All I really can say is that in Melbourne it is getting chillier and greyer but everynow and then, because we still are in the lovely season of Autumn we get scatterings of sunny days.
When one of these occurs I suggest you go outside.
Up, bup, bup! But before you do this you have to put on a 50's influenced outfit. Then I suggest putting on some headphones and then listening to either some old music or retro inspired music that makes you jolly. Also, put on some brightly coloured sunglasses so that you can look directly into the sun and say hello, because it may be the last time you see it for a while.
Then go outside and go for a walk on the High St.
It is physically impossible for you not to be a) grinning and b) somehow infuse some dance-like music into your walking.
What I found rather odd today, is that the more you look like you are having a good time and the more you smile in public, the more frowns you get from the other end. I thought my good mood and sunniness would be infectious, but no. Everyone just had to give me odd looks, rather than smile
I do admit, usually I quite like odd looks. For some reason, they make me feel happy with myself. I think it's my form of a compliment, as long as random strangers on a tram are finding me a bit odd then I'm ok.
I like thinking about my rather odd encounters, but I wonder if others find me as their odd encounter.
Mairead
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Perfect Man, Perfect Ad
This ad first blessed my eyes about a year back. It appeared on screen only once, at around six o'clock in the morning and I fell in love. And yet, nobody knew what I was talking about when I tried to explain it to them and nowhere on YouTube could it be found.
Luckily, with the return of Masterchef, this advertisement has appeared yet again. Not only has it's popularity grown, it now appears on the holy tube that is yours. Enjoy:
What also makes me joyous is that there is ANOTHER ad of the same perfect man:
I leave you with this:
"Sometimes, when I cook, I weep"
Mairead
Luckily, with the return of Masterchef, this advertisement has appeared yet again. Not only has it's popularity grown, it now appears on the holy tube that is yours. Enjoy:
What also makes me joyous is that there is ANOTHER ad of the same perfect man:
I leave you with this:
"Sometimes, when I cook, I weep"
Mairead
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
HOEDAFOWN!
The above title is a representation of the phrase "Hold the phone!" said in an outraged accent.
I believed it appropriate to title this post "HOEDAFOWN" because for one thing, I find it very amusing and for two thing this may be your possible reaction if you looked at my blog and realised that a) the title of the blog is different and b) it looks different also.
The cause behind all this hoedafown-ing is because I've decided that from now on my blog will have a theme.
And that theme, as specified in the title, are my strange encounters that I experience in my day-to-day goings on. Thankfully, this fits in quite well with my previous posts. So hoorah, hoorah for consistency.
Mairead's Rather Odd Encounters looks different to Mairead's Highly Interesting Mind because it's a different blog (Actually that's a lie. My blog was insecure about their appearance and was getting really moody and depressed, and being the loving person that I am gave it a bit of a makeover. Don't tell anyone, though... Insecure, remember?)
Enjoy the revamped musings of silly ol' me,
Mairead
I believed it appropriate to title this post "HOEDAFOWN" because for one thing, I find it very amusing and for two thing this may be your possible reaction if you looked at my blog and realised that a) the title of the blog is different and b) it looks different also.
The cause behind all this hoedafown-ing is because I've decided that from now on my blog will have a theme.
And that theme, as specified in the title, are my strange encounters that I experience in my day-to-day goings on. Thankfully, this fits in quite well with my previous posts. So hoorah, hoorah for consistency.
Mairead's Rather Odd Encounters looks different to Mairead's Highly Interesting Mind because it's a different blog (Actually that's a lie. My blog was insecure about their appearance and was getting really moody and depressed, and being the loving person that I am gave it a bit of a makeover. Don't tell anyone, though... Insecure, remember?)
Enjoy the revamped musings of silly ol' me,
Mairead
Quackattack!
Today was a long and tiring day.
When one has been at school for numerous hours, much longer than most (ie. finally leaving at some time they call quarter to six) there is not much possible on this Earth to cheer you up.
Let us weigh up the facts:
You are a) tired
b) hungry
c) someone who has had an uneventful yet boring and tedious day at schooligans
d) desperately and achingly wishing for home which is about 45 minutes out of your reach
e) It's slightly dark and slighty cold
f) To sum up all of the above: ASS
As I said above... nothing is going to improve your mood. Even your iPod (because it a measly little 4GB nano and doesn't have anything to provide to you.
But.
Believe me.
There is something that will most definitely put a smile on your face if not hysteric laughter.
Now, now. Melbourne is a city home to many a cyclist. And as I grumpily strode my way onto Royal Parade I saw the stream of bicycles whiz past. Royal Parade is where the bike rules. Morning and night, indie uni kids, indie Uni High kids, adult city working people (a race rather foreign to my young self) race up and down good ol' Royal P. Cyclists of any speed, ones with fixies ones without; it doesn't matter. It is a sanctuary to any type of bike rider, and if you're there often enough you've pretty certain you've seen it all.
