Goodbye Video Store

Today I found out that my local video store is closing down. It had been a while since I last wondered down to rent a DVD and so it was rather serendipitous that I ended up going on the day before it would seize to exist forever. I’m glad I got the chance to rent one last thing before the end.

When I entered the store I was entirely unaware that they were closing. In oblivious naivety I walked through the glass doors, smiled at the familiar lady behind the counter and headed to the TV show section to look for the first series of Charmed. There was a different vibe in the store but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, my innocent mind never dared to think that it might be packing up and closing down. I took my DVD to the counter and saw the first thing that I just couldn’t ignore as being odd: the whiteboard, usually covered in a list of the new releases and staff member’s favourite films, was wiped blank.

I handed the lady the copy of Charmed and she said “how are you today?” in a very good-to-see-you-back-again-my-faithful-regular-costumer tone. I was just about to ask her why the whiteboard had been cleared when she began to tell me that the store would be closing on Wednesday. As she said this I looked around and noticed that the store was looking especially bare, that shelves were half empty and the candy stock was very minimal. Looking around now it was obvious that this place was preparing to close.

Now I sit at home with my last video store rental by my side typing at my computer as I flash back to fond memories of my favourite place….

When I first moved to this suburb I was about to go into year 10, school was just starting to become bearable and I was happier than I’d been in a while. I liked a lot of things about our new house, I liked that I got my own room and liked that it was close to the train station, but above all else I liked that it was an 8 minute walk to the nearest strip of shops where I would be able to rent movies at the video store there.

Year 10 and 11 came and went and I would venture down to get myself a movie at least once a week, letting my love of film consume me and viewing a wide range of often life altering and idea sparking movies. I was like Roald Dahl’s Matilda only with films at a video store instead of books in a library. All of the films I consider to be my favourite today I rented and watched for the first time from that store, most notably: Stay, The Chumbsrubber and The Invisible.

Walking up and down the isles, through the drama, comedy, new release, classic, thriller and action sections, reading all the covers front and back and choosing the most appealing or interesting looking ones. It was there in those isles that I realised I wanted my future to be centred around the film industry. It was there that I found who I was.

On my 18^th birthday instead of racing to the liquor store to legally buy alcohol or heading off to a casino or bar with friends for the first time, my excitement rested solely on going to the video store and renting an R18+ film for myself. They didn’t even check my ID or ask if I was 18 like I expected them to, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.

And then there were school holidays. I tended to feel very low and like life was rather meaningless when on holidays. My friends lived ages away and I didn’t get to see them. Walking down to the video store to rent a film and then walking back home again and watching it gave me some purpose when I was feeling down, and added some brightness and joy to my life. To me films aren’t just something you chuck on when you’re bored or because you just need some time to relax or have some fun. For me watching a film is like observing a piece of art unravel in story form before me and when I watch I learn and pick up elements that I might one day use in films that I make myself. During the holidays films were my saviour because they were an inspiration and a light of hope. The walk to the store itself gave me a goal and a reason to get out into the sun and fresh air, I’m very grateful that I was forced to get up and walk instead of being able to simply download the film at home.

I remember one day, walking home from the video store, I was in a particularly sad mood for no real reason that I could pinpoint, but as I walked up the street and through the park back to my house, freshly rented DVD in hand, my mood picked up and I had a silly thought. I said to myself, “I love that video store. It’s like my second home” and then I laughed because I realised how sad that would sound if I said it to someone else, someone who didn’t understand the magic and art of film and the bliss of walking up the store isles with all the covers looking longingly at you for a chance to be held and considered to rent.

The video store, not just the films themselves, helped shape a lot of strong opinions and views I have on the way our world functions. My fear of technology taking over and everything being available on the internet arose from my love of walking to the video store and renting films there and the sad but very possible thought that it may one day be gone. Furthermore, it taught me to hold onto the simple pleasures in life and to savour moments.

My dear Network Video Store, I will love you forever even if you exist only in my heart and memory now. You made me the person I am today and you were always there when I needed you most. You were a sudden sparkle of colourful lights in the dark and a soft blanket of comfort on a cold and lonely night. I doubt anyone will ever truly understand why it has grieved me so much to loose you, but knowing your doors will never open for me again made me cry like I’d lost a friend.  

2012

Hello readers.

So, it's been many months now since I last posted something. This poor little blog is feeling very neglected and unloved. I'm sorry blog, I ask for your forgiveness but know I don't deserve it. The truth is, I just haven't been bothered to write anything for a really long time. That's it. No fancy or decent excuse. Just lame can't be bothered-ness.

Moving on.

