Anyone I wanted? I have a few friends I miss that I'd love to catch up with, just about anywhere. But I think if I had to choose someone high profile, I'd probably go for Emily Bronte. I have a few unanswered questions.

Ask me anything

If I followed sports with any great interest, I may answer this question.

Ask me anything

When I was going through school, hating it, my teachers told me to hold out for senior highschool. I didn't finish all of it, but I found a sense of satisfaction with who I was and what I was doing that I may not have had otherwise.

Ask me anything

So: Mardi Gras Party rocked my socks. And thats the only way I can think of to describe it. ALL the weeks and weeks of anticipation, preparation, shopping, emailing and such ALL PAID OFF. It was BRILLIANT. It was my FIRST and I loved it. (I truly am trying to think of something more fabulous to say. Truly. And I promise I'll tone down the capitals after this first paragraph. I swear) I know a lot of people have been 100% pissy about the whole thing i.e. seperate weekends, calibre of performances (and yes, I totally agree, Guetta sucked), the 'secrecy' policy etc. And yes, I'll be honest, a few of those things did irk me slightly. But I've always felt that if you take away everything about party, strip it back to it's absolute bare bones, it's about the people. And the people, they were wonderful.

I was volunteering at the front of the members area - and let it be known, when I was told that intially my duties would involve 'mingling' and making sure everyone was 'having a good time' - I was absolutely shitting myself. I'm a social butterfly by nature, but meeting new people and just marching up, indulging in conversation with strangers has never been my aboslute strong point. But after an adventure of the set up this year and rousing game of 'LET'S FIND THE TOILETS IN EACH VENUE JUST INCASE SOMEONE ASKS' (as much awesome fun as it sounds ladies and gents....I saw the toilets at the start of the night! In all their clean and shiny glory!), I was feeling a lot better.

This burst of enthusiasm only increased as people started to arrive. Volunteer reshuffling meant I was now at the 'door' (it's really more of a gap thing) of the members area with my friend Ronald and another lovely volunteer, David. It was fairly straightforward. If you have a wrist band - go straight in. If not and your on the list - stick around, I've got something for you ;) If you had a wristbandless plus one, then the members tent was where you had to be. Toilets were here, here, here annnnnd here. ATMs could be found there and there and yeah, no, I'm still not a hundred percent sure about the cigarette thing. Fail (Yeah, seriously, sorry to anyone who asked me ;_; )

Things got really busy as the night went on. My shift ended at 1AM and that final hour was probably the most crazy. We had a lot of 'head down' walkers who thought if they couldn't see us, then we wouldn't be able to see them. And their lack of wristband. Ahem. I felt a little harsh, having to chase after people and be all like 'Sorry guys! Wristbands only!' and I had a few people who weren't overly impressed, but, thems the rules and I was all up for enforcing them. Then there were the flirty guys and girls who thought they could convince you, through pure charm, to let them in. Put bluntly: I don't do charm. Charm has got me into A LOT of trouble in the past. NOT GONNA HAPPEN AGAIN. Not that I said that, though. No. I was totally thinking it. That said, everyone going in and out of the place was totally sweet and I'm so glad I got the chance to meet and have a brief chat with some of you!

The people were what made my night. And whilst I dashed off at the end of my shift to change into the 'girls' (Italian leather. Knee High. Lace Up. You get the picture) and make 'girls' where the were none before...(I had something called a 'super' push up bra. No joke. More padding than boob, but for the look, it was TOTALLY worth it) and the other bits and pieces (I was wearing, and yes, I'm going to describe it, because I loved my outfit and still do, a vest, with a lace back. This gorgeous leather look belt around the bottom of said vest and my middle, that laced up at the front. And cute black and white leggings. I kind of looked like a zebra. Cept it was a rose pattern, not the stripes) So, getting changed was probably another highlight of my night. As was getting changed in front of two of the nice volunteer boys at the cloak marquee. Merry Christmas guys. I tried, so, so hard not to flash random people, but no, that was never going to happen. And it was first time being tits mcgee, so I was a bit nervy, but not, realistically thinking straight (not that you'd want to be. Kind of defeats the purpose, you know?). Fail Mary. Fail. But I have to be honest and say that I got a really big kick out of my v0lunteer shift and there is no doubt in my mind that I'll be doing it again. It was fun and relaxed and sometimes electrically charged - there was such an intense energy running through party guests and you can't NOT get caught up in that.

I managed to knock off in time to get changed and DASH into the RHI on a friends shoulders for Georges performance. And for anyone that witnessed what came after - Yes. I cried. Like a girl. Which is fine. Because I am one. Very much so. I get regularly emotional over a few things, but I sure as shit didn't expect it to happen at the party. But it did. And thats ok (A big shout out to anyone that saw my teary - SORRY you had to witness that).

