heystasa: (Caroline made of awesome Forbes)
Reeeeeeeeeally what to see what these apparently fake but amazing SPN spoilers are but am worried that they'll turn out to be true or still somehow spoil the episode for me regardless. ARAGH WHAT TO DOOOO

In other news I've been catching bits of misfits the last few fridays and it seems really good. Need to see if the dvd shop has it.

Watched Tennant's last DW episode on tv again today and OH GOD so many feelings. An assembly line of every DW character I ever loved marched out to break my heart a million times in the span of 15 minutes.


But! I've decided I'm going to make the best of it, consciously make the effort to be more confident and calm, and make the little changes needed to make the artroom run better with me as the principle user, regardless of how my half-mad boss has done things for the past 35 years. Still shitting myself but gonna try, and at least I get a bit more money each week. :/

OH OH AND: MY PASSPORT CAME TODAYYYYYYYY! EUROPE IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING YESSSSSSS. And it's a shiney new passport design with pictures all through it so if I get homesick I can just look at it and go OH GUMTREES AND EMUS IT'S LIKE I NEVER LEFT.

Wrote a thing for the local paper today. the old movie theatre facade is being restored in town, so I wrote a thing about some of my favourite really old movies. Gosh it felt great to be writing about film again; I really need to get this blog thing happening.


heystasa: (duuude)
Wait so, what? What?

This turned into a draft mini-meta about SPN!God. Woops :/ )

I don't know. It's all just off the top of my head type speculation. This show is so ripe for textual analysis. I want to figure some of this out, look closer at the episodes and do some actual research, but maybe when I've calmed down and taken notes and am capable of constructing normal-person sentences that don't run on into oblivion.

For now, have some more reactions:


All in all, I liked the episode. I'm annoyed with how badly season five as a whole was constructed and I think the finale could have had a lot more punch if the lead up to it had been better controlled, BUT, I've liked every individual episode, and I loved the last few to absolute pieces. I think I loved this one too, even if it did sort of feel completely out of place.

I watched it with my TV cushion turtle. He is my friend. We like all the same shows.

We're still very much in a state of


I am not even going to acknowledge that S5 is OVER FOREVER and there's MONTHS till the next one and WAAAAAAH.

heystasa: (Belle)

Since about 2003, I've been cleaning my room.

So what? I hear you say, I've been cleaning my room every Saturday morning since I was five.

To which I reply with, No. What I mean is, I have been cleaning my room since 2003. As in, I'm perpetually tidying the same mess. It has been an ongoing thing. For years. I tend to store things in piles, and tidy up a section at a time. The problem with this system is that I have nowhere to put new things or things I want to keep but in one of the other piles, so by the time one pile is gone there're about three new ones that need doing.

Not that I really mind too much, as it means I'm constantly rediscovering things and I always have something to do.

The latest pile was my collection of university and careers stuff that I had accumulated throughout the latter years of highschool. I finally found my UAC documentation and my UNE and Sydney Uni acceptance letters, which was nice, as well as stumbling across a whole bunch of year 11/12 english work. The exact reason I had put that there escapes me.
However, one particular year 11 writing task caught my eye. I don't recall the exact criteria, but, basically, we had to rewrite Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, ("Shall I compare thee to a sommer's day?" etc), keeping the form and structure (14 lines, three quatrains, ends on rhyming couplet, each line containing one simple thought and each quatrain presenting a new idea), and, possibly, the theme.

So, here it is: 

   Stella's Sonnet 1  (Inspired by W. Shakespeare's Sonnet 18)

   Shall I compare thee to a bowl of Special K?
   Thou art more tasty and more ornate:
   Hot toast is a better start to the day,
   And cereal gets soggy and tends to deflate:
   Sweetening sugar must be added at times,
   And oft' weevils get in under rim;
   Every used-by-date sometime declines,
   And mould, staleness and other yuckies set in;
   But thy eternal hygiene shall not fade
   Nor lose possession of that crunchiness thou o'ust;
   Nor should best-befores make thee grayed,
   Provided this book never in milk be doused:
         So long as tongues can taste and eyes can see,
         Long will live thine bugless efficiency.

heystasa: (Default)
A critical response to the American adaptation of Kath & Kim. (The text is very much formal critical analysis - which I love doing - but there are also links! To brilliant comedy clips! Something for everybody.)

Well, the American Kath & Kim is finally here, and it's... well, it's different. )

Bonus clip - I didn't have room for it above, but it's and old favourite. Marg Downey (as Janna Wendt), Magda Szubanski, and Peter Moon on Fast Forward. Watch it. You'll like it. It's terrifying.

