room of requirements again and again and we had some visual stimulus to keep us guessing and thinking about what Malfoy was up to.
6. Harry and Ginny. “You’re shoelace” she says and then bends down to tie it up for him “Merry Christmas” she adds “thankyou Ginny, I’ve always wanted someone to do up my shoelace for Christmas, you must have found that Christmas list of mine I left lying around.” The pause between Ginny’s ‘Merry Christmas’ and when she leans in to kiss him was a little long and made several people in the cinema laugh.
7. And then there’s Dumbledore’s death. I can imagine Alan Rickman (Snape) spending hours in front of his bathroom mirror practising the Avada Kedavra that sends Dumbledore to his end. Holding his toothbrush at the ready and shouting the killing curse at his reflection. Unfortunately, I actually did imagine this at the moment of Dumbledore’s death, as he fell from the tower I wasn’t thinking ‘this is sad’ or ‘Michael Gambon seems to be pulling this off alright’ I was thinking ‘Alan Rickman must have tried a million different ways of saying that.’ Anyway, you’ve probably had enough of my odd little so called ‘reviews,’ but I do need to mention how nonsensical I thought it was that Harry wasn’t under his invisibility cloak and/or paralysed when Dumbledore died. The words of Dumbledore (“It is imperative that you stay hidden, Harry. Trust me”) was the only thing stopping Harry from saving his headmaster and good friends’ life. Knowing Harry (which of course I do, as I’ve met him numerous times ~) he would have tried with all his might to save Dumbledore’s life, regardless of a few words of caution and Snape saying “shh.” I think it was a fair enough decision to dispose of Dumbledore immobilising Harry, but when Snape came across Harry in hiding, it would have been a perfect moment for Snape to simply say Pertificus Totalus so that there would be no one standing in his way as he finished of what Malfoy couldn’t.
8. The credits. Who cares about the credits? I do. I was just wondering how they decide who gets to go before who in the credits at the end of the film. One at a time the names of the actors appear on the screen: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Helena Bonham Carter, some other adult actors who are barely in it including David Thewlis and then Tom Felton’s name pops up onto the screen accompanied by some other, virtually unknown, actor. Why does David Thewlis’ name get to be shown before Tom Felton’s? I’m a bit of a David Thewlis fan, so this isn’t a biased comment. Malfoy features way more than Lupin, and Tom Felton’s name wasn’t even by itself. I considered that they may show the names alphabetically after the main three, but then Thewlis wouldn’t have come before Felton. I think they show the more famous actors first. You don’t care? I didn’t expect you would.
Friday, July 17, 2009
~
I’ve often wondered what the function of the squiggly key is. I mean, every day I see a little ~ staring up at me longingly from my keyboard, and I’ve never even bothered to ask someone what it does. Maybe you know. Maybe you think I’m an ignorant fool for not knowing. Maybe this is much like me not knowing who Cameron Diaz is, the name is awfully familiar but I can’t put a face to it. I’m thinking there must be some people out there, however, who have no idea what the ~ does, so here is some reliable Wikipedia knowledge on the ~’s function:
- Is called a ‘tilde’ and not a ‘squiggly key.’
- Can be used to mark the omission of a word or the abbreviation of a word.
- “Has acquired a number of other uses as a diacritic mark or a character in its own right” (Wikipedia) which I presume means squiggly admirers stood out on the street holding signs and chanting ‘equal rights for squiggly keys.’ Which must have lead to some kind of compromise involving squiggly’s becoming their own little characters.
- Also used in maths to symbolise ‘to,’ ‘and greater’ and ‘equivalence.’
- It also has some other functions like in economics and for computer stuff.
Examples: 12~15 (12 to 15), 100~ (100 and great), x~y (x is equivalent to y.)
So, possibly that bored you a bit, but I thought you should know its actual function before I introduce the squiggly key’s new and improved role. I think we should use this neglected button as a symbol of sarcasm. For example: what are you talking about Luna!? I always comment your blog ~.
This will allow internet users to more openly use sarcasm while talking on MSN or even just sending an email, because they won’t have to worry about the recipient not picking up their sarcasm. For example: yeah, I thought Bruno was great ~. If there was no squiggly symbol then the person may reply: you liked it too! We should go see it again together! This will just be awkward when the Bruno hater has to explain that they were actually being sarcastic. Of course, in the first place they could have said: I didn’t like Bruno much at all. But that covers their actual personality because in reality they would have used a sarcastic tone to express their dislike.
I know it will be a near impossible task to get the whole world in on the new squiggly function, but if we start with the 3 (if I’m lucky) people who read this post then that’s one step closer to ~ = sarcasm, success!
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tilde#Tilde_with_keyboards
- Is called a ‘tilde’ and not a ‘squiggly key.’
- Can be used to mark the omission of a word or the abbreviation of a word.
- “Has acquired a number of other uses as a diacritic mark or a character in its own right” (Wikipedia) which I presume means squiggly admirers stood out on the street holding signs and chanting ‘equal rights for squiggly keys.’ Which must have lead to some kind of compromise involving squiggly’s becoming their own little characters.
- Also used in maths to symbolise ‘to,’ ‘and greater’ and ‘equivalence.’
- It also has some other functions like in economics and for computer stuff.
Examples: 12~15 (12 to 15), 100~ (100 and great), x~y (x is equivalent to y.)
So, possibly that bored you a bit, but I thought you should know its actual function before I introduce the squiggly key’s new and improved role. I think we should use this neglected button as a symbol of sarcasm. For example: what are you talking about Luna!? I always comment your blog ~.
This will allow internet users to more openly use sarcasm while talking on MSN or even just sending an email, because they won’t have to worry about the recipient not picking up their sarcasm. For example: yeah, I thought Bruno was great ~. If there was no squiggly symbol then the person may reply: you liked it too! We should go see it again together! This will just be awkward when the Bruno hater has to explain that they were actually being sarcastic. Of course, in the first place they could have said: I didn’t like Bruno much at all. But that covers their actual personality because in reality they would have used a sarcastic tone to express their dislike.
I know it will be a near impossible task to get the whole world in on the new squiggly function, but if we start with the 3 (if I’m lucky) people who read this post then that’s one step closer to ~ = sarcasm, success!
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tilde#Tilde_with_keyboards
Monday, July 13, 2009
The White Room
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Mr Bones poked his head out of the classroom door, and watched Lucy run away until she turned a corner and was gone. It wasn’t until she was completely out of sight that Mr Bones noticed Matthew was glaring at him suspiciously, he gave the untrusting student a polite grin before closing the door and heading back to the classroom desk. A sudden realisation of exhaustion hit Mr Bones and he sank into his chair, took a deep breath and was once again lost in daydreams. He pictured Lucy’s blood loss causing her to pass out on the way to her next lesson, Mrs Proshore distressed that one of her students had been rushed to hospital while under her head supervision and then, most uncontrollably, rows of teachers and students sittings in their black suits and dresses bidding Lucy farewell at her funeral.
Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger (as if this might just eliminate the distressing image from his mind) Mr Bones remembered that there was still a splash of blood near his classroom door, grabbed several tissues from the box on the corner of his desk, and went to wipe up the shining red liquid he could now see in the distance. He bent down by the door and started mopping up the small pool of blood, to his annoyance the tissues couldn’t withstand the thick consistency and blood oozed beyond the disintegrating tissues onto Mr Bones’ fingers.
At this moment the blinds on the opposite side of the classroom slapped shut of their own accord, and the lights flickered drowsily until the room was completely black. Mr Bones felt a gush of wind swoop by his face, and attempted to stand up but was overcome by his own sudden, unexplainable weakness. A flash of what appeared to be a streamer of blue light whizzed by, followed by the quickly building sound of two knifes being scrapped together. Panicking, Mr Bones lifted his arm and felt around for the light switch which he knew too well was on the wall behind him. The weight of a hundred pounds seemed to be pressing on his arm, and he couldn’t continue his hunt for the light switch. A ladies’ scream filled the pitch black room, almost ghostly and other worldly as if it was coming from a radio. There was a spark of electric green, which illuminated the entire room for a millisecond, but it was over too quickly and Mr Bones caught no sight of another person. The scraping knife sound was now dominating the room, the air was boiling hot and humid, Mr Bones barely noticed that his shirt was drenched in sweat.
For as long as the last flash of light had lasted, Mr Bones could see Lucy standing metres away from him, he didn’t even wonder how he could see her in the dense blackness, he was too distracted by her mutated face which was covered in deep, unhealed scratches. A flap of skin dangled oddly from her cheek, revealing a pair of blood covered molars. The sound of scraping knifes reached an ear piercing volume and Mr Bones lost control of his body, he collapsed to the floor and a beam of yellow sparkles sent him off into a dreamless sleep.
Mr Bones poked his head out of the classroom door, and watched Lucy run away until she turned a corner and was gone. It wasn’t until she was completely out of sight that Mr Bones noticed Matthew was glaring at him suspiciously, he gave the untrusting student a polite grin before closing the door and heading back to the classroom desk. A sudden realisation of exhaustion hit Mr Bones and he sank into his chair, took a deep breath and was once again lost in daydreams. He pictured Lucy’s blood loss causing her to pass out on the way to her next lesson, Mrs Proshore distressed that one of her students had been rushed to hospital while under her head supervision and then, most uncontrollably, rows of teachers and students sittings in their black suits and dresses bidding Lucy farewell at her funeral.
Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger (as if this might just eliminate the distressing image from his mind) Mr Bones remembered that there was still a splash of blood near his classroom door, grabbed several tissues from the box on the corner of his desk, and went to wipe up the shining red liquid he could now see in the distance. He bent down by the door and started mopping up the small pool of blood, to his annoyance the tissues couldn’t withstand the thick consistency and blood oozed beyond the disintegrating tissues onto Mr Bones’ fingers.
At this moment the blinds on the opposite side of the classroom slapped shut of their own accord, and the lights flickered drowsily until the room was completely black. Mr Bones felt a gush of wind swoop by his face, and attempted to stand up but was overcome by his own sudden, unexplainable weakness. A flash of what appeared to be a streamer of blue light whizzed by, followed by the quickly building sound of two knifes being scrapped together. Panicking, Mr Bones lifted his arm and felt around for the light switch which he knew too well was on the wall behind him. The weight of a hundred pounds seemed to be pressing on his arm, and he couldn’t continue his hunt for the light switch. A ladies’ scream filled the pitch black room, almost ghostly and other worldly as if it was coming from a radio. There was a spark of electric green, which illuminated the entire room for a millisecond, but it was over too quickly and Mr Bones caught no sight of another person. The scraping knife sound was now dominating the room, the air was boiling hot and humid, Mr Bones barely noticed that his shirt was drenched in sweat.