2012 has arrived at our doorstep, bursting with the promise of joy and adventure. On New Years Eve you may have made a resolution. Something that you are determined to do or change this year. I did not. This isn't because I'm trying to be an anti-conformist and rebel against the norm (which, admittedly, I do sometimes), but just because nothing sprung to mind.

AHA! My New Years resolution can be to bring this blog back to life. Wonderful. Glad that's settled.

On other matters, I actually have nothing to say, I just felt like writing something and I remembered I actually have an output to do that. Cheers blog! You're the best.

That's all folks,

Luna.

A Story (original title, I know)

Lately, I've rediscovered the greatness that is 'The Wizard of Oz.' Over the last few days I bought the soundtrack and re-read the book. Fun times. Then I started writing a story, which isn't a Wizard of Oz spin off, nor is it an original story that has nothing to do with the Wizard of Oz. What I mean is: I'm not trying to be original but I'm also not trying to draw parallels. Now that that's cleared up, there's pretty much nothing you can accuse me of! Enjoy:

- before you begin, please note that when I copy and pasted this story in, my wonderful paragraphing got messed up. I don't think it will make much of a difference though.

Eavely, although she was very dainty and small, often felt cold and hard. A little flitter inside her heart told her that she was not as kind as the other children, the flitter told her that she was not as pretty as the other girls, but worst of all the little flitter told her that she was not special, and that she would never do anything extraordinary or succeed in making others happy by her mere presence.

This flitter inside of Eavely’s heart was sometimes soft and sometimes hard, but it was always there.

One day Eavely’s mother and Eavely were talking at the kitchen table. The floor was checked with black and white squares, and the green walls matched her mother’s apron. Their house was not all together perfect, for it was too cold in winter and often there was no where for Eavely to hide when she was sad, but other than that it was as lovely a house as anyone could ask for.

Eavely’s mother was as sweet as any other mother she knew, she cared for Eavely when she fell ill, listened when Eavely needed her and made Eavely super every night. But Eavely’s mother was always tired. A blackness seemed to always hover over her, and enough of the time she blamed this blackness on Eavely.

On this particular evening, Eavely’s mother had cooked a most horrible pasta, which sloshed down Eavely’s throat and gurgled in her tummy.

“Is there something else I could eat for super, mother?” Eavely asked as politely as she could, though she knew there really was no nice way to go about it.

“You are naught but a black cloud, Eavely!” her mother spat back, “I should think you would be more grateful, after I slaved away to prepare this meal for you!” but Eavely’s mother had cooked this same pasta on several occasions before, and each time Eavely had timidly suggested a few mild improvements as to make the dish more bearable. However, Eavely’s mother never did head to her daughter’s suggestions but persisted to retort, by saying:

“Make your own super next time then!” which did not hinder Eavely one bit, for she loved cooking but never did have the time for it.

All this talk of Eavely being a black cloud, sent the blood rushing to her cheeks and ears. The flitter in her heart beat very hard indeed. She felts her face burning and burning, and tried very hard not to let the tears which were forming in her eyes drip down her face. Her mother went on and on for several minutes about all the terrible things that Eavely did, all the while Eavely sat in silence and fiddled with her fork and pasta, for she did not feel like arguing.

Once her mother had finally stopped yelling – she had built to quite a steamed rage by the end of it all- Eavely left the table without so much as a word, and slumped off to her bedroom before the tears would come.

Now, as you can probably imagine, being called a black cloud is not a pleasant experience, whether you believe yourself to be one or not.

“If she cannot see the love and peace within me, then either she does not know me or I do not know myself,” thought Eavely as she fell backwards onto her bed and gazed up towards the smooth, white ceiling. It was at this moment that Eavely decided to run away, far, far away, where she could delight in making a fresh start and meet new people who knew her not as a black cloud. All she wanted was to love and be loved by others. So, with an impulse of the heart, she took a small potato sack from the pantry and went back to her room to stuff it with everything she would need to survive out there.

First, she packed her favourite picture book – the colours and magical worlds within its pages reminded her of a happier life that knew not of- then, she sharpened her best pencil and shoved it into the sack along with a small notepad. Eavely was unsure of what else she would need, but luckily remembered not to forget her collection of toys:

An elephant made up of grey and brown patches, sewn all over his stubby body with large stitches. His button eyes shone a brilliant blue and his little tail was made of a single strand of brown string, frayed at the bottom. Eavely loved her elephant dearly, as he was always the best to cuddle at night.

Next was the tiny wooden clown, who was no taller than her pinky finger. His stripy jumpsuit was painted orange and blue, as was the collar around his neck. His big shoes curled around at the toes and were painted orange with a little blue dot on the very tips. Eavely was very fond of her wooden clown, for his cheerful grin always made her giggle.