Oh, no. No you haven't.
Amongst the regular riders, coming home from work, pumping their legs up and down away from the city was a particular cyclist who caught my eye. A streak of yellow, you could call it. A fluffy yellow.
A top a bicycle riding at full speed amongst the serious roadsters was a man or woman ( it is impossible to tell) clothed purely in a bright fluffy yellow duck suit. A large circular cartoon like duck head was incorporated in such a suit.
As this quacktastic legend rode past me all my troubles floated away and melted into bursts of laughter. Yes, I was on the street alone laughing outrageously loud to myself. But I didn't care.
Neither did the duck, quite obviously.
Keep on quackin'
Mairead
When one has been at school for numerous hours, much longer than most (ie. finally leaving at some time they call quarter to six) there is not much possible on this Earth to cheer you up.
Let us weigh up the facts:
You are a) tired
b) hungry
c) someone who has had an uneventful yet boring and tedious day at schooligans
d) desperately and achingly wishing for home which is about 45 minutes out of your reach
e) It's slightly dark and slighty cold
f) To sum up all of the above: ASS
As I said above... nothing is going to improve your mood. Even your iPod (because it a measly little 4GB nano and doesn't have anything to provide to you.
But.
Believe me.
There is something that will most definitely put a smile on your face if not hysteric laughter.
Now, now. Melbourne is a city home to many a cyclist. And as I grumpily strode my way onto Royal Parade I saw the stream of bicycles whiz past. Royal Parade is where the bike rules. Morning and night, indie uni kids, indie Uni High kids, adult city working people (a race rather foreign to my young self) race up and down good ol' Royal P. Cyclists of any speed, ones with fixies ones without; it doesn't matter. It is a sanctuary to any type of bike rider, and if you're there often enough you've pretty certain you've seen it all.
Oh, no. No you haven't.
Amongst the regular riders, coming home from work, pumping their legs up and down away from the city was a particular cyclist who caught my eye. A streak of yellow, you could call it. A fluffy yellow.
A top a bicycle riding at full speed amongst the serious roadsters was a man or woman ( it is impossible to tell) clothed purely in a bright fluffy yellow duck suit. A large circular cartoon like duck head was incorporated in such a suit.
As this quacktastic legend rode past me all my troubles floated away and melted into bursts of laughter. Yes, I was on the street alone laughing outrageously loud to myself. But I didn't care.
Neither did the duck, quite obviously.
Keep on quackin'
Mairead
Friday, April 2, 2010
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?
So here I am, at my grandparents vineyard. My mama and I went to go supermarket shopping to get some food for the Easter celebrations. We were walking down the snacks aisle, after I had insisted on us buying Shapes. Who does not love a good ol' box of Arnotts Shapes to satisfy their munchies? YOM!
A favoured choice of snack amongst children of young and old, I thought that a wise purchase for tomorrow's Easter Sunday would a be a brightly orange coloured box of one of my personal favourite flavours (or one of my "flavourites", so to speak), Chicken Crimpy. Oval shaped, crimped, golden bites of chicken-y goodness. A TRUE flavour.
But as I reach for my delectable orange box, my attention is drawn to a rusty red coloured box of Shapes. A new flavour of shapes for my snacking pleasure? I thought. Hooray.
How very wrong I was.
In red lettering under the large and colourful logo of "SHAPES" was the flavour name: SAVOURY.
I was shocked, outraged. WHAT KIND OF FLAVOUR IS SAVOURY?? SAVOURY IS NOT A FLAVOUR. Such a weak excuse... at least try the conventional PLAIN, like chips do. JESUS, Arnotts, you have truly dissappointed me.
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO that Shape flavours can now be legitimately be passed off as Savoury. What next? Bitter? Sour? Or more probable, GENERIC. Generic flavoured Shapes. Yum yum.
NOT.
Absolutely shameful, I was appalled and expressed my dissappoint rather vocally in the Rosebud Safeway.
I leave you with this; next time you feel the need to snack upon something, and it happens to be Shapes that your fancy falls upon choose Chicken Crimpy, or Pizza or even Barbeque. But, by God, do NOT choose Savoury. Don't succumb to this worlds depressing generalising ways.
Mairead
A favoured choice of snack amongst children of young and old, I thought that a wise purchase for tomorrow's Easter Sunday would a be a brightly orange coloured box of one of my personal favourite flavours (or one of my "flavourites", so to speak), Chicken Crimpy. Oval shaped, crimped, golden bites of chicken-y goodness. A TRUE flavour.
But as I reach for my delectable orange box, my attention is drawn to a rusty red coloured box of Shapes. A new flavour of shapes for my snacking pleasure? I thought. Hooray.
How very wrong I was.
In red lettering under the large and colourful logo of "SHAPES" was the flavour name: SAVOURY.