For as long as the last flash of light had lasted, Mr Bones could see Lucy standing metres away from him, he didn’t even wonder how he could see her in the dense blackness, he was too distracted by her mutated face which was covered in deep, unhealed scratches. A flap of skin dangled oddly from her cheek, revealing a pair of blood covered molars. The sound of scraping knifes reached an ear piercing volume and Mr Bones lost control of his body, he collapsed to the floor and a beam of yellow sparkles sent him off into a dreamless sleep.
***
Before he fathomed the aches in his muscles and his new location, Mr Bones lay on his back building up some energy to open his eyes. The light touch of something wet and cool on his forehead, alerted him enough to flicker his eyes open. At first his vision was far too foggy for anything he could see to be properly processed, he blinked continuously trying to focus on what he figured was a face in front of him.
“Lucy?” he mumbled, his throat far drier and croakier than he had anticipated. He managed to steady his sight enough to make out the blonde wavy hair and delicately pale face of Lucy.
“Shh” she whispered, dabbing a wet cloth on his head “you have to rest.” Her face was perfectly normal, there was no trace of the deep gashes. Mr Bones was far too uncertain of the current situation to obey his pupil’s considerate orders, and heaved himself into a sitting position. They were in a white room just big enough to fit the small bed he was now sitting in, there were no windows and the roof was so low Mr Bones knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up. There was a clinical feel to the room, and a smell which ignited memories of injections.
“Where am I?” he asked, aware of how cliché the question sounded
“Don’t worry about that” Lucy insisted before quickly changing the subject “you really need to rest.” The blood marks on her neck also appeared to have vanished completely, Mr Bones tilted his head to try and find at least a scar. Lucy coughed slightly and Mr Bones apologised.
“I have to get back to the school” he told her “I have a class to teach in period 4”
“It’s well past midnight, Mr Bones” Lucy notified him with concern. He swung his legs out of the bed and pushed passed Lucy, who was kneeling on the floor beside him. He bumped his head trying to stand up, confirming his original judgement of the height of the ceiling. For a moment Mr Bones was greatly disturbed by the fact that there was no door, he began to feel incredibly claustrophobic and found himself sitting back down on the bed.
“How do I get out of here” he demanded, looking Lucy square in the eyes. She directed her gaze to the ceiling and Mr Bones followed her line of vision, there was a trap door on the roof. “Do you want to tell me where we are before I leave” he suggested angrily while trying to pull down the hatch.
“I have to talk to you” Lucy whispered, her bright blue eyes full of worry. Something in her aggrieved tone made Mr Bones stop trying to escape and sit back down.
“I think you have a fair bit of explaining to do” he said with a grin, trying to make light of the situation.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Onegin
I just finished watching a film, it was called ‘Onegin’ which I personally think was a bad decision for the title, Onegin is the protagonists last name which is rarely ever said and has little relevance to anything except, obviously, his identity. The cover of the DVD claims this film to be “a timeless masterpiece of love and obsession.” By ‘timeless’ I can only assume they mean ‘drags-on-for-102 minutes-when-the-same-story-could-be-told-in-5’ and by ‘masterpiece’ they must be referring solely to Liv Tyler’s acting, which was undeniably the best thing about Onegin.
The plot is: a man moves to the country and meets a pretty girl. The girl loves the man but he doesn’t love her back. The man travels the world for six years and then comes back. The man loves the girl but the girl is married. The end.
You may be thinking by my summary that the majority of the film focuses on the man’s six year voyage, this is not the case, his trip lasts literally no time at all and is only known because of a rather blunt comment by one of the characters: “Evgeny went on a six year trip, he’s back now. Isn’t that right mother?” and so that still leaves one hundred and two minutes and fifty nine seconds (note that the time is written in words so that it feels longer) devoted to drawn out shots of the girl walking around her house gloomily. The objective of the film is to make the audience wish for the two characters to end up together, because we sit there for 1 hour and 42 minutes watching two depressed people moping around in full knowledge that the sulkiness would stop if only they loved each other... at the same time.
The film begins in the perspective of Evengy Onegin, a nineteenth century man from the city who goes to visit his sick uncle. Upon arriving at the country Evengy finds his uncle is actually already dead, but skips the grieving phase (as that would add too much drain to the film) and skips straight to celebrating the fact that his uncle’s rather big house, is now his.
As Evengy is working out some important inheritance matters, he notices a girl with long dark brown hair talking to someone outside in the distance. At the moment of seeing the girl, he makes the hasty decision to stay in the country as opposed to returning back to his home in the city. Evengy then goes exploring his new home village, finds a man singing in the woods and shoots him.... oh, sorry.... that’s threatens to shoot him. Naturally, the two become great friends. This friend (whose name I don’t remember, mainly because I don’t care) just so happens to be engaged to the girls older sister, excellent coincidence for Evengy, it’s at this point we thank god he didn’t shoot the friend earlier. Maybe I’ll just run you through the scene were Evengy first meets this man:
Friend (has back to Evengy and is singing in the forest): la la la
Evengy (aims his rifle just above the man’s head and shoots): BANG! (which is a noise made by the gun, not by Evengy himself.)
Friend: are you trying to shoot me?Evengy: you’re poaching! Get off my land!
Friend: I always hunt here..... oh..... you must be the new owner of the land. I always go hunting in this forest. Are you going to shoot me?
Evengy: yes.
Friend: .....
Evengy: do you want to go get some lunch?
Friend: then are you going to shoot me?
Evengy: only if you are dull.
And thus begins a wonderful friendship, based on fear and threats. Anyway, Evengy ends up going back to the friend’s house. He is asked to wait in a room, we watch him fiddle with a piece of silver for about three minutes so we can feel the same drawn out boredom he feels while he waits. Once the three minutes of intense, edge of your seat action is over.... we meet Tatyana for the first time. She slides open a door, stares at Evengy for a good two minutes, Evengy says “how do you do” and then she runs away.
Conversation is thick that night at dinner, opinions are shared and all get to know Evengy. Tatyana remains a voiceless beauty until the end of dinner when she makes a single comment, which is followed by her mother saying “Tatyana! You have the oddest ideas!” which does a good job of shutting her up again.
We then begin to view the film from Tatyana’s point of view. She has a fever and cannot sleep because her grandma predicted her an undesired future “you will marry a soldier.” We watch Tatyana walk around the house all night, it was obvious the film makers wanted us to watch her entire sleepless night in real time but had to cut it down a little to fit into the acceptable length of a feature film. We discover the source of her insomnia is love sickness, as she writes Evengy a wordy page long letter which says ‘I love you.’ We see the whole thing being written, but are kept in high suspense for five minutes as they won’t show us what she’s writing (although they could have made it more interesting by not showing us the words “I love you” and “dear Evengy” at the beginning of this five minute suspense filled scene.)
Evengy receives the letter and immediately throws it in the fire. He then takes the letter out of the fire and puts it on his desk instead.
At a party Tatyana and Evengy discuss the letter:
Evengy: thank you for the letter. I admired it.
He hands her back the letter.
Tatyana: keep it. It is yours.
He begrudgingly puts the letter back into his pocket.
Tatyana: you admired it?
Evengy: yes. I thought you wrote very intelligently and the use of punctuation was to be commended.
Tatyana: but do you return my feelings?
Evengy: what?
Tatyana: do you love me?
Evengy: Oh...actually, I am not capable of love. You’re senses are strong but your perception is nonexistent.
That same night, back at the party, Evengy innocently asks his friend’s fiancé to dance with him. The friend starts to emit smoke from his ears, and cuts in on the dance “oh, please can we keep dancing!” demands the fiancé and so, to the friends annoyance, Evengy and the fiancé finish the dance.
Friend: why did you do that!?Evengy: what?
Friend: WHY DID YOU SEDUCE MY FIANCE!?
Evengy: I didn’t mean to. She is young, foolish and ...... easy.
Naturally, the friend wanted to battle Evengy to the death for ‘dishonouring the women I love.’ And so, now for the best part of the film (no sarcasm): the gun shooting on the peer beside the windmill. Evengy ends up winning this duel and shoots his friend in the head, a rather MA moment for an M film, I must say. Unfortunately this scene went for a very short time compared to the next scene: a very lengthy shot of Tatyana’s face.
We blink and then Evengy has gone on a six year journey around the world and is back again. When he sees Tatyana again he falls in love, so he writes her a letter telling her this. Luckily, after six years, she remembers him.... but none the less, throws his letter in the fire.
Tatyana stands gently stroking her pet monkey, which is dressed in a regal red outfit. Her husband (yes, she married someone else in that six year blink) touches her arm:
Husband: you are cold
Tatyana: yes, I am
Husband: ...... goodnight then.
And he walks away leaving her shivering on the cold stone floor. Evengy comes along:
Evengy: did you get my letter?
Tatyana: why have you come? I wish you to leave.
Evengy: I cannot. I love you.
He then gets on his knees and holds her hands, she cries.
Evengy: do you love me?Tatyana: I did once... a long time ago. You broke my heart.
Evengy: is it still broken!?
He asks hopefully, a wicked Voldemort like tinge in his eye, as she pours out floods of tears.
Evengy: it is isn’t it!? You’re heart is still hurting!?.... tell me you love me. Even if it’s a lie.
Tatyana: I love you.
Evengy: great. Awesome. OK.
As an audience we can never be 100% certain whether she lied or not. She then tells him he’s too late because she doesn’t want to be unfaithful to her husband.
Later, Evengy is sitting outside by himself at a table, his servant comes out and says “may I suggest you come inside, sir? It’s very cold out” and Evengy says “I like the cold” and the end credits role. An ending rich of meaning indeed.
The plot is: a man moves to the country and meets a pretty girl. The girl loves the man but he doesn’t love her back. The man travels the world for six years and then comes back. The man loves the girl but the girl is married. The end.
You may be thinking by my summary that the majority of the film focuses on the man’s six year voyage, this is not the case, his trip lasts literally no time at all and is only known because of a rather blunt comment by one of the characters: “Evgeny went on a six year trip, he’s back now. Isn’t that right mother?” and so that still leaves one hundred and two minutes and fifty nine seconds (note that the time is written in words so that it feels longer) devoted to drawn out shots of the girl walking around her house gloomily. The objective of the film is to make the audience wish for the two characters to end up together, because we sit there for 1 hour and 42 minutes watching two depressed people moping around in full knowledge that the sulkiness would stop if only they loved each other... at the same time.
The film begins in the perspective of Evengy Onegin, a nineteenth century man from the city who goes to visit his sick uncle. Upon arriving at the country Evengy finds his uncle is actually already dead, but skips the grieving phase (as that would add too much drain to the film) and skips straight to celebrating the fact that his uncle’s rather big house, is now his.