Finally, Eavely placed the toy her mother had knitted for her, into the sac. It was a floppy red owl with enormous, thoughtful, black eyes. Eavely thought everything about him was perfect, and did not think twice before bringing him along.

Now, with a sac full of everything Eavely imagined she could possible need, the little girl nervously, yet determinedly, crept passed her mother (who had fallen asleep), and snuck out the front door into the night.

Writing Your Own Life

I've just spent the past half hour reading through a few of my blog posts. Why? Because I've just started a subject at uni called 'Writing Your Own Life' and I thought, 'hey, I already write about my life on my blog!' and so came to check it out. I felt like I was a reader, reading someone else's writing, it was odd how disconnected I felt towards my own writing. I noticed that I have a rather consistent and noticeable writing 'voice' but I'm not really sure how I came about achieving that, I really just type words as they pop into my head and hope that they sound ok to other people.

But yeah, I'm learning how to write autobiographies at the moment. At first I thought, 'how can you teach someone how to write about themselves? Don't you just sit down and write whatever comes to you, whatever's important to you?' and now, after a couple of lectures and workshops, I think, 'now that they've told me to be myself in my writing and to write about what's important to me, what's left for them to say in the remaining 13 lectures?' They can look at my writing and tell me which sentence flow nicely, which parts are probably unnecessary and if they enjoyed reading it, but I can't see how they can teach us much more in lectures than they already have. I'll just have to wait and see.

Anyway. I know I disappeared for a little while, sorry about that. I feel I use a lot of blog space apologising for my absence. You wait months for a post and then all it says is, 'sorry I've been away, now I'm back. Goodbye again.' But I think this time I'll stay. I have to practice writing about myself.

I'm having trouble typing at the moment because my fingers are about to freeze off. They're so cold they're tingling. Our gas bill has gone up recently and so we're not allowed to turn the heater on anymore. It's 11 degrees! I should buy myself a jumper. I will buy myself a jumper. Yes, that's what I'll do! I'll buy a jumper!

This post hasn't really been about anything, but I think I've written enough to happily press the orange 'PUBLISH POST' button below, and go warm my fingers above the oven.

Whatever Vs Judgemental

Wow. What a wide range of layouts I was just offered. Simply too much choice. I hope you enjoy the layout I've chosen, I guess I thought it was the 'most me' out of a vast selection.

It's 1am and I'm really, very tired. I would be asleep but everyone's out in the living room watching the soccer at an insanely loud volume, too loud to sleep through. Why aren't I watching the soccer with them? You may ask, and if you did I wouldn't have much of an answer.

Oh and hello there, I'm still alive, I know it's been a lifetime since I last posted something. Everything has changed so much since then. It almost seems like another life time.

Anyway, today I was thinking about people and how everyone is much the same while at the same time we are all vastly different and individual. I've never understood how you can dislike someone without actually knowing them, but when is that point of 'knowing' someone actually achieved. Is it once you've shared in something big together? Is it once deep secrets have been swapped? Or is it when you can make a fairly accurate judgement on how they feel or what they're thinking, without them actually saying it aloud? Or maybe, it's never. Sometimes you can 'know' someone and then, rather suddenly, you don't 'know' them at all, maybe it's because they behave in a way you would never have thought they would or because they betray your trust or because there is no longer anything holding you together. Just like I think you can stop 'knowing' someone over night, I also believe you can 'know' someone after years of separation.

It seems silly to me that people can dislike a person and then begin to like them once they know more about them. Should you not be neutral towards a person until you know them well enough to inflict judgement? That, to me, makes much more sense.

I'm also noticing that there isn't much of a balance between people who care too much and people who don't care enough. There are so many who take a 'whatever' approach to life, and I'm beginning to think these people may be the happiest of us all. Then there are those who criticise and (mostly negatively) judge everything. Perhaps these people are very thoughtful and live the happiest lives because they know what they like and what they don't.

What I don't like about the 'whatever' people (and I am, for the purpose of this post, popping them all into one group, even though there are undoubtably many levels and varieties of 'whatever' people) is when you're trying to have fun and you say something like "I've got a great idea! Let's go to the candy shop over there! It'll be great fun" and they say "yeah, whatever. I don't mind." I would rather they say "I'm not really in the mood, sorry. Let's do something else." A person from the judgemental category would say "ew! A candy shop? That's so weird, I don't want to do that." I guess I just wish they'd all say "YAY! Candy shop! Let's go."

There's nothing wrong essentially with 'whatever' people or with 'judgemental' people, they also don't really exist because we tend to have days when we're 'whatever' people, days when we're 'judgemental' people and days where we're somewhere in between. You have to really a know a person to tell which of these moods they're in.

