tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61049152011-04-21T18:11:24.108-07:00Running With ScissorsThe life and times of a girl who likes cake.Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comBlogger881100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-14187644494755286792007-10-24T16:37:00.000-07:002007-10-24T16:39:24.067-07:00I kind of forgot to tell y'all that I've jumped the fence to Livejournal...http://veryownplanet.livejournal.com/Here 'tis.Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-67188377929238177712007-09-05T02:08:00.000-07:002007-09-05T02:43:55.598-07:00Strange day.11.30amI'm hanging out my washing to the beautifully restless melodic arcs of Brahms Symphony No. 4, 1st movement. This music could just about make me forget my own name. The weather is strange, sunny and cloudy at the same time, the threat of rain hovering in the distance. It isn't warm, but it isn't cold. I look up at the sky and think how much the indecisive sky reflects my own Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-41742291400357695342007-09-03T00:07:00.000-07:002007-09-03T00:07:04.062-07:00-You’re smiling. What did I do to make you smile?-Exist.I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, waking up at 4am unable to drift off again, lying awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking too much. I know it’s a classic depression symptom, one that psychiatrists scribble enthusiastically down on their notepads, but I am not sure if that’s why it keeps happening. Last night I could Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-24151311389110957612007-08-30T23:35:00.000-07:002007-08-30T23:45:04.342-07:00Because I am too lazy to write something new today, here is an excerpt from one of the old diaries that I uncovered recently whilst unpacking.'The Tales of Full Time Employment', Part 1: Withams Coffee (Catastrophe Waitress),1999-2000.This job can't really be classified as 'full time', as it was not strictly Monday to Friday. However, I usually worked there 5 days a week. Four days at the WynyardFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-39865622945984823552007-08-29T22:15:00.001-07:002007-08-29T22:16:11.899-07:00By the way, does anyone actually read this blog? If so, please indulge my vanity and leave me a comment.Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-41983594466113195592007-08-29T21:53:00.000-07:002007-08-29T22:13:24.488-07:00Last night was sleepless and icky. My mind churned with horrid thoughts, ugly images, trying its best to convince me that all is terrible, I've failed yet again, I will ruin anything good that comes into my life, I will eventually go mad. Midnight came and went and I was still awake, alone, despite the warm sleeping person lying next to me. Why is it that lying awake next to a fast-asleep person Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-35989485261867356412007-08-27T21:34:00.001-07:002007-08-27T21:38:19.241-07:00It’s relatively warm this morning. Spring is on its way, it seems. My newly waxed legs feel strangely exposed, freed from stockings and jeans for the first time in months. My knees meet the air appreciatively. I’m walking to work, listening to The Tears, holding a giant cup of coffee, extra shot. I’m thinking about the fact that I only have $20 to last me for a week, yet consider a giant coffee Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-26783990370761887092007-08-26T15:27:00.000-07:002007-08-26T15:28:02.713-07:001. IkeaWe start the day with a breakfast of champions. Sausage, 2 hash browns and tomato, all for $2 at the Ikea care. The strangeness of today begins here, with our being in this shrine to domestic bliss at 10am on a Friday morning, two skinny kids with no money and a penchant for all things red and shiny. Ikea can provide us with many red, shiny objects, it seems. I'm trying not to like it, Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-69977193403933547002007-08-21T21:46:00.000-07:002007-08-26T15:29:08.792-07:00WARNING: This post is quite sentimental, reflective, and may contain unashamedly soppy material. Why does life have to be so complexWhen I just wanna sit here and watch you undressOn listening to PJ Harvey's Stories from the city, stories from the sea:I have missed this album. Seven years ago it was a soundtrack for me, of sorts, as cheesy as that must sound. At that point I was twenty years old,Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-49653735297691108182007-08-18T20:32:00.000-07:002007-08-18T20:50:09.696-07:00There's a leak in the roof in the kitchen, and the errant raindrops fall into carefully placed plastic buckets in an awkwardly syncopated rhythm. 2-against-3, Brahmsian even, then 4-against-5, 6-atainst-7, 9/8, 13/8, out of step, out of time, disintegrating into a series of meaningless percussive non-sounds. It's drumming against the interior of my skull, and I feel taut and restless, full of Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-62268245706233623672007-08-17T18:24:00.000-07:002007-08-17T18:47:29.984-07:00Several things:1.Wednesday, 15th AugustI'm sitting in the hair-washing chair at the hairdressers. Ali holds my ponytail in her hand, scissors poised. I hold my breath for a second. With a dry scrape of metal on fibre it's gone, fifteen centimetres of dry, over-bleached, deader-than-dead hair. I recall the last time I cut my hair from long to short. I was seventeen, nervous, drinking a lemon ruskiFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-83661121059771824292007-08-13T05:26:00.000-07:002007-08-13T05:34:13.306-07:00I've