Memoirs of a Word Nerd

Shameless Self Promotion

2011-12-27T17:12:00.002+11:00

Hi Interwebz. Sorry it's been so long. I've missed blogging, but stupidly, have decided that instead of rebooting Memoirs of a Word Nerd, which was so much fun and had some lovely loyal readers, I'll start a new, more specific blog.

It's called The Crowded Shelf and will be about books. The first post is much too long and I'm a little out of practice, but I love books and it's the most fun I've had writing for many moons.

If you should fancy checking it out, here's a link. Otherwise, gentle reader, good night and good luck!

Warmest wishes,
Manda

Basil

2011-06-13T07:53:00.000+10:00

It's been two weeks since Basil died and every morning I have to remind myself what has happened. I'm still not used to it but I almost dread the day that that knowledge finally sinks in.

My brain hasn't rearranged its expectations around the fact that he's gone. When my car pulls up to the gate, I still wait for him to bound toward me, tail wagging. When my family carries the groceries inside, he's not there fighting to get inside with all his doggy strength. Every time I go into the garden it's so horribly empty. His favourite blanket and his precious bath mat are folded on one of our cane chairs - his beloved (or hated? It was always hard to tell) toy tiger sits on top.

He was too young, only four - it was so unexpected. Maybe that's why it hurts us all so much. When friends and relatives have died, it's been awful and in a cold, clinical way I know that it's silly for my family to be devastated about a dog. But Basil was in our lives everyday, a beautiful constant. And he wasn't just a pet, he was part of the family. Perhaps it's just that grieving after an animal has died is something that people don't talk about.

I can still feel the softness of his velvety ears and his fur beneath my hand. He was crazy and naughty and hilarious and loyal. If I came home late, he would wait up for me - patrolling the yard to make sure it was safe once I'd pulled up, before clambering into his kennel. He had a fondness for grapes and apples and would often sit in our garden chairs like a person. And no towel hanging on the clothesline was safe from him. Nor was food at parties. I had an Australia Day BBQ for my friends the year after I finished school, and he stole so many sausage sandwiches that he was hungover the next day.

He loved racing into the chook pen to steal their food, and he also had a habit of taking their eggs very gently in his mouth and hiding them away in his secret spots in the yard. Basically, he was a freak. But he was our freak.

The fact that we won't get to take him down to the river in summer and watch him swim like an otter, or lie down next to him on the grass when the weather is good, breaks my heart.

We have so many memories, but there should have been more. I just hope he knew that we loved him. I think he did.

Bazzie

I'm Not There

2011-05-17T20:15:00.001+10:00

My blog and I don't really speak anymore. If we saw each other on the street, we'd smile vaguely without meeting each others eyes before we hurried on. Perhaps, once it was certain we were far enough away, we'd reminisce about the good times - then be sad about how far away they seem.

Once we were happy. Time got in the way and life happened. That commitment we had doesn't happen without effort and all too quickly it became easy not to prioritise. I never realised that it was a concentrated effort - things always seemed so easy.

In a way, I hope it's not over between us. It'll take time. Maybe neither of us are ready for it. But it'd be a shame for it to fade away into nothing. I hope it feels the same way.

Rose Smelling

2011-03-23T20:28:00.001+11:00

Romance is my grandfather knowing he wanted to marry my grandmother the moment they met - when they were 17 and at the local swimming pool. 54 years later, they're still together. That knowledge, that strange foresight must have been terrifying. I wonder if he ever thought he was just being melodramatic or fanciful. I like to believe that sometimes you just know.

Happiness is getting your hands on a book you've been lusting after for months. The joy of just reading and knowing how many hundreds of pages and hours you get to spend with the story. One of my favourite things is finding phrases, sentences and descriptions that resonate.I want to store "all the truths in the world can be found in stories" in my memory forever. Perhaps I should get it tattooed as a Chinese character on my calf. That was a joke.

The Sisterhood

2011-03-05T18:57:00.000+11:00

Visiting the office bathroom is an awkward experience - and not just because dishwashing liquid often and inexplicably replaces soap. The weirdest thing is that women go there to bond.

