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Stolen Ghost Orchid

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[27 Nov 2003|09:30pm]
[ mood | amused ]

11 orchids|sow a seed

[18 Nov 2003|08:33am]
[ mood | sad ]

I've been having such a good time exploring this city with Pete. He leaves today, and I'll really miss him.

I'll write a full update later today - a lot has happened, including a few funny stories.

2 orchids|sow a seed

[11 Nov 2003|12:51pm]
[ mood | exhausted ]

I'm currently in Tokyo airport, where the entire Backstreet Boys catalogue has been piping through the speakers for the last 3 hours. Oh yeah.

I got here at 5:45am local time, and my NY flight isn't until 7pm. Thus far, I have managed to pass time by sleeping sprawled across a row of seats, trying to translate various signs and brochures, and generally sitting around with a glazed look in my eyes. I'm exhausted. But the novelty of everything around me is keeping my spirits up.

I wanna be in New York! I looked up the Conan O'Brien guests for this week, and Thursday features Dolly Parton and Steve Irwin. Top-shelf, my friends. Dolly Parton was hilarious when interviewed by Rove, and Steve Irwin is inherently amusing. Me wants to go.

I have no idea what terminal I'm supposed to go to, or how to obtain a boarding pass, but I assume that 6 hours is long enough to find out.

See you on the other side.

2 orchids|sow a seed

[30 Sep 2002|04:46pm]
[ mood | amused ]

Heh heh, I crack me up.

Three dodgy manipulated picturesCollapse )

7 orchids|sow a seed

ponderings [27 Jun 2002|09:10pm]
[ mood | confused ]

I've come to the conclusion that I'm trying to make myself a complete person through various modes of acquisition. I have a constant desire to know everything, to have all the right answers, to find out how everything works. I mindlessly stuff myself full of food that I'm not hungry for. I convince myself that I need a law degree in order to prove my intelligence. These are attempts at filling empty space, satisfying some obscure desire whose origin I am unaware of. I shy away from the big questions - death and religion are too complicated, too terrifying to contemplate in any proper detail. Love is elusive, and yet I ache for it, both from myself and those close to me.

I take a perverse delight in ripping myself to shreds - recently I've taken to describing my appearance as "grotesquely obese", which is strangely gratifying, but terribly damaging. Perhaps it's a defensive move; putting myself down before others get the chance. The self-loathing that plagues me is incredibly infuriating and tiresome, and yet despite my irritation with it, I can't seem to stop criticising, magnifying every flaw, and making outrageously exaggerated, damning statements against myself.

It really hurts when people who were previously very friendly and are still close to my heart start ignoring me. I crave feedback, attention, validation in any form, and when I don't receive it, it gets me down. Equally upsetting is when I can't make people happy. I want to save the world.

Life is exquisitely wonderful and terrible at the same time.

9 orchids|sow a seed

Growing up [28 Mar 2002|02:19am]
[ mood | satisfied ]

It has now been almost a year since my family moved to New York. When I look back on the past 12 months, I find it astonishing to see how much I have changed, both physically and psychologically. In some respects, I resent having to become a responsible adult so quickly - I don't know of any other 18 year olds who toss and turn at night angsting over their superannuation, nor do any of my friends have to work five days a week just to avoid further debt. I seem to have spent a great deal of my life stubbornly refusing to become a full-grown, independent woman. In my early teens my friends and I got up to some crazy antics - running around Darling Harbour in the pouring rain, acting out false arguments in the middle of a busy mall (we called it 'street theatre'), crowding together with hundreds of steamy bodies in mosh pits all over Sydney...I loved just being wacky and not needing to justify it.

Then came the transition - I foresaw the imminent pressure, responsibilities and stress that was to be forced upon me during my final years of high school. I had a choice - accept that my childhood was nearing conclusion, or resist this maturation into womanhood with every fibre of my being. I chose the latter. Three years of a bony, childlike, sexless body. Three years of absolving responsibility. Three years of no menstruation, no hips, no breasts, no proper signs of femininity. Three years of trying to be as unattractive as possible so as to deter anyone who might dare to try and love me.

And then, the light. The realisation, the acceptance that letting go of childhood might not have to mean letting go of the mischief, the defiance, the FUN. I no longer have a desperate need to compare myself to what I see as normal. I'm starting to see that labels and definitions are meaningless, that life in general ought to be more fluid, more accomodating, more....free.