been staring at the same paragraph for the past 10 minutes, and the words make less and less sense to me. The more times I read my words, the less concrete and logical they seem, and the more counter-arguments I can think of. For example:'The overall sound [in Scelsi's post-1950 works] is sculpted through alterations in register, level of rhythmic activity, methods of sound production, and Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-56610746382968199382007-08-12T03:21:00.000-07:002007-08-12T03:30:48.253-07:00Sometime in 1997.We are seventeen, stomping along in our big black boots. I'm wearing a T-shirt that I made myself, letters scrawled with white-out on black: 'ONLY POP MUSIC CAN SAVE US NOW'. Black lace skirt, black tights, silver fishnets, a brown op-shop hat. We're on our way to a gig; Marrickville? Chippendale? Somewhere like that, in a cavernous warehouse. Your ex-girlfriend is on the door Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-72898388417873355352007-08-09T23:40:00.000-07:002007-08-09T23:48:50.362-07:0012pmIt might be a yellow dress day, or it could be a tomboy day; either way, the sun is shining and I'm sitting in the garden with a mug of coffee, the cat basking at my feet. Today's clearly mapped out and organised, stretching out in front of me like a perfectly drawn grid, but it would be so easy to lose another day to decadent lethargy, lying around in the backyard with books and lemonade andFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-31776013730648908862007-08-09T00:48:00.001-07:002007-08-09T00:56:24.043-07:00Today I became a solo lease-holder, which is something of a milestone in my relatively short existence. It's exciting and terrifying. I had planned to celebrate afterwards with a custard tart at Sweet Belem, but discovered that it's closed until the 22nd August, so I went to a cafe around the corner to get a takeaway (I ran out of time to make coffee this morning). There was a lady standing Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-40396882817638378042007-08-07T23:06:00.000-07:002007-08-07T23:14:09.879-07:00From Friday July 27th: Girl date with Helen to Lindt, sugar high, and uni.I'm invincible, glowing, burning, sweeping through corridors, dragging lesser beings along in my wake. The walls of the Con, impregnated as always with layer upon layer of sounds, bend and ripple around me. I'm feeling for the first time craziness and beauty all at once, delirium mixed with lethargy, and it makes me want toFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-24755029442356237252007-08-07T07:31:00.000-07:002007-08-07T23:06:28.705-07:00The 8.48 train to the city is delayed by approximately five minutes. Cityrail sincerely apologises for any inconvenience caused. Mozart's sublime arpeggios drown out the metallic voice of the electronic announcement. Utter banality and supreme, almost unbearable beauty distilled into two rival sounds, mixing uncomfortably in heart and mind and ears.I am completely spent, exhausted, physically andFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1166326778310257722006-12-16T19:32:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:39:38.323-08:00On Friday night I went Christmas shopping at Myer, which was open til 9pm. I think they must have anticipated hordes of last-minute shoppers, all eager to spend. Instead it was pleasantly quiet. Everyone must have been out drinking. Ben was. I had planned to meet him, but he informed me that the venue was really smoky, so I decided to wander around a department store instead.I do love departmentFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1162449605609415032006-11-01T22:37:00.000-08:002006-11-01T22:41:44.056-08:00Scribbled on a page towards the beginning of my Music History 6 notebook:yellow plastic bagsteps LH side- hanging basketw/ferns halfway down.lichen. Indeed.Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1160221315685787712006-10-07T04:32:00.000-07:002006-10-07T04:41:55.703-07:00Last night's dream was particularly silly.I was playing tennis in the Australian Open, in the doubles final. Problem was, I could play tennis about as well as I can in real life-which is, very badly. I was a tennis player in my dream though-it wasn't as though Fiona had just stumbled onto the court. In particular, I was having problems with my serve-I just couldn't seem to get it over the net. Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1160098445964777062006-10-05T18:31:00.000-07:002006-10-05T18:34:05.976-07:009am, wake up. I am in Kyoto. The room smells like straw from the tatami mats on the floor, a smell which I found objectionable at first but quickly grew used to. Out of the window I can see treetops, rooftops, a pagoda spiked up into the air. Today I am going to Osaka. Breakfast at the tiny cafe around the corner. Breakfast Set A, ordered by pointing and smiling and saying 'hai'. Thick sweet Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1159342896246166252006-09-27T00:08:00.000-07:002006-09-27T00:47:58.796-07:00I just got back from a trip to Melbourne yesterday, the main purpose of which was to see the Picasso exhibition at the NGV. I know lots of folk didn't like it. I personally found it pretty good, because I am usually more interested in the history that runs behind and alongside works of art than the art itself, and the exhibition seemed very much geared towards this type of person.The real Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1150097099550377432006-06-12T00:18:00.000-07:002006-06-12T00:24:59.566-07:00In