building

A new year signifies a lot of new things.  Simple.  I've always really loved the little window of time between Christmas and New Years Eve as one for unadorned reflection; a semi-habit I've sort of refined since I was fifteen or so.  It's almost an assembly in my mind.  I take my time, collect things that have happened and let them resurface - major events first, but then also those subtle nostalgic moments that mean absolutely nothing to anyone else.  I flick through the photos I have taken and the words I have jotted down and the art I have created.  Writing it down now it sounds really strange but it is honestly one of my favourite things to do, and when I think of it it's probably also why I carry around the same notebook in my bag for 365 days.  Last year, this extended to a playlist of the most significant songs (high rotation/significant times/emotive 2am moments, the usual) my ears feasted on.  This year it includes a disposable camera (I'm unashamedly excited to see the outcome of such a roll of film).

So, I share with you my 2012 edition of music (too lazy to hyperlink everything, but you must listen to The Middle East).

Hanging On - Active Child
Exes And Ohs - Buckley Ward
Terms and Conditions - Chet Faker
Big Jumps - Emiliana Torrini
Yet Again - Grizzly Bear
City Girl - The Jezabels
Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before - The Smiths
Boy - Emma Louise
Deep Water - The Middle East
Air - Snakadaktal

It's these little parcels of nostalgia that I so love.  I can bundle them up and remove myself from them, keep moving, but when I go back to them they're the same and untouchable to new feelings.  Following my little memory holiday, I almost always assemble little objectives for the coming year.  They're hardly ever groundbreaking and usually just tiny little items of significance to me.

I started this blog with the intention of letting it grow.  Distend.  The simple change of date - like that of a new year - I talked about in my first post isn't as scary now as it was at the time of writing.  It's still there, but it'll grow into something different now that I'm (mildly) assured where my future post-university is going.  Next year will present me with a big change and an inevitably new routine to life; a new stage.  This space has become its own little part of my end-of-year reflection and is a true time capsule of this year, and so, I am going to leave it here for the time being.  I don't want to quit for fear of losing the rhythm of having a blog, but at the same time, a new year and a new routine is as best a time to leap to something new.  For now you can find me at roseannetiziani.tumblr.com - I hope to eventually mix the growing archive I've created of my published work with more frequent, informal pieces of blah.

Covet and Collect

I'm a bit of a purist when it comes to my belongings.  Even when I was younger I would take the upmost care of my things - my toys - and cherish them like nothing else.  I think it's okay to have an attachment to 'stuff', despite all the counter-culture and backlash society has cultivated over time towards it.  It's okay to be grateful for what you have, to consider your purchases and to then appreciate them throughout their lifetime.  Like this manifesto on stuff, I've always taken pride in carefully cultivating the objects I possess.  This is not only in their obvious utility but also how they reflect (deliberately or not) my feelings about consumption in general.  On a basic level, I think this is quality first.  I can very rarely bring myself to buy items that are secondhand or based on the latest trend, purely because I envision items lasting my entire lifetime when I buy them.  This is particularly of note with non-consumable items like clothes.  I want to be able to weave my own narrative and experiences into them, and then hopefully, pass then onto my daughter for her to do the same; and to see the twenty-year cycle of fashion do its justice.

I'm also really interested in the concepts surrounding consumption, but to avoid a theoretical tangent I'll simply say that I'm mindful of the ethical and social implications of my choices.  This is mostly with food and beauty items, and is perhaps a heightened repercussion of working at an international beauty brand for two years.  I'm more than happy to say that it's not an entirely altruistic choice at the same time, too; the choices I make are also concerned with making sure what I consume and use contribute to my well-being at the same time.  Listed here are the beauty items I use on a daily basis: the ones that I can't live without, the ones that I've carefully picked out from the others for various reasons and after endless trials, and because of this, I will use them for my foreseeable future.  Call them staples, I call them collectables.

1. Coconut Body Butter, The Body Shop: One of my favourites since I was fifteen, this smells like a lot of past summers and now, more so, of a lot of memories.  This butter has an amazing texture mostly thanks to the heavy concentration of Shea and Cocoa Butters (Community Fair Trade from Ghana) and the moisture barrier it creates lasts forever....so does the tub!

2. Vitamin E Eye Cream, The Body Shop: Don't look at me like that, you're definitely never too young for an eye cream.  This is also my saviour when I've been staring into a computer for nine hours on end and my eyes are about to fall out of my head.