As Evengy is working out some important inheritance matters, he notices a girl with long dark brown hair talking to someone outside in the distance. At the moment of seeing the girl, he makes the hasty decision to stay in the country as opposed to returning back to his home in the city. Evengy then goes exploring his new home village, finds a man singing in the woods and shoots him.... oh, sorry.... that’s threatens to shoot him. Naturally, the two become great friends. This friend (whose name I don’t remember, mainly because I don’t care) just so happens to be engaged to the girls older sister, excellent coincidence for Evengy, it’s at this point we thank god he didn’t shoot the friend earlier. Maybe I’ll just run you through the scene were Evengy first meets this man:
Friend (has back to Evengy and is singing in the forest): la la la
Evengy (aims his rifle just above the man’s head and shoots): BANG! (which is a noise made by the gun, not by Evengy himself.)
Friend: are you trying to shoot me?Evengy: you’re poaching! Get off my land!
Friend: I always hunt here..... oh..... you must be the new owner of the land. I always go hunting in this forest. Are you going to shoot me?
Evengy: yes.
Friend: .....
Evengy: do you want to go get some lunch?
Friend: then are you going to shoot me?
Evengy: only if you are dull.
And thus begins a wonderful friendship, based on fear and threats. Anyway, Evengy ends up going back to the friend’s house. He is asked to wait in a room, we watch him fiddle with a piece of silver for about three minutes so we can feel the same drawn out boredom he feels while he waits. Once the three minutes of intense, edge of your seat action is over.... we meet Tatyana for the first time. She slides open a door, stares at Evengy for a good two minutes, Evengy says “how do you do” and then she runs away.
Conversation is thick that night at dinner, opinions are shared and all get to know Evengy. Tatyana remains a voiceless beauty until the end of dinner when she makes a single comment, which is followed by her mother saying “Tatyana! You have the oddest ideas!” which does a good job of shutting her up again.
We then begin to view the film from Tatyana’s point of view. She has a fever and cannot sleep because her grandma predicted her an undesired future “you will marry a soldier.” We watch Tatyana walk around the house all night, it was obvious the film makers wanted us to watch her entire sleepless night in real time but had to cut it down a little to fit into the acceptable length of a feature film. We discover the source of her insomnia is love sickness, as she writes Evengy a wordy page long letter which says ‘I love you.’ We see the whole thing being written, but are kept in high suspense for five minutes as they won’t show us what she’s writing (although they could have made it more interesting by not showing us the words “I love you” and “dear Evengy” at the beginning of this five minute suspense filled scene.)
Evengy receives the letter and immediately throws it in the fire. He then takes the letter out of the fire and puts it on his desk instead.
At a party Tatyana and Evengy discuss the letter:
Evengy: thank you for the letter. I admired it.
He hands her back the letter.
Tatyana: keep it. It is yours.
He begrudgingly puts the letter back into his pocket.
Tatyana: you admired it?
Evengy: yes. I thought you wrote very intelligently and the use of punctuation was to be commended.
Tatyana: but do you return my feelings?
Evengy: what?
Tatyana: do you love me?
Evengy: Oh...actually, I am not capable of love. You’re senses are strong but your perception is nonexistent.
That same night, back at the party, Evengy innocently asks his friend’s fiancé to dance with him. The friend starts to emit smoke from his ears, and cuts in on the dance “oh, please can we keep dancing!” demands the fiancé and so, to the friends annoyance, Evengy and the fiancé finish the dance.
Friend: why did you do that!?Evengy: what?
Friend: WHY DID YOU SEDUCE MY FIANCE!?
Evengy: I didn’t mean to. She is young, foolish and ...... easy.
Naturally, the friend wanted to battle Evengy to the death for ‘dishonouring the women I love.’ And so, now for the best part of the film (no sarcasm): the gun shooting on the peer beside the windmill. Evengy ends up winning this duel and shoots his friend in the head, a rather MA moment for an M film, I must say. Unfortunately this scene went for a very short time compared to the next scene: a very lengthy shot of Tatyana’s face.
We blink and then Evengy has gone on a six year journey around the world and is back again. When he sees Tatyana again he falls in love, so he writes her a letter telling her this. Luckily, after six years, she remembers him.... but none the less, throws his letter in the fire.
Tatyana stands gently stroking her pet monkey, which is dressed in a regal red outfit. Her husband (yes, she married someone else in that six year blink) touches her arm:
Husband: you are cold
Tatyana: yes, I am
Husband: ...... goodnight then.
And he walks away leaving her shivering on the cold stone floor. Evengy comes along:
Evengy: did you get my letter?
Tatyana: why have you come? I wish you to leave.
Evengy: I cannot. I love you.
He then gets on his knees and holds her hands, she cries.
Evengy: do you love me?Tatyana: I did once... a long time ago. You broke my heart.
Evengy: is it still broken!?
He asks hopefully, a wicked Voldemort like tinge in his eye, as she pours out floods of tears.
Evengy: it is isn’t it!? You’re heart is still hurting!?.... tell me you love me. Even if it’s a lie.
Tatyana: I love you.
Evengy: great. Awesome. OK.
As an audience we can never be 100% certain whether she lied or not. She then tells him he’s too late because she doesn’t want to be unfaithful to her husband.
Later, Evengy is sitting outside by himself at a table, his servant comes out and says “may I suggest you come inside, sir? It’s very cold out” and Evengy says “I like the cold” and the end credits role. An ending rich of meaning indeed.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Lonely Heart
The other day I came home by train from my friend’s birthday party. It was later than 6.30pm and I was alone. I would have been fairly scared, if it wasn’t for the novelty that I was reading Harry Potter whilst waiting for a train on a bench in the middle of platforms 9 and 10. Anyway, when I got home there was an unexpected email awaiting me in my junk mail folder. The subject was titled ‘Lonely Heart’:
Privet, my dear friend!
Do you love me because I am beautiful or am I beautiful because I am loved?
I'm an affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman; enjoy cooking, home cosiness, active rest. I have a lot to give to the right man - serious, caring, who needs a good relationship. I am looking for someone easy going with a great sense of humour and ability to laugh at life and love it. I believe in physical attraction and intellectual connection and mutual trust. I am looking for a man who is refined in his manners, intellectual, cultured, ready to please his lady, responsible for his family and generous. I can respect a man only if he follows his words. I am looking for a man who can take care of me and find a good solution in a stressful situation.
Have a good mood
Mari
I suggested to my new friend Mari that she try emailing men instead of 18 year old girls like myself before clicking on the website she had left me: http://love-and-talks.com/sweetkiss/
It says:
Maria K.
Age 28 years
oldAge range of man: 25-50 y.o.
My Languages: Russian, Engish, French
I would like to meet an attractive man, witha good sense of humour. I think that honestyand decency are very important qualities. Iwould like to find an active and optimisticperson, who enjoys his life, who never giveup. A man of my dream is intelligent, nice andfriendly, he behaves like a gentlemen andtreats people with respect. I also think thata man should possess such a quality as loyalty.I would like to meet an understanding person.and of course my ideal man is a reliable one..
I figure ‘Engish’ isn’t her first language, so I won’t make fun of her wishing me to ‘have a good mood.’ What I want to know is why a 28 year old ‘affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman’ who (if you go to her site) is actually very pretty, has come to a point where she has to advertise herself on the internet in order to find the ‘man of [her] dream.’ So then I thought maybe she’s just really pedantic and turns everyone down…. perhaps she is waiting for someone who fills all of the requirements she mentioned. It’s probably just me, but if you’re so desperate to find love that you email complete strangers hoping to get something out of it, then why can’t she go out into the street and strike up a conversation with someone. I think that people who do things like internet speed dating just need to go out into the world and live some more.
Privet, my dear friend!
Do you love me because I am beautiful or am I beautiful because I am loved?
I'm an affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman; enjoy cooking, home cosiness, active rest. I have a lot to give to the right man - serious, caring, who needs a good relationship. I am looking for someone easy going with a great sense of humour and ability to laugh at life and love it. I believe in physical attraction and intellectual connection and mutual trust. I am looking for a man who is refined in his manners, intellectual, cultured, ready to please his lady, responsible for his family and generous. I can respect a man only if he follows his words. I am looking for a man who can take care of me and find a good solution in a stressful situation.
Have a good mood
Mari
I suggested to my new friend Mari that she try emailing men instead of 18 year old girls like myself before clicking on the website she had left me: http://love-and-talks.com/sweetkiss/
It says:
Maria K.
Age 28 years
oldAge range of man: 25-50 y.o.
My Languages: Russian, Engish, French
I would like to meet an attractive man, witha good sense of humour. I think that honestyand decency are very important qualities. Iwould like to find an active and optimisticperson, who enjoys his life, who never giveup. A man of my dream is intelligent, nice andfriendly, he behaves like a gentlemen andtreats people with respect. I also think thata man should possess such a quality as loyalty.I would like to meet an understanding person.and of course my ideal man is a reliable one..
I figure ‘Engish’ isn’t her first language, so I won’t make fun of her wishing me to ‘have a good mood.’ What I want to know is why a 28 year old ‘affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman’ who (if you go to her site) is actually very pretty, has come to a point where she has to advertise herself on the internet in order to find the ‘man of [her] dream.’ So then I thought maybe she’s just really pedantic and turns everyone down…. perhaps she is waiting for someone who fills all of the requirements she mentioned. It’s probably just me, but if you’re so desperate to find love that you email complete strangers hoping to get something out of it, then why can’t she go out into the street and strike up a conversation with someone. I think that people who do things like internet speed dating just need to go out into the world and live some more.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Geni
Recently my pet stick insect passed away. Parthenogenic or Geni for short (named after her method of reproduction: parthenogenesis) was a good friend and helped me get through exams, so I wanted to dedicate this post to the much missed bug. The cause of her death is still less than obvious as she was supplied with adequate amounts of food and water. Some suggest that she died from an overload of love.... I can’t argue against this theory. Maybe she couldn’t cope with our ‘quality time sessions’ and the tours of my bedroom I gave her. Possibly Geni wasn’t prepared to be loved as she was, the countless hours spent hanging out on my hand and on my desk as I studied Biology may have been too much for the delicate twig like animal.
I remember the first time I met Geni, after I mistook her tale for a head we got along smashingly. Ah, that first time I gazed into her branchy eyes.... I knew we would be the best of companions.
You may not be aware, but stick insects have a tendency to spread their moth-like wings and fly up to half a metre away, causing their owners to squeal in surprise. She flew only once in my presence... I think that was the time I was patting her too hard (again, too much love) and there was another time when I took a lunch break from studying and accidently left her unattended and out of her cage. I came back to find her on the wall opposite my desk.
Geni spent her days regulating her temperature whilst pretending to be a stick (a talent I was very proud of.) She loved eating gum leaves and laying eggs. During the time I knew her, Geni laid about 20 eggs, which will all hatch in 18 months and I shall have 20 miniature Geni clones because, as I mentioned earlier, she reproduces by parthenogenesis. Should she have stumbled across a boy stick in her short life, then Geni could have laid non-clone eggs. But she never got the chance to meet a boy stick... she never even got to live the full year of her life span.
I will never forget the way she glanced up at me with her legs waving chaotically in the air, she always knew just how to cheer me up. Her company alone was enough to help me study affectively, of course she didn’t appreciate it when I mistook her for a pencil, but she laughed it off and we got over that small mound in our relationship.