the past few days, I have:1. Been shopping for a toaster, and come home with an MP3 player. Nice device, but it doesn't really make good toast.2. Located a loaf of the Holy Grail of bread at my local IGA...a type of plain rye bread, oval-shaped, dense, delicious. Realised after consuming almost a whole loaf that it expired on the 2nd June. No mould, no signs of decay, nothing. Incredible. Rye Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1146530414573868942006-05-01T17:40:00.000-07:002006-05-01T17:40:14.636-07:00Feeling a little crazy today. I'm really nervous for some reason, I don't know why, really. I can't read at the moment, I've tried but the most my brain seems to be able to absorb is a sentence or two. This is quite a handicap for someone majoring in a research based subject. At least I can still listen, but I seem to be reacting strangely to most of the music I've been listening to, in that it Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1144569513589940552006-04-09T00:55:00.000-07:002006-04-09T00:58:33.600-07:00My ponytail currently looks like some sort of twisty bakery treat, perhaps a bread roll or almond twist. This is due to enthusiastic curling by my hairdresser on Thursday, which allowed itself to be amalgamated into one giant fat sausage-like curl of a ponytail, which is STILL THERE!!! 3 days later!!! I love it so much, yes I do.I went to a vintage clothing and textiles fair today and bought lotsFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1143948430919484682006-04-01T19:08:00.000-08:002006-04-01T19:27:10.930-08:00Apologies for the cliffhanger post. I'm a mighty lazy blogger, but you all know that already. I did get into the orchestra, and have been placed in second desk, in fact. Yikes. I cannot understand why I have been placed there, as I am positive that there are others more deserving of second desk position sitting behind me. I know this for sure, because I can hear them playing the hard bits when I Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1141512146718768822006-03-04T14:20:00.000-08:002006-03-04T14:42:26.806-08:00Helen and I promised each other that we would update our blogs, and I haven't been and she has been posting like a maniac, so I better start upholding my end of the bargain. So here goes.On Friday I auditioned for the Sydney Uni Symphony Orchestra. In approximately 15 years of playing the viola, this was only my second public solo 'performance' . The first was my HSC performance exam, but that Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1139470649245940222006-02-08T23:23:00.000-08:002006-02-08T23:37:29.260-08:00Well, Helen has tagged me, so I better do this quick cos she is a Bossy Girl and might beat me up otherwise.Four jobs I've had:1. Pie seller2. Coffee maker3. Opera chorus singer4.Administration slaveFour movies I can watch over and over:1.Fugazi instrument doco2.Sabrina (the old one)3. Niagara4. Donnie DarkoFour places I've lived:1. Turramurra2. Glebe3. Eastwood4. AnnandaleFour TV shows I love:1.Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1137402687987627332006-01-16T00:30:00.000-08:002006-01-16T01:11:28.040-08:00Life, other:Still alive, poor, constantly tired, which is quite fortuitous really, because if I was poor but brimming with vitality I would want to go out, but not be able to, and that would make me sad. Yesterday I went to Gleebooks to try to find something to spend my Christmas gift voucher on. They have a very nice music section, and, of course, I couldn't decide which one to get and left the Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1126930885056703372005-09-16T21:21:00.000-07:002005-09-16T21:21:25.113-07:00I woke up this morning stiff and sore and covered in bruises. A quick inspection revealed a massive one on my left thigh, and a string of smaller (but no less painful) ones down the length of my spine. I have little to no idea of how I got them. Last night I went to a function for work, at Luna Park. Free rides, free alcohol, free food, adds up to general mayhem and, in my case, unexplained mild Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1126756259557761512005-09-14T20:44:00.000-07:002005-09-14T20:50:59.563-07:00Another flawlessly beautiful day. Weather wise, that is. On days like to day I truly appreciate going to a university in such a charmed location. Despite its flaws, it's quite nice to be able to lie in the Botanical Gardens at lunchtime each day. Which was exactly what I was doing, when the familiar sound of the fire alarm siren interrupted my meditations (the third false alarm in three weeks). Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1126589683925288562005-09-12T22:21:00.000-07:002005-09-12T22:34:43.930-07:00I am terribly anxious today, for some reason. Anxious, and plagued by dreadful nicotine cravings. My palms are constantly sweaty & my hands are shaking. On the train to uni this morning, I felt as though if I had to sit still for one more second, I could quite possibly start screaming, or laughing, or a bit of both. So I got off the train at Wynyard and headed straight for the tobacconist. The Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1119010440054201232005-06-17T05:01:00.000-07:002005-06-17T05:14:00.060-07:00Well, I have survived yet another semester, much to my surprise. This morning I lived through 2.5 hours of hell, otherwise known as a harmony & analysis exam. Part of which was analysing a rather complicated Bach chorale, which I did a DREADFUL job of. I tend to panic in harmony exams. I look at all those notes, and consider the