I was shocked, outraged. WHAT KIND OF FLAVOUR IS SAVOURY?? SAVOURY IS NOT A FLAVOUR. Such a weak excuse... at least try the conventional PLAIN, like chips do. JESUS, Arnotts, you have truly dissappointed me.
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO that Shape flavours can now be legitimately be passed off as Savoury. What next? Bitter? Sour? Or more probable, GENERIC. Generic flavoured Shapes. Yum yum.
NOT.
Absolutely shameful, I was appalled and expressed my dissappoint rather vocally in the Rosebud Safeway.
I leave you with this; next time you feel the need to snack upon something, and it happens to be Shapes that your fancy falls upon choose Chicken Crimpy, or Pizza or even Barbeque. But, by God, do NOT choose Savoury. Don't succumb to this worlds depressing generalising ways.
Mairead
Monday, March 29, 2010
20 things one could do in the holidays to amuse themselves
1) Listen to all the contents of their iPod.
2) Throw a dance party consisting of ONLY ONE artist as the music provider (eg. Simon & Garfunkel)
3) Have a Shia LeBouf movie marathon (Watch Holes numerous times)
4) Invent a language to use to convey "inappropriate messages" with your friends.
5) If the above is not applicable due to the fact that you have no friends, utilise the holidays to go get some
6) Go vegeterian for a whole 2 weeks
7) Go carnivore for a whole 2 weeks
8) Communicate in mime for a whole 2 weeks
9) Write a romantic love song, get out your ukelele and serenade everyone on your street. For prime amusement grab someone to film your neighbours reactions.
10) Set up a lemonade stand outside your house for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
11) Organise and ALL MALE CARWASH for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
12) Write a poem consisting of these words: "kelp", "marmalade", "scrub", "FLOOGLE", "sxcbeest". Read it to your English class when you come back to school to prove that you kept up your literacy skills while on holidays
13) Try and rewrite the entire Harry Potter series in your own words OR continue them from the point of view of Albus Severus Potter.
14) Mix a spoonful from every jar in your house and feed it to your cat.
15) Poo in a hole... anywhere outside. Perhaps a beach.
16) Rename all you friends and only refer to them with their 'new names' (if lacking in friends, refer to 5)
17) Make an Astro Boy costume out of things found in your bathroom and wear it out and about
18) Meow. A lot.
19) Rearrange everyone's draws e.g. Dad ends up with Baby Mike's bootees, Mum with dad's ties!
20) Print this list out, complete EVERYTHING and only then can you eat it. With cat.
PS. Thankyou to Eva, who likes to eat cat.
2) Throw a dance party consisting of ONLY ONE artist as the music provider (eg. Simon & Garfunkel)
3) Have a Shia LeBouf movie marathon (Watch Holes numerous times)
4) Invent a language to use to convey "inappropriate messages" with your friends.
5) If the above is not applicable due to the fact that you have no friends, utilise the holidays to go get some
6) Go vegeterian for a whole 2 weeks
7) Go carnivore for a whole 2 weeks
8) Communicate in mime for a whole 2 weeks
9) Write a romantic love song, get out your ukelele and serenade everyone on your street. For prime amusement grab someone to film your neighbours reactions.
10) Set up a lemonade stand outside your house for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
11) Organise and ALL MALE CARWASH for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
12) Write a poem consisting of these words: "kelp", "marmalade", "scrub", "FLOOGLE", "sxcbeest". Read it to your English class when you come back to school to prove that you kept up your literacy skills while on holidays
13) Try and rewrite the entire Harry Potter series in your own words OR continue them from the point of view of Albus Severus Potter.
14) Mix a spoonful from every jar in your house and feed it to your cat.
15) Poo in a hole... anywhere outside. Perhaps a beach.
16) Rename all you friends and only refer to them with their 'new names' (if lacking in friends, refer to 5)
17) Make an Astro Boy costume out of things found in your bathroom and wear it out and about
18) Meow. A lot.
19) Rearrange everyone's draws e.g. Dad ends up with Baby Mike's bootees, Mum with dad's ties!
20) Print this list out, complete EVERYTHING and only then can you eat it. With cat.
PS. Thankyou to Eva, who likes to eat cat.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Owl of Brunswick St/Johnston St Intersection
Well hello there ... ladies!
It's been a while since I've posted...ladies.
Good to be back in the soft caress of my blog ... ladies.
(Just a tip, if you want to make anything sleazy, anything at all, just say after a little pause "...ladies" at the end of your sentences. If you really wanna turn the creep on, add in a few "If you know what I mean"s and you will be an instant sleaze.)
As propesterous as it may sound, my life has been a busy swirl of performing, homeworking, schooling, mooing and other various "ing"s that has prevented me from really squeezing in enough time to whip a decent blog, for your enjoyment.