3. Coco Mademoiselle EDP, Chanel: As stupid as it sounds, I'd never experienced a fragrance that made me feel confident before this one (holla at me, ladies).  The expense of the bottle outweighs the feeling; as well as it lasting forever and being the comfortable shelter of a lot of recent memories, I think this is the closest I've ever come to having a signature scent.

4. Lash Power Mascara (01: Black Onyx), Clinique: I really admire Clinique as a company; dermatologically-tested, fragrance-free, aesthetically sleek and trustworthy.  Their mascara formulations are brilliant regardless which one you use, but I like this one particularly because IT LASTS.  No more panda eyes because your full cheeks cause your mascara to smudge when you smile (...what), they're instead perfect all day.  Even better is that it washes off in really gentle chunks which means you don't get dark smudges everywhere (towels included) or have that gross goop of black in the corner of your eyes later on!

5. Reverence Aromatique Hand Wash, Aesop: It has small chunks of pumice in it to exfoliate your hands.  Enough said.  And I'm not talking about the smell because you already know how good Aesop smells.

6. Blushwear Cream Stick (05: Shy Blush), Clinique: I've tried a lot of cream blushes and this one lasts the longest, looks natural, and you can wear it without anything underneath.  Easy peasy.

Bloodlines

The air smells full of anticipation tonight.  It smells like listless nights, too hot to move.  Of baths under the running cold tap and that incidental splash of the sprinkler over your feet, the grass rough and sodden beneath.  We used to spend so much time with them, our cousins.  In their cubby house we would play school.  I'd be the teacher.  A blackboard seems so archaic now.  When we grew tired of it we had grown into our bodies and we could see that creation had continued.  Our grandparents started to look different to what we remembered.  Our Nonna had kept travelling as we had.  We couldn't see that in our parents yet though, that would come later as our eyes opened.  And so, we didn't see them as often, our cousins.  Our father and our father's brother had started to look different to each other too; time had carried them apart.  This we couldn't understand why.  My brother and I made a promise to make sure this didn't happen to us.  Our children will be cousins and never grow apart; my brother is my brother, I am his sister, and we will never grow apart.

Cooling Of The Embers

I don't know where the time in this past month has gone, let alone most of this year.  I've been busy of late; changing my routine, feeling out of control, learning very new things and meeting new people.  My state of introspection has seemed to come into its own lately, but I can't really tell whether it's the building or the changing of it within me or just something plain new.  Introspection is a strange thing.  It makes you only as lonely as you'll let yourself be.  For a long time I was worried I would never get back the enjoyment and solace I seek in being by myself, in enjoying my own company, but it's returned and it's stronger than ever.  No longer do I lust the company of someone to know every single thought in my mind, or to be able to predict my existence.  The nicest feeling I have is that I am working on the best version of myself; my days are carefully planned, I spend my time with people who make me feel happy and who I genuinely care about.  Of course the downside of being so busy, as usual, is that I haven't been able to create in the capacity I wish I could.  For all the time I spend around creative people, the spirit-crushing tasks I am assigned and the eternal blank stare deep into a computer screen don't do wonders for a daydreamer.  The closest I've got recently is the stack of yellow sticky notes jotted with ideas.  Today I even realised that I haven't been carrying around my blank notebook for weeks; I don't know what's happened but I'm sad that it took me so long to realise.  It's not entirely all horrible though, because in that stack of yellow sticky notes is a reflection of my life nonetheless.  "I'm scared I don't know how to romanticise or idealise anymore, and that's what I liked about us the most," I penned two months ago.  I'm glad to say I don't feel like that anymore, and if this ramble of a blog post signifies anything it's that I'm as idealistic as ever.  That 'us' no longer exists because disappointment is a word that carries so much weight to it, it doesn't really have much feeling anymore. Now I'm on the precipice of finishing my undergraduate degree and not knowing what is going to happen with anything, and this is what makes me scared.  It's not paralysing, but just enough to be in the back of my mind.  Sometimes I think back to when the year started and all the intentions I had for it, and comparing it to what it is now, it's hard not to think that this - right now - shouldn't be how it is.  I didn't have to convince myself of this at the time though, I believed every bit of it; really hard, evidently.  I'm now trying as hard as I can to keep learning, to speak up when I need to, but as my path diverges so does that of everyone else I know, and then that feeling of loneliness resurfaces.  On Thursday I spent my last day of class with the person I met on my first day of university, three years ago.  He is my greatest friend I have made in this time and a person who I cannot articulate my level of respect for in words. We visited the places on campus that meant a lot to our friendship and relived all the things to have happened since then.  Sometimes it upsets me that our friendship isn't the same as what it used to be; not in its closeness, but in the fact that we've both grown up, that people have entered and disappeared from both our lives, and just simply that time has changed things.  Our lives are both so different, and sometimes it's hard to ignore the feeling that this is going to become more pronounced with everyone I know in the immediate future.  At the moment most of my days are quiet, but it's not a bad quiet.  It's just making sure I'm anchored safely while everything moves around me.