I was determined to look after Geni with lots of care and love because my previous pets (Brie and Feta, who were mice) died from neglect, and I wanted anything but the same fate for Geni. Unfortunately, the complete opposite of neglect also kills pets, especially ones which are more delicate than the twigs in your backyard.
Most people were either scared of Geni or thought she was weird.... or that I was weird for owning her. My cousins, uncle and auntie all jumped across the room in panic when I first introduced them to my new pet. Geni was rather offended, but we had a little chat and eventually she understood the uncontrollable discrimination she would have to face in the human world. Even more insulting to Geni was my grandmas first comment upon meeting her
“It isn’t alive is it?”
“Of course she is. She’s a stick insect”
“Oh! It’s creepy!”
It took me a while to calm Geni down, her dry/soundless/somewhat invisible and nonexistent tears sent shards through my heart, but we got through it together.
There were times when Geni would be unwinding and just taking it easy on my hand, when my imagination would get the better of me and visions of Geni crawling up through my noise and eating my brain would cross my thoughts.... but she taught me that fear is all in the mind and even the weakest of people can overcome their darkest fears just by changing their mind set. She also taught me that persistence and focus are crucial in preparing for exams, it was with her assistance that I managed to get through exam period.
After only three months of life – the final month of which I was honoured enough to have known her- Geni fell ill. I had been on the train reading ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ which I had just borrowed from the school library because I – disappointingly - don’t possess a copy of my own. I was eager to tell Geni all about Lupin and the others, who aren’t as important to name. But she wasn’t acting herself. Usually she perches herself amongst the actual sticks, attempting (almost always successfully) to blend in with her look-alikes, but on this particular day (Friday the 19th) she was at the bottom of her fish tank (which we like to pretend is a proper stick insect cage) and her legs were in awkward positions. She wasn’t even trying to camouflage herself. So I called the doctor and he rushed around with his black bag and stethoscope and fixed Geni up.... oh, wait... I’ve mixed up reality with the story I told myself whilst going through the denial stage after Geni’s death.
In a tangle of her own limbs, Geni struggled through her final hours. I did all I could: provided her with more water, placed her under a warm lamp, whispered comforting condolences in her ear etc. But her health continued to deteriorate and a positive outcome began to look unlikely. As she lay on her death bed, I held her little hand and played the song ‘Second Chance’ by the band Shinedown, because even though I don’t own the song and had to play it off Youtube, I knew it would help her. Because of her love for being as still as physically possible, it’s hard to tell the exact minute she died. But I can safely assume that when her head was no longer supported by her front legs, and she no longer responded to my loving touches, was when she bid the world a last farewell. Of all the ways to die, I think an abundance of love is a pretty nice way to go.
Goodbye Geni, you were more than a pet, you were a friend.
I remember the first time I met Geni, after I mistook her tale for a head we got along smashingly. Ah, that first time I gazed into her branchy eyes.... I knew we would be the best of companions.
You may not be aware, but stick insects have a tendency to spread their moth-like wings and fly up to half a metre away, causing their owners to squeal in surprise. She flew only once in my presence... I think that was the time I was patting her too hard (again, too much love) and there was another time when I took a lunch break from studying and accidently left her unattended and out of her cage. I came back to find her on the wall opposite my desk.
Geni spent her days regulating her temperature whilst pretending to be a stick (a talent I was very proud of.) She loved eating gum leaves and laying eggs. During the time I knew her, Geni laid about 20 eggs, which will all hatch in 18 months and I shall have 20 miniature Geni clones because, as I mentioned earlier, she reproduces by parthenogenesis. Should she have stumbled across a boy stick in her short life, then Geni could have laid non-clone eggs. But she never got the chance to meet a boy stick... she never even got to live the full year of her life span.
I will never forget the way she glanced up at me with her legs waving chaotically in the air, she always knew just how to cheer me up. Her company alone was enough to help me study affectively, of course she didn’t appreciate it when I mistook her for a pencil, but she laughed it off and we got over that small mound in our relationship.
I was determined to look after Geni with lots of care and love because my previous pets (Brie and Feta, who were mice) died from neglect, and I wanted anything but the same fate for Geni. Unfortunately, the complete opposite of neglect also kills pets, especially ones which are more delicate than the twigs in your backyard.
Most people were either scared of Geni or thought she was weird.... or that I was weird for owning her. My cousins, uncle and auntie all jumped across the room in panic when I first introduced them to my new pet. Geni was rather offended, but we had a little chat and eventually she understood the uncontrollable discrimination she would have to face in the human world. Even more insulting to Geni was my grandmas first comment upon meeting her
“It isn’t alive is it?”
“Of course she is. She’s a stick insect”
“Oh! It’s creepy!”
It took me a while to calm Geni down, her dry/soundless/somewhat invisible and nonexistent tears sent shards through my heart, but we got through it together.
There were times when Geni would be unwinding and just taking it easy on my hand, when my imagination would get the better of me and visions of Geni crawling up through my noise and eating my brain would cross my thoughts.... but she taught me that fear is all in the mind and even the weakest of people can overcome their darkest fears just by changing their mind set. She also taught me that persistence and focus are crucial in preparing for exams, it was with her assistance that I managed to get through exam period.
After only three months of life – the final month of which I was honoured enough to have known her- Geni fell ill. I had been on the train reading ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ which I had just borrowed from the school library because I – disappointingly - don’t possess a copy of my own. I was eager to tell Geni all about Lupin and the others, who aren’t as important to name. But she wasn’t acting herself. Usually she perches herself amongst the actual sticks, attempting (almost always successfully) to blend in with her look-alikes, but on this particular day (Friday the 19th) she was at the bottom of her fish tank (which we like to pretend is a proper stick insect cage) and her legs were in awkward positions. She wasn’t even trying to camouflage herself. So I called the doctor and he rushed around with his black bag and stethoscope and fixed Geni up.... oh, wait... I’ve mixed up reality with the story I told myself whilst going through the denial stage after Geni’s death.
In a tangle of her own limbs, Geni struggled through her final hours. I did all I could: provided her with more water, placed her under a warm lamp, whispered comforting condolences in her ear etc. But her health continued to deteriorate and a positive outcome began to look unlikely. As she lay on her death bed, I held her little hand and played the song ‘Second Chance’ by the band Shinedown, because even though I don’t own the song and had to play it off Youtube, I knew it would help her. Because of her love for being as still as physically possible, it’s hard to tell the exact minute she died. But I can safely assume that when her head was no longer supported by her front legs, and she no longer responded to my loving touches, was when she bid the world a last farewell. Of all the ways to die, I think an abundance of love is a pretty nice way to go.
Goodbye Geni, you were more than a pet, you were a friend.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Mr Bones... Returns
Here’s another part of that story about Mr Bones, his missing belongings and the tearful Lucy. There are two other segments to the story (which I posted earlier.) I haven’t written anything in a while because I’ve had exams, I would have posted something yesterday... but I decided to watch Harry Potter instead. I have plenty of spare time now, so I shall aim to write more for the overwhelmingly huge number of people who read this blog.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Mr Bones puzzled over the blood marks on Lucy’s neck with such deep thought, that it wasn’t until his entire class had filed into the room, and someone gave a suggestive cough, that he leapt back from Lucy’s grasp. He realised instantly that the embrace would have been less conspicuous, should he have decided to continue hugging Lucy, making it clear to everyone right then and there that he had nothing to hide. But as reflexes would have it, Mr Bones was now standing with his hands in the air as if someone had walked in with a gun. Lucy looked at him questioningly and a student theatrically commented “Mr Bones is having an affair with Lucy!” It was at this point that Mr Bones lowered his hands, massaged his eyebrows and then looked to address the class as a whole
“Listen-” he began.
“Lucy’s crying!” someone shouted, which ignited overlapping exclamations from various class members
“He made her cry!”
“Mr Bones is a sicko!”
“I trusted him!”
Before long the class was hysterical and no one appeared to be opting for Mr Bones.
“Quiet!” he ordered his class, noting that this was the first time he had ever raised his voice during a lesson. “If you let me explain-” but he was cut off by Matthew Parkins, one of Mr Bones A grade students
“We want to hear Lucy’s explanation!” Matthew demanded, and the class supported this statement with an infuriated roar of cheers. The room went silent. Mr Bones followed everyone’s eyes to Lucy, unsure if he too should be looking at her. Scared as she seemed, Lucy took a slight step forward and tried to explain the situation
“Mr Bones did nothing wrong. It was me. I was crying and he was just trying to help.” Her sentences were far clearer than Mr Bones anticipated after her crying episode seconds ago. The class remained silent. Some looked apologetically at Mr Bones, others were unconvinced. But they all stayed quiet.
“Take your seats, and we’ll begin” Mr Bones instructed, trying to maintain the rage which accompanied the reality that his respect and trust in the class could be so easily broken. They shuffled around the rows of desks and took their usual places. Occasional whispers amongst friends and sceptical glares, delayed Mr Bones from beginning. It was more than evident that over half the class still hadn’t been fully clarified. No one communicated with Lucy, she looked excluded and alone.
“Do we need to discuss this further? Or can I start?” he asked rhetorically to try and silence them. Becky raised her hand, bringing everyone’s focus to the back of the class where she sat. Mr Bones looked at her, terrified of what she was about to say but acknowledging that it needed to be said
“Do we get our SACs back today?” Becky asked chirpily, helping Mr Bones out by changing the focus of conversation
“Of course!” he gratefully replied, before remembering that it isn’t possible to hand back tests which are missing
“What was the class average?” Matthew demanded, apparently still on edge
“It’s just come back to me that I don’t actually have your papers here-” Mr Bones began to apologise
“But you said-” interjected the usually reclusive Alice
“Yes, I know what I said. Look, I really am very sorry about your SACs. They went missing this morning, I think someone has stolen them” he reported. Mr Bones glanced down to Lucy, who had since stopped crying but was now three shades more pale than before. She looked up at Mr Bones with an expression of utter shock, surely she couldn’t be so distressed over not getting her work back? Mr Bones was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to continue looking at Lucy’s alarmed face any longer, without another outburst of accusations.
“Unless there are any questions” Mr Bones continued, trying to get the lesson underway “or problems” he directing his gaze to Lucy as subtly as he could, leaving a slight pause for her to speak up “.... then we’ll get started on the new chapter. If you could all please turn to page 69, “DNA, proteins and proteomes.”
Without further questioning of Mr Bones authority, the students did as they were told and listened with their usual level of focus for the rest of the lesson.