An anecdote. Stella versus Australian Idol.
Bricks, I say. )
heystasa: (Default)

1. I can't stop eating these Mars filled Pods things. I buy them thinking I'll ration them as treats, but then I just munch on them constantly. I have no self control. Damn seductive caramel.

2. I have to get seriously working on my Games and Simulation assessment. I am making a text adventure game. It is set in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. There are Oopa Loompas. It is a group project and we've got it quite nicely planned out. All I have to do is start coding my part. IT WILL BE EASY AND FUN BUT I AM STILL PUTTING IT OFF. WHY DO I DO THIS???

Dear Brain,
                    Can we please stop with the anxiety? It will be very difficult for me to pass my courses if a great whopping wall of terror is erected every time I contemplate doing an assessment. I actually really enjoyed the last essay I wrote, you know. And do you remember all that pride when I handed it in on time? Wasn't that nice? Don't you want that again? Come on, kiddo, let's get adjusting. That's how you're supposed to work.

3. My flat needs vacuuming, I could make up a load of washing, and there are clothes flung everywhere. Clean up day soon, YAY! 
I loves domestic chores. They makes me feel real. And it's nice to see the floor. I have such a nice floor.

4. So, last night (as well as having a lovely night out with a friend at Circular Quay for a birthday dinner) I actually met someone from fandom in real life! Am not the only insane HP slash fangirl in Australia! Look, look, I have proof! Muhaha!! And I have made a new LJ friend! Hiiiii!! *waves enthusicastically* Will do proper greetings and exchanging of recs etc when I have taken care of point 2.  Must... do... uniwork. It-will-be-fun, dammit!

5. Have to cook tonight. I refuse to have toast or cereal for tea and I've run out of left overs. Which means I have to wash pots. Curses.

6. My god this album. It's amazing. It flows and crashes and screams and whimpers and settles and brakes and falls and lifts and it's impossible not to go with it. He has the most honest voice - more like speaking than singing, and all the while trying not to fall to pieces, filled with cracks and strange little screams - and the most sweet, exposed, and devastatingly lovely lyrics. ('The world's got me dizzy again/ you'd think after twenty-two years I'd be used to the spin,'  'It's not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live,'  'This is the first day of my life,/ Glad I didn't die before I met you.' ) 

The songs - lyrics and music - are so beautifully complex, even the deceptively quiet ones. There is a real simplicity to what he sings about, he doesn't romanticise, but sings about things at a very basic level, creating such honesty. It's like, he's describing things as they are, as they actually feel, but somehow it sounds so breathtaking. And the music cascades in from nothing, crashes down and sweeps through or is so silent you forget it's there, you can only focus on his voice. That sort of honesty and reality is so rare and precious.  It's impossible not to be affected. 

The closest thing I can think to compare it to is The Cure - Robert Smith has that same stuttering honesty in his voice, and that same childishness and wonder in his lyrics, and that same cascading lushesness in some of his music. In fact, the stereo is set so that Disintegration is the next album to play after Bright Eyes finishes. 'Plain Song' is a perfect way to follow up I'm Wide Awake..., it too, never fails to be stunning.

7. I'm always pinning after my pets, wishing I could take them with me to Sydney. I am acquainted with all the neighbourhood cats, and am sure to say hello when I pass them. So my mummy made me a cat so I wouldn't be lonely.

I love my Mum.

I had a moment the other morning, lying in bed, just about to wake up. I thought to myself, it's feels like I've barely seen anyone (my family) the past few days. Will have to spend some time wth them today. But then I opened my eyes and remembered. I actually hadn't seen them for the past few days at all, because Easter was over and I was back at uni again. I felt so dissapointed. I really wanted to see them. But then I woke up, and got on with things, and laughed at how easilly I'd gotten mixed up. 

I'm fine, really I am. But it's hard sometimes, getting used to not having them around. That morning, filled with sleep, I really missed them. Sometimes I just really want for them. 

heystasa: (Beauty and the Beast)
For all that flights of fancy and imagination are wonderful, I find there is just as much wonder in reality. The mind is the source of all that fancy, and that is just such a beautiful thing. 

I learnt last night about cave paintings, that they were the pinning down of visions had in trances. That every human, no matter where from, since the begining of the species, experiences the same basic internal images when in a trace state, or when suffering sensory deprivation. The human brain just throws them up, always the same. So in caves and on rocks, worlds apart from oneanother, the same patterning appears. And if we close our eyes for long enough, and expose them to the right outside stimuli, we can see the exact same images that people saw tens of thousands of years ago. 