On Nostalgia

A sentimentality.

I recently found myself discussing this concept with a dear friend.  Just like every other intangible emotion that humans experience, none of us find nostalgia in the same way.  Yours will never be the same as mine.  It can manifest itself in joy or pain; in yearning for, or in regret of, the past.  Most often and logically its for your own past, but sometimes its for someone else or a time or place you never even got to experience.

Despite this, it's always wistful and romantic.  To me, nostalgia is largely a method of the mind in retaining memories, those ones that ever so slowly melt away until you think of them no more.  Your mind remembers (what it thinks to be) every single aspect of a certain situation, time or experience, formulating something so inherently unique to your own inner observations and perceptions that it is irreproducible to no one else but yourself.  That doesn't mean they're gone forever, though.  It usually just means you'll have to wait for that serendipitous moment when something years down the track, when you least expect it, brings its back to the surface. 

I find my nostalgic moments mostly in smells, or in a particular time of year.  Maybe this is because they are static; the same no matter where you experience them. My yearning for periods of time has heightened over the past few years, this perhaps more so as I get further away from them.  Mid-May, when the weather begins to chill, feels like the pangs of loneliness I felt when most of my friends went overseas; September feels like when I returned from Europe to find Spring had sprung in my garden, and I got to begin a new friendship with someone that I had to leave behind before I went away.  When I think of it I also have songs on my iPod that would fit these moulds well.  These notes of nostalgia will stick for a long time before they are replaced.  On the other hand, at the end of this year they might all culminate and neatly file themselves away as something I'll later wistful know as my undergraduate years.  Who knows.

Smells are a little bit different.  They seem to continually re-adjust themselves and build and grow in me.  I've got smells of my Nanna cooking from when I was little that I can feel slowly becoming associated with my Mum in the kitchen on a Saturday morning.  Eventually they'll become mine.  Something as pervasive as cigarette smoke, even; it smells of my time in Europe, of my first boyfriend, of nights in sticky-carpeted pubs and now, of summer nights and carelessness.  The bottle of perfume my parents gave me for my twentieth birthday used to smell so strongly of that balmy night I spent feeling safe in a dark cinema.  Sometimes it still does, but now it also smells of special occasions and enhanced confidence.

Now I read back on my words and I try as hard as I can to feel something, anything; that pull deep in my centre that used to hurt when my eyes glazed over them and made me ache for days.  It's still there now, that ache I wanted forever to end, but now it's different; it's more unsure, almost like a clock-hand paused in the middle of a second.

When I read over things I have written, however, I don't experience this same sense of feeling.  I probably won't when I read over this piece either.  I'm not sure why this is; the only thing I can possibly think of is that the act of writing enables you to expel something palpable for later on.  You've taken the physical steps to get it out into the open and it isn't just caught in your mind.  I wrote the above paragraph a few weeks ago on a scrap of paper, and there are only some things in it now that I can still relate to.  The warmth and the haze of the memory is still there.  Nostalgia, though, often creeps up on you and bursts itself open through a prompt you didn't even know existed.

Lately I've found myself pausing when I enter this contemplative mood.  Something in my mind has been wanting to turn it off.  Maybe it's for want of actually living in the present, being consciously thankful for what I have now, or not dwelling on the past.  But I've also realised all of these things are the polar opposite to what it means to be nostalgic.  After all of this, nostalgia isn't something just for dreamers, or wishful thinkers, or even idealists.  It's something that makes us human, and reminds us so when we forget.

outlines

2 Alifangs Andelbow

4 Clara Balzary 

y o u c a n b e a l i v e a n d u n c o n s c i o u s

-

cusp |kʌsp|noun1 a pointed end where two curves meet, in particular;• Architecture a projecting point between small arcs in Gothic tracery.• a cone-shaped prominence on the surface of a tooth, esp. of a molar or premolar.• Anatomy a pocket or fold in the wall of the heart or a major blood vessel that fills and distends if the blood flows backward, so forming part of a valve.• Mathematics a point at which the direction of a curve is abruptly reversed.• each of the pointed ends of a crescent, esp. of the moon.• figurative a point between two different situations or states, when a person or thing is poised between the two or just about to move from one to the other.
I'd say this is all about right, right about now.

