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jiving us that we were voodoo

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Oh dear, another Friends Only journal. [May. 15th, 2006|11:46 am]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[mood |dorkydorky]

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Leave a comment to be added, and George and his beehived assistant will add you back for me. (I hire dead rock stars to do my livejournal bidding, it's so cool.)

Looking for my icons? They're over at celluloidesque
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Thinking aloud. [May. 14th, 2006|06:04 pm]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[music |Lied - Franz Schubert]

6:00 --> My Education essay is done, though I need to slip in all my references tomorrow. I have... the first paragraph done on my Military Revolution essay. I have five more to write, not including intro and conclusion. These are both due at 5pm tomorrow which means I'll have to leave at... 2:15. And Liza With A Z is on TV in an hour and a half. Dilemma! What's a stressed, 2500-words-to-write-in-12-hours-on-a-subject-she-knows-nothing-about girl to do? Concentrate on the essay? Or watch Liza be fabulous?

ETA: Or, I could just sit here and listen to Wings until Liza comes on. How the hell am I going to write about these changes in infantry tactics? I don't know what the hell happened, so I'm just going to listen to Band On the Run because I'm lame.

I'm going to go friends only tomorrow because I just realised I don't want complete strangers reading my stupid ramblings. You have been warned.

ETA (again, 8:45): OMGZ LIZA you are so fabulous I want to watch Liza With A Z 4evazzzzzzz.

ETA (12:00, I'm going to be doing this all night): My essay makes no sense, is only half finished and I'm falling asleep. I can hear Lina Lamont in my head shrieking "What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?"

ETA (3:00): FINISHED. The whole ten pages make no sense, but I don't give a shit anymore. Proofreading and references will be sorted when I wake up. Realised I have no ink left in the printer. Damn. Really want to watch Cabaret. Will go play soundtrack loudly instead and wake up sister. Mwa ha ha.
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(no subject) [May. 7th, 2006|07:22 pm]
jiving us that we were voodoo
Saw the Marlene documentary this afternoon. It was so fantastic. I have no words.

Though whenever I watch them give out the Lifetime Achievement Award at the Oscars from now on I'll be hearing Marlene in my head calling it the "deathbed award". Or screaming "Kitsch!" Or... something like that. See this film, it's wonderful.

Also, I went to a huge cattle call recruitment this morning for Greater Union cinemas. Got through the group interview and have a one-on-one tomorrow. I really hope I get through because we all know how much I destest my current job. I'm working three nights this week (after taking this week off, they insist I work extra this week, bastards), and I don't particularly feel like doing surveys on the phone when I could be at home writing my essays. Or not writing my essays, as it happens so far. I have my test and another history paper due Wednesday and three narratives due in Thursday and I'm sure I'm going to die of stress sometime this week. Ahhhhhhhhhh. I only wish they could tell me tomorrow if I have the job at the cinema or not, because then I could call up and cancel my shifts at the call centre this week, hah.

Oh, and the May Day rally was on in Hyde Park today and it was fun to see the communists out, because I do love hearing people call each other "comrade" and chant about united workers and run around with red balloons. Cause it makes me think of "99 Luftballons". Then it makes me think of communists dancing to "99 Luftballoons". Lenin and German 80s pop are fun fun fun.

I'm tired and I wish this book would summarise itself so I could go watch the Logies and cringe.
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Es muy facil, es mucho mejor [May. 5th, 2006|11:57 am]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[mood |stressedstressed]
[music |Es Muy Facil - Los Mitos]

I just saw Red Dust for the first time. It was sexy.

Had a big stress/crying fit last night over uni and work. I don't know how I'm going to get through the next few weeks.

Stel, like totes zomgz, these Spanish songs are good. "Es Muy Facil" makes me happy. And "Oye" is just "Hey There" in Spanish, isn't it? It reminds me of the time I heard that Destiny's Child song "Independent Woman" in Hungarian. Funky.

I'm going to listen to lectures, then go for a walk then summarise a book due in tomorrow. The last one will be tricky because Jeremy Black is the most boring historian on the planet. A good historian, and his work forms an important part of my argument in this essay, but I fall asleep every time I try to read his books. Dear historians, please try to be interesting. Nobody is going to be interested in the tactical military reforms of Gustavus Adolphus at the rate you're all going so far.

Spanish, Italian and French historians are way funner. They use exclamation marks, write paragraphs that go nowhere and get really passionate about things like the spread of the trace italienne over the Alps in the 15th century. Or was it the 16th? I know nothing.

Next history course I take I want to do cultural or social history again. That's where the fun is. Last year I got to study 16th century peasant life in France and read this brilliant book on French folktales. The French version of Little Red Riding Hood is crazy - the wolf makes her eat her own grandmother and then strip and get into bed with him before he eats her. Then I read the story of The Great Cat Massacre... which I won't go into here, most people get really freaked out by it, with reason. But that's the fun history - I enjoy studyig politics and economics and wars up to a point, but what I really love is studying culture and mentalities and ordinary lives, which is notoriously difficult to write about, but absolutely fascinating.