To see those paintings, and to know that they were painted so long ago, before buildings and farming and the idea of 'art', and to see how beautiful they were, how spiritual and otherworldly - it inspired such awe. 

The world - nature, animals, plants, flowers, water, rocks, weather, the sun, the moon, the light they bring - it's all so incredible, so simply beautiful and so there. And the brain, and all it has created, is just the same. Is part of that basic, fundamental reality of the world. There really is so much harmony in life. I will never cease to be amazed. 

And all the beauty we can make, all the places, the art, the literature, the poetry, the sentiment, the emotion, all of that, just takes may breath away sometimes. The brain gives us all that. The ability to create it and the ability to appreciate it. To feel it and to be it. 

It's fascinating. 

I love art, and I love psychology, and really, they are much the same thing. I tend to call this type of writing that I do sometimes whimsy, to say that I drift off into flights of fancy. But that's not entirely appropriate - what could be more grounded in reality than what my own brain generates? Whether I'm happy or depressed, excited or anxious, mad or sane, it's all happening. It's all maluable, it can change, but it is there. We can't see it, but we can feel it, which is undeniable proof that something is happening.

My mind is my own, only ever for me. But the brain is universal. But for a few quirks, this incredibly complex organ is the same in every living person in the world. And even some of the quirks are almost identical to those of others. 

Sometimes, sometimes it all just hits me, you know? For all my rationality and talk of science, and for all I may experience incredible pain from what my brain and the world comes up with sometimes, I just can't quite help but be awestuck by it from time to time. 

Life is astounding.

heystasa: (Default)
Oh, I long to be a 1940s film star. To speak in that old accent that is so refined, so warm, and so still touched with that genteel, almost English inflection. And, when it were required, to sing in a smoky voice, the piano and strings weaving together with it to make such a feeling of romance and magic. And if I had to dance, to dance in the most beautiful dress.

All class and dignity and mystery. Skin smooth, hair all soft and shapen, eyes glistening in the moonlight or lamplight or, well, in no light at all. A glass of somethin' balanced between two fingers of one hand, a cigarette between two in the other. Wrapped in fur, or diamonds, something that sparkles or shimmers, shines in the blacks, whites and greys. When I'd speak it'd be in that voice, low and wonderful and almost tangible - never simpering or small, but sultry, carrying in it a real sense of strength and style. I'd ask for a light. Always almost over my shoulder, eyes inclined slightly upwards, because all the men are slightly taller, and all so dashing. 

But so few of them are decent. They give a girl a romance and promises of forever, but none of them ever stay. They never last in the end.

They make their romantic gestures, all of them, but one can't rely on them for a happily ever after. Mister Bogart skulks in the shadows, sweet little Jimmy Dean pouts and dares and looks oh so divine, oh so desperate and oh, so devastating. But he, he was never too concerned with winning the heart of a young lady. Far to much turbulance for room to romance. And Marlon Brando, well, Mister Brando is handsome, and strong, and very, unmissibly masculine - but he's a brute. Unpredictable and raging, he's all fiery tempers and cold, cold shoulders, all unfathomable and all screaming my name from the ground below as if it's the only thing keeping him alive. The only thing that's keeping his mind from falling to pieces and his body from tearing the world apart.

My mother has promised Gregory Peck next. She says he isn't beautiful, but is a prescence. Is tall and imposing, and is decent. That'd be nice. A decent man to hang some faith on. A girl needs something to put her faith in. Men don't often stand the test. Seems to me that, in the end, she ends up with only herself to rely on, only herself to get her by. Leaving her to depend more on strangers than those she knows. The men never really get them anywhere, but there is some sweet, sweet music playing along the way. And in the end, when the alley is empty and the players have walked off alone into the fog, there's music and magic and bleakness to break your heart and punch your guts. And, if not that, the full, sweet voices at least linger on; their permanance giving some small sense of solace.

But we know it's how it's meant to be. There's always a sad, strange justice in there somewhere, as frustrating as it is to not be able to change the things that would be so much easier to change now. To be the woman, strong and sturdy but with so little control of the world, in love with the man, who has only that tiny bit more. To have so much more than that on her plate that the camera can't quite penetrate, and that she never really says. The story will always be linear, set in stone. With the obligations and duty, the status and propriety, and the circumstances that are so very out of our control, all we can do is throw our whole hearts in, little by little, and hope that things will turn out for the best.

Why? Well, because. Because, altogether, oh, altogether it's all just so wonderful.

August 2012

1213141516 1718


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 04:22 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios