Rudd-afied

Yays forevers! Howard is gones! Oh happy day etc and so on....

Last night I stayed at my parents so we could watch K-O'b sit there trying to contain his joy as Labor romped it home. All week I was saying to people at work and at home how exciting it was because next week this guy:

Whoops, wrong Rudd, I mean THIS guy:

Was going to be the PM. Everyone was like: 'Stef, don't say it, don't get my hopes up!' But it was pretty clear that Ruddy was going to win, the big dork.

And while I joke (and for sure, the highlight of evening was watching Kerry O'Brien try to keep cool, and have a mental at The Chaser's antics) there was a moment during Rudd's speech when I looked over and my mum was crying, and I realised what was happening, and I held her hand.

It was as if all the pessimism she and I had been living through was finally beginning to clear a little. Its not all the way lifted, but I can see a light in the distance now. Howard running the country was slowly over 11 years breaking us down, breaking our spirits. When I saw things happening in our great country that I thought only happened in the third world or in dictatorships, and when I knew the people in my community voted for it, it was hard to see the future.

Mum an I held hands and we knew that, while not out of the woods, we would no longer be shaking our heads in disbelief and despair every weekend at the state that our home was in. He is gone now, and it is time to fix the damage.

I even feel a bit better about my own little life.

Positivity

OK, so after slipping into a sort of....funk (No, I'm NOT going to say the D-word, even though it may be appropriate, I'm not going to go there here, give me some credit). I'm TRYING SO HARD to see the bright side of things. Because happiness follows positive actions and vice versa etc, you know what I mean.

Phew, it's tiring.

So this post is to go through some of the great parts of my life. It is Thanksgiving today, so I'm going to be thankful for all of the wonderful things in my life right now. In no particular order:

I live in a pretty cool share house in suburb de jour, Brunswick.

I just got a kind-of promotion, where I get a pay rise and more challenging work. On top of that, my workmates are all pretty cool people who I respect and get along well with, and I think they might even like me too, which is cool.

After a slow start to the second season, my serial TV show of choice, Heroes, is beginning to pick up some speed, with Hiro back in the present, Peter regaining his memory (and hopefully some balls - Peter needs to seriously STEP IT UP this season and do some Sylar-Adam arse kicking), the revelation of Adam's identity (can't believe I missed that), and a bit of sexy looks between Mohinder-Nikki-Nathan. Me likey! Oooh, and Matt's powers are growing. All good stuff. Keep up the pace Tim Kring, and thanks for listening to the fans.

My housemates have pointed me towards Empire Cafe on Sydney road - good organic coffee, yummy food, a non-pretentious non-threatening atmosphere, and..... FREE WIRELESS!!!! I shall live here now.

I finally bought some super cute capri pants and when I wear them with my red flats it is very Audrey Hepburn and I love it.

I'm surrounded by some pretty wonderful and supportive friends and family. Truly, I'm very very fortunate.

Sleep is getting slightly better.

I have pretty great hair (I was going to add it needs a cut but, no, positive) and it can pull off pretty much any colour, its currently burgundy and I love it, but it is also comfortably blonde. How lucky am I? (I'm aware that this and the capri one are very superficial, but beggars-choosers etc)


So....yeah. I'm a pretty lucky person, and I have a lot to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Blogging on a Saturday night while watching Dr Who...

.... Has my life come to this?

I remember when I used to spend all my time on Rotten Tomatoes, arguing why Magnolia was pretentious shit and creating my top ten hottest US actors under 30 (Adrian Brody and Joaquin Phoenix featured heavily, if memory serves). I was friends with American film fans called The Kid with the Helmet, and The Blue Bomber. I don't speak to them anymore. I don't go there anymore.

Back then, it was a pretty shameful thing to do, spend all day on an Internet message board, talking about stuff with people you never meet. I did it for three years. Now, all my friends, even the cool ones....especially the cool ones, either are on Facebook or have a blog or both. Talking on the Internet about stuff with people they have not met. I guess MySpazz and Facebook enable pre-existing physical relationships, but sometimes I miss the mystery and discovery of bonding over the shared love of a hobby comparing tastes and making jokes and arguing.

And somehow I still feel like the biggest nerd on Earth.

Last year I ventured away from the Internet off into the 'real word'. And today I'm finding myself home on a Saturday night blogging watching Dr Who...hmmmm....


Apologies, but I'm finding I'm tired and scattered a lot. I just thought I should blog.


***************

Edit:

Well, I just read something to blog about.

Tell us how you really feel, Deveny.

I mean...Jesus. Do you think she lives in Eltham? You know: hippy non-materialistic, but quietly loaded so they possess that ugly combination of guilt-fuelled preachiness and just a hint of snobbery over all those vulgar masses. Those...bogans.

Now, I don't watch Border Security or McLeod's Daughters or Sea Patrol. I don't like Eddie McGuire. I'm leftist. I was raised by a Broadmedows-Greek dad and a Preston mum. I went to school in Eltham and did and Arts degree at Melbourne Uni. Basically: Reformed bogan.

