And no, I'm not from Canada, eh.

So I have this conversation with people sometimes.
Actually, more than sometimes. I have this conversation a LOT. With strangers, and acquaintances, and parents of friends, and that guy sitting opposite me on the tram, and that teacher who took me for a class once, and the girl serving me at LOTF and the customer at my work and SO MANY PEOPLE I HAVE LOST COUNT. It goes something like this:
Anonymous Person: "Where does your unusual accent come from?"
Me: "Ha. It's funny you ask because, I don't know."
Anonymous Person: "You... don't know?"
Me: "No. I've never been out of the country, my parents were born in Australia, I've always lived in Melbourne..."
Anonymous Person: "Really? How strange, I thought you sounded Canadian."

THIS HAPPENS ALL THE TIME.
So please don't ask. I can't answer your question. I'm really sorry that my vowels are too high. I'm really sorry that I pronounce things weirdly. I'm sorry that I have a strange twang to my voice. I'm sorry I can't explain why I have a weird twang to my voice.
BUT I CAN'T CHANGE IT SO THERE.

Not that there's anything wrong with being Canadian. I always get asked if I'm Canadian first, followed by English, followed by American. I am not so fond of the American suggestion, because I worry that maybe I sound like I should be running a turkey farm out in Utah with my mormon family. And I'm not entirely sure that would be a good thing.
But actually, I am quite fond of Canada. And Canadians.
Here is my list of cool Canadians, just for kicks:
-Jim Carrey
-Tegan And Sara
-Barenaked Ladies
-Leonard Cohen
-Brendan Fraser (and I hear you scoff at this one, but if you've ever seen the movie "Crash", you will understand how awesome he is.)
-Jack Kerouac.... I love you more than life itself.

So actually, I feel okay about being mistaken as Canadian. They are a pretty cool bunch of people.
Except let's just forget the seal clubbing.
Also about Keanu Reeves and William Shatner.
Thanks.

Anna xx

I just dropped like $80 I don't have on books I know the plots of *sigh*

Why hello there, denizens of the internet. I haven't written in a while - well, that's a lie, I haven't posted in a while. How've you been? I hope this finds you well. Personally I (finally) find myself unburdened by the stresses of exams. I think I think I think I pulled it out and passed three out of four, and that's good enough for me.

I don't know about you but I find I write best seeing the sunrise from the wrong side. Just drifting off to sleep. This morning, though, I woke up and I looked through my notebook and I had scrawled in big, ornate letters "REVOLUTION GIRL STYLE NOW" - that's not mine - opposite "I'M SO FUCKING FUTURE". That's not mine, either. I don't remember writing either one. Underneath them both I have an honestly totally terrible attempt at creepypasta that I want to revisit: creepy? It doesn't have to be dark and wet and slithery to be unsettling. I scrapped everything except for one sentence ("They smile wide, to the molars.") now I just have to figure out what to do with it. I hate that, being on a hot streak and then going back to edit and realising that you have nothing of consequence. So here, I'm dumping half-finished TERRIBLY PRETENTIOUS PROSE because loling at bad writing? ALWAYS FUN. But, um, this is going to get long, is there any way to truncate this? Someone internet-savvy, hit me up ok?

Here is a poem, to start off the festivities. It's John Masefield's. It's called Sea-Fever.

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

That was nice. Now for the lulz:

This is on a page marked {SLOW ME DOWN}. I hope you enjoy? Oh, here-

P.V.C. is my favortie plastic, because its nice and shiny.

Oh Hai Dere.
I am in a BUBBLY mood today for a number of reasons which shall be presented here in a GOBSMACKINGLY.BLAND.FORMAT for you:

A) I have finally finished my incredibly mundane//irrelevant//idiotic history subject about certain Myths, Legends and History (tm) today with the completion of my exam. This was a very hilarious situation because, in not going to many lectures or Tutes (due to the mediocrity described above), i prepared an entirely different essay than i was asked and was forced to pull my amazing BS skills. Apparently Arthur was an important historical figure and should be taken seriously because he MAY have actually been a Roman soldier. Which one you may ask? That is a question for another day exam, when you're older.

B) It is ma Birfdaiii tomorrow, a concept i haven't actually realised until now. Riiiiigggghhhhhtttt now. Which means my incredible idea to collect hard rubbish over the past few months in an attempt to create a large lounge-room setting in my backyard (which already had a television and some form of lamp already) is finally going to come to fruition on Friday. This also means i have an excuse to make alotta mixtapes tonight in preparation. Which also means that i can have mixtapebeer. Which also means dance muzzzik and beers. If only a babe was involved my day would be perfect.

C) Kenickie just keep putting me in an incredibly good mood (For those who don't already know, you will find the answer to WHY next week in my new blog @ Awaitingtheapocalypse.blogspot.com in which i'll be writing an analysis i've been preparing, it has pictures, and babes, and shows how much time i have on my hands. Its going to be awesome guyz).