Show Me

Look! While this is something a little different from me, considering I empty the entire contents of my bag onto my bed every day when I get home I thought I might as well show you what's inside.  That and also I'm really good at not doing homework when it's sunny and it's Sunday.

The culprit in question: my black Longchamp Le Pliage shopping bag.  I bought her just over two years ago on an airport stopover on my way to Italy; she's reliable, goes with everything and is just gorgeous.  I'm sad to say she's on her last legs though (I've already had to stitch up the corners twice) and she's not as shiny as she used to be.  I'm on the hunt for something new, suggestions welcome.

Very vital necessities which are pretty self explanatory; keys, lip balm, earphones.  The lip balm (Delipscious in Berry Crush from The Body Shop: tacky name, tacky packaging, but so so good) is the only one I've found so far that vaguely hides my blue lips when I'm cold!  The Alessi key ring is a recent purchase to myself after getting my first grown-up job; the two lonely keys on it open my house and the office - accurate reflection of my life at the moment. (Just realised my iPhone should be here too but it took the snaps!)

My mum bought me my Country Road wallet when I was 15. Patent and shiny, so shiny.  On its last legs too but working the distance in keeping me organised!

Always ALWAYS in my bag is my Moleskine yearly diary and three pens of the same kind: ink Uniballs in blue and red and an Artline black fineliner in 0.3 (don't know what 0.4 is doing in this picture, get out).  I will never replace pen and paper for my iPhone when it comes to being organised or using a calendar.  Never.  The other notebook is my creative one for writing/drawing/thoughts etc etc. It's usually a small tan Moleskine but this colourful one was given to me by someone very lovely.

This one's explanatory: Apple, Scarf, Water bottle. I get hungry, I get cold, I get thirsty. Worthy of a photo.

Miscellaneous-but-necessary things. I often go wandering around the place by myself so the disposable camera is for awesome things that catch my eye, or when I feel like being extra creative and I've dedicated an afternoon to snapz but don't have enough money to fill up my Holga with proper film.  The Aesop bag holds my lunch (enviro conscious 'n stuff).  The little Bloom case carries all obligatory girly things such as Papaw (don't need to say anything about that gem), Hemp Hand Protector and Mineral Blotting Tissues from The Body Shop (saviours for dry hands and 3pm shiny face) and Aesop Resurrection Rinse-Free Hand Wash (I eat apples a lot, what can I say). 

After all of this, I realised the book I'm reading at the moment is missing. Whatever it is is usually amongst all this stuff too.  If you were wondering right now it's The Communist Manifesto. Don't judge my nerdishness. xx

ghosts and lovers

bones

Your face split itself down the middle and was sliding away

The forehead, and then the eyes

The nose cracking under slow pressure

Uncontrolled

Yet furiously slow.

With consciousness waning 

The blurriness hazing over and over

Naive and restful

And over and over 

Everything was there, but then gone

Returning to the fold.

Time To Find Some Monies

The third-year of a media and communications degree: when everything decides to slap you in the face and change its mind.

It would seem that the arts' mentality you spent the last two years getting down pat (ahem; 'Hey! Who needs a job when I can philosophise all I want about Lenin/global warming/feminism all day, every day!') has suddenly given way to this thing called 'getting a job' and your 'future'.  People that were once your friends are now being saved into your memory bank as 'contacts' while you 'network' your way around office water-coolers.  That fuzzing thing so far off in the distance it was basically a mirage is now actually coming into view.  And it's a bit scary.  There, I said it.  

Having recently spent a large majority of my time in the ambiguous world of being an intern, I thought I'd share with you what I've learnt about this thing called being a grown up. 

BE PREPARED.  I started with an obvious one.  Just google the @#$! out of your workplace.  Not so much that you're walking around with a plan of the office airducts in your back pocket, but just so you know what the boss looks like at least. 