But today as I stood waiting for the 112 tram (Which, by the way, is the best tram in Melbourne) on Brunswick St, at the corner of Johnston something occured that just had to be "blogged" about. It is quite good that in this day and age that the verb "to blog" exists.
As I waited in the confusingly hot weather of Melbourne's autumn, I heard a strange sound. Unfortunately it is rather difficult to replicate the noise via written word. How I wish, fair reader, you were gathered around me, sitting beside a crackling fire, and I could tell you my tale spoken with great passion. Alas.
Here is my attempt:
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!"
It rose above the noise of the busy traffic and pierced the usual sounds of suburbia with it's bizarrity. (Bizarrity may or may not be a word) It sounded like a strangely loud and big owl.
I could see others on the street looking to the source of the noise. What was it?
Then my eyes fell on the opposite corner. A man was standing a little way from the road, holding a bag. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses, looked about middle age and was quite large. There he was, at the intersection calling "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!" over and over again, to no one in particular.
It was hilarious enough, but after a few more calls, he looked as if "My work here is done!" and he turned and went on his way, looking as normal as if he had just transacted money from an ATM.
Thankyou, owl-hoot-calling man, for amusing me on my commute home, but perhaps it was not for others entertainment. Maybe you thoough
I hope I see you again.
I hope also, that I see this blog again.
Until that moment in time,
Mairead.
It's been a while since I've posted...ladies.
Good to be back in the soft caress of my blog ... ladies.
(Just a tip, if you want to make anything sleazy, anything at all, just say after a little pause "...ladies" at the end of your sentences. If you really wanna turn the creep on, add in a few "If you know what I mean"s and you will be an instant sleaze.)
As propesterous as it may sound, my life has been a busy swirl of performing, homeworking, schooling, mooing and other various "ing"s that has prevented me from really squeezing in enough time to whip a decent blog, for your enjoyment.
But today as I stood waiting for the 112 tram (Which, by the way, is the best tram in Melbourne) on Brunswick St, at the corner of Johnston something occured that just had to be "blogged" about. It is quite good that in this day and age that the verb "to blog" exists.
As I waited in the confusingly hot weather of Melbourne's autumn, I heard a strange sound. Unfortunately it is rather difficult to replicate the noise via written word. How I wish, fair reader, you were gathered around me, sitting beside a crackling fire, and I could tell you my tale spoken with great passion. Alas.
Here is my attempt:
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!"
It rose above the noise of the busy traffic and pierced the usual sounds of suburbia with it's bizarrity. (Bizarrity may or may not be a word) It sounded like a strangely loud and big owl.
I could see others on the street looking to the source of the noise. What was it?
Then my eyes fell on the opposite corner. A man was standing a little way from the road, holding a bag. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses, looked about middle age and was quite large. There he was, at the intersection calling "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!" over and over again, to no one in particular.
It was hilarious enough, but after a few more calls, he looked as if "My work here is done!" and he turned and went on his way, looking as normal as if he had just transacted money from an ATM.
Thankyou, owl-hoot-calling man, for amusing me on my commute home, but perhaps it was not for others entertainment. Maybe you thoough
I hope I see you again.
I hope also, that I see this blog again.
Until that moment in time,
Mairead.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
My emotional sickie
And so I find myself sitting in front of my netbook at a quarter to one on a Thursday afternoon, listening to She & Him's new album, when I should be enjoying lunch at school.
Why do I find myself in such a position?
Well, I think it is only fair to say that I am not only physically tired but emotionally exhausted. Hence, my brain being tired.
This would most generally be due to my emotional roller-coaster of a day yesterday.
It began normally, with double French. Highly interesting. At recess nerves set in, due to the fact that my audition for the musical would occur in the next session. I felt prepared, do not fret, and I didn't expect to get a part, I'm too young. But nerves all the same.
Ellen is the first to go in and comes out with a devastated expression, pronouncing to myself and the others anxiously waiting outside that the accompaniast was playing her song in a higher key than she had been rehearsing. Not only did I feel terrible for her, it just heightened my fear. Deborah then went in, and came out with the same announcement, looking understandably upset.
I went in with trepidation and basically did what I was told. The song was in the right key (thank God) but obviously not everything was satisfactory since I was stopped and instructed to change my singing style. The lines were forgotten, they were only for call-backs. What a waste of time preparing them.
The audition wasn't bad, but it wasn't good. It was nothing, it left me feeling negative or just empty.
I retreated back to Literature and then watched a partial amount of a BBC adaptation of the Canterbury Tale, The Pardoner's Tale. It was rather bizarre, and again gave me a rather hollow feeling.
But I was not to be deterred. I had more exciting things coming! I left Literature a little early, packed my bag, retrieved my cello out of the music storeroom and met Katherine near the exit of the school.
We were off to record for our Music Performance Course. We were in the same ensemble and were rather excited. Our group had been going really well in rehearsal and had come up with two original songs to record. We had to catch a tram from Melbourne University (the very first stop) to Hawthorn Rd, in East Brighton (the very last stop). Never before have I travelled a tram end to end. What an adventure.