Eventually the bell sounded and he dismissed the class, before rubbing the black board clear with one of the tissues from the box he had earlier offered to Lucy. Before long everyone had shuffled their way out, except for Lucy, who hesitated to collect her books. She looked up with a similarly worried expression as before, went to say something, but decided to quickly rush for the door instead. Mr Bones was somewhat worried that she hadn’t regained any colour in her face
“Lucy” he called, and she stopped unwillingly, her hand poised on the door handle “if you wanted to go to sick bay, I can write a note for your next class’ teacher?” for a second he thought she was going to ignore him and open the door, but she took her hand off the handle and smiled
“No thanks. I’ll be fine” she tried to reassure him “and thanks for helping me before” she added, as if everything was perfectly alright now.
“Lucy! What’s that on your dress!?” Mr Bones exclaimed, noticing the left side of her collar was now soaked in blood, he swept over to her remembering the two blood marks on her neck.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing” she splattered. A drop of blood fell to the floor near Mr Bones’ shoe as she dashed out the door.
Without further questioning of Mr Bones authority, the students did as they were told and listened with their usual level of focus for the rest of the lesson.
Eventually the bell sounded and he dismissed the class, before rubbing the black board clear with one of the tissues from the box he had earlier offered to Lucy. Before long everyone had shuffled their way out, except for Lucy, who hesitated to collect her books. She looked up with a similarly worried expression as before, went to say something, but decided to quickly rush for the door instead. Mr Bones was somewhat worried that she hadn’t regained any colour in her face
“Lucy” he called, and she stopped unwillingly, her hand poised on the door handle “if you wanted to go to sick bay, I can write a note for your next class’ teacher?” for a second he thought she was going to ignore him and open the door, but she took her hand off the handle and smiled
“No thanks. I’ll be fine” she tried to reassure him “and thanks for helping me before” she added, as if everything was perfectly alright now.
“Lucy! What’s that on your dress!?” Mr Bones exclaimed, noticing the left side of her collar was now soaked in blood, he swept over to her remembering the two blood marks on her neck.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing” she splattered. A drop of blood fell to the floor near Mr Bones’ shoe as she dashed out the door.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
First Post as an Adult
I thought it would be mildy quirky to post my 27th blog of the year, on the 27th. I've been planning this for about a week. There really isn't much point to this post... I went to the video store this afternoon to rent and R18+ film (because I can) but dissapointingly enough, they didn't even ask how old I was.
It seemed like a good idea six days ago, now it just seems like a waste of cyberspace. Oh well.
It seemed like a good idea six days ago, now it just seems like a waste of cyberspace. Oh well.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Girlfriend
So, I was reading a magazine the other day (I won't mention the name of the magazine, so that I don't directly upset anyone. But I'm hoping you will be clever enough to figure it out.... cough... the title.... cough....)
I must begin my saying that I wouldn't normally, voluntarily, read the aforementioned magazine. It was thrust upon me, as I was strolling down the street to the train station, and so it felt a waste to let this $5.70 worth of literary material go unread. Even when I was in my early years of teenager-hood I never read this particular magazine.... or really any magazine for that matter (I did, however, read the Disney magazine from time to time.) At first I was suspicious and searched the magazine for any hidden drugs or cameras, but I soon discovered that (on page 29) that there is an advertisement featuring a girl who goes to my school. She must have asked a friend of hers to give away these magazine, so that her new life as a model could be promoted and discussed around the school.
I read the entire thing on the train ride home. Of course, I skipped over the boring parts.... so, maybe it would be more accurate to say: I read a couple of pages of the entire thing. One page I did glance over was about my favourite actress, Isabel Lucas, who recently went to Japan and tried to intercept a Japanese whaling ship. One of the sentences in this article went as follows:
I wasn't aware that the world had resorted to using "kinda" and "fave" in proper magazine articles. I suppose that's just me, you're probably all wondering what the big deal is. The big deal is this (page 45):
Lesson 4: perfecting the art of teen speak
This is pretty much saying that the correct way to speak should be mirroring that of TV shows like Gossip Girl (which I have never seen) or speaking completely in acronyms. "Teen speak?" sounds a bit too much like 1984's New-Speak.
I must begin my saying that I wouldn't normally, voluntarily, read the aforementioned magazine. It was thrust upon me, as I was strolling down the street to the train station, and so it felt a waste to let this $5.70 worth of literary material go unread. Even when I was in my early years of teenager-hood I never read this particular magazine.... or really any magazine for that matter (I did, however, read the Disney magazine from time to time.) At first I was suspicious and searched the magazine for any hidden drugs or cameras, but I soon discovered that (on page 29) that there is an advertisement featuring a girl who goes to my school. She must have asked a friend of hers to give away these magazine, so that her new life as a model could be promoted and discussed around the school.
I read the entire thing on the train ride home. Of course, I skipped over the boring parts.... so, maybe it would be more accurate to say: I read a couple of pages of the entire thing. One page I did glance over was about my favourite actress, Isabel Lucas, who recently went to Japan and tried to intercept a Japanese whaling ship. One of the sentences in this article went as follows:
"It's that kinda determination and desire to fight for what she believes in that makes Isabel one of our fave it-girls"
I wasn't aware that the world had resorted to using "kinda" and "fave" in proper magazine articles. I suppose that's just me, you're probably all wondering what the big deal is. The big deal is this (page 45):
Lesson 4: perfecting the art of teen speak
plenty of shows demonstrate how to speak, therefore you can improve your English skills just by watching. Gossip Girl is the best show to learn the latest, coolest and all important acronyms that you can use in real life (except at school, coz teachers will think you're nuts.) A+ goes to those who can spend and entire day speaking in acronyms, it's an awesome skill to have, but can be slightly OTT.
This is pretty much saying that the correct way to speak should be mirroring that of TV shows like Gossip Girl (which I have never seen) or speaking completely in acronyms. "Teen speak?" sounds a bit too much like 1984's New-Speak.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Post #54
I was just on some pet website, because I want a pet of some kind for my 18th birthday (which, in case you wanted to know, is on the 27th of May) and I was scrolling through a list of animals which they recommend and presumably sell. The list went like this:
Cats
Dogs
Fish
Reptiles
Beef
Hamsters
Birds
So I think for my birthday, I'll head down to their store and get myself a companionable piece of pet beef.
Cats
Dogs
Fish
Reptiles
Beef
Hamsters
Birds
So I think for my birthday, I'll head down to their store and get myself a companionable piece of pet beef.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Bacteriophage
For Biology homework this weekend I had to find a diagram of a bacteriophage (a virus that infects bacteria.) And I came across this photo of a "bacteriophage plush toy":
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Mr Bones: Part 2
A while ago I wrote the beginning of a short story, the post was called “Mr Bones.” I recommend reading it if you intend to read its continuation below.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Once he had frantically searched around the garden, Mr Bones stoped and stood exactly where his brief case and coat had been. For several minutes he stood completely still and silent, his eyes filled with anger and confusion as he thought solely of his missing possessions. Mr Bones was frozen for so long that his mind began to drift off, he managed to snap out of his uncalled for visions of lying on a beach, and bring himself back to the present dilemma. The awakening to reality prompted him to take action, he turned to search around the far side of the fountain again but decided instead to go back up to the school. Walking briskly to the principles’ office, Mr Bones felt like a schoolboy, he imagined himself making feeble attempts at covering up his careless action of leaving all the SACs unattended. ‘I turned around for a second, and when I looked back they were gone!’ but Mr Bones knew that he would end up telling the truth.
Metres away from Mrs Proshore’s office, Mr Bones inhaled deeply and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. After knocking three soft times, he heard the principle’s bitter chirp call him in.
“What can I do for you, Paul?” Mrs Proshore asked once he’d let himself into her office, suggesting she had little time to spare or that there were many other things she would rather be doing. He felt intimidated by her sharp features, her slick black hair was tied into a tight neat bun, not a single strand fell out of place.
“Well” he began “I believe a theft has occurred” he was instantly upset with his choice of words, but tried to maintain confidence in himself.
“I see” Mrs Proshore commented wearily, perhaps several other thefts had been reported that same morning. She rummaged through some papers, Mr Bones was almost certain they had nothing to do with him or thefts of any kind. Her silence lasted for longer than he could deal with.
“What should I do?” he prompted, keen to get some kind of response from her. She looked up as if she’d almost forgotten he was there and sighed.
“Well. That depends on what was stolen” whether or not Mr Bones answered seemed last on Mrs Proshore’s things-I-care-about list.
“My year 12 Biology SAC reports” he confessed in a breath.
“Right. Well then, that’s your problem. There’s obviously nothing I can do to help. I don’t support stealing but I don’t have the means to reverse it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to.... this” she continued with her apparently busy day, as if he had already left. Without saying a word, Mr Bones smiled in failure and walked away.
Never before had he been so uncertain of what to do. He didn’t know where to go or if (and therefore who) he should report his problem. Feeling somewhat awkward standing aimlessly outside the principles’ office, Mr Bones thoughtlessly decided to wait in his period 4 Biology classroom for the twenty minutes remaining of lunch. Slipping his hands into the pockets on the sides of his pants, he headed leisurely to level three. A sense of being followed radiated through Mr Bones, the eerily empty corridors began to send shivers up his arms, and a sudden impulsive drive forced Mr Bones into a jog. He was relieved to push open the class room door, and stood panting for several seconds, before he noticed another sound in the classroom he presumed would be empty.
Having completely forgot about Lucy and her tearful run by earlier, Mr Bones was surprised to see her sitting in her usual seat at the front of his class. He noticed she was sobbing quietly to herself. “Lucy?” he asked, the back of her natural blonde wavy hair was all he could see. She automatically stopped sniffling, whipped her eyes with the back of her hand and turned to face Mr Bones. She managed to contain her tears for less than a few seconds, before bursting into another round of weeping. Her face was sickly white, making her normal red lips even redder and her eyes were puffy pink from crying.
Being a considerate man who treated the welfare of his students with high regards, Mr Bones walked down the lab and sat next to Lucy, who had taken to putting her face in her hands. Without thinking he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, causing her to retract in a single bound, before Mr Bones knew it she was on the other side of the lab between the Bunsen burners of two working benches. “I didn’t mean to-” he began, but could find no words to explain himself. Evidently Lucy took this as a release of a threat because she let her stiff posture drop.
“Sorry” she apologised, and sat down on the floor between the lab benches. Mr Bones was now reluctant to try approaching her, so he stayed where he was and hoped that words could make her feel better.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, partly hoping that she would so that he could help. Lucy went to speak, but changed her mind and took a shaky, uneven breath in. “Maybe I could help?” he suggested. She looked up in what seemed like appreciation but shock her head sorrowfully. Mr Bones let her grieve in peace for a while, now there was nothing he could do but sit in the front row, observing his classroom from the reverse angle of what he was used to. Without forgetting about Lucy for even a millisecond, he fiddled with the end of his navy blue tie. Lucy’s loud breaths and soft sniffles echoed through the room.