fact that I have to make sense of them, and translate them into Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1115990348663818952005-05-13T06:08:00.000-07:002005-05-13T06:23:21.600-07:00The soundtrack to the past few days has been 'The Message' by Grandmaster Flash. It has been playing inside my head incessantly. Fortunately it is a favourite of mine, so it's been quite pleasant really. It makes a nice change from the first movement of Mozart's Symphony no. 40 in G minor, which is probably best known as an extremely popular and very tinny mobile phone ringtone. Another one of myFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1115707678625172862005-05-09T23:38:00.000-07:002005-05-09T23:47:58.630-07:00I think I have written about the strangeness of Fisher library before, but I must say again, it is a mighty creepy place. I went there today in search of some writings by Goethe for my musicology project. After about 20 minutes of wandering helplessly through aisle after aisle of dusty old tomes, some of which hadn't been borrowed since 1972 (no exaggeration- I checked the return date slip), Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1114184262066701592005-04-22T08:23:00.000-07:002005-04-22T08:37:42.066-07:00I only ever seem to update this blog after coming home after a night out, so I figure I may as well continue this pattern.I suppose I am the worst girlfriend in the world, enticing my loved one to come along for 'a few drinks' with my work colleagues, then forcing him to sit there, bored for most of the time, while I prance about, indulging in high energy soft drinks and copious amounts of Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1104110841966048572004-12-26T17:02:00.000-08:002004-12-26T17:27:21.966-08:00Today, for the first time, I purchased service-station coffee. I got out of bed at about 10am and realised quickly that there was very little food that could pass as breakfast. I sliced an apple in to small pieces and ate them slowly, willing myself to feel full because the service station up the road seemed so very far away, and I felt too weary to traipse up there to buy bread. The apple Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1103295841201346332004-12-17T06:35:00.000-08:002004-12-17T07:04:01.200-08:00Ever been talked into going to a party, or some other late-night extravaganza, and realised pretty much as soon as you walk through the door that you really should have just gone home? Well, I have. Many times, and it's very rare that you can just act upon this going home impulse. It appears rude, I guess, to the person who has talked you into going there. Even if you don't know them so well, orFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1100848111463705762004-11-18T22:59:00.000-08:002004-11-18T23:08:31.463-08:00Oh, what a hellishly awful and most horrible day. My job is becoming more and more unbearable with every passing hour. I started off there as a filing clerk and general dogsbody, happy and fancy free, at liberty to hide in the filing area and eat chocolate biscuits from the seemingly endless supply in the kitchen. Six months down the track, and there never seem to be any chocolate biscuits left Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1100512144922392152004-11-15T01:37:00.000-08:002004-11-15T01:49:04.923-08:00A surprisingly wonderful weekend, and about time too, the last four or five having been filled with uni work, or guilt about not doing uni work. My exams finished on Thursday, and, after recovering from the horror of my brain-freeze during the harmony paper (I may just need an act of God to pass that one), I allowed myself to feel just a little relieved. My first ever year of full time study, Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1098608676676176312004-10-24T01:54:00.000-07:002004-10-24T02:04:36.676-07:00I spent 2 hours this weekend tasting 10 different varieties of orange juice. I love doing taste testing...it feels very futuristic, having food samples pushed at you through little hatches whilst sitting in a small white cubicle. I amused myself between samples by peering through the gaps around the edges of the hatch...I could see people in green shirts bustling about, washing glasses and Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1098279101447382832004-10-20T06:28:00.000-07:002004-10-20T06:31:41.446-07:00Just one more day of this horrendous rain, and I will unleash the Beast within.
Darned curly hair with its 6-inch regrowth. It looks bad enough as it is, without the assistance of this terrible leaky old sky.
And I think he knows that something's up.
Christ. Why do I always have to get drunk on Wednesdays.
Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1095857822161650472004-09-22T05:49:00.000-07:002004-09-22T05:57:02.160-07:00Well now I am drunk, and tomorrow I have to go to a funeral, and make sandwiches, and generally be a tower of strength. I'm not very good at being a tower of strength, Vanessa is generally much better at it than I am.
Band practice went well. I played my viola with gusto, possibly because no one could hear it over the drums and the bass, so I knew it that no one could hear my frequent bum notesFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1094215706862912472004-09-03T05:30:00.000-07:002004-09-03T05:48:26.863-07:00An idea for analysis: similarities between Bowie's 'Heroes', Nirvana's 'On A Plain' and Joy Division's 'Love Will Tear Us Apart'. 3 songs which, I believe, perfectly express profound sadness and that nasty static feeling that goes with it.
Hurrah!