OFFICES ARE WAY AWKWARD.  Just accept that you're feeling awkward, that everyone else is probably feeling awkward too, and you'll be okay.  I don't think I'll ever understand why Skype chat is suddenly a socially acceptable way to communicate with your editor who is sitting five steps downstairs, but just do it.  Also, don't add aforementioned editor as a friend on Facebook during, one; the period between your interview and actually starting your internship, and two; in your sleep by accident then have to delete them as a friend in the morning.  You're screaming for gawky.  

FIND ALTERNATIVE EXERCISE.  If it means walking up and down the stairs to go the bathroom, then fine.  When you realise your staring down a future which involves you being sucked into a computer screen for a good 40 hours a week, and you still haven't managed to control the associated food binge that comes with sitting down (all those years of studying paid off as practice), ya gonna feel like a troll by the end of your first day.  No wonder the western world is slowly getting fatter!  And don't say you've got time when your day is over either because you'll be too tired from all that sitting. Take it where you can - ride your bike to the office, walk on your lunch break, heck, stand on the tram on the way there if you have to.  

YOU HAVE SKILLZ.  Again, I know you've just spent a great deal of the past three years getting coffee, skipping class or doing both at the same time. It hasn't all been fruitless though: appaz you got something out of it, those grades mean something...so show!  It'll be weird at first being asked for your opinion, having it listened to and (if you're super lucky) having it made the final call, so go out with guns blazing.  You have nothing to lose and you honestly won't look stupid.  Everyone's too busy being awkward, remember?!   

daytripping

 Meta

Wise words

Professional dreaming

Neon succulents

Good morning

Entirely adequate

St Kilda wandering

Special delivery

Rainy day eating

I be too busy for here so I post da picz from my phone and say I'm a blogger.

Five Moments In Music History You Just Have To See

1965: Bob Dylan releases ‘Like A Rolling Stone’

Love or hate his drawl, Dylan’s groundbreaking song heralded the birth of the modern rock song and ended the dominance of the three-minute pop single.  ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ signified the beginning of Dylan’s most creative period, shocking fans in July 1965 when he debuted the six-minute song onstage with an electric guitar.  Met with boos and wailing, Dylan stuck to his electric guns and became pivotal in bridging folk music to mainstream rock.  Of the first time he heard it, Bruce Springsteen said ‘[it] sounded like somebody’d kicked open the door to your mind’.  ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ changed the acceptable song length for radio airplay, altered the methods of popular song writing and made Dylan an icon.

1969: Jimi Hendrix plays ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ at Woodstock

Some called it a political manifestation against the Vietnam War, while others derided it as disrespectful for its unorthodox interpretation.  Using a screeching electric guitar to simulate the sound of machine guns firing and bombs dropping, intertwined with the melody of the national anthem, Jimi Hendrix’s performance of the ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ at Woodstock is considered a definitive moment in 1960s America.  A reflection of the changing psyche of the time, Hendrix’s innovative approach was the precursor to all future musical experimentation.  Although he never explained the meaning behind the concert besides telling the crowd “You can leave if you want to. We’re just jammin’, that’s all,” many consider it to be the best rock performance of all time.

1981: The Launch of MTV

The moment when the music video became as important as the pop single, MTV was the first television channel devoted to music.  The video outlet for music popularised the concept of the VJ and elevated the music video to an art form, changing popular culture in its course.  A site for music news, events and promotion for artists and fans alike, MTV helped boost the careers of artists including Madonna, Michael Jackson and later, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera.  While the channel today includes more original programming, its impact remains undeniable.  Launched at a time when there weren’t many music videos to broadcast, the music video as a modern standard today highlights the prescience of MTV’s original approach. 

1982: Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ Is Released

The album that revolutionised everything about modern music.  Michael Jackson’s Thriller remains the highest-selling pop record of all time, and changed the way artists functioned as artistic personas and profitable entities.  The album collected eight Grammy Awards in 1984, still the most received by an individual in a single year.  At just over thirteen minutes, the video for the 1983 single ‘Thriller’ tied music videos to filmmaking and is considered the greatest music video of all time.  Earlier that same year, Jackson’s electrifying television performance of ‘Billie Jean’ and debut of the moonwalk confirmed his incredible musical talent.  The success of Thriller lead to the breakdown of racial barriers on radio and MTV, created staple hits on dance-floors worldwide and made Jackson the everlasting King of Pop. 