It's a practice that makes me tense up with social awkwardness of it all. It's partly the horror of having to navigate your way to a sink to wash your hands (with dishwashing liquid) when others are admiring their reflections and complimenting each other - but mainly, I think, it's because I'm not good at being part of the sisterhood.

It's not enough to have female friends, I think. The sisterhood is much more exclusive than that. It's a world where you refer to your social group as 'my girls.' As in, 'Me and my girls are gone hit the club tonight.'

In the sisterhood, you pose for group photos together while wearing bandage dresses, and you tag each other in Facebook posts about how much you love each other. When a girl tries to flirt with your friend's boyfriend, you say things like 'Bitch, I'm gonna roll you.' There are shopping trips, phone calls and coffee dates and sleepovers and all kinds of other crazy shenanigans.

Sometimes, I think it would be nice to be part of that- but it never works out, and I'm sure it's me. But I'm sure it's also some kind of karmic balance for the fact that the girl who is my best friend is actually my sister.

Sure, we'll never hit the club because she hates going out more than I do. And although if she needed me to, I would certainly try to roll anyone who tried to steal her man - I'm quite sure she can take care of herself.

By rights, I should hate her. She's can cook, she can cut in a straight line (yeah), she's taller than me, sportier than me, permanently tanned - and her legs are to die for, while my family refer fondly to mine as 'chipolatas.' It can be humiliating, as the oldest, when she passes her hand-me-downs, but mostly it works out for the best. There's a reason she subscribes to Vogue while I read Empire.

Our friendship works - and it always has. Except for when she was eleven months old and she learned to walk early, just so she could toddle after me, crying 'Mana! Mana!'. Back then, I just thought she was annoying.

After all these years, we have a shorthand with each other - entire conversations can take place with glances and a few key words. This means that we kill as a team when we play Articulate.

Whenever I'm having an internal one-person pity party about my exclusion from the sisterhood, I figure I should feel lucky. It'd be great to have friends that you called your family, but it's also pretty special to have family that you call your friends.

And that's a sufficiently lame ending for my first post in a month.

Summer Loving

2011-02-05T11:43:00.002+11:00

For Shopgirl- who thought I was British and wanted to learn more about the Australian way. Nothing's more Aussie than the summer months. Except binge drinking, cricket, barbecues and melanoma.

In December and January, the weather was ridiculously mild. It rained a lot and people wore cardigans. Our backyard pool lay cloudy and forgotten. But in the last week, summer has remembered that it's supposed to be unbearable- and has acted accordingly. We've had eight days in a row of temperatures ranging between 36 and 43 degrees. (Around 98-107 Fahrenheit for any non-metric system users reading this.)

The grass is as dry and cracked as straw. It's the kind of weather where it's acceptable to eat ice blocks (icy poles, ice lollies) for every meal, and to only leave the air conditioning to swim in the lukewarm pool. The animals are allowed inside- ours queue up outside the door like they're waiting to get into a nightclub. Trains run late and the carriages are like saunas- traveling in peak hour is like being in hell. Everyone is permanently perspiring.

At least women- and liberated men- can get away with wearing dresses and sandals to work. Every time I see a man in a black suit and tie, I want to hug him and tell him that this too shall pass. And I would- if it wasn't weird, and the thought of being in such near proximity to another human being in this weather didn't repulse me.

On weekends, all you want to do is lie in a dark, air conditioned room, watching movies- but of course, sometimes venturing out into society is necessary. There, you will glimpse much sunburn and an abundance of inappropriately shirtless men and sweat stained singlets. It's never pretty. Cruelly, the attractive guys keep their shirts on.

It feels like the world should shut down when it's this hot- that special allowances should be made. Much like High School Musical, we're all in this together. Work and school cancelled and grocery shopping put off for another day.

The truth is, I love summer. You wouldn't think so - what with all my whining and my deceptively pale skin- but it's true. There's so many things to enjoy: the lack of guilt in overindulging in ice cream, gelato and ice blocks; the number of public holidays- even if I've worked on most of them; watching copious amounts of bad reality television during non-ratings season; wearing swimmers all day on weekends and having your hair permanently crusted with salt water. So many movies to watch, books to read and time to waste.

Even during the working week, something about summer still makes it feel like a holiday. And we're all bludgers at heart. I'll be sad when it's Autumn.