I blew off my solfege class today, preferring to stay indoors glued to Ebay and daytime television. Cleaned the house, which gave me a few minutes Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1086958314880388462004-06-11T05:39:00.000-07:002004-06-11T05:51:54.880-07:00Instead of going to uni and practising for the aural exam, I decided to go underwear shopping. I wouldn't have had time to get to the Con anyway, or so I told myself. The traffic was bad, Bert was too riveting, it took me longer than anticipated to find a clean pair of tights. I forgot to eat lunch, so ate handfuls of biscuits from the kitchen at work instead. They had Caramel Crowns today. Nice,Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1086912893890617842004-06-10T16:58:00.000-07:002004-06-10T17:14:53.890-07:00I don't update this thing for a month and, when I return, Blogger looks all strange and different. That's what I get for being a hermit.
I feel as though I should have much to report, but there really isn't a lot to say. I have been working away, reading and researching and essay-writing like a good little musicologist. Handed in my major essay project/heap of drivel on Monday, and have not Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1083299983902859532004-04-29T21:39:00.000-07:002004-04-29T21:44:01.450-07:00I seem to have quit smoking. I haven't smoked for 6 days, except for one small desperate puff. I located a lone cigarette, left over in one of the numerous empty packets in a handbag, and simply had to get rid of it. The puff tasted absolutely revolting and made my throat hurt.
So now I have a little more money, to spend on frivolities. Hurrah.
I also have a new job, processing health Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1082206928030248222004-04-17T06:02:00.000-07:002004-04-17T06:07:32.153-07:00Spent most of today holed up in Fisher Library, frantically skimming through about 40 books and articles for my annotated bibliography. Began to feel a little crazy after 4 hours, but pushed on anyhow. Another 4 hours later, staggered out into the (waning) sunlight, completely insane. There's something about the research section of Fisher Library that will send you a little crazy, I think. The Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1082109990862693692004-04-16T03:06:00.000-07:002004-04-16T03:10:29.920-07:00She's still alive....just. I've spent the past week buried in books and papers of various types, working on the 3 assignments that I have due next Monday and Tuesday. A presentation, a listening test, and an annotated bibliograpy. The presentation has occupied most of my time, me being generally terrified about having to get up in front of a bunch of people I don't know or like and talk about Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1080624918142241322004-03-29T21:35:00.000-08:002004-03-29T21:38:53.170-08:00An otherwise average day has been somewhat brightened, by reading an article about a baby yellow shark called 'Mango'. If I knew how to make a link in a post, like Nicholas always does, I would, but I can't be bothered learning how to do that right now, so I'll just type the url: http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/03/30/1080544467566.html . Phew. Anyway. Apparently the shark is 'a fairly Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1080380858854163872004-03-27T01:47:00.000-08:002004-03-27T01:51:09.840-08:00Tried to vote today, did not succeed. According to the Australian Electoral Commission, I do not exist. I have been erased from the electoral roll. I discovered this after going to Annandale school to vote, then Leichhardt, then Glebe. The consequences of being a displaced person, I guess. I have moved so many times in the past few years that I have no idea where I lived when I last enrolled. Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1079423185273122932004-03-15T23:46:00.000-08:002004-03-15T23:49:41.060-08:00Why Fiona And University Are A Disastrous Combination.
1. Tutorial participation.
I am naturally a rather quiet person. If I am to say something in front of a group of people, it must first be mulled over and considered carefully. I find tutorials hideously intimidating. First of all, they are usually huge, and full of 18-year-olds who are all a lot louder than me. Second of all, (?) I have aFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-107913385303501562004-03-12T15:24:00.000-08:002004-03-12T15:27:24.576-08:00Yes, it's been a while. I haven't felt like sharing, really. Mainly because every time I open my mouth lately, streams of worried, stressed gibberish seem to pour out. Bills, uni, jobs, mystery health problems etc etc etc etc. I'll try to refrain, or at least to express them in an interesting manner.
Happenings:
1. University. Well, it has started. I'm currently in two minds about whether or Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1077849792920103232004-02-26T18:43:00.000-08:002004-02-26T18:46:03.936-08:00Plagued by strange ailments, so did not go to work today. I've spent most of the day searching on the net for prices for my uni textbooks. Had a small private heart attack upon realising that they will cost me about $500, if the worst comes to the worst and I have to buy them all new. Oh god.
So I went outside and sat in the courtyard for a little while, chain smoking, trying to tell myself thatFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1077519782388718622004-02-22T23:03:00.000-08:002004-02-22T23:05:48.560-08:00Not sure why I continue to write in this thing, because the most fascinating thing about it these days is the backdrop. Nothing notable seems to happen to me. I don't think I'm a blogging type of person, really. I have never been the type to tell stories about myself, or reveal very much at all to many people. I don't consider many things to be worth telling, which is why I like to keep quiet Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1076814444998466752004-02-14T19:07:00.000-08:002004-02-14T19:09:59.903-08:00Dull week, spent mainly working away. I managed to do 3 8-hour days in a row, which was a huge achievement. Uni starts again in about 2 weeks so I am feeling great pressure to earn as much cash as possible before the Great Poverty begins again.