So now here I am at 18 years old, finally ready to accomplish all that I was meant for. I no longer fear what lies ahead - I am in control of my own destiny, and the trials I have overcome thus far have strengthened my resolve to make an impact on this world. This girl is well on her way to becoming a woman, and the world had better just watch out.

5 orchids|sow a seed

A life of constant activity! [21 Jan 2002|03:20pm]
[ mood | lazy ]

My first day off after five days of working, and I'm just lazin' around doing nothing...ahhhhh. I'm even too lazy to write in proper paragraph format, so it's time for that old standby, the 'asterisk list'...

*My new flatmate moved in a week ago! He's a lot more considerate than Nick, and he's very talkative. He makes me laugh a lot, and has introduced me to the wonder and mirth of Red Dwarf.

*I've been taking Efexor, a new antidepressant, for a week, and so far it's all okay. I think we all remember what happened last time...

*I arrived home late one night to find a very terse letter in my mailbox threatening to nail my cat to a door. It turns out that the cat apparently...well, defecated on my neighbour's door mat, causing said neighbour to stupidly track cat poo all through his house. Now he wants me to pay for it, AND he threatened to report me for 'animal neglect'. This guy is such an asshole, you can really tell from his letter that he relies on the Microsoft Word thesaurus to compose his provocative notes of rage. Meh. Anyway, I referred him to my mother, and they dealt with each other. I now have to pay $50 a week for three weeks to him for damaging his crappy (hah!) imitation Persian rugs. Well, I think my mum was a little too submissive, so I composed a letter of my own that will accompany the first $50 instalment....

Dear Victor,

Following your initial, somewhat threatening letter, I ignored my flatmate's suggestion to contact the police, and contacted my mother instead. I understand that the urge to nail my cat to your door has been supressed. Which is probably a good thing. I mean, can you imagine having to explain that sight to a group of dinner guests? "Don't mind the door old chaps, I'm going for a rugged 'disembowled domestic animal' motif this season". Anyhow, I digress.

I will accept your accusations at face value - that my cat is responsible for your suffering, and thus, on behalf of him, I must duly compensate you. I will ignore the defenses that immediately spring to mind - chiefly that there are a few 'grey cats' within the vicinity (including the one who lives next door), and that I have been living here for over 10 years with nary an animal-related complaint until this one.

There is just one thing I am unclear on - how did the unspeakable dirt become tramped throughout your house unless you invited my cat inside? It has been my experience that cats have difficulty forcing their way through locked doors. If you stepped on the soiled doormat and subsequently sullied your own carpets, then my sympathies for the destruction this grave oversight caused you.

In any case, I sincerely apologise for the lack of respect my cat has shown you by soiling your living space so gratuitously. I would offer to beat him to death with reeds, but I fear that this would possibly garner me another "animal neglect" accusation.

If you happen to incur any further expenses, perhaps for psychological trauma counselling following the "stink, germs, time, expense and horror of cleaning the mess up", please let me know. As soon as I finalise arrangements for financing my combined law degree, I would be happy to siphon any remaining money into your account.

I'm glad this has all been resolved. As they say in the Latin, "Sona si Latine loqueris".

Yours faithfully,


(The Latin phrase means "Honk if you can speak Latin!". I included it because he used some wanky Latin phrase in a letter to my mum...I think it was "live and let live"...)

Well what do you know, that entry was somewhat paragraph-y.

My life may suck sometimes, it may be illogical, frustrating and fraught with contradictions, but damn, it's never</a> boring!
6 orchids|sow a seed

[12 Jan 2002|02:00pm]
[ mood | clogged up ]

Meh. Geocities... Okay, I'll play your game for now, evil web host, but for future reference, does anybody know of a free host that allows remote loading of pictures? Or is that a laughably unreasonable request...?

4 orchids|sow a seed

[12 Jan 2002|03:59am]
[ mood | thirsty ]

I can't breathe through my nose, so I can't sleep...yuck, being sick is so inconvenient.

I've been experimenting with Photoshop. Looks rather rough, but you get the idea. Soon, my pretties, soon I shall master it and become one of those groovy young graphic designers with a one-shouldered satchel, fluro trainers and a Palm Pilot. Oh, and I'll start writing everything in lower-case. Yes. Or not.

2 orchids|sow a seed

Mini entry [10 Jan 2002|01:57pm]
[ mood | sore ]

Short update that I shall elaborate upon at a later date...

I'm writing a play! It's called The Gap and it's going to be complex and talky.

I <3 Adobe Photoshop. (Thank you so much!)

I've decided to be like Thora Birch in Ghost World and carry a sketch book with me everywhere.