“Do you-” began Lucy before an uncontrollable inhale of air overcame her “-have a tissue?” she asked like it would mean the world to her if he did. Mr Bones made the action of sliding his hand into his coat pocket to retrieve his packet of Kleenex Aloe Vera tissues but, offcourse, his coat was elsewhere. Feeling foolish for thinking he was wearing a jacket, Mr Bones cleared his throat and walked over to his desk, which faced the class. Knowing very well his own classroom, he opened up the third drawer from the bottom and took out a box of brand-less tissues. He felt as if he was ripping Lucy off, for he knew these tissues to be scratchy and far less ‘enjoyable’ to use than his missing Kleenex ones.
“Here” he said with a smile, and placed them on the corner of his desk closest to Lucy. He didn’t want to scare her again, so he walked away from his desk to give her enough personal space to take the tissues. She stumbled to get up, but eventually made it to the tissues and blew her noise dramatically loud.
“Thank you” she said sincerely, once she was done. Taking another tissue to wipe her eyes.
“Is there anything at all I can do to help?” Mr Bones offered, now a few paces away from the desk. Rather unexpectedly, Lucy dashed over to Mr Bones and wrapped her arms around him. Soaking his shirt with tears, she stood shaking. Mr Bones first thought was to push her away, but this was a special circumstance, and he felt somewhat fatherly as he placed his hands on her back and spoke quiet phrases such as “It’s OK” and “let it all out.” They stood like this for more than a minute.
Noticing Lucy’s hair was falling into her mouth, he caringly pushed it aside for her. Revealing two small, red circles of blood, one above the other like a snake bite, on her neck.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Once he had frantically searched around the garden, Mr Bones stoped and stood exactly where his brief case and coat had been. For several minutes he stood completely still and silent, his eyes filled with anger and confusion as he thought solely of his missing possessions. Mr Bones was frozen for so long that his mind began to drift off, he managed to snap out of his uncalled for visions of lying on a beach, and bring himself back to the present dilemma. The awakening to reality prompted him to take action, he turned to search around the far side of the fountain again but decided instead to go back up to the school. Walking briskly to the principles’ office, Mr Bones felt like a schoolboy, he imagined himself making feeble attempts at covering up his careless action of leaving all the SACs unattended. ‘I turned around for a second, and when I looked back they were gone!’ but Mr Bones knew that he would end up telling the truth.
Metres away from Mrs Proshore’s office, Mr Bones inhaled deeply and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. After knocking three soft times, he heard the principle’s bitter chirp call him in.
“What can I do for you, Paul?” Mrs Proshore asked once he’d let himself into her office, suggesting she had little time to spare or that there were many other things she would rather be doing. He felt intimidated by her sharp features, her slick black hair was tied into a tight neat bun, not a single strand fell out of place.
“Well” he began “I believe a theft has occurred” he was instantly upset with his choice of words, but tried to maintain confidence in himself.
“I see” Mrs Proshore commented wearily, perhaps several other thefts had been reported that same morning. She rummaged through some papers, Mr Bones was almost certain they had nothing to do with him or thefts of any kind. Her silence lasted for longer than he could deal with.
“What should I do?” he prompted, keen to get some kind of response from her. She looked up as if she’d almost forgotten he was there and sighed.
“Well. That depends on what was stolen” whether or not Mr Bones answered seemed last on Mrs Proshore’s things-I-care-about list.
“My year 12 Biology SAC reports” he confessed in a breath.
“Right. Well then, that’s your problem. There’s obviously nothing I can do to help. I don’t support stealing but I don’t have the means to reverse it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to.... this” she continued with her apparently busy day, as if he had already left. Without saying a word, Mr Bones smiled in failure and walked away.
Never before had he been so uncertain of what to do. He didn’t know where to go or if (and therefore who) he should report his problem. Feeling somewhat awkward standing aimlessly outside the principles’ office, Mr Bones thoughtlessly decided to wait in his period 4 Biology classroom for the twenty minutes remaining of lunch. Slipping his hands into the pockets on the sides of his pants, he headed leisurely to level three. A sense of being followed radiated through Mr Bones, the eerily empty corridors began to send shivers up his arms, and a sudden impulsive drive forced Mr Bones into a jog. He was relieved to push open the class room door, and stood panting for several seconds, before he noticed another sound in the classroom he presumed would be empty.
Having completely forgot about Lucy and her tearful run by earlier, Mr Bones was surprised to see her sitting in her usual seat at the front of his class. He noticed she was sobbing quietly to herself. “Lucy?” he asked, the back of her natural blonde wavy hair was all he could see. She automatically stopped sniffling, whipped her eyes with the back of her hand and turned to face Mr Bones. She managed to contain her tears for less than a few seconds, before bursting into another round of weeping. Her face was sickly white, making her normal red lips even redder and her eyes were puffy pink from crying.
Being a considerate man who treated the welfare of his students with high regards, Mr Bones walked down the lab and sat next to Lucy, who had taken to putting her face in her hands. Without thinking he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, causing her to retract in a single bound, before Mr Bones knew it she was on the other side of the lab between the Bunsen burners of two working benches. “I didn’t mean to-” he began, but could find no words to explain himself. Evidently Lucy took this as a release of a threat because she let her stiff posture drop.
“Sorry” she apologised, and sat down on the floor between the lab benches. Mr Bones was now reluctant to try approaching her, so he stayed where he was and hoped that words could make her feel better.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, partly hoping that she would so that he could help. Lucy went to speak, but changed her mind and took a shaky, uneven breath in. “Maybe I could help?” he suggested. She looked up in what seemed like appreciation but shock her head sorrowfully. Mr Bones let her grieve in peace for a while, now there was nothing he could do but sit in the front row, observing his classroom from the reverse angle of what he was used to. Without forgetting about Lucy for even a millisecond, he fiddled with the end of his navy blue tie. Lucy’s loud breaths and soft sniffles echoed through the room.
“Do you-” began Lucy before an uncontrollable inhale of air overcame her “-have a tissue?” she asked like it would mean the world to her if he did. Mr Bones made the action of sliding his hand into his coat pocket to retrieve his packet of Kleenex Aloe Vera tissues but, offcourse, his coat was elsewhere. Feeling foolish for thinking he was wearing a jacket, Mr Bones cleared his throat and walked over to his desk, which faced the class. Knowing very well his own classroom, he opened up the third drawer from the bottom and took out a box of brand-less tissues. He felt as if he was ripping Lucy off, for he knew these tissues to be scratchy and far less ‘enjoyable’ to use than his missing Kleenex ones.
“Here” he said with a smile, and placed them on the corner of his desk closest to Lucy. He didn’t want to scare her again, so he walked away from his desk to give her enough personal space to take the tissues. She stumbled to get up, but eventually made it to the tissues and blew her noise dramatically loud.
“Thank you” she said sincerely, once she was done. Taking another tissue to wipe her eyes.
“Is there anything at all I can do to help?” Mr Bones offered, now a few paces away from the desk. Rather unexpectedly, Lucy dashed over to Mr Bones and wrapped her arms around him. Soaking his shirt with tears, she stood shaking. Mr Bones first thought was to push her away, but this was a special circumstance, and he felt somewhat fatherly as he placed his hands on her back and spoke quiet phrases such as “It’s OK” and “let it all out.” They stood like this for more than a minute.
Noticing Lucy’s hair was falling into her mouth, he caringly pushed it aside for her. Revealing two small, red circles of blood, one above the other like a snake bite, on her neck.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Happyville
Here's a dream I had a couple of years ago. It's long and poorly written, but don't let that put you off reading it....
It was a lovely summer’s day in Happyville. The grass was healthy and green, the flowers were in full bloom. The houses were arranged perfectly along the street, the picket fences out the front were as white as snow. Children played merrily up and down the honey scented road, chasing the ice-cream van when it came around. No one was mowing their lawns today, it was Sunday, rest day. You could hear the bees buzzing and the birds singing their soothing song for the world to hear. The sound of laughter was about, but you could still sleep soundly if you wished. The flowers smelt sweater than any other flower I’d ever smelt, in fact I think this was the first place I had actually picked up a flowers and held it up to my nose. The feeling was pure and delicate.
I had been there before, but this time (like every other time I had came) it felt like a place that may not be the same next time you visit, so while I was in this place I cherished every little second. I had just come from an incredibly cold place so the heat there was almost unbearable, I wanted to go inside one of the houses to cool down but I knew that once I did this perfect street may not be the same when I got back.
My Auntie and my cousin live on that street. They’re very happy there. I couldn’t stay forever, the heat always becomes too much and I have to leave. Or maybe the happiness and the peace is too beautiful and I feel I don’t deserve it. Either way, I get to a stage of my visits at Happyville and I know I really must go. They all tell me to stay, but that just makes me realise how much I really ought to get going. “What if you never return?” my Aunties always asks as I go to leave “I always return” I reply each time as if it’s written somewhere I should say it, and she answers after a pause “what if it’s different when you return?” and then as if I was hit in the head with a stone I usually burst into tears. I know she’s right, and it’s my biggest fear. What if my favourite place in the world is different when I go back? But still, I leave.
On this particular day the heat hadn’t got to me just yet and I was enjoying my time as much as possible. It didn’t even pass my mind that I would be leaving this place, not that it passed my mind that I would stay forever. It just was, and there was no time involved. What time was it? What day was it? What year was it? I didn’t care less, I didn’t even think of it. If I knew I only had hours left in this place, maybe I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much. Or maybe I would have enjoyed it even more, who knows.
Because my auntie and cousin live in Happyville they get free access to the local pool. The heat sometimes gets a little much for them too, but lucky they can just go to the cool pool around the corner and heal themselves. On this visit to Happyville I was heading to their house for a visit. But as it so happened they were out for a bit, having a swim.
I opened the picket fence and walked up the cobblestone footpath positioned in the exact centre of their front lawn, to the front door. I knocked three times and waited for an answer. My auntie’s partner opened the door, we greeted each other. And then before I asked he told me that my cousin and auntie were out. I didn’t ask how long they’d be and he didn’t tell me, time doesn’t exist in Happyville.
I went inside the house I thought I was very familiar with, but it seemed different on this day for some reason, I couldn’t pin point the difference for as soon as I walked into this new looking house I completely forgot what I had known it to be. It was a lot darker than outside, the curtains were shut to keep the cool in. There was no way of seeing the beautiful street outside unless you went back outside, there was also no way of knowing if it had become night time yet.
He gestured to a room at the end of an unfamiliar corridor and so I headed down, slightly scared, to the door only meters away. As I think back to this day I realise that I shouldn’t have gone into the room at the end of the corridor, in fact I shouldn’t have even knocked on the front door. I should have stayed out on the front lawn and enjoyed the sun until my auntie and cousin came home. But I had no way of knowing they weren’t in, and so I knocked, and I went into the room at the end of the corridor.
The room was large but there wasn’t much space. There were heaps of people, apparently waiting, in the room. Some were sitting, they had made themselves comfortable as someone would after waiting in the same place for a long time. Some were pacing around like they just couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t noisy but the people were all talking dully amongst themselves. As I entered the room not a single head looked up at me, I felt very alone. It seemed as though everyone in the room had at least one other person who they knew, who they could talk with and wait with. But I had no one, I had come alone.