I went to a Valentines Day Massacre party last night at Claire's house. Ben and I left the house all decked out as gangsters, him in a dapper suit with Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1076293495576832422004-02-08T18:24:00.000-08:002004-02-08T18:27:21.873-08:00Almost a week later, very little to report. I went out on friday night (gasp!) with Ben and Nicholas, to see Further. We sat in the beer garden (if you can call it that, it being small and devoid of anything resembling a plant) for most of the night. Nicholas left before the band started. Fair enough, it was extremely hot in there, and the crowd were pretty rowdy. I managed to watch their set Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1075803865955502442004-02-03T02:24:00.000-08:002004-02-03T02:26:44.466-08:00The flight to Brisbane was fine. Relatively nervous breakdowon-free. The flight home, however, was a completely different story. The prospect of flying through a rainstorm in a 737-400(one of those small jets that looks and feels really flimsy...) was too much for me and I started crying uncontrollably about 5 minutes before takeoff. The tears and general shuddering and panic attacks lasted for Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1075181291282632712004-01-26T21:28:00.000-08:002004-01-26T21:30:19.950-08:00I have been running aroung all day and am far too exhausted to think, let alone write anything profound or interesting. However , I simply must make note of all the free food items that I managed to consume today. I'm not sure quite how, but it seemed that everywhere I went, free food of some description became available. O Frabjous Day!
1. Free apple and free strawberry chupa chup, from Union Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1075010467090133002004-01-24T22:01:00.000-08:002004-01-24T22:03:36.170-08:00Tired old hungover kind of day. I finished watching Sabrina this morning. Oh, to be as beautiful as Audrey Hepburn. Lazed about, read paper, a textbook Sunday afternoon. Tonight I have to go out for dinner with Ben's dad etc. Ho-hum. Last night I invaded Nicholas's apartment and drank three quarters of a bottle of cheap white wine. We started working on a new song, which I'm a bit excited about. Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1074922366341703222004-01-23T21:32:00.000-08:002004-01-23T21:34:50.716-08:00Well. I now have relatively new hair. I went to my mum's hairdresser in sunny Mosman, for something a little bit different. Most of the black has been cut off, so it's shoulder length and predominantly blonde, with a bit of black peeking though on the bottom. The cut is a little too blunt for my liking, I prefer more razoring on the bottom to thin it out a bit, but it looks pretty good. I'll get Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1074767930089286932004-01-22T02:38:00.000-08:002004-01-22T02:40:52.060-08:00Ben just told me that my beautiful new pink top, festooned with embroidered bows and a black ribbon tie at the bust and little cap sleeves, is 'boho'. My parade has been well and truly rained upon. I decided not to show him my new black satin pencil skirt, for fear of what insulting comments he might conjure up.
What an insult. I hate boys. They have absolutely no idea.Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1074684145016104312004-01-21T03:22:00.000-08:002004-01-21T03:24:25.826-08:00I've become addicted to The Office (the TV series, that is, certainly not that hellhole in which I waste every weekday). Problem is, now I've watched both series 1 and 2, and there is no more. Ben is now watching the bloopers, so desperate is he for more Office, but I don't like watching bloopers. It kind of spoils the magic.
I applied for a new job today....as a transcription typist, typing Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1074321727664531882004-01-16T22:42:00.000-08:002004-01-16T22:44:02.546-08:00If you were a tourist, holidaying in this beautiful city (?),would you take a photo of your family in...a FOOD COURT????
I certainly wouldn't. There's better backdrops out there, surely. And if there aren't, what does that say about Sydney?
Perhaps the guy I saw taking the photo in Sydney Central Plaza food court had run out of scenic photo locations. Perhaps he was just trying to use up the Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1073889329964374782004-01-11T22:35:00.000-08:002004-01-11T22:37:18.380-08:00After today's spectacular loss on Ebay, what was there to do but go out and buy stuff to ease the pain? Two gingham 1950s shirtwaist dresses, one pink, one turquoise, now never to be mine. I hate to think how high my bidding rival's maximum bid was. Ah well, at least I pushed the price up with my frantic last-minute attempts to beat them. Makes me feel slightly better.
My weekend was so Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1073656715428677022004-01-09T05:58:00.000-08:002004-01-09T05:58:55.873-08:00Exhausted and drunk, yet, as usual, the urge to write things overtakes the urge to sleep. Just arrived home from a soul night at a terribly swanky place named V bar. The soul was fantastic, yet the drinks were expensive. I now have three dollars to last me til next Wednesday.