I mean, why does every leftist in the media come across like a crazy person shouting obscenities on a sidewalk? The annoying thing is that I agree with Deveny on the show and on most issues, but she always comes across like a bitch from hell with a serious superiority complex. What is she trying to achieve? Enlighten the few bogans who read The Age, or further the class divide between the broadsheet-readers and the rest, those uneducated, ugly, bigoted, sheep-like bogans? Those idiots, they sit there unwillingly laughing at themselves with Kath and Kim. Oh save them Catherine!

How am I supposed to solidify myself with the left when I hate their smug guts?

On a side vote, The Sideshow is on... hmmmm, everyone in the audience were late teens/early twenties... people trying to live Good News Week. Much like the performers.

My, I'm being quite the bitch today aren't I?

Where are all the funny girls?

Here they are!

Vanity Fair...What Gives?

This makes me want to vomit. Violently. Do you get the complex metaphor Bono and his band of 20 superhero mega-people are 'putting out there?' You know, that we're all connected and shit. I have one question: Where's Kevin Bacon??? Sigh. Honestly, you're not even trying Bono.

So does this:

Source: Vanity Fair

I love my 'best of' The Police album....why do you do this to me Sting? Why?!?! YOU ARE HOLDING A LUTE.

Fates Worse Than Death...

Kurt Vonnegut has died.


I think I'll go read something of his.


Peace.

Pick ups...

So I've had my fair share of weird pick-up-like experiences...

My first memory of a man's sexual interest in me was when I was 12 and walking to the shops after school in my uniform polo shirt and netball skirt. While crossing at the lights a man stuck his head out of his window and wolf-whistled at me. I was mortified.

Being in a brass band I used to get heaps of lecherous old men telling me how pretty I was over their Carlton Draughts. I was always mortified.

I remember once at a bar a guy bounced a tennis ball at me. I was mortified.

Having a slight disability makes you a target, I guess: Once on a dance floor a guy lifted his pants leg, showed me a giant scar and said "I was in a car accident. I nearly died." And then pointed at my abnormality I was mortified.

Once at the wake of my dad's friend a young man was reintroduced to me after many years (I couldn't remember him) and he said to my dad, in front of me, "You didn't tell me your daughter was so beautiful." We were at a wake. I was mortified.

Last year, the boy I ended up adoring said to me in a drunken stupor that we should bathe together, right there and then. We had barely shook hands at that point. I was mortified!

And then this morning, at the train station as I was quickly running to my next train, I was stopped by a young man who told me he had seen me on the train every day and wanted to ask me out, but didn't know how. So he handed me a book, and said his phone number was in it. I could see my train arriving. He handed me the book. I said thank you and ran to my train.

Yep, you guessed it.

I mean, who does that? The guy left the receipt in the book. He spent $21 on a perfect stranger. Now I feel totally obliged to contact him, just out of courtesy to thank him for the book. I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. I'm taking a break. It tires me just thinking about it. Maybe I'll send him a message and say that I'm happy to chat with him on the train, but a date would be a little full on right now. I found him on MySpace (I hate it but I love it too). He's not my type at all, but he doesn't seem freakish. I guess I'll talk to him.

Just the other day my friend and I were saying how unreal sitcoms were, that strangers do not ask each other out after bumping into each other at the cafe. But I guess they do...



I don't think I have a normal pick-up story. Come to think of it, the whole pick-up thing is pretty weird. Do tell, readers. Do tell.



*********UPDATE***********


So I texted him something along the lines of "Hey ****, its Stef from the train. Thank you very much for the book, I'm flattered. I think going out might be too full-on for me right now, but I'm happy to chat on the train. See ya!" I also started reading the book. He didn't reply. (What's with that? He buys me a book but doesn't reply?)

This morning I saw him get on the train, the look on his face when he saw me was of a kind of embarrassed sadness. I smiled. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He was shaking, obviously nervous. I smiled again, I wanted to put him at ease, but at the same time didn't want to be flirty. I thanked him for the book and said I'd started reading it and I was enjoying it, I said it reminded me of Bret Easton Ellis (it's actually a deliberate p/m reference to him, with a nice healthy dose of sex-and-the-city commercialism thrown in for good measure. Kind of like Chuck Palahniuk writing chick-lit). Anyway, he told me about himself. I told him very little, and reiterated that I was not interested in dating because I was just out of a really intense year/relationship and was quite enjoying my time alone. This was 100% true. I told him it was very nice to meet him though, and that it took a lot of guts to do what he did, which was great. I had to run to my train. Maybe I'll see him again next week. I'll probably try to avoid it. Its weird, I feel I should talk to him, as he gave me a book. But we didn't click, and I don't want to lead him on, nor do I want an early morning train friend: I quite like dozing.

Yes, he was harmless and sweet. I feel bad because it was all kinda wasted on this old cynic.

The End.