Evil Driver

I think my bus driver may have a touch of actually evil in him... or maybe not, I don't really know the guy. Today: the bus arrives right on time so I get on and take a seat, it's fairly empty (seven or eight other passengers.) A boy gets on, he's wearing jeans and a back to front cap:

Boy (to driver): does this bus go to La Trobe?

Bus driver: *taps his earphones as if to say "can't you see I'm listening to music" and tries to shoo the boy away with one movement of his hand.

Boy: does it go to La Trobe?

Bus driver: *nods reluctantly.

Boy: can I get a two hour concession, zone two ticket, please.

Bus driver: *shakes his head and pulls his Ipod out of his pocket, presumably turning it up, he slides it back in.

Boy: *pulls coins out of pocket and tries to hand them to the driver.

Bus driver: No ticket, no ride.

Boy: well, can I buy a ticket?

Bus driver: no.

Boy: *almost stands his ground but evidently decides it's not worth the trouble. He gets off the bus and sits back on the bus stop.

The bus driver then picks up a packet of cigarettes and a flask of soup and stands on the pavement, eating, smoking and listening to his music. This wouldn't have been a problem if the bus were early, or if it was driver change over time, but neither were true.

While he was standing outside a couple of plastic blonde girls approach him and ask something, he nods and gestures at the bus, the girls get on without validating or buying a ticket. The bus driver does nothing.

The driver gets back on the bus, takes a seat and settles himself in. A little old lady climbs up onto the bus and sweetly talks to the driver:

Lady: excuse me, do I need to pay to take this bus?

Bus driver: (*angrily whips his ear phones out) you need a ticket.

Lady: I haven't got one of those, could I just pay you with coins?

Bus driver: You need a ticket.

Lady: do you sell tickets?

Bus driver: what ya want?

Lady: to visit my grandson, just a few blocks away. How much will that cost?

Bus driver: I'll give ya a two hour zone two ticket. (*he gets a ticket and holds it out for her, she goes to take it but he snaps his hand back) $5.80!

Lady: oh dear, I only have $3... I'm only going a couple of blocks away.

Middle aged man: you're charging this woman for a zone one and two ticket! She's not going that far!

Bus driver: *takes the old ladies money and hands her a different ticket.

Lady: *takes the ticket and looks around for a seat.

Bus driver: oi! You have to validate that!

Lady: oh dear, I'm sorry. Just in here? (*she tries to validate her ticket in the cash register)

Bus driver: (*pushes her hand off his register as if her shaking old fingers might destroy it) NO! In there!

Lady: (*validates ticket and takes seat.)

A few more people get on the bus and sit down, the driver sips his soup and stares out the window for what feels like a life time. He looks over at the validation machine, gets out of his seat and addresses all passengers on the bus,

Bus driver: Someone has an invalid ticket! The machine says one of YOU validated an EXPIRED ticket! Everyone come up here and show me you tickets!

We do so. One of the plastic blonde girls stays in her seat and calls out,

Plastic blonde: I think my ticket is invalid, yeah, it was a two hour but I think it's been, um, like, more than two hours or something.

Bus driver: ah, I see. That must have been the problem. Don't worry about it, dear.

And finally the bus was off and moving! He sped around corners and ran a red light. As soon as he passed the stop just before mine, I pressed the button and headed over to the door (there is less than five seconds between the stops.) He stops at my stop because there is a red light, but he doesn't open the door.

Me: could I ... (*points at door)... please get off here?

Bus driver: *shakes head.

Me: please?

Bus driver: *reluctantly opens the doors but starts moving before I'm fully off the bus.

Evil.

Pretty Perfect

The other day I went and saw 'A Single Man' at the cinema, it was pretty good (perhaps excluding the shot where a little girl gently picks up a butterfly, and then continues to rub her hands together until the insect is a pile of crumbles) I'm not even going to say anything else about it, I think "pretty good" is a pretty good summary of it. Besides, it's more of a visual film, nothing much happens storyline wise. The reason I bring this film up, is because I was thinking about the final words spoken by the protagonist:

"A few times in my life I've had moments of absolute clarity, when for a few brief seconds the silence drowns out the noise and I can feel rather than think, and things seem so sharp and the world seems so fresh. I can never make these moments last. I cling to them, but like everything, they fade. I have lived my life on these moments. They pull me back to the present, and I realize that everything is exactly the way it was meant to be."

Don't worry, I didn't memorise them, I just copy and pasted the short speech from IMDB. Anyway, I was thinking of these final words this afternoon because the same thing happened to me (if you've seen the film then no, I didn't collapse to the floor, have a heart attack and see my deceased loved one before dying myself). I was in the kitchen, listening to a CD and sipping a cup of tea, when I suddenly thought: "life is pretty perfect right now." But then it dawned on me that no one was around to share the perfection of life with me, so I went and watched TV quietly by myself.

The End.