It could have been hours later, or it could have been only minutes. When a man, whose face I can’t recall, came out from a door at the back of the room. It was exactly opposite the door I had entered the room through. He addressed the entire room, as he spoke everyone looked around “It’s time to get your injections now” he announced and at the time I wasn’t sure if he meant me as well. Everyone seemed to know that this was coming, perhaps this was what they were all waiting for. At this moment I completely forgot why I was in the room, I forgot that I was waiting for my auntie and cousin to come home, I forgot my aunties partner was just out the front. And so at this forgetful moment I believed that the injections were what I had been waiting for as well. Amongst the crowd I went through the door the man had come through.
It was a doctors. Beyond the door was a doctors. It wasn’t a hospital with long white corridors and the smell of curing drugs. It was a grey carpeted, fully operating doctors place. As we walked through the door it was like we were in a whole new building. Everyone cued up in a single filed line that lead into a mysterious room which everyone looked fairly familiar with. So I went to the back of the line, maybe there I could avoid getting an injection, but it just made the wait longer and the nerves worse. As the line got shorter my heart beat faster, my hands sweat and my mouth went dry. I seemed in much more of a mess than all the other people.
Why was there a doctors at the back of my aunties house any way? I couldn’t help wondering why a bunch of randoms were lined up to have injections at the back of my auntie’s house. It didn’t make much sense, and I hated not knowing. It scared me. I felt as though the reason was really obvious to everyone else there and if I asked them where they were from they would just laugh at me, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself let alone embarrass myself. So I went with the flow.
This place seemed as though at times it got really busy. There were a few more rooms than the one we were cued up to go into. There was a reception desk but there was no one behind it and it was all closed up. As the cue got shorter and shorter it seemed to get later and later, it wasn’t like me to be wondering what time it was in Happyville. Then I felt sick, sick by the thought that time didn’t matter here, because to me, all of a sudden, it really really did.
I was also incredibly worried by the fact that I hadn’t a clue what the injections were for, would it kill me? That was a bit full on, so I pushed that idea away. But I was still very scared. I began to find Happyville creepy, not just the doctors we were in now, but the outside too. I started to feel a slight eeriness about the perfectness of the place. The most perfect place on earth now scared me because it was too perfect. I had no desire to go back outside any more. The doctors had ruined Happyville, it would never be the same again.
But then, just when I was starting to get depressed and the most perfect place was no longer perfect. Someone realised how scared I looked, finally, someone noticed that I existed! I wasn’t invisible anymore! And it felt good. I was reading a poster blue tacked to the reception desk, trying to get some information about the injection I was going to get. It was useless. The boy in front of me could tell that I was worried and confused. “Don’t worry” he said, I was shocked that he was talking to me and jumped a little. It was embarrassing but he giggled it away lightly. “Me and my sister will go in before you” he said and then I noticed he was with a girl around his age, she had blonde hair and blue eyes just like him. I presumed they where twins, but I never asked. She was dressed very well and was stylish, she had white tips on her nails and her hair was obviously straightened recently. She wore silver high heals which made her the same height as her brother. Unlike her brother she seemed very edgy and anxious to go in, this was comforting, to know that me and at least one other where in the same boat. “She needs me in with her, if I didn’t go she’d be too scared” he told me, I wasn’t sure if he too was getting an injection or if he was only there to comfort her. I didn’t ask because I was still getting over the shock that someone in this place was not only talking to me, but being nice as well.
His sister was trying to get a word with him but he pushed her away because he was talking to me. “I’m Lucas” he said and held out his hand “Luna” I said and we shook. “If you like I can go in with you too, if that would make it easier” he wasn’t sure if I’d except his over, but I was all for it “that would be really nice” I said, and so it was settled. Him and his sister went into the room. I stood and waited in the foyer. Who knows how long I waited. Who cares, I wasn’t as scared any more. I was anxious to see how Lucas’ sister would come out. Dead. Happy. Bleeding. The suspense was killing me.
There wasn’t a single person in the doctors place any more. I was waiting all by myself. It was frightening. So I thought of Lucas and how he was only a door away. I longed for him to come back, so I could ask him what on earth was going on, so he could help me through this dark time. There was a silence in the foyer. I couldn’t hear a thing. So I strained my ears for just one little sound. A scream from the room Lucas and his sister were in, or voices through the door everyone had exited by. I strained my ears until I heard the ticking of a clock. It was coming from one of the rooms.
I headed slowly to the room, turned the knob and stepped in. I wanted to go back and make sure Lucas hadn’t come out but I was dying to know the time. I looked around the room. It was a high school classroom. Completely empty. The shutters were shut and a pink light was coming through them as if it were sunrise or sunset outside. I now had a very strong desire to get back to reality, to find the time. I looked passed the lined up rows of desks and chairs and above the clear white board. There was a clock. It was ticking loudly now. Louder than before. I started at it for ages, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t read it. I had lost the ability to read time. I ran out of the room and back to the foyer. I was scared.
I stood and waited for Lucas. I thought of how kind he had been. He was the only one who could tell that I was lost and unsure. She had tears in her eyes and her makeup was smudged as she came out, her brother close behind trying to make her feel better. She pushed him away, put her hand to her mouth and ran (as fast as possible in high heals) out of the foyer, and out of our sight.
“Everything will be alright” Lucas said to me, I was staring at the door his sister had left and I couldn’t take my eyes of it. I eventually turned away from it and faced him, his hand was held out and he said again with more emphasise “You’re going to be fine.” I walked slowly and unsurely towards him and took his hand in mine “that’s the way” he said calmly. He opened the door and hand in hand I went in after him.
The room was like a doctors office, not a proper place to be injected. It was personalised to suit the doctors tastes. This wasn’t a positive thing, the paintings and office like desk made the room seem too much like an ordinary study. In contrast the man who was standing in the room wore a white coat, much like the ones I was familiar with general doctors wearing. He began to put a yellow liquid into a needle. The needle was long and very pointy, I realised at this point that on previous visits to the doctors to get injections, I had never looked at the actual needle. So I couldn’t compare this one with ones I had had before, this worried me. Was it a normal injection?
“Take a seat” he said gesturing to a leather couch which faced a fire place. I looked at Lucas questioningly and he nodded, he reassured me that everything would be alright. His hand still in mine, we walked over and sat down on the couch. Sitting on leather couches when it’s really hot, is rather uncomfortable, and you never feel as though you shouldn’t be doing it. I was sure that I shouldn’t be sure about anything.
I couldn’t stop looking at the doctor, who was sterilizing and preparing my injection. Lucas put his fingers on my chin and turned my head so I was facing him, I looked him in the eye and he whispered “There’s nothing to worry about” he nodded and I nodded back. It was obvious his words hadn’t completely turned me around, I was very anxious.
My eyes never left Lucas’, the pointy metal pierced my skin, and liquid poured into my body. Lucas squeezed my hand tighter as my face expressed utter pain. It felt like it stayed in me for ages and ages and it wasn’t until Lucas let go of my hand, patted me on the shoulder and said “It’s all over, you did it” that I realised the needle was out.
I stood up and headed out the door. I didn’t look back at the doctor. I thought Lucas was right behind me, but he wasn’t. He never left the room with me. I knew now that I had done what I had to do. It was my life and I didn’t have to find the crowd of people and wait with them (if they were still waiting that is) I headed straight for the front door. I went into the foyer and out the door that lead into the room we waited in, I walked down the corridor and then straight out the front door.
It was as sunny as always, it was exactly the same as I had left it. Only I didn’t feel the same there. I wasn’t happy. It felt as though the sun was setting and it was getting dark, dark and cool. But the children were playing as if it was midday. As I sat on the front stair I realised that this was what my auntie meant when she had said “what if it’s different when you return?” because this time it was different. And it would never ever be the same ever again.
My auntie and cousin came laughing down the street, wearing bathers and towels around there shoulders. They weren’t surprised to see me, It was as if they expected me to be sitting on their front stair. Everything was expected in Happyville, even if you didn’t expect it. “Would you like to go for a swim?” my auntie asked. I had no desire to go for a swim, it was starting to get cool and I didn’t need to.
“I’m not allowed to go swimming here, I don’t live here, I don’t have access to the free pool” I said conclusively. My auntie and cousin looked at each other with confused looks and my cousin said
“But you can now? You can live here now can’t you?” she said it as though she was expecting me to stay this time. I surprised myself when I said
“yeah I suppose I can live here now.”
Was it something in the injection that made me see Happyville differently? Was it something in the injection that made me feel a cool breeze whilst sitting on the step? Something in that yellow liquid made Happyville seem almost... normal? I could live there now! It wasn’t as perfect as before but the heat would never become too much for me. And if it did I could just go for a swim!
I’m still living in Happyville. Happyville is still the greatest place on earth, maybe not as great as before, but now I never have to leave it. For my birthday that year my auntie gave me a watch. Life was normal, and I never had to go back to the place beyond my aunties house. I never saw Lucas again either though, I think that’s a good thing, I don’t think he leaves the doctors place.
It was a lovely summer’s day in Happyville. The grass was healthy and green, the flowers were in full bloom. The houses were arranged perfectly along the street, the picket fences out the front were as white as snow. Children played merrily up and down the honey scented road, chasing the ice-cream van when it came around. No one was mowing their lawns today, it was Sunday, rest day. You could hear the bees buzzing and the birds singing their soothing song for the world to hear. The sound of laughter was about, but you could still sleep soundly if you wished. The flowers smelt sweater than any other flower I’d ever smelt, in fact I think this was the first place I had actually picked up a flowers and held it up to my nose. The feeling was pure and delicate.
I had been there before, but this time (like every other time I had came) it felt like a place that may not be the same next time you visit, so while I was in this place I cherished every little second. I had just come from an incredibly cold place so the heat there was almost unbearable, I wanted to go inside one of the houses to cool down but I knew that once I did this perfect street may not be the same when I got back.
My Auntie and my cousin live on that street. They’re very happy there. I couldn’t stay forever, the heat always becomes too much and I have to leave. Or maybe the happiness and the peace is too beautiful and I feel I don’t deserve it. Either way, I get to a stage of my visits at Happyville and I know I really must go. They all tell me to stay, but that just makes me realise how much I really ought to get going. “What if you never return?” my Aunties always asks as I go to leave “I always return” I reply each time as if it’s written somewhere I should say it, and she answers after a pause “what if it’s different when you return?” and then as if I was hit in the head with a stone I usually burst into tears. I know she’s right, and it’s my biggest fear. What if my favourite place in the world is different when I go back? But still, I leave.
On this particular day the heat hadn’t got to me just yet and I was enjoying my time as much as possible. It didn’t even pass my mind that I would be leaving this place, not that it passed my mind that I would stay forever. It just was, and there was no time involved. What time was it? What day was it? What year was it? I didn’t care less, I didn’t even think of it. If I knew I only had hours left in this place, maybe I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much. Or maybe I would have enjoyed it even more, who knows.