Finally we reached the unknown territory of Brighton. The ominous recording studio was, from the front, a black iron gate that led down a passage way to a courtyard. We waited around for others in the program to turn up and before we knew, we were in a mixing room, learning about the mixing process in sound. After a few more exercises it came for our time to record (we were the last group).
We had a few mishaps, (a buzzing guitar, a broken string) but running a little over time we began the recording. It was slightly dissappointing because we had found out that we could only record one song, rather than two, so I was only playing cello rather than singing but I didn't mind too much.
First off, the three guitars were recorded without any major problems. Then the drums and vocals were overdubbed. Atlast came the time for strings. Katherine and I put on headphones. It took ages to find the right level of sound, because I really needed to hear the cello to get the right pitch, but also needed to hear the recording to hear where the song was going.
When it came time to actually recording, it turned out I could only hear the cello and vaguely hear the song. I was in a stuffy little room trying to go a long with the song, without really hearing it properly. That did not work, I kept making mistakes and then nearly half way through I just lost the part in the song, it was practically inaudible. I had to stop.
But then my teacher comes in and says "Sorry, that's all we can work with, he have to stop, we've run over time. Everyone's waiting"
I was nearly on the verge of tears. I stormed on to the tram. I'd wasted the opportunity, hadn't even recorded the song properly. I felt like I'd let down everyone, and that the song was ruined. It wasn't actually, the song without the strings was fine, which made me feel really dispensable.
It was unfair that we were last, and I suppose I've learnt my lesson, but I'm still really dissappointed in myself and the experience.
I spent some of the tram ride voicing my troubles to Katherine, but decided I really needed to talk to other people and be a bit more social to get my mind off things. That cheered me up a little, and by the time I was finally in the city on the tram that would take me home I wasn't so distraught.
But the fact that it was nearing six thirty and that I had to go and babysit my cousins still loomed. Hadn't I had enough for one day?
Reaching home at eight thirty, I was extremely tired. Mentally and physically. The realisation that I had homework was just another annoyance.
I had to retell my day to Greer over the phone and by that time it was too late. After some consoling So You Think You Can Dance, it was bed time. No homework, just sleep. The song just went round and round in my head, so I decided to listen to Vampire Weekend on my iPod, because Vampire Weekend always make me feel happy inside, because I love them so. Not such a great idea, seeing as they have a lot of cello in their music and I kept picking it out in the music and felt inadequate.
This morning I was not feeling any better and decided to just go back to sleep.
And now here I am, skipping school mainly just because I had a bad day yesterday. I suppose you could call it pulling an "emotional" sickie. Sort of.
I realise that this post has not followed up the similar style of my previous entries, but that's because I'm not really in the mood of my usual crazy frivolity and humour. This blog still hasn't really found it's purpose or direction. It's just a young thing, it needs to discover itself.
Farewell,
I believe that writing this has somewhat relieved the symptoms of emotional exhaustion.
Mairead
Why do I find myself in such a position?
Well, I think it is only fair to say that I am not only physically tired but emotionally exhausted. Hence, my brain being tired.
This would most generally be due to my emotional roller-coaster of a day yesterday.
It began normally, with double French. Highly interesting. At recess nerves set in, due to the fact that my audition for the musical would occur in the next session. I felt prepared, do not fret, and I didn't expect to get a part, I'm too young. But nerves all the same.
Ellen is the first to go in and comes out with a devastated expression, pronouncing to myself and the others anxiously waiting outside that the accompaniast was playing her song in a higher key than she had been rehearsing. Not only did I feel terrible for her, it just heightened my fear. Deborah then went in, and came out with the same announcement, looking understandably upset.
I went in with trepidation and basically did what I was told. The song was in the right key (thank God) but obviously not everything was satisfactory since I was stopped and instructed to change my singing style. The lines were forgotten, they were only for call-backs. What a waste of time preparing them.
The audition wasn't bad, but it wasn't good. It was nothing, it left me feeling negative or just empty.
I retreated back to Literature and then watched a partial amount of a BBC adaptation of the Canterbury Tale, The Pardoner's Tale. It was rather bizarre, and again gave me a rather hollow feeling.
But I was not to be deterred. I had more exciting things coming! I left Literature a little early, packed my bag, retrieved my cello out of the music storeroom and met Katherine near the exit of the school.
We were off to record for our Music Performance Course. We were in the same ensemble and were rather excited. Our group had been going really well in rehearsal and had come up with two original songs to record. We had to catch a tram from Melbourne University (the very first stop) to Hawthorn Rd, in East Brighton (the very last stop). Never before have I travelled a tram end to end. What an adventure.