2000: The Birth of Napster

The arrival of Napster changed everything for music lovers and turned Gen Y babies into legit music sharers.  The rise of the peer-to-peer network and free music to over 100 million users transformed the music industry and questioned previously invincible copyright laws.  With the loom of downloads and boundless media-sharing sites, mp3s and iTunes, empowered consumers today dominate an era of arguably free content.  While many musicians have rejected the Internet download revolution as a threat to their profits, others have embraced it in creating their own music history – most infamously Radiohead’s decision to promote ‘pay what you want’ for their 2007 album In Rainbows.   

Written for Karamel Magazine, June 2012. 

until first light

menthol

She pushed the menthol deep down into her lungs, pulling its heave into her very centre.  "It's like brushing your teeth," she said.

"Yeah?" he replied, with that laconic uprising at the end, the one that she had grown to recognise as his filtering of every aspect of her into him.  Details saved for a later date.

"Yeah. Like when you're on school camp and you brush your teeth with just a little bit of paste on the end of your finger."

Their hands were rough from the afternoon's activity.  The ice of an early July's night had yet to settle in, but everything heralded its presence.  The clear sky, dotted with seldom precious stars, and the carefully formed clouds that gently escaped from their mouths but were too young to play with.  Perched on the smooth concrete step which had weathered with time, suburbia stood removed from the quiet square in which they sat.  The flecks of its composition glittered in the soft light.  Their palms kept warm in each other.

Smoke littered the atmosphere.  She thought these clouds somehow cleaner, more pure than the usual, the ones she had grown accustomed to and the ones that smelt like him even when he wasn't around.  It was mint but it was not pristine; the English language toying with itself.  Their dirty undertone swirled in the air and got trapped within her veins.  She ignored the tingling.  They gazed into the darkness, the tangibility of existence only as far as their eyes could reach.

He noticed the light glazed the virescence in her eyes.  He hadn't moved but it was like it was stuck there, feared to be caught behind her pupils forever.  Her mind in tandem darted for freedom and for safety, their race pulsating through her.  She took one last drag.

"Imagine if all of this got stuck in you and you had to float away with it," he said.

She slept so well that night.  Details saved for a later date.

Cinematic Style: Felicity Jones in Like Crazy

In my sartorial adventures I'd like to say there's times I oscillate between wanting to dress like I'm a fully grown, exciting person who knows exactly what they like and what their 'style' is, and wanting to mess up my attempt at order intentionally just so I can feel as mismatched on the exterior as my mind is usually.  Mostly it's the latter just because my attraction to neutral basics means everything always matches even if I don't intend it.  I'm not really sure where I sit with the term 'style', and whether it's ingrained or if it grows as you grow or changes with you, but I definitely do think that it's something you possess whether it's consciously considered or not.  Now this isn't a revolutionary idea, but reflexively speaking I don't think anyone really ever closely examines why they've decided to change old sartorial habits or embrace new ones, aside from what society dictates.  We wear corporate attire to professional jobs, we wear something more comfortable on the weekend.  Most people don't consider what they used to wear five years ago on the weekend to what they do now, or even remember at all.  Is this a reflection of society mindlessly embracing trends, or do we just not stop to see how we've changed sartorially because it's perhaps vain?

Felicity Jones in Like Crazy is a perfect example of the sartorial changes adolescence and young adulthood present.  A story which explores the strains of a long-distance relationship over a period of seven or so years, Jones plays Anna, a British exchange student in Los Angeles who falls in love with local Jacob (played by Anton Yelchin).  Forced to return to London after overstaying her visa and attempting to return to the US, the film explores the depths of fledgling intimacy with emotional warmth, but also hope and despair as the two swim and sink in love.

What attracted me so much to Jones' style was her effervescence and poise on screen.  Her growth from a teenager to a twenty-something spans the passage of time and starts with untamed hair, mismatched jewellery, colour and loosely fitting shirts, and ends with classic silhouettes that are fitted, considered and neutral. Although older than her character in real life, the freshness of Jones remains like magic throughout the movie...I mean if I had her complexion at her age, let alone now, I'd probably be making sure my face was on the big screen too.

Saying that, while the passage of time in Like Crazy and the change of clothing indicates a transformation of physical maturity, if we pull this idea back into real life I don't think this is always the case intellectually.  Even in the film the intelligence of Anna shines through even when she's still a senior in college and an aspiring writer.  The change in sartorial aesthetics might be a reflection of the growth of the character, or a technique used to harbour the transition of time, but I really appreciate the film's decision to not change Anna's nature entirely to justify this.  It's effortless - perhaps contrary to the relationship - and allows for this really nice simplism of character whose depth isn't undermined at all.  Like Crazy was shot on a tiny budget, with Jones doing her own hair and make-up, and the dialogue entirely improvised.  This naturalism in film making - you judge whether it's extreme or not - isn't seen often and for that I really enjoyed watching Jones' character blossom.  Her wardrobe is uncomplicated, intelligent and gracious in thought.