I didn't catch more than the tail end of the other performances. I was in the Horden for Carl Cox's set though and it was fucking wicked. That man is a genius, an absolute God, and when you hear his naselly british cords screaming out 'YEAH MARDI GRAS, YEAH', you know it's going to be one hell of a musical experience. It was a lot more earthy, pounding basslines, that kind of thing than next door in the RHI. Which was kind of a relief. With a latin dancing background, I find it hard to dance to anything that doesn't have a good beat a long with it, but this was music you could MOVE to. With just enough dramatic pauses for you to catch your breath, but everything in it's right place, nothing sounded weird or wrong - seriously that man is the BOMB. I fully agree with a lot of people however - David Guetta should do his own songs and nothing else. I didn't hear as much as some, but I heard enough to be of the opinion that he can't mix on the spot. Everything has to be prepared beforehand. Ok. Thats fine. Why couldn't they have done that for the Party? I had pre-mixed drinks all night, I wasn't going to give a damn if my music came the same way - so long as it was good. But it wasn't, it really wasn't and given the hype, people had obviously come to expect a fairly high calibre of performance from him. Guetta didn't deliver. Sad for some, but given my brief experience with his stuff, I wasn't too fussed about it.

I'd like to give a shoutout in this blog to Rachel, who looked after all of us volunteer chicks during our shift. THANKYOU. It was nice to know we had somewhere and someone to run to if shit went down, lol, not that it did! And to Michael, who was supervising us over at the Members Area, you're fantastic! You'll probably never read this, but I don't think we would have had a hope in hell without your help at the start of the night. And thankyou for my fan! ^.^ To ALL my fellow volunteers: You guys are the BEST. It was so great to meet all of you and hopefully we'll catch up next year! Or at Sleaze! *fingers crossed*

So, to anyone who doesn't know or hasn't yet realised - I work in the book industry and have done so for quite some time. So naturally, I read. And generally speaking try to keep up with all the up to date bookish news and nonsense that circulates quite regularly. And there's a lot of news. And for that matter a fucking shitload of nonsense as well.

You'll find that currently, much of this nonsense circulates around Vampires.

Some people will respond to this with much excitement and pleasure.

"Yay! Vampires! They is so sexy-like! Omgz!"

Others, near hysteria.

"OMFG R-PATZ!? WHERZ!?"

Those who react normally, simply don't rate mention. Cynical, cynical bastards. (cough)

That said, there is a new trend appearing - wandering onto the scene with the confidence and bravado of a bachelor in a room full of single over-30's with demanding mothers. Get set ladies, Fallen Angels are the new thing. Those poor, downtrodden, holy souls who had it in with the Big Guy, only to commit some form of sin - Like falling in love with the same girl over and over and over and ove- and get rocketed back down to earth with the rest of us shlubs. Well dang. But naturally, as in all good "Omgz I'm so lonely, yet attractive, yet emo, yet tortured - blah blah blah" stories involving those poor, pitiful male souls we love so much - there is always a heroine around to save the day.

Typically, much like in Ye Olde Vampire Novel, our fair Lady, has no real idea how fair she apparantly is (and you know what, I'm not big on Kristen Stewart, so unless I have pictures, I'm going to go right ahead and believe our heroine when she's having her image crisis. And really, no offence to Miss Stewarts fans, but seriously, I would not tap that. She either looks confused, angst ridden or looks like she's trying to be tough BUT with a back story. No. Just do the damn hand-on-hip-over-the-shoulder-smile thing like everyone else dear and let it go). So, whilst having constant image issues, but being ridiculously smart/witty/funny/'special' in some way, our heroine meets the one guy she can never have - but always does.

SUPRISE!

So, there's a few of these books out at the moment, 'Fallen' and 'Hush' being just two. However whilst trawling through Dymocks the other day, I was lucky enough to come across another title, which has, without a doubt confirmed that there is no God. And eventually, in some form of vampire apocolyse, we're all going to die.

"A vampire princess....

.....a fallen angel......

....will their love be....

....ETERNAL?"

Seriously: FML.

I wanted to burns the precious. Seriously. Burn it. Just so no-ones IQ were ever at risk by reading it. However, I wasn't prepared to spend money on this thing and I didn't think Dymocks would be overly impressed by a bonfire in their store, no matter how small or well managed it may be. And really, I'm not up for burning books. I just don't like the idea. It reminds me of those overly religious phanatical communities who burn books simply because a girl and a boy looked at eachother in a 'sexy' way. Oh wow. Somebody think of the Children. -.-

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED (even though I quite obviously already have) ON THE NEW WUTHERING HEIGHTS COVERS.