Finally we reached the unknown territory of Brighton. The ominous recording studio was, from the front, a black iron gate that led down a passage way to a courtyard. We waited around for others in the program to turn up and before we knew, we were in a mixing room, learning about the mixing process in sound. After a few more exercises it came for our time to record (we were the last group).
We had a few mishaps, (a buzzing guitar, a broken string) but running a little over time we began the recording. It was slightly dissappointing because we had found out that we could only record one song, rather than two, so I was only playing cello rather than singing but I didn't mind too much.
First off, the three guitars were recorded without any major problems. Then the drums and vocals were overdubbed. Atlast came the time for strings. Katherine and I put on headphones. It took ages to find the right level of sound, because I really needed to hear the cello to get the right pitch, but also needed to hear the recording to hear where the song was going.
When it came time to actually recording, it turned out I could only hear the cello and vaguely hear the song. I was in a stuffy little room trying to go a long with the song, without really hearing it properly. That did not work, I kept making mistakes and then nearly half way through I just lost the part in the song, it was practically inaudible. I had to stop.
But then my teacher comes in and says "Sorry, that's all we can work with, he have to stop, we've run over time. Everyone's waiting"
I was nearly on the verge of tears. I stormed on to the tram. I'd wasted the opportunity, hadn't even recorded the song properly. I felt like I'd let down everyone, and that the song was ruined. It wasn't actually, the song without the strings was fine, which made me feel really dispensable.
It was unfair that we were last, and I suppose I've learnt my lesson, but I'm still really dissappointed in myself and the experience.
I spent some of the tram ride voicing my troubles to Katherine, but decided I really needed to talk to other people and be a bit more social to get my mind off things. That cheered me up a little, and by the time I was finally in the city on the tram that would take me home I wasn't so distraught.
But the fact that it was nearing six thirty and that I had to go and babysit my cousins still loomed. Hadn't I had enough for one day?
Reaching home at eight thirty, I was extremely tired. Mentally and physically. The realisation that I had homework was just another annoyance.
I had to retell my day to Greer over the phone and by that time it was too late. After some consoling So You Think You Can Dance, it was bed time. No homework, just sleep. The song just went round and round in my head, so I decided to listen to Vampire Weekend on my iPod, because Vampire Weekend always make me feel happy inside, because I love them so. Not such a great idea, seeing as they have a lot of cello in their music and I kept picking it out in the music and felt inadequate.
This morning I was not feeling any better and decided to just go back to sleep.
And now here I am, skipping school mainly just because I had a bad day yesterday. I suppose you could call it pulling an "emotional" sickie. Sort of.
I realise that this post has not followed up the similar style of my previous entries, but that's because I'm not really in the mood of my usual crazy frivolity and humour. This blog still hasn't really found it's purpose or direction. It's just a young thing, it needs to discover itself.
Farewell,
I believe that writing this has somewhat relieved the symptoms of emotional exhaustion.
Mairead
Monday, March 15, 2010
I AM BEING STALKED...
By a year seven.
Alright, so my life is pretty intense, but to add to the general hecticity of daily life one of my brother's newly accquired friend at high school has taken an odd liking to me, over the medium of facebook.
I shall not give his real name, but lets call him Hoogle.
Hoogle began by adding me as a friend over Facebook, and I accepted him because he had many mutual friends and I just assumed he was at the same high school.
As soon as I had accepted, he started talking to me over IM, and I was wracking my brains. Do I know who this is?
Ah, Hoogle, Daniel (my brother) had mentioned him. He is one of Daniel's year seven buddies. Alrighty then.
But this conversation what was NOT a one off. He kept starting conversations with me over IM, but they were all trivial. That's fine I thought. He just likes a chat.
But no, that is NOT the extent of it. One day the conversation turns quite odd (this is all over Facebook, mind)
Hoogle says: Ur funny
Mairad says: I am? Thankyou, Hoogle.
Hoogle says: Yer, ur funny and cool
Mairead says: Hahahahahah How you know this, I'm not too sure, but oh well
Hoogle: Ur so smart .... a tasky (For those of you who don't know, a taskie is a slang term for those at my high school who are accelerated learners. We skip a year, it's major ASS. I'll save that rant for another blog)
Mairead: That's me (I'm feigning enjoyment, at this point. To be honest, I'm a little scared)
Hoogle: Ur a tasky?
Mairead: Yes
Hoogle: What a guess
Nah, Daniel told me you were a a tasky
That was my first brush with the world of stalkerdom. The next day, it continued, but at what can only be said as "creepier" levels.
After the general mundane greetings and slow-moving initialities of a Facebook IM conversation I got this.
Hoogle: I saw you today
Mairead: Well we do go to the same school
Hoogle: You were wearing sunglassess, and blue (This is all true. Why did he take such notice?)
Mairead: That's right
Hoogle: It actually looked really good on you
WHAT. THE. HELL. I'M IN YEAR 10, YOU ARE YEAR 7. WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT? I chose not to say anything. This was too odd. I don't even know what this kid looks like, and he is making comments upon my physical appearance.