This year is the year of the Artistic Sabbatical (interspersed with gratuitous furthering of my retail career, in order to repay my debts to society and Visa).

There's gross used tissues all around me...eww, I hate being sick.

I'm going to be late for work...

8 orchids|sow a seed

Plane mad [05 Jan 2002|09:00pm]
[ mood | drained ]

There is something about Flight 863 that makes me highly unstable. Perhaps it's not the flight itself, perhaps it's the feeling of having just left New York, just left the well-intentioned yet complicated love and support of my family, to resume my confused existence in Sydney. Regardless of the cause, the past two times I have flown from San Francisco to New York, I have encountered, and been completely floored by, an unexpected psychological response. The first time, I had a minor panic attack and felt confined, afraid and alone. This time, I awoke from a very light, disturbed sleep (the only kind possible on an airplane) to a feeling of intense unease. I felt so alienated and scared by what I was feeling, that I began rummaging through my backpack, frantically retrieving a piece of paper and a pencil. And then, hands trembling and heart racing, I wrote.

My head is unusually heavy and my stomach hurts from chewing through four packs of gum while waiting to board this plane. Around me people are sleeping - I wish I could join them, but my mind is too overactive, too full of random, obscure, nonsensical thoughts that make me feel unsettled. I feel as though my persoanlity has been fractured, parts of me strewn in a million directions, and I am left struggling to piece everything back together. I crave some sort of definite diagnosis right now, I'm quite frightened of the way my brain is always obsessing over such minor, irrelevant details. More disturbing is the content of the thoughts - analysis of the immediate environment quickly progresses to highly obscure ruminations that in no way reflect my true preferences, desires and morals.

I always seem to have psychological breakdowns and frightened epiphanies on airplanes. It's a habit I need to break. Confined space, long duration, alone, no sufficient distractions - it's not a prime location to have a panicky episode of obsessive thoughts and deafening, uncontrollable inner voices. I worry that I'm nuts. What do people think about when they are alone? I find it utterly impossible to clear my mind.

Half an hour later I was fine, as if I had returned to myself after a few hours of allowing my schizophrenic alter ego to maintain base camp within my head. It was quite bizarre. I came close to choking to death while laughing hysterically at Rat Race, which for some reason I found absolutely hilarious. Being on a plane for 21 hours makes one rather delirious.
sow a seed

As promised, part two of NYE NYC [05 Jan 2002|06:35am]
[ mood | calm ]

I'm back!!! Before I do anything, I'm going to finish the New Year's story I started here...

Reluctantly leaving the Wonderous Grate of Seweriffic Goodness, Claire and I made our way back to the 'holding pen' where we had previously been standing. Standing in this pen, we had encountered a veritable menagerie of colourful characters. The two people I am most indebted to are the couple from Louisiana, who gave me their spare Dunkin Donuts-$10-admission-fee cup of coffee when I was damn near freezing to death. Sure, they asked me that inane question that every Sydneysider rolls their eyes at in exasperation, "Do y'all see many koala bears down there?". But they were so sweet and goofy, and I was so grateful for the hot coffee, that I became rather fond of them.

I've come to the conclusion that no-one living in Manhattan attends the Times Square New Year's celebrations. We met people from places as disparate as Japan, Washington D.C, New Zealand, Holland, France and...Brooklyn! The representative of that last location introduced himself as "Carlos from Brooklyn", as if he was expecting to be recognised by reputation.

We remained in our viewing spot for an hour or so until the biting cold once again became unbearable. Earlier on in the evening, I had used my last remaining $10 to purchase two pairs of gloves for our frozen hands. Well, I used them for my hands, but Claire put them on her feet, because the silly girl was only wearing those cut-off pantyhose socks. How she managed to walk with five extraneous glove fingers shoved into the toe of each shoe, I have no idea. Regardless of what extremities the gloves were supposed to be protecting, they were just not fulfilling their job description, and we began to complain bitterly once again. To make matters worse, the two bottles of soft drink I had recently consumed with reckless, regrettable abandon, were combining with the coffee, and beginning to exert excruciating pressure on my bladder. Um, so like, guys, where's the nearest public toilet? If you have ever visited Manhattan, you will be aware of the complete lack of restrooms on the entire island, even on regular, non-end-of-year-celebrating days. Thus, my vain hope to find a free restroom in the vicinity was, in short, absurdly laughable. It was at this point that I seriously considered going home. I had had it - I could barely walk without wincing due to my...er, bathroom needs, and I was almost certain that at least four of my fingers would require amputation because of frostbite.