Oh God, I just spammed your flists with my history nerd-dom. Sorry. I'll go listen to those lectures now.

Cause y'all are cool.Collapse )
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Stress. [May. 2nd, 2006|10:12 pm]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[mood |stressedstressed]

I just realised its after 10pm and I haven't even started my paper on Vichy France and Jews for tomorrow. Damn.

It's getting to the part of semester where I melt into a ball of stress, so please ignore any future posts about how horrid uni and work and essays and life is. I'm really lost at the moment and even though I've cancelled work this week I''m still swimming in confusion and unwritten essay plans. I feel like Wylie Coyote, holding up a tiny "Help!" sign as he falls off a cliff.

A dog was run over by a car this morning as I was walking down the Parkway. It was right behind me, so I didn't see it, but I heard the crack, like a car had run over a plastic box or a hubcap had come crashing to the ground. So I turned around and there was this little dead dog rolling down the road. Brown and white terrier with a blue collar.

Yeah, it's not a good day. Now I have to get to work, or fall asleep in my history tutorial again tomorrow which I can't do because I have to get my participation marks up and actually contribute to the discussion which I should be able to do because I'm writing my essay on Vichy France collaboration which is what we're discussing tomorrow but I can't even write this one page on it right now and I think I'll get in there and just faze out and just convince my teacher further that I'm a deadbrain loser and she knows I'm going to write my essay on collaboration and this paper will be so awful that she'll look at it and question whether I should be taking history at all because I suck, I really do, I love history but I suck at these courses, and I'll get horrid marks and no-one will want to hire me as a teacher because I can't even be a proper student and I suck and uni sucks and works sucks and everything sucks and I should just give up, do a film studies degree because that's something I actually know about but will never actually be able to do anything with or get a job in and I'll just become a homeless busker on Pitt Street, feeding pigeons and amusing German tourists with songs about kookaburras.

Woah. If you understood that sentence, congratulations. Welcome to my brain.

ETA: Ahhh, it's more than an hour later and nothing I've written makes sense. My head hurts, I'm going to bed, I'll have to make up something on the train tomorrow. Damn damn damn. I quit.
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Strike dear mistress and cure his heart. [May. 1st, 2006|11:55 am]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[mood |busybusy]
[music |Venus In Furs - Velvet Underground]

Went into the Art Gallery and saw Lenny yesterday. Really good film, I recommend it. I heart you, Bob Fosse. This Sunday they'll be showing the Marlene documentary, which should be very interesting, seeing as my knowledge of Marlene Dietrich isn't that good.

One thing I love about going into the Art Gallery in the Domain is that occasionally you'll still get old men standing on soapboxes outside ranting on about corrupt governments, the rights of Australian male workers, things old men usually ramble about. One had a huge picture of John Howrad next to him, illuminated by candles and draped in the Australian, Eureka and US flags. Another stood on a stepladder and fed his dog treats as he delivered a treatise on how Australia has to make vehicles that can fly to the moon. I haven't seen anything like this anywhere else - cities today are so full of noise, of buses and cars and construction and dance music piped out of shopfronts - but if you really listen, what you can't hear is what you'd expect to hear most - voices. Everyone is cuaght up in their own little iPod/mobile world. Which is why I love buskers and spruikers and men on soapboxes. They give the city life, they give it a voice apart from the honking of car horns.

/end reflectiveness.

I've cancelled all my shifts for work this week to concentrate on these essays. I wnat to gte the plans done by Saturday. Things are getting pretty scary now... Uni would be so much fun if it weren't for the assessments.

It's a good week for movies: Crossfire is on tonight on the ABC, which I'll have to tape. Sarah and I stayed up last night to watch a Bollywood movie... I forget what it was called but it had Aishwarya Rai in it (I think she's in every Indian film I see, it's crazy) and Salman Khan (mmmhmm). Then we caught an episode of The Storm Rages Twice (Lebonese soap opera - it's sooooo bad yet so very good; a staple of my late night viewing diet). I tried to stay up later to watch New Faces of 1937 and pick Ann Miller out in the finale but Harriet Hilliard sent me to sleep.

I NEED TO DO MY HOMEWORK AHHHHHHHH.
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(no subject) [Apr. 29th, 2006|09:50 am]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[mood |busybusy]
[music |Ground Control To Major Tom - David Bowie]

Something is wrong with Yahoo Australia, so I realised I have to go to the US site to access my emails. What's up, Yahoo? Just because Channel 7 bought you out doesn't mean you should start sucking all of a sudden.

Last night had a Monica Bellucci double - Agents Secrets (with Vincent Cassel, her husband, mmm) and Malèna. YOU ALL MUST SEE MALENA. It's one of the best modern films I've seen. Her performance is magnificent, it's directed by Giuseppe Tornatore, and Giuseppe Sulfaro, who plays Renato, is the funnest. (And, by the way, Tornatore, must you make me cry at the end of all your movies?)