Anonymous

2011-01-22T13:17:00.004+11:00

I'm there once, twice, maybe three times a week. As I have been for the last four months. It's the second of two jobs I've been working, and, to be honest, it's always been akin to the obnoxious red headed stepchild that wants a glass of coke at 7am. You feel a sense of duty, but if you had the choice, you wouldn't spend that much time with them.

It's not like I'm completely silent or unfriendly. I smile, I make the occasional quip, I listen to every weird and wacky story the breaking news editor shares with me.

Today, a guy asked me what my name was. It wasn't like we'd never met before. He introduced himself on my first day of work and we've exchanged polite words over the top of our desks ever since. Up until that moment, I had been completely certain he'd said "Hi Amanda" and "Bye, Amanda" dozens of times.

So I was a little mortified.

Maybe I should have become a social coffee drinker so I could bond with my co-workers over half skim lattes and soy milk. I could have 'replied all' to the hilarious chain emails or traveled the hour and a half into the city on my day off to go to all the Christmas and farewell parties. Once there was an invite to a lawn bowls afternoon, an hour after I finished my shift. I laughed and went home. What I mean to say is, it's definitely all my fault.

I've always been quiet and apparently the first impression I tend to give people- according to everyone from my mother to complete strangers to my boyfriend- is one of being cripplingly timid. Once, I received a report where my teacher wrote that it wasn't until I'd started to loosen up in the last few weeks of term that he'd realised I even had a personality.

Shyness isn't cute unless you're a cherubic two year old, after that it just looks like you're a stuck up bitch. I know it's important to make an effort. But I cherish the people and situations where I've never had to try. Not just because I'm lazy.

Before 'I forgot your name' guy left the newsroom, he came up to me. "Will I see you next week, Amanda?"

"My last shift is next Sunday," I replied.

"Fuck me!" he exclaimed. "Well, it was nice to finally talk to you." (In his guilt at realising I knew his name, he'd gone out of his way to tell me about the hilarious antics of his ex-girlfriend and his time working at a sister paper.)

I agreed that it had indeed been nice, but secretly I just wanted to go home: to pull up in front of the driveway and see our dorky dog bounding toward me. To be asked how my day was, despite the fact that I'll probably only answer with "Fine", "Good" or "Boring."

It's fine to be anonymous when you're trolling the internet, but in real life it's just lonely.

Role play

2011-01-05T21:29:00.001+11:00

Like most narcissists with a fondness for applause, I dreamed of being an actress from about the age of five until I was eighteen. I went to theatre school for a year after Year 12- I was even kind of good sometimes. But I grew out of it.

The most overbearing performers like to proclaim that 'all the world's a stage' because Shakespeare gives them an excuse to act pompous 24/7. But the Bard speaks the truth.

So I'll never play Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing or Hermia in A Midsummer Night's Dream. If the BBC ever decides they want to do another remake of Pride and Prejudice with an Australian/South American lead, then I won't be put up for the part.

In the first five days of this year, I've played many roles. The oldest daughter, the big sister, the girlfriend. The klutz that trips up the stairs at the restaurant, the bitch in the window seat that rolls her eyes because your two year old won't stop wailing. The snob that reads at the cricket and the girl that turns down invitations so she can spend an hour rounding up her mother's pet chickens. The journalist that still feels like an intern and the ditz that thought it would be cool to jump onto a surf board but slipped and fell face first into the water.

Mundane roles, sure. But I didn't have to audition for them or wait by the phone to hear if I was allowed to play them. No line learning, all improvisation. Less drama. Which is nice sometimes.

Hey you guys, I won an award

2010-12-24T11:12:00.001+11:00

Hurray for me! It's Christmas Eve and Shopgirl from One Blessing A Day has given me the greatest blogging gift of all.

The Honest Scrap Blogging Award

According to Google, this award is for bloggers who are truly honest in their posts. One blurb mentioned that award winners are those who write from their heart and soul. While I don't know if this is the case here, I am still flattered.

Anyway, my job now is to brag about winning (done, see title), write random facts about myself and then pass on the award to other bloggers. So.

The Facts

1. I eat like a woodland creature. If you know me in person, you have probably mocked me for this at several points in our friendship.