It was at this time, a most crucial turning point for my sister and I, that the second miracle of the night happened (the first beign the Sewer Grate, of course). For in my hour of darkness, he was standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, "I have a ticket to get into Dunkin Donuts, I have a ticket to get into Dunkin Donuts". This anonymous, benevolent, saintly man, held the key to our salvation in his hand - a ripped, red "admit one" stub. Apparently, all we had to do was flash this baby at the Dunkin Donuts 'doorman' (!) and we would immediately receive the gifts of warmth and toilet facilities. TicketGuy, I never caught your name, but I think you were a friend of Carlos from Brooklyn. I can unequivocally say that you are my saviour, and possibly my guardian angel. Well, at least my patron Saint of uninary relief. The only catch was that the ticket, being 'admit one', only allowed one person to go in the store at a time. I went first, due to my very pressing need, while Claire retreated to the Sewer Grate for some much needed tootsie warming. After she had taken her turn in Dunkin Donuts, we rendez vous'd at the original viewing spot, joining our motley crew once again. By this time it was 11:30, and we had cheered up immeasureably.

The sight when the ball finally dropped was pretty spectacular. Multicoloured confetti rained down on us from all directions, swirling and spiraling in the wind on the way down (photos of which are to come shortly).

After midnight, we danced with each other and hugged random strangers. I was especially enamoured of the Japanese guy who hugged me and said "Merry Christmas, angels!", athough with his accent it sounded like "Merry Kurisumasu, ainjerus".

This story ought to be a bit longer and better written, but damn it, I'm late for work. Yes that's correct, I'm working the day after an ardous 21 hours of flying across the International Date Line. That flight constitutes another interesting story that I ought to write up soon, but for now, I'm off to (sleepily) sell people electronics stuff.

Thanks to everyone who wished me a safe journey back, it's good to be home.

sow a seed

Time to go... [02 Jan 2002|08:56am]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

I'm no longer a 'friend of' two people since yesterday. Something I said? ;o)

Anyhow, I'm about to leave for the mercifully warm homeland down under, and expect to continue my New Year's story when I get back there. Now, I always say that I'll continue things later, but this time I really mean to. If I were the type of person to make New Year's resolutions, my first would be to write more, especially when I promise to. I've certainly encountered enough wacky and wonderful scenes on this trip to provide a wealth of entertaining stories, and I will do my best to transcribe the experiences in humourous, interesting fashion :o)

Goodbye Upper East Side, goodbye to the scent of warm, salted doughy pretzels stacked on outdoor carts. Goodbye Rudy, goodbye to the blast of frigid air that assaults the face as you struggle to open the door against the wind. Goodbye to the number 6 train, J. Lo's choice in the old days. Goodbye Rockefeller Centre, home of He of Sparkling Irish Eyes and Vulgar Wit. Goodbye to the Site, and all other visible legacies of 9/11.

Goodbye New York, I'll be seeing you again soon.

1 orchid|sow a seed

NYE NYC Part One [01 Jan 2002|05:10pm]

The happy smiley face I have in this photo masks an inner pain. It was so bitterly, unbelievably cold last night, especially for a Sydney girl accustomed to mild winters. In real degrees, (I refuse to submit to a temperature system where freezing is 32 - what kind of wacky random number is that?!)the wind chill made it -11. MINUS ELEVEN DEGREES CELCIUS!!! I've never encountered such cold where the body's extremities go numb and subsequently throb with burning pain. Yowza!

My sister and I got to Times Square at about 6:30, astonished at the high ratio of police to civilians. We stepped out of the Times Square subway station, wearing feathered white angel wings, and encountered empty streets, save for sparadic congregations of cops. Their black uniforms blended into the dark of the evening and the gravel of the roads, and the scene made for auite an eerie atmosphere. I don't blame people for being frightened of becoming part of a mass terrorist target, but I felt pretty safe.

There were only a few entrances open to Times Square, and at each 'checkpoint', the police requested that we open our coats for them. I felt like a flasher!

As we were walking to our viewing spot, we got a sudden urge to purchase overpriced, garish New Year's accessories, and ended up getting an American flag and one of those 'tooters' that only seem to emerge during the madness of the holiday season. Freshly armed with our colourful, plasticky souvenirs, we trekked to the centre of the action - outside the MTV studios. "Like, oh my God, it's Carson Daly!!" we kept screaming, perhaps a wee bit too mockingly.