To convince you all to go see it, I'm going to do a picspam.

Buona fortuna, signora Malèna.Collapse )

And, because I like them...
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Vincent Cassel and Monica Bellucci - hotter than Brad and Angelina.


And 'cause I was tagged by paularidgeway...

The 1st player of this "game" starts with the topic "6 Weird Habits/Things About Yourself" and people who get tagged need to write a journal about their 6 weird habits or things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" in their comments and tell them to read yours...

1. I'm picky about my food, and I know that's a stupid habit, but it is. I refuse to eat quiche, beetroot, raw tomato, kiwifruit, omelette, ginger... it's a long list,and one of my worst faults.
2. I can't read in a moving car because I get motion sickness. It's really annoying.
3. I detest public bathrooms. For a while when I was younger I never even used to go near them. Oh, and I always say "bathroom" instead of "toilet", which annoys some people who think that's too American.
4. I like the song "Band On The Run".
5. I'm petrified of dogs. Even little maltese terriers frighten me. The only dogs I like are old dogs because they don't really move. Or bark. Or do anything, really.
6. I spend weeks not spending a cent, complaining about how broke I am, and then - bam! - I suddenly go on a one day spending spree and end up $150-$300 poorer. Binge spending. Not good.

Tagging... stardustdarling, miss_pipperidge, theinvitation, kathyselden, stars_n_garters, jungle_red

Off to try formulate a thesis about French collaboration during WWII. Wish me luck.
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Friday, Friday. [Apr. 28th, 2006|09:28 am]
jiving us that we were voodoo
I hereby make a solemn vow that I will NEVER eat KFC again.
Except maybe the chips, because they're much of a muchness. And the fillet burger, but only from Kings Park because I trust them not to drown the fillet in grease until I have enough oil running off my burger to fuel a car.
But everything else is right out.

And I changed my userinfo again. Frank and Marlon are sexy.

My sister has gotten me into anime, a bit. Samurai Champloo and God Save Our King are the bestest. It's good to know that even though studios like Disney have given up hand drawn animation, it's still going strong and reaching such great heights in Japan. Last night we watched Samurai Champloo then John Mills and Jean Simmons in Great Expectations. I loved Jean, Sarah hated her, and we spent the whole time trying to talk like John but we just couldn't get those delicious vowels right. Well, I couldn't anyway. I could never be a London dandy, my vowels are too flat and un-snazzy.

Should I go into the Art Gallery on Sunday and see Lenny? Or stay at home and try write an essay on Nancy in Oliver Twist? Free Dustin Hoffman/Bob Fosse sounds too good to give up, but I'm going out tomorrow and today and Monday, so maybe I should have a day at home to make some headway on my essays. Whaddya think?
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(no subject) [Apr. 26th, 2006|06:23 pm]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[mood |frustratedfrustrated]
[music |MEOW MEOW MEOW SHUT UP CAT.]

3 reasons why I hate my cat right now.

1. He decided my pillow would be perfect for his bed today. My pillowcase was just washed this weekend, and now it has bunches of orange fur all over it. Bastard.
2. Do cats, like, shit for a living?
3. I never let him outside after dark, and yet he's been crying for the past two hours to go outside. Ahhhhhhhhh. He just won't. Shut. Up.

I'm so lost with this Education essay. I can write it, but I've no idea where to find references. They tell us we need at least three besides the textbook, when everything is in the textbook anyway. I know how to research History and English essays, but Cognitive bloody Psychology? Arrrrrrrgh.

SHUT UP CAAAAAAAAT.

I need to go study now. Or strangle my cat. One or the other.
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juste un bruit [Apr. 26th, 2006|03:25 pm]
jiving us that we were voodoo
[music |Sous La Lune - Paris Combo]

I'm sorry I only got to see the last ten minutes of Ask Any Girl, because Shirley Maclaine's drunk scene + David Niven bashing up Rod Taylor = joy.

On a completely unrelated note, I need to start studying French again. It's annoying enough when you read something in French and can't translate it; it's even more annoying when you read something and you know you used to be able to translate it but can't anymore. I've been listening to some Paris Combo, I just adore their music, and their lyrics, and it's frustrating not to be able to translate them easily. I'm listening to "Sous La Lune", which I can understand, and I've fallen in love with the lyrics:

Sans rancune, sous la lune
On applaudit les somnambules
Pas trop fort, juste un réconfort
Pour leurs efforts
Dans la nuit, juste un bruit
Celui de leurs pas sur les toits
Cible, ô sensible, tu t'immobilises
Au bord de l'abîme

Trois pas en arrière
Que glacent nos artères
Trois pas en avant
Pour prendre le temps
D'imaginer la chute, mais chuuute...


Still, I don't actually understand what the song is about. Sleepwalkers? The abyss? Huh? Oh well, at least the music is pretty.

ETA: I've been capping some of 8 1/2 and thought I'd put this shot of Marcello Mastroianni up because it makes me giggle. Plus, I love me some Italian man candy.
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