Thursday, December 4, 2008

Pleasant Distractions


Oh dear. We've really neglected you of late, haven't we? We are three of the worst kinds of fake millionaires ever. The kind who spend all their money on drugs, plastic surgery and pussy, and none on bunnies, the environment or wasted youth. We're absolutely wretched.

My only excuse is that I am currently working in a job which essentially requires me to perform the following three tasks:

a) change et al (in italics, no full stop) to et al. (no italics, full stop).

b) change words ending in ...ize, ...ization etc. to ...ise, ...isation etc. (it seems many academics still don't get Australian spelling).

c) change " (double quotation marks) into ' (single quotation marks).


Which, as you can imagine, doesn't really leave me feeling all that artsy, crafty or witty.

On the plus side, however, such mundane work allows for tricky simultaneous working and day-dreaming to a degree limited only by my imagination (which is, in reality, quite dull at the moment, dominated largely by thoughts such as "oh gosh, I'm bored...I wonder if I should invent something...oh, I know! Maybe some kind of like, purchasable, synthetic chest-hair for men and women", or "oh gosh, I'm bored...why does hair fall on the body in such a specific pattern?....", or "oh gosh, I'm bored... I wonder where snails go during droughts?", "oh gosh, I'm bored...I really wish I was plaiting chest hair", or "mmm....chest hair"). Seriously though, I really do wonder about those snails. Don't you?

I took this photograph after one of the first rains we'd had here in months. The footpath was crawling with them!

Anyway, when I'm not day-dreaming about chest hair or snails, I do spend a lot of time carefully considering my plans for that glorious thing valued so dearly by those in full time work* (especially that of the editorial variety): The Weekend. Since weekends, like mornings, scarcely existed to me at all in any important way in my life prior to office work, I've only recently come to appreciate the sanctity of those two days beginning with S which fall at the end of the week. I plan to cram as much into this one as possible.

Thusly: A list of that which this weekend's Shortlist currently includes (otherwise entitled: Julzie recommends Pt 2):

1. Eating delicious mulberries straight off this tree.

2. Making these muffins. This is perhaps the greatest recipe for a baked thing I have ever discovered. And I hoard recipes. And I don't even ordinarily love, or even like sweet things. Not even kidding.

3. Taking said muffins, along with a salad (I thoroughly recommend this one, even if it isn't particularly seasonal) and a bottle of Rosé to the top of Mount Ainslie for a picnic with lovely friends and lovely lovers.

4. Thinking about this video, and how I am going to force my life to change because of it. You should watch it. It'll make you feel disgusted, depressed, guilty, inspired and motivated. In that order. Which really is the best kind of order, no?

5. Reading lots and lots of this fantastic book and fantasising about my trip to Southern India. (Oh yeah, I'm going to India. In January. I'm trailing this new thing called impulsiveness. So far I'm not so sure that I enjoy it.).

6. Going to see this at Canberra's very own National Film and Sound Archive

7. Making some kind of DIY craft project for my house. Contenders include this, and this.

8. Completing a very exciting DIY project of my own, soon to be featured on this here blog.

9. Listening, a lot, to this.

10. Contemplating the possibility of applying for a PhD thesis in Anthropology on long-stay caravan park culture in Australia.

And if I'm not thoroughly exhausted by all of the above:

11. Posting a recipe, just for you.


*I use this phrase lightly, as I am technically only in full time work for this one week, and on average arrive at my place of employment at around 10.30am. Still, I'll thank you not to impose your own values onto the degree to which I suffer.

1 comment:

Heavy D said...

bibliographies are absolute crap. I feel your pain, much of my thesis was spent doing the same.