Then today, he starts yet ANOTHER conversation. He requests to speak to my brother and then when I come back on the reality of my now stalked life comes back to hit me in the face.
Hoogle: Anyway Mairead
I saw you again today
Mairead: How amazing (As you can see, at this point I am not refraining from portraying my annoyance in the form of sarcasm. Many times have I screamed at the computer monitor "OH, JUST PISS OFF!")
Hoogle: right nxt to the canteen
i always c u 4 sum reason
Mairead: I don't think so
I might remind you
we are at the same school
you see many people everyday
there is no special reason (I know, I know, I'm being slightly rude, but I have REALLY had enough. I mean really. I've been perfectly polite up to this point, but ENOUGH is ENOUGH)
Hoogle: lol
u never c me (Well, I'M sorry, but I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, SOMEHOW YOU DO FOR ME WHICH IS A BIT ODD)
Mairead: That's kind of because I don't know what you look like
You've never spoken to me in person
Hoogle:
lol (Yes, it's GODDAMN HILARIOUS, I'M CERTAINLY LAUGHING OUT LOUD....NOT.)
Mairead: To be honest I don't really know who you are
Hoogle: i will 1 day
ohh
thats very nice
gtg
bye Mariead
Mairead: See you Hoogle
Hoogle: later alligator lol
("Later alligator" is something I often say as a farewell to those on IM, I think I said it to him on the first idle IM chat to be friendly. He's obviously remembered this... holy cow)
On top of all this, my brother tells me he often talks of me to him. I think my life is in serious danger. You haven't seen these year sevens, there is an evil, muderous glint in there eye. My safety is severely in the balance.
I hope with all hopes that I shall be in a future condition to post yet again,
Until then, or maybe never again,
In fear,
Mairead
Alright, so my life is pretty intense, but to add to the general hecticity of daily life one of my brother's newly accquired friend at high school has taken an odd liking to me, over the medium of facebook.
I shall not give his real name, but lets call him Hoogle.
Hoogle began by adding me as a friend over Facebook, and I accepted him because he had many mutual friends and I just assumed he was at the same high school.
As soon as I had accepted, he started talking to me over IM, and I was wracking my brains. Do I know who this is?
Ah, Hoogle, Daniel (my brother) had mentioned him. He is one of Daniel's year seven buddies. Alrighty then.
But this conversation what was NOT a one off. He kept starting conversations with me over IM, but they were all trivial. That's fine I thought. He just likes a chat.
But no, that is NOT the extent of it. One day the conversation turns quite odd (this is all over Facebook, mind)
Hoogle says: Ur funny
Mairad says: I am? Thankyou, Hoogle.
Hoogle says: Yer, ur funny and cool
Mairead says: Hahahahahah How you know this, I'm not too sure, but oh well
Hoogle: Ur so smart .... a tasky (For those of you who don't know, a taskie is a slang term for those at my high school who are accelerated learners. We skip a year, it's major ASS. I'll save that rant for another blog)
Mairead: That's me (I'm feigning enjoyment, at this point. To be honest, I'm a little scared)
Hoogle: Ur a tasky?
Mairead: Yes
Hoogle: What a guess
Nah, Daniel told me you were a a tasky
That was my first brush with the world of stalkerdom. The next day, it continued, but at what can only be said as "creepier" levels.
After the general mundane greetings and slow-moving initialities of a Facebook IM conversation I got this.
Hoogle: I saw you today
Mairead: Well we do go to the same school
Hoogle: You were wearing sunglassess, and blue (This is all true. Why did he take such notice?)
Mairead: That's right
Hoogle: It actually looked really good on you
WHAT. THE. HELL. I'M IN YEAR 10, YOU ARE YEAR 7. WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT? I chose not to say anything. This was too odd. I don't even know what this kid looks like, and he is making comments upon my physical appearance.
Then today, he starts yet ANOTHER conversation. He requests to speak to my brother and then when I come back on the reality of my now stalked life comes back to hit me in the face.
Hoogle: Anyway Mairead
I saw you again today
Mairead: How amazing (As you can see, at this point I am not refraining from portraying my annoyance in the form of sarcasm. Many times have I screamed at the computer monitor "OH, JUST PISS OFF!")
Hoogle: right nxt to the canteen
i always c u 4 sum reason
Mairead: I don't think so
I might remind you
we are at the same school
you see many people everyday
there is no special reason (I know, I know, I'm being slightly rude, but I have REALLY had enough. I mean really. I've been perfectly polite up to this point, but ENOUGH is ENOUGH)
Hoogle: lol
u never c me (Well, I'M sorry, but I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, SOMEHOW YOU DO FOR ME WHICH IS A BIT ODD)
Mairead: That's kind of because I don't know what you look like
You've never spoken to me in person
Hoogle:
lol (Yes, it's GODDAMN HILARIOUS, I'M CERTAINLY LAUGHING OUT LOUD....NOT.)