Just How Much Can You Get For Free?

Free stuff in Melbourne is a tough market to crack.  From past experience I’ve found the ‘Oh, I only have $2.80 for this [insert food item here] instead of $3…is that okay?’ excuse is definitely not okay.  Gallant attempt, but not okay.  Pockets are getting tighter, and I know you’re likely to think that that means the simple economics of society are about to fall apart to stop your wallet gathering cobwebs.  Not the case.  You’re still going to have to eat, have fun, and look good with nothing.  Here’s how.

Universities, when not being used for higher education, are centres for the free food cause.  Little security means that no matter who you are you’re welcome on campus.  Your golden ticket: the free barbecue.  If you can handle having a vague conversation with the club running the gathering, the world is yours – with free beer included.  But if you’re looking for something a little more up-market, and are sick of hanging around Bakers Delight for samples and buying heavily discounted almost-expired juice from the supermarket, you’ve got a few more options.  Lentil As Anything (Abbotsford Convent, St Kilda, Footscray) is well known for its pay-what-you-like philosophy - meaning you are allowed to pay nothing and get away with it.  Alternatively, pop on your fingerless gloves and put your high-school drama skills to good use at the Subway at the Carlton-end of Swanston Street: they offer free meals to the homeless every week.  Or visit Sacred Heart Mission (St Kilda) who serve breakfast and lunch free everyday.  When your tummy is screaming, your only limits are your morals.

If you’ve already tried to steal your friends’ clothes (read: ‘borrowed’) and failed, go for the obvious choice: markets and op shops. You aren’t going to be getting any haute couture for free unless you have some serious connections, so hit these two with a twist. Visit markets right before closing: you might’ve missed the ‘good stuff’, but stallholders sometimes won’t be back for a few months or ever again, and they’re keen to get rid of their stuff.  Go to Camberwell Market on a Sunday just before 1pm and you might just snag yourself something for nothing.  As for op shops: charities spend thousands of dollars every year cleaning up items that are illegally dumped outside their stores.  It might take you a while to find a gem that isn’t weatherworn and you may look like a degenerate, but you’re kind of doing them a favour.  Try the Vinnies on Johnston Street, Fitzroy – guaranteed items there every morning.   

If there’s one thing free that Melbourne does well, it’s entertainment.  You might’ve spent endless nights ripping videos off YouTube and turning them into mp3’s, but that can only provide you so much of an experience.  By the time you’ve explored all that happy hour has to offer at your local pub, the live music might as well appear to be free.  If that’s too safe, try venues where there’s multiple public areas: they’re effortless to sneak into; ghosting of strangers optional.  Free events also form part of the various festivals Melbourne seems to be hosting almost every week so there’s no reason why you should be at home.  If you’re a bit wordier, visit The Moat (at The Wheeler Centre) and participate in their book swap: just bring your own book and exchange it for one on their shelf.  Civilised and easy. 

Finally, no matter the situation: flash a hungry smile.  You’d be surprised how much you can get for free with it.  Now get creative, get sleuth, get busy.   

Written for Karamel Magazine, April 2012. 

In the meantime, when the day closes and the night slowly comes out of its slumber. 

fragments

Then

Making friends with strangers while waiting in line and not knowing who they would become.

Arriving late to my first ever lecture.

Questioning existence with a best friend because that’s arts.

Discovering respect from others intensifies your self-worth.

Surviving a week with gastro by only eating German gummy bears.

Listening to Camera Obscura.

Spending a lot of study time on Facebook instead.

Experiencing my first death.

Coming back from Europe to find the train announcement voiceover had changed genders.

Sitting in a class full of girls and thinking it was weird.

Being able to smell the air differently and distinctly even though I was in the same place.

Getting my first proper job.

Exploring what it meant not to be shy.

Realising I was the smallest dot on a piece of paper full of millions of dots.

Feeling alone when my friends went on world adventures.

Being driven by the fear of mediocrity.

Trying different things out of curiosity.

Losing close friends and making new ones.

Finding out that school doesn’t prepare you for real life.

Reading the short stories of Raymond Carver.