Because my auntie and cousin live in Happyville they get free access to the local pool. The heat sometimes gets a little much for them too, but lucky they can just go to the cool pool around the corner and heal themselves. On this visit to Happyville I was heading to their house for a visit. But as it so happened they were out for a bit, having a swim.
I opened the picket fence and walked up the cobblestone footpath positioned in the exact centre of their front lawn, to the front door. I knocked three times and waited for an answer. My auntie’s partner opened the door, we greeted each other. And then before I asked he told me that my cousin and auntie were out. I didn’t ask how long they’d be and he didn’t tell me, time doesn’t exist in Happyville.
I went inside the house I thought I was very familiar with, but it seemed different on this day for some reason, I couldn’t pin point the difference for as soon as I walked into this new looking house I completely forgot what I had known it to be. It was a lot darker than outside, the curtains were shut to keep the cool in. There was no way of seeing the beautiful street outside unless you went back outside, there was also no way of knowing if it had become night time yet.
He gestured to a room at the end of an unfamiliar corridor and so I headed down, slightly scared, to the door only meters away. As I think back to this day I realise that I shouldn’t have gone into the room at the end of the corridor, in fact I shouldn’t have even knocked on the front door. I should have stayed out on the front lawn and enjoyed the sun until my auntie and cousin came home. But I had no way of knowing they weren’t in, and so I knocked, and I went into the room at the end of the corridor.
The room was large but there wasn’t much space. There were heaps of people, apparently waiting, in the room. Some were sitting, they had made themselves comfortable as someone would after waiting in the same place for a long time. Some were pacing around like they just couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t noisy but the people were all talking dully amongst themselves. As I entered the room not a single head looked up at me, I felt very alone. It seemed as though everyone in the room had at least one other person who they knew, who they could talk with and wait with. But I had no one, I had come alone.
It could have been hours later, or it could have been only minutes. When a man, whose face I can’t recall, came out from a door at the back of the room. It was exactly opposite the door I had entered the room through. He addressed the entire room, as he spoke everyone looked around “It’s time to get your injections now” he announced and at the time I wasn’t sure if he meant me as well. Everyone seemed to know that this was coming, perhaps this was what they were all waiting for. At this moment I completely forgot why I was in the room, I forgot that I was waiting for my auntie and cousin to come home, I forgot my aunties partner was just out the front. And so at this forgetful moment I believed that the injections were what I had been waiting for as well. Amongst the crowd I went through the door the man had come through.
It was a doctors. Beyond the door was a doctors. It wasn’t a hospital with long white corridors and the smell of curing drugs. It was a grey carpeted, fully operating doctors place. As we walked through the door it was like we were in a whole new building. Everyone cued up in a single filed line that lead into a mysterious room which everyone looked fairly familiar with. So I went to the back of the line, maybe there I could avoid getting an injection, but it just made the wait longer and the nerves worse. As the line got shorter my heart beat faster, my hands sweat and my mouth went dry. I seemed in much more of a mess than all the other people.
Why was there a doctors at the back of my aunties house any way? I couldn’t help wondering why a bunch of randoms were lined up to have injections at the back of my auntie’s house. It didn’t make much sense, and I hated not knowing. It scared me. I felt as though the reason was really obvious to everyone else there and if I asked them where they were from they would just laugh at me, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself let alone embarrass myself. So I went with the flow.
This place seemed as though at times it got really busy. There were a few more rooms than the one we were cued up to go into. There was a reception desk but there was no one behind it and it was all closed up. As the cue got shorter and shorter it seemed to get later and later, it wasn’t like me to be wondering what time it was in Happyville. Then I felt sick, sick by the thought that time didn’t matter here, because to me, all of a sudden, it really really did.
I was also incredibly worried by the fact that I hadn’t a clue what the injections were for, would it kill me? That was a bit full on, so I pushed that idea away. But I was still very scared. I began to find Happyville creepy, not just the doctors we were in now, but the outside too. I started to feel a slight eeriness about the perfectness of the place. The most perfect place on earth now scared me because it was too perfect. I had no desire to go back outside any more. The doctors had ruined Happyville, it would never be the same again.
But then, just when I was starting to get depressed and the most perfect place was no longer perfect. Someone realised how scared I looked, finally, someone noticed that I existed! I wasn’t invisible anymore! And it felt good. I was reading a poster blue tacked to the reception desk, trying to get some information about the injection I was going to get. It was useless. The boy in front of me could tell that I was worried and confused. “Don’t worry” he said, I was shocked that he was talking to me and jumped a little. It was embarrassing but he giggled it away lightly. “Me and my sister will go in before you” he said and then I noticed he was with a girl around his age, she had blonde hair and blue eyes just like him. I presumed they where twins, but I never asked. She was dressed very well and was stylish, she had white tips on her nails and her hair was obviously straightened recently. She wore silver high heals which made her the same height as her brother. Unlike her brother she seemed very edgy and anxious to go in, this was comforting, to know that me and at least one other where in the same boat. “She needs me in with her, if I didn’t go she’d be too scared” he told me, I wasn’t sure if he too was getting an injection or if he was only there to comfort her. I didn’t ask because I was still getting over the shock that someone in this place was not only talking to me, but being nice as well.
His sister was trying to get a word with him but he pushed her away because he was talking to me. “I’m Lucas” he said and held out his hand “Luna” I said and we shook. “If you like I can go in with you too, if that would make it easier” he wasn’t sure if I’d except his over, but I was all for it “that would be really nice” I said, and so it was settled. Him and his sister went into the room. I stood and waited in the foyer. Who knows how long I waited. Who cares, I wasn’t as scared any more. I was anxious to see how Lucas’ sister would come out. Dead. Happy. Bleeding. The suspense was killing me.
There wasn’t a single person in the doctors place any more. I was waiting all by myself. It was frightening. So I thought of Lucas and how he was only a door away. I longed for him to come back, so I could ask him what on earth was going on, so he could help me through this dark time. There was a silence in the foyer. I couldn’t hear a thing. So I strained my ears for just one little sound. A scream from the room Lucas and his sister were in, or voices through the door everyone had exited by. I strained my ears until I heard the ticking of a clock. It was coming from one of the rooms.
I headed slowly to the room, turned the knob and stepped in. I wanted to go back and make sure Lucas hadn’t come out but I was dying to know the time. I looked around the room. It was a high school classroom. Completely empty. The shutters were shut and a pink light was coming through them as if it were sunrise or sunset outside. I now had a very strong desire to get back to reality, to find the time. I looked passed the lined up rows of desks and chairs and above the clear white board. There was a clock. It was ticking loudly now. Louder than before. I started at it for ages, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t read it. I had lost the ability to read time. I ran out of the room and back to the foyer. I was scared.
I stood and waited for Lucas. I thought of how kind he had been. He was the only one who could tell that I was lost and unsure. She had tears in her eyes and her makeup was smudged as she came out, her brother close behind trying to make her feel better. She pushed him away, put her hand to her mouth and ran (as fast as possible in high heals) out of the foyer, and out of our sight.
“Everything will be alright” Lucas said to me, I was staring at the door his sister had left and I couldn’t take my eyes of it. I eventually turned away from it and faced him, his hand was held out and he said again with more emphasise “You’re going to be fine.” I walked slowly and unsurely towards him and took his hand in mine “that’s the way” he said calmly. He opened the door and hand in hand I went in after him.
The room was like a doctors office, not a proper place to be injected. It was personalised to suit the doctors tastes. This wasn’t a positive thing, the paintings and office like desk made the room seem too much like an ordinary study. In contrast the man who was standing in the room wore a white coat, much like the ones I was familiar with general doctors wearing. He began to put a yellow liquid into a needle. The needle was long and very pointy, I realised at this point that on previous visits to the doctors to get injections, I had never looked at the actual needle. So I couldn’t compare this one with ones I had had before, this worried me. Was it a normal injection?
“Take a seat” he said gesturing to a leather couch which faced a fire place. I looked at Lucas questioningly and he nodded, he reassured me that everything would be alright. His hand still in mine, we walked over and sat down on the couch. Sitting on leather couches when it’s really hot, is rather uncomfortable, and you never feel as though you shouldn’t be doing it. I was sure that I shouldn’t be sure about anything.
I couldn’t stop looking at the doctor, who was sterilizing and preparing my injection. Lucas put his fingers on my chin and turned my head so I was facing him, I looked him in the eye and he whispered “There’s nothing to worry about” he nodded and I nodded back. It was obvious his words hadn’t completely turned me around, I was very anxious.
My eyes never left Lucas’, the pointy metal pierced my skin, and liquid poured into my body. Lucas squeezed my hand tighter as my face expressed utter pain. It felt like it stayed in me for ages and ages and it wasn’t until Lucas let go of my hand, patted me on the shoulder and said “It’s all over, you did it” that I realised the needle was out.
I stood up and headed out the door. I didn’t look back at the doctor. I thought Lucas was right behind me, but he wasn’t. He never left the room with me. I knew now that I had done what I had to do. It was my life and I didn’t have to find the crowd of people and wait with them (if they were still waiting that is) I headed straight for the front door. I went into the foyer and out the door that lead into the room we waited in, I walked down the corridor and then straight out the front door.
It was as sunny as always, it was exactly the same as I had left it. Only I didn’t feel the same there. I wasn’t happy. It felt as though the sun was setting and it was getting dark, dark and cool. But the children were playing as if it was midday. As I sat on the front stair I realised that this was what my auntie meant when she had said “what if it’s different when you return?” because this time it was different. And it would never ever be the same ever again.
My auntie and cousin came laughing down the street, wearing bathers and towels around there shoulders. They weren’t surprised to see me, It was as if they expected me to be sitting on their front stair. Everything was expected in Happyville, even if you didn’t expect it. “Would you like to go for a swim?” my auntie asked. I had no desire to go for a swim, it was starting to get cool and I didn’t need to.
“I’m not allowed to go swimming here, I don’t live here, I don’t have access to the free pool” I said conclusively. My auntie and cousin looked at each other with confused looks and my cousin said
“But you can now? You can live here now can’t you?” she said it as though she was expecting me to stay this time. I surprised myself when I said
“yeah I suppose I can live here now.”
Was it something in the injection that made me see Happyville differently? Was it something in the injection that made me feel a cool breeze whilst sitting on the step? Something in that yellow liquid made Happyville seem almost... normal? I could live there now! It wasn’t as perfect as before but the heat would never become too much for me. And if it did I could just go for a swim!
I’m still living in Happyville. Happyville is still the greatest place on earth, maybe not as great as before, but now I never have to leave it. For my birthday that year my auntie gave me a watch. Life was normal, and I never had to go back to the place beyond my aunties house. I never saw Lucas again either though, I think that’s a good thing, I don’t think he leaves the doctors place.
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