2. My favourite swearword is 'fuck' but I only really use it when I'm driving in peak hour traffic, frustrated at the coldness of the weather or despairing of the quality of my brother's taste in music.

3. I am left handed, the size of a child and generally uncoordinated. Which means that I was a fail when it came to field events in PE and at the athletics carnival. Javelin? Oh lol.

4. The virtue of patience is one my grandmother has tried to teach me my entire life. Unfortunately, I still hate people who take up the whole step on an escalator and don't let you past, commuters who fumble with their change at the train ticket machine, drivers who are twenty kilometres under the speed limit and kids who read out loud slowly in class.

5. I have always been that girl that ends up doing your homework for you/letting you copy my work. I hate it and yet I can't get away from it. No means no should apply but I'm just a pushover.

So now comes the awkward time where I have to pass this award on to other bloggers who are honest (I guess?). At any rate, I admire these talented interwebz people for telling/writing about it like it is. (What is 'it'? I'll tell you when you're older.)

- Neil Baker from Writing is a Scientific Art

- Sya- my favourite book blogger from The Mountains of Instead

- Bag Lady

- Aly from Calling People Names.

Getting To Know You

2010-12-22T19:45:00.000+11:00

There's a game I like to play with my life (because it beats I Spy) where I remember where I was twelve months ago and think about how things have changed. Yeah, maybe I do need to get out more.

In terms of blogging, a year ago I was kind of writing in a vacuum. Then, through the power of mindless link clicking and comment stalking, I started reading the work of the people I came to consider a kind of holy trinity of bloggers: Kid in the Front Row, Mr London Street and Aly. I liked the way they used the medium. (Sorry, wanky journalism education kicking in there.) I don't know if their influence is overtly evident in my style now, but somehow reading their work gave me permission to write about the kind of things I was interested in.

That being said, in the past twelve months, my Rent A Crowd of followers has grown to the point where the the ratio of strangers to people I know in real life has shifted dramatically.

To everyone who might be a newcomer, welcome, welcome. You please me no end, though a part of me also worries for your well being now that you've clicked the 'follow' button. (Go! Run! Save yourself!)

You know enough about me (books, stilted social interactions, spends a lot of time on the train) but I know nothing about you apart from the limited information in your profiles, which I stalk on occasion. If you're overwhelmed by the spirit of generosity invoked by the holiday season, do comment and tell me more about you.

I know this prospect alarms some and causes others to go over the top so here are five questions in particular:

1. How old were you when you found out the following icons aren't real:

a) Santa
b) The Tooth Fairy
c) The Easter Bunny
d) Hogwarts

2. On the topic of Hogwarts, which house would you want to be sorted into? Part II: Which house would you actually be sorted into?

3. What is your favourite off centre Christmas tradition?

4. How many times have you read your favourite book?

5. If you had to choose between a Mars Bar and a Crunchie, which would you choose?

So that's that. Before I go, a bit of shameful self promotion. Here are some of my own favourite posts from the last year that I would like to share with lovely new people. Enjoy. Or alternately, don't.

Merry Christmas!

Posts:

If Edward Cullen was my Real Life Boyfriend

Elizabeth Bennet, Fast Bitch

Those Lazy, Crazy, Hazy Days of Summer

The Venga Bus

Best Weekend Ever

2010 in Books

2010-12-19T09:01:00.001+11:00

Heaven

A brief summary of what I've learnt from books this year:

* If it was anything other than books that I lusted after, I would be a slut or some kind of addict junkie. "Do you want to just go to the bookshop then?" is one of my favourite rhetorical questions in the world, especially around Christmas and my birthday.

* Four months working at a bookstore did not cure me of my problem- yet when I worked at McDonalds for six weeks at 17, I couldn't eat anything from there for half a year afterward.

* I hate chick lit. By which I mean, stories about sassy singletons with glamorous jobs and trivial man problems enrage me. Yet I still read them. Feminism weeps for me.

* Actually I hate romance in general. Especially paranormal romance. Yet I keep reading them, hoping they'll transform into gritty dystopian urban fantasy when my back is turned. But no, the heroines are spineless and idiotic and the Bad Boy Angels/Vampires/Werewolves/Krakens are inevitably dicks.