D) I got my falls ticket which solidifies the idea that new years will involve (GET READY FOR THE DOUBLE DOT POINT GUYS!!):

D1) Music
D2) Babes
D3) KAKI-FUCKING-KING
D4) Gud tiems
D5) Week long road trip with good friends.

E) After months of not wanting to, i finally look forward to getting up in the mornings again :)


Can't you feel the love? You feel it. I know you do. My lovely internets. Same time//same place.

Maybe I didn't like to hear, but I still can't believe Speed Racer is dead.

So I want to be this girl.
Judging by my HappyFunTimesPartyDrinkPersonality recently, I probably often am this girl, except not as well dressed.
Anyway, my mum is trying to work out whether or not to sort of accidentally overdose my dog, but she doesn't know if she's had her medicine or not but has she? Who knows and actually--ANYWAY I HAVE TO GO. Bye.

xx

Well that's just plain unfortunate.

Hi.
It's Monday. Tomorrow I have a flute recital and on Wednesday I have a written exam on social theory which I know nothing about, and thus, HERE I AM WRITING A NEW BLOG POST. I use my time effectively.
Anyway, how are you? I hope you're excellent.
I got five hours sleep last night and woke up this morning and went to work, where I made a double strength coffee that didn't even hit the sides. I didn't even feel anything. No caffeine buzz, no nothing. I feel that my caffeine tolerance might be getting higher, which is probably a bad thing, because I hear that too much caffeine makes you infertile.
However, after working with children for a year, I feel this is not a great loss, really.
Today a prep boy came in, greeted me with a "Hello, Darling", promptly became highly offended when I forgot what he wanted on his toast, and then sat with an Etch-a-Sketch for half an hour, whizzing the thing that cleans the screen back and forth with a sound like ripping velcro, over and over again, until I yelled "ENOUGH!!!" really loudly and made everyone jump. I feel like an evil dictator, leading my tribe of highly irritating tiny people. Who can't take orders. And only exist between the hours of 7am and 9am on Monday and Tuesday mornings.
Sigh.
Anyway. So I have this social theory exam on wednesday, and I have no idea how I am going to pass it. And I don't mean that in the joking sense, I actually mean that I have not attended more than a third of the lectures and I have no idea why I chose the subject in the first place. Somehow I've been averaging B+'s on my essays though, but I don't think that's so much due to intelligence as it is to being able to bullshit. I am an arts student. We don't do anything other than drink a lot, consume a whole bunch of caffeine, bullshit our way through university and occasionally have existential crises.
(Hangovers this year: Approx. 7 or 8, Daily Caffeine Consumption: Approx. 2 - 4 strong cups, Wanky Self-Important Essays of Bullshitting: All essays completed, Existential Crises: 1 or 2, but I'm sure that will move up to three around the new year.)
Anyway, I started studying for it two days ago, and I am kind of ready to concuss myself with something blunt and heavy.
The reasons for this:
"The Mirror Stage as Formative of the 'I' Function as revealed in Psychoanalytic Experience." - essentially "look-I-can-see-my-reflection-but-I-kind-of-hate-it-but-actually-I-have-to-like-it-so-okay-then" but in about a billion more words.
"White Self-Racialisation as Identity Fetishism" - In short: people are racist and crap.
"Reclaiming Auschwitz" - Self-explanatory and immensely depressing.
"A Child is Being Mutilated: Law's Fantasies of Female Genital Mutilation." - At this point, I want to gouge my own eyes out in horror and despair for humanity.
ARGHRGRHGRHGRHGRHRGHRGRHGRHR.
So there we have a nice soup of self-hatred, hatred-of-others, child abuse, genocide and sexual abuse. Remind me why I chose this subject?
So my weekend was basically trying to reread about a million texts and take notes on them. And each one is more depressing than the previous.

Anyway. In other news, I keep getting really innappropriate songs stuck in my head recently and then realising I am singing them quietly in public places.
Most recent choices have been Tori Amos' "Professional Widow": "Slag pit, stag shit - honey bring it close to my lips. Starfucker, just like my daddy, selling his baby..." and so on and so forth. And of course, some Kanye "Gold Digger": "Now I ain't sayin' she a gold digger, but she ain't messin' with no broke niggers." And some JT thrown in: "She looks like a model, except she got a little more ass."
I feel like a dirty, whorey misogynist and I don't even know how that works.
Anyway, on that note, happy Monday, and I hope your week is less full of social theory papers and more full of Awesomeness.
Yeah.
Anna xx

Stick Making: A Complete Course

So uhmmm... Hai.
On the topic of micro-blogging-ness:

http://www.everyoneismental.blogpsot.com/

Click the link, no really. DO it.


WHAT.

xx

P.s, this is all the time I can afford to spare to you, audient.

P.p.s It's not that I don't value our time together, but ohgodimpendingexamdoom.

P.p.p.s Speak to you all soon.

...?

THEADORE DESCHANEL is rather bored and so is having a bit of fun with this...