Darned screen won't stop moving. and it just took me three tries to spell the word 'moving' right. (make that 6 tries, Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1073545467797520992004-01-07T23:04:00.000-08:002004-01-07T23:04:47.813-08:00This house is way too hot, however I can't open the front door to let the breeze through because I'm practising my viola, and I'm a bit shy about passers-by hearing my mediocre efforts. I'm currently taking a break. I haven't practised for about a week or so and the callouses on my fingertips seem to have reduced or something, cos it damn well hurts. Plus the combination of the heat, the weight Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1073467153550059512004-01-07T01:19:00.000-08:002004-01-07T01:19:33.113-08:00I was denied the beautiful, beautiful pink fake croc skin peep toe heels. I went all the way to Paddington, 'yaahhhh' capital of Sydney, and damaged my eyes from having to look upon numerous examples of straight-out-of-Vogue-what's hot pages- fashion, and damaged the eyes of many fashionable people with my train-wreck-messy hair and chipped nail polish, only to find that the shop that was Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1073177163415392702004-01-03T16:46:00.000-08:002004-01-03T16:46:21.700-08:00Finally found somewhere go last night. After a few listless drinks at the pub down the road, Ben and Nicholas and I went to his apartment and had a midnight swim with Bree. The pool was disturbingly warm, but the view is nice from up there. Ben and I consumed a heavenly Turkish pizza in record time. Watched a bit of Gremlins, but by this time I was flagging and had to go home.
I have just Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1073125615158690052004-01-03T02:26:00.000-08:002004-01-03T02:27:13.640-08:00Bored, tired, listless. Wanting to go out but cannot think of anywhere I feel like going. Hungry but cannot be bothered hunting and gathering something for dinner. Must eat, I think I'm losing weight again. Nicholas is coming over, it will be good to have some company. Some more company, that is. Have spent the past hour playing with my new curling iron. I think that it will take a bit of Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1072941860293350332003-12-31T23:24:00.000-08:002004-01-01T22:13:21.096-08:00The real date of this post: Jan 1 2004. About 4pm. this blog works on US time.
A lazy day. It was never going to be anything else, really. Doesn't take long for the forced excitement and activity of New Year's Eve to dissolve into the bland nothingness of New Year's Day. My least favourite public holiday. Woke up at about 11 with the mother of all hangovers, cliched splitting headache and all. Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1072682226166616702003-12-28T23:17:00.000-08:002003-12-28T23:17:23.330-08:00A most successful day. Originally I feared that it might be one of those terrible days ridden with bad fortune, but it turned itself around quite nicely. I stayed up late watching 'Leaving Las Vegas' last night (incidentally, I didn't think it was worth the sleep deprivation caused by watching it. Seemed to me to be a poor imitation of 'Barfly'). As a result, I was unable to drag myself out of Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1072434846038714692003-12-26T02:34:00.000-08:002003-12-26T02:34:22.186-08:00The fact that I needed three attempts at typing in the correct URL to find my blog is testament to the amount of wine that I have consumed. Fancy wine, at that. (fancy wine being wine that costs over $10. At $10.99, this wine scrapes though). After a stressful day attempting to appear as normal as possible, it's provided the relief I was seeking.
Today was spent driving to Nelson's Bay and Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1072325418679799962003-12-24T20:02:00.000-08:002003-12-24T20:10:34.850-08:00For a change it actually feels like Christmas, being boiling hot outside. Fortunately my mum's house has an air conditioner which has created a most pleasant atmosphere indoors. Vanessa and I have been preparing a feast for much of the day, with the centrepiece being a spectactular tofu turkey...tofu shell complete with stuffing. and DRUMSTICKS. Vanessa tried to give it 4 drumsticks, in keeping Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1071992625586144502003-12-20T23:43:00.000-08:002003-12-20T23:44:00.313-08:00Well, turns out Ben was right. When I took off the hairnet, one hour before we had to leave for the party, my hair did not look fantastic. In fact, it looked pretty bad. I think the hairdresser had failed to take into account the excessive thickness of my hair, as well as the fact that it is already pretty curly to start with. So the whole thing looked like a big mess. Disaster. Vanessa and I Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1071886392838397182003-12-19T18:13:00.000-08:002003-12-19T18:13:27.690-08:00I've just had my hair done a la Marilyn Monroe/1950s housewife, at the old lady salon in Newtown. It was hot and musty in there, with a bizarre smell, old pictures stuck to the mirrors and a bench cluttered with numerous period bottles of styling products. Vanessa came along to watch. The lady had a massive cockatoo and an equally massive cat. The cockatoo seemed rather restless, letting out Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1071399323319267152003-12-14T02:55:00.000-08:002003-12-14T02:55:36.096-08:00You know those seedy Indian takeaway places that have curries sitting in bainmaries, usually with a thick layer of orange oil sitting on top?
Is it abnormal for me to find said thick layer of oil extremely offputting?
I've just been informed, in a rather curt manner, that this is 'wierd' and, even better, 'limiting'.