After another security check, we settled on a place one street away from the ball drop and stood to wait. And waited. And waited. And got cold. And got colder. And started to complain to each other. Just as I was re-affirming our need to suffer heroically and without comment, I glanced up at the clock on 45th Street and realised we still had five hours to wait. We weren't going to make it without some form of (warm) intervention. Leaving our spot, we walked in search of heat. Attempts to gain access to Dunkin' Donuts were thwarted when we realised that they were charging $10 just to walk in the door. Fancy that, a cover charge for Dunkin' Donuts! It's not a nightclub, it's a freakin' fast food outlet. Ahem. Anyway, we started walking north, and then serendipitously stumbled upon The Holy Grail. A steaming Sewer Grate (hereafter capitalised in reverence). Now, before you lose a large amount of respect for me, keep in mind that I am but a humble, unassuming Sydney-the-city-of-eternal-sunshine girl whose most hated thing in the world is to be cold. Right, just so we have some perspective here. Okay. My sister and I stood on top of the Sewer Grate, sighing in contentment and relief as the warmth defrosted our frozen toes. Sure, the stench bordered on unbearable, and we received an abundance of perplexed looks from members of New York's Finest, but at this point, we did not care a bit. The only problem was that the steam left condensation on our pants, which meant that we now had wet pants. Ah, the dilemma of the Sewer Grate - such sweet relief at first, but the cause of later anguish. We actually converted some shivering bystanders so that they too became Disciples of the Sewer Grate and its fragrant goodness. One of the oddest moments in a night of many was standing on the Grate in angel wings, next to a Frenchman who was leaning on the police barricade and reading the Glass Menagerie.

...To be continued since I need to pack...I know you can't wait!
3 orchids|sow a seed

[28 Dec 2001|07:56pm]
[ mood | hopeful ]

Ooh ooh, new life plan, everybody!! I think I'm going to change my degree from law to psychology! I actually agonised over this very dilemma at the beginning of the year, but for some odd reason, law won out in the end. Now I'm thinking in terms of an actual career, psychology is so much more appealing than being a pseudo-Lionel Hutz, Attorney at Law. (Look at the smoking monkey, he's taking another puff!) I'd love to be a psychologist, and I think I'd be good at helping people work through their problems. Plus, studying the human mind would also be personally beneficial - it might help me unlock some of my own psychological mysteries.

AND it will help in my stellar acting career to have in-depth knowledge of the human psyche. So you see, the benefits are varied and plentiful!

My sister and I went thrifting yesterday, and this is us in our funky, cheap new get-ups...

2 orchids|sow a seed

Random thought [24 Dec 2001|05:07am]
[ mood | curious ]

I must have clicked on the LJ Random button a couple of hundred times, and I have never found a journal that either belongs to a friend, is a friend of a friend, or that I have come across before.

It's not a small world after all.

1 orchid|sow a seed

Don't, don't believe, don't believe the hype, y'all [24 Dec 2001|03:25am]
[ mood | mellow ]

I saw Lord of the Rings yesterday, and the best thing about it was that I got to see the trailer for Austin Powers III: Goldmember. As for the movie itself, I fell asleep twice. Sorry to any hardcore Tolkien fans who may be outraged by that last statement, but yeesh. Too long, too many shots of Elijah Wood staring wide-eyed off into the distance, and too many scenes devoted to just how sacred and holy and dangerous the ring was. And what was with the lack of female characters? I counted two, and they were probably on screen for a total of 5 or 10 minutes before vanishing into oblivion, never to be heard from again.

Visually it was spectacular, but fabulous CGI can't compensate for underdeveloped characters and repetetive imagery. Oh, and note to Peter Jackson (who is actually a great mate of my dad's), if you are going to make a three hour movie, inject at least a teeny tiny amount of humour into it to give the audience a break. The whole thing was so Goddamned earnest that it was funny in spite of itself.

Merry Christmas all you crazy kids, don't get too crazy with the eggnog!

4 orchids|sow a seed

[18 Dec 2001|11:53am]
I'm about to write a proper essay-type thing for my next update. Frivolity is fun, but too much of it makes me feel too ditzy ;o) On that note...

another formal photo where my face looks weird, but you can see my dress...Collapse )
sow a seed

[18 Dec 2001|08:46am]
[ mood | goofy ]

Woo-hoo, my funky friend back home sent me a pic taken at the formal!! Yay!

7 orchids|sow a seed

Another photographic update, of which there will be many [11 Dec 2001|09:27pm]

Tomorrow we visit Ground Zero. It has been three months.
2 orchids|sow a seed

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