Mairead: To be honest I don't really know who you are
Hoogle: i will 1 day
ohh
thats very nice
gtg
bye Mariead
Mairead: See you Hoogle
Hoogle: later alligator lol
("Later alligator" is something I often say as a farewell to those on IM, I think I said it to him on the first idle IM chat to be friendly. He's obviously remembered this... holy cow)
On top of all this, my brother tells me he often talks of me to him. I think my life is in serious danger. You haven't seen these year sevens, there is an evil, muderous glint in there eye. My safety is severely in the balance.
I hope with all hopes that I shall be in a future condition to post yet again,
Until then, or maybe never again,
In fear,
Mairead
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Oh em gee, so I just TOTALLY started a blog. LOL.
After spending a substantial amount of time formatting and fiddling around with settings and what-not, lo-and-behold: MY BLOG HAS BEEN BORN!
Isn't he beautiful? I think I'll name him Jeffrey. Oh wait, he already has a name. Mairead's Highly Interesting Mind and How it Works. That pretty much sums it up, no theme, no particular topic of interest. Just my brain (BRAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS. YOM)
Actually, no remove those brackets. I love brains. I had them when I was five, my grandpa put them in a tasty, creamy sauce with bacon and onions. But since then, I have NEVER had them again. It's a shame, a real shame. Come on, Coles, stock sheep's brains. They're wanted by the public. LISTEN TO THEM.
But anyhoot, back on track. Yes, blog. I thought I should start one up to comment upon that of Be and Deborah (Oh shit! You guys are going anonymous, I forgot. Sorry, Little Big and Ranter)
But who knows, I might be a blogging prodigy. I shall try to record any interesting observations while out and about and if anything interesting happens to me or to those around me on my blog it shall go.
Since no one will be reading it, I don't think I'll try too hard to be mysterious and vague with details. That sort of thing is tres tedious for the reader. I shall be nice to you.
Today is a Sunday, so I can literally say I have done nothing. Almost. Just a bit of Facebooking, watching some dodgy video clips on Max, you know, that sort of thaaaaaaaaaaaaang. I have not yet gone outside, which is dodgy of me, seeing as it is a BEAUTIFUL day.
But yesterday was also lovely, and I had a lovely time performing to those of my former primary school at said primary school's fete with Greer. It was the first time we've performed originals properly. Seeing as this is my mind, I must say that what is constantly on my mind, is what I would like to be in life, as an occupation. Musician is always there, but just... hmmm, I'm never too sure about it. Then again, not many people my age are sure.
Sunday is a silly, slow day. Nothing ever happens on Sunday. I always procrastinate on Sunday, or do nothing at all. This post is slowing down, along with Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday... tick tock tick tock.
This blog has lost it's direction (like Sunday), I think that means it's time for the end.
Until my next post,
Mairead
Isn't he beautiful? I think I'll name him Jeffrey. Oh wait, he already has a name. Mairead's Highly Interesting Mind and How it Works. That pretty much sums it up, no theme, no particular topic of interest. Just my brain (BRAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS. YOM)
Actually, no remove those brackets. I love brains. I had them when I was five, my grandpa put them in a tasty, creamy sauce with bacon and onions. But since then, I have NEVER had them again. It's a shame, a real shame. Come on, Coles, stock sheep's brains. They're wanted by the public. LISTEN TO THEM.
But anyhoot, back on track. Yes, blog. I thought I should start one up to comment upon that of Be and Deborah (Oh shit! You guys are going anonymous, I forgot. Sorry, Little Big and Ranter)
But who knows, I might be a blogging prodigy. I shall try to record any interesting observations while out and about and if anything interesting happens to me or to those around me on my blog it shall go.
Since no one will be reading it, I don't think I'll try too hard to be mysterious and vague with details. That sort of thing is tres tedious for the reader. I shall be nice to you.
Today is a Sunday, so I can literally say I have done nothing. Almost. Just a bit of Facebooking, watching some dodgy video clips on Max, you know, that sort of thaaaaaaaaaaaaang. I have not yet gone outside, which is dodgy of me, seeing as it is a BEAUTIFUL day.
But yesterday was also lovely, and I had a lovely time performing to those of my former primary school at said primary school's fete with Greer. It was the first time we've performed originals properly. Seeing as this is my mind, I must say that what is constantly on my mind, is what I would like to be in life, as an occupation. Musician is always there, but just... hmmm, I'm never too sure about it. Then again, not many people my age are sure.
Sunday is a silly, slow day. Nothing ever happens on Sunday. I always procrastinate on Sunday, or do nothing at all. This post is slowing down, along with Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday... tick tock tick tock.
This blog has lost it's direction (like Sunday), I think that means it's time for the end.
Until my next post,
Mairead
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