I can't even begin to contemplate the joy, ecstasy and delight that I might Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1071365714194628252003-12-13T17:35:00.000-08:002003-12-13T17:35:27.120-08:00Well, Nicholas and I didn't really last that long in the beer garden. The combination of alcohol and heat and general lethargy got the better of us and we both became drowsy very quickly. I bought a vodka, lemon, lime and bitters and the bartender informed me that bitters was actually extremely alcoholic. This was after she had poured three times the normal amount of it into my drink. Fantastic. Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1071283630836642442003-12-12T18:47:00.000-08:002003-12-12T18:47:23.373-08:00Well, a week has passed and the weather has improved dramatically. It's a boiling, stifling, sunny, wonderful summer dress day. I get very excited when the weather starts getting really hot, I think that it reminds me of being at school, and that restless feeling that you get when the holidays are only weeks away, and your teachers get lazy and start letting you watch videos in class so they Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1070773222028293182003-12-06T21:00:00.000-08:002003-12-06T21:00:33.656-08:00Same day, a few hours later. I resisted the urge to stay on the couch and forced myself to put clothes on and go out. Where did I choose to go? Perhaps the worst place that a mildly depressed person could possibly go: the city. I felt very strange after the bus spat me out outside the QVB, as though I was walking through deep water. I waded my way up to Kinokuniya (I have probably spelt that Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1070754941401692842003-12-06T15:55:00.000-08:002003-12-06T15:55:52.203-08:00Another grey and cold Sunday. What has happened to summer? I want it to be hot, so I can wear my fantastic dress collection. I'm starting to get really angry with the weather. I realise that this achieves nothing, but I'm damn angry anyway. Particularly as this is my designated 'doing things' day of the weekend. Lately, I've been dividing my weekends into two distinct halves: 1) hung-over, seedy Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1070457554843439412003-12-03T00:03:00.000-08:002003-12-03T16:40:32.800-08:00Quite pleased with myself for remembering my user name and password,having just consumed way too much beer. I am a total lightweight when it comes to the alcoholic beverages. Most people find it difficult to believe that, usually, one beer is enough to make me pleasantly tipsy, but it's true. Perhaps I should concentrate on either putting on weight, or increasing my alcohol tolerance.
a doctorFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1070349519024372012003-12-01T23:18:00.000-08:002003-12-01T23:18:49.160-08:00I've just slathered my hair with 'power protein treatment' and am sitting here with a shower cap on my head, waiting patiently for it to absorb and transform my bleach-frizzled mop into a glorious, silky mane. There's something about walking around with a shower cap on your head that really makes you feel like a fool. Could it be the fact that it looks really stupid?
I've done 2 full, meaty, 8-Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1070111318123601832003-11-30T00:02:00.000-08:002003-11-29T05:08:47.660-08:00Same old evening, waiting for pizza to arrive, many beers later. Strains of Nirvana coming from the living room. Much fun was had by myself, Ben and Nicholas with a keyboard and a disco beat and a walking blues bassline. And apparently now it's the last day in November. Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1070087214360286912003-11-29T17:26:00.000-08:002003-11-29T22:43:47.256-08:00Well, as you can see my blog has undergone some major cosmetic surgery, thanks to the multi-talented Nicholas and his ability to interpret mysterious computer language. So I now have what could very possibly be the girliest blog in the universe. Hooray. Particularly exciting: the 'recipe of the week'. Which means that I shall have to start cooking again. I obtained a new cookbook last night at Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1069997184416268322003-11-28T16:26:00.000-08:002003-11-27T21:29:06.353-08:00Tired, hot and with a budding headache. Whingy as usual. I just had my viola lesson, as soon as my teacher walked into the living room I realised that there was a half-full bottle of beer sitting on the coffee table. So now she must think that I drink in the afternoon before my lesson. Perfect. She went back out to her car to retrieve a music stand and I quickly hid the offending bottle behind aFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1069548907498133332003-11-23T11:52:00.000-08:002003-11-22T16:55:14.640-08:00A grey and rainy Sunday morning. Ho-hum. Was about to attack a huge pile of washing up, when Ben stumbled out of the bedroom, having just woken up, and boldly announced that he would do it. Hooray!
(this pile of washing up was mammoth. About 3 days worth, including the fallout from a drunken attempt at cooking. The man deserves a medal).
Went to Eli's new house last night. He's just moved intoFionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104915.post-1069306690740849552003-11-20T16:38:00.000-08:002003-11-19T21:39:39.270-08:00A bad day to go grocery shopping. It's too hot, and the bus was far too crowded. Two mishaps: 1) one of the handles on the bag containing my celery broke, forcing me to embrace it all the way home. Now my shirt reeks of celery. 2) As I was getting off the bus one of my shopping bags exploded and my mushrooms tumbled onto the footpath... fortunately I managed to salvage most of them.
Not a Fionahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00460642427669840344noreply@blogger.com