WHY?

WHY?

WHY?

So, they're reprinted Wuthering Heights (one of Mary's die-hard favs) with twilightesque covers. And I'm torn between 1. COMPLETE OUTRAGE and 2. Slight appreciation. The OUTRAGED part of me wants to go on a small killing/destructive spree. The more reasonable part of me has come to the conclusion that this, though sacriligious in my opinion, is getting the classics out there, to audiences who may not before have gone near them.

So, it's a win/lose kind of thing I guess.

(stabstabstabstabstab)

So there's this guy you see. He's a friend of a friend.

When I originally met him he was quiet-ish. Very opinionated though, which to some may seem an odd combination, but he chose his moments well. He was smart-ish. I say ish because you can know everything on this planet about maths and science and books and things, but if you don't know how to handle people, or, better still, now NOT to handle them, then quite frankly you should probably avoid society as much as possible.

No, seriously, stay INSIDE.

So this boy moved. He did what all good boys and girls do and got the hell OUT of our home town as swiftly as possible after finishing school. My hometown is far from the best place to get on with your life, let alone actually have one to begin with.

This boy got a job, but was still, like a few of people I know, living off Mummy and Daddy's, polished paycheck, despite having an income of his own. And this boy, now, slowly, having made new friends who don't know any better, has torn strips off everyone he used to know. All those people that may have been there when and if things go to absolute shit, now can't stand the sight or sound of him. Silly boy. Silly, silly boy. He's got a marvelously large head and an ego to match. His fashion sense: Vastly improved. His sexuality: Who the fuck knows. He's changed it that many times I struggle to keep up and at the extent of others, no less.

I suppose, given he lives in a city, he's feeling right cosmpolitan. Amongst the bretheren, right now, he probably feels he was always meant to have.

If I could give him some advice...

THAT - doesn't last forever. Eventually all those people who met and knew you intially and thought your were fun, whimsical, exciting, will get sick of your opininated views and the way you seek to push them on others. Eventually the new hairstyle won't suit you quite so well because everyone else has gone down that right at one stage or another. Your attitudes and opinions towards other people in the twisted little game you currently find yourself playing will be noticed and noted. You can only pit people against eachother for so long. After a while they get tired of it and find someone else to blame and at the end of the day it all leads to you.

How unfortunate.

I can understand exploration. I can understand marvelling in the new and unreal after living so long somewhere where minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years blurred together into unsatisfying muck. I can understand relishing the thrill of satisfaction after so long feeling hungry and unsaited. All that I can understand. I've felt it. I've been there. I'm still there and my god, at some times more than others, it feels good. But not, I hope, though can readily admit there may be times when it has been the case, at the expense of the people who genuinely care about you. Who deserve nothing less than your upmost respect.

No.

Because they will find themselves at the peak of that thrill for a lot longer than you will. They won't need to take another hit, because they'll stay there, a long with people like them and it'll be because of those people that they'll remain so uplifted.

It's all nothing if there's no-one to share it with.

I'm sitting here, drinking Berocca (For my B-B-Bounce, you see) and typing the same emails to the same sort of people over and over and over again. Naturally, after doing this for a certain period of time, the mind begins to wander and I find myself examining my colleagues with a lot more depth. Thats not for sharing though. I've learnt many lessons from bloggers past and that is one of them. Don't under any circumstances, write lengthy exposes about the people who give you money. Ever. If you wish to continue earning said money, these people are best left alone.

I have 30 minutes until I finish. Then off to the doctors again for more tests and fun. They'll tell me today, or perhaps tomorrow, if any what's been done so far has achieved something. I'm hoping it has. I won't be too fussed if it hasn't though. It's all touch and go with the medical world and much like shoe shopping you've got to find the one that fits. Treatment wise, aside from needles, which I hate and taking weird casts of my head, which I don't quite hate, but don't find quite so amusing as everyone else does, it hasn't been too bad, really. It could be worse. I could be very unlucky and things could be much, much, much worse. But they're not. And I'm alive. And thats ok. I mean, life is far from simple at the moment. Money wise, things have been better, but I daresay we'll cope. Living off chinese noodles for a week is comparatively better than living off A. Toast and B. Air - so we're in luck. I've lived off worse. I'm more concerned about feeding our ickle furry friends, but they're not too fussy either. Give them a carrot and all is well and if you don't have a carrot then some lettuce, or some grass or something green that you probably wouldn't eat day by day, even though it's ridiculously good for you, but they naturally would, which explains the glossy fur and generally happy disposition.