Discovering maybe I could make something out of writing.

Struggling to choose a creative career or a career in politics.

Getting my wisdom teeth out and losing my mind to painkillers.

Splitting my insides on holidays in Sydney.

Getting driven home on a shadowed, windy night.

Listening to Sonic Youth and feeling safe the morning after the night before.

Being prepared to wait for the right time.

Realising I was in love.

Spending the summer planning the best year yet.

Lying about where I was and who with to my parents.

Giving everything I had to make it work for someone else.

Bringing it all together perfectly.

Believing I was crushed forever when everything fell apart.

Feeling disjointed from the inside out.

Seeing I was blindsided.

Finally making the link between wanting to be a writer and never being able to afford to move out.

Being frustrated at not having got my licence already.

Mastering the art of academic writing as a distraction.

Dreaming of acceptance in creative spheres.

Worrying I’ve fallen through the cracks.

Remembering I’ve not finished.

Now

darkness, depths

I spent much of last week in Hobart, breathing in clean air and freezing in my socks.  One thing that was more refreshing than both of those experiences put together was my long-anticipated visit to MONA and its exhilarating presentation of artistic form.  Built into the cliffs of the Berriedale peninsula, the three-level building subverts the eye to carry visitors into the catacombs and depths of the collection.  Although perhaps one day destined to slide into the sea, almost bottomless staircases burrow deep into raw sandstone walls to quickly remind you of the strength of creation.

As the largest privately-funded museum in Australia MONA presents the private collection of David Walsh, and it's an impressive one at that.  Sublime curation of artworks means that the old and the new blend seamlessly and without a hint of displacement.  A lack of signage on artworks also encourages this alongside greater engagement with the works, as you're forced to look harder, look closer, and find a tangibility in your own mind - which is perhaps also aided by the iPod Touch hanging around your neck.

While MONA has been lauded for drawing visitors to Tasmania from all over the world, the outstanding execution of the collection lies in it's ability to employ artwork, architecture and new technologies to innovate the traditional museum experience.  It is nothing less than inspiring to visit a space which holds artwork but also manages to reshape and reform the standards of art viewing.  There were a number of times I paused to appreciate the freedom of interpretation that MONA embraces.  From the lack of signage on artworks, the welcoming of photography and use of technology, to simply being in a space which encourages noise, dialogue and altered lighting, I quickly recognised the impact of these freedoms on my visual experience.  The museum might have been criticised for a stunning existence which illuminates moral bankruptcy, or the decay of society through it's explicit and macabre pieces, but never have a left a gallery feeling as sated by creation as I did MONA.  And importantly, I am encouraged and inspired to keep creating myself.  

"And we kept silent. And still."

The next six weeks are curated from the past six weeks.

 

take me there

Photo: Bobby Chen

somewhere
Level 2, Royal Arcade 314 Little Collins St, Melbourne

When you’re a student, and a lover of fashion, I can vouch two things: one, you probably have little money (…or none, I’m just being polite here); and two, you frequently receive the icy daggers of shop assistants who think you have little right to be in their store because of your appearance.  They might be able to presume your steamy liaison with aforementioned problem one, but that’s not the point.  Scuffed shoes and a baggy shirt with a hole in the armpit should not be your passport to belittlement.

And that’s where somewhere comes in.  Perched high above the Royal Arcade, this homage to Nordic style and design sits sleek in an airy white studio.  Don’t be intimidated by its appearance, though: somewhere provides some of the friendliest service encountered within Melbourne’s fashion scene, and has a distinct and carefully curated range of wearables to back it up. 

Local talent is combined with emerging and established designers from around the world to create a considered – and affordable – retail environment free from affectation, stocking labels such as Handsom, Cheap Monday, Why Red, Won Hundred, Carly Hunter and Resteröds.

somewhere’s cool and friendly nature is reflected in the sharp, classic aesthetic of its wearables.  And as if you needed anymore convincing, the store also has a gallery space aimed at supporting local artists and fostering an environment of collective creativity.  The accessibility of their retail endeavours, extended to young artists and designers alike, means that the two spaces symbiotically nurture creativity in a welcoming setting. 

Go visit somewhere and you’ll be assured a great experience in effortless design and clothing by some really cool people.  And what about the next time you’re in a store with a snotty shop assistant who faux compliments your appearance or new shirt as a totally transparent sales technique? Tell them you picked it up from ‘oh, somewhere’.