* It is acceptable for me to spend so much time in the YA section of bookstores, not because it's my dream to complete a Masters in Children's Literature and write YA, but because I still look about fifteen years old.

* That said, browsing- proper browsing- is an intensely private activity. The pressure of someone judging my penchant for fantasy and YA books/ the giddy way I wander around the store just admiring the shelves makes me self conscious. After about six months and much trepidation, my boyfriend agreed to go to Kinokuniya with me. We made it to the entrance when I freaked out and dragged him away.

* It is extremely charming that aforementioned boy has enjoyed the ten or so books that I've lent him but hasn't mentioned the fact that I still haven't finished the one book he's given me- even though it's been about four months.

* Bookshelf Porn is the best website ever.

* It's probably irrational to take an entire day off uni just so you can start and finish a book on the day it comes out (cough, Clockwork Angel, cough), or get emotional when the first two bookstores you try haven't yet received the stock you're looking for (Mockingjay).

* If I listen to audiobooks while in the vicinity of my bed at night, I will inevitably fall asleep and wake up two hours later, panicking about how much I've missed out on.

* Another year, another Obernewtyn book that Isobelle Carmody has forgotten to finish in time. I started reading the series when I was 11. No doubt I'll have children in high school before the final book is released.

About the Books

So I worked my way through all of Neil Gaiman's novels and reread four Harry Potters and everything by Cassandra Clare. I bought books about fallen angels with the hope that they would be dark and kick ass. They weren't. I wanted to love Jonathan Franzen's Freedom but it just affirmed how awesome fantasy is because it's a genre that doesn't paint a bleak, ugly portrait of domestic suburbia.

Total Sum: 50 first time reads, 30 rereads, 10 started and not finished

The New Favourites

- Before I Fall- Lauren Oliver
- Clockwork Angel- Cassandra Clare
- Ballad - Maggie Stiefvater
- The Piper's Son - Melina Marchetta

Honourable mention: Hold me closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride

The Disappointments (From good reviews came expectations too high)

- Freedom - Jonathan Franzen
- Paranormalcy - Kirsten White
- A Great and Terrible Beauty - Libba Bray

The Remembered Gems

- Finding Cassie Crazy and Feeling Sorry for Celia - Jaclyn Moriarty
- Journey to the River Sea - Eva Ibbotson
- Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
- City of Masks- Mary Hoffman

Books to look forward to in 2011

- Delirium - Lauren Oliver
- City of Fallen Angels - Cassandra Clare
- Clockwork Prince - Cassandra Clare
- Another disappointment from Isobelle Carmody

I hope the books you've read this year have been entertaining and fulfilling. Life's too short to read shit. Unless you're a masochist.

The Wizard and I- Jane Austen's Birthday Blog Party

2010-12-16T20:21:00.001+11:00

Rejoice everyone- it’s Jane Austen’s 235^th birthday!

You may have seen the adorable picture Google has on their homepage, but what you probably haven’t noticed is that The Bennet Sisters is having a commemorative blog fest to celebrate December 16- the most amazing of all days.

Initially, this summoned up an image in my head of a bunch of bespectacled bloggers hitting each other over the head with their Complete Works of Austen with shrieks of “No, I love Jane more!”

This is stupid for a number of reasons. The main one being that devotees of Jane would never behave in such an unladylike manner. Rather than resorting to violence, we would banter in an arch and lively manner about our wish that Pemberley was a real place, the fact that Colin Firth will always be Mr Darcy and whether or not Mansfield Park is the most boring of all of Austen’s novels.

But whatever.

This is a little embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t read Pride and Prejudice until I was 14 or 15. I’d just watched Bride and Prejudice and been completely baffled by it and so decided to turn to the original source material to see what the hell was going on.

I was wary- afraid that P & P would be full of coughing orphans and bleak moors in the manner of a Bronte novel. But, like To Kill A Mockingbird and Gone with the Wind, it was one of those delightful classics that has deservedly stood the test of time.

But if you’re reading this, then you know that already. You know that Jane Austen is smart, witty and delightfully bitchy on occasion. You know that Lizzy is aspirational because of all her flaws and that Darcy is adorable. Austen’s observations about humanity are just as relevant now as they were in 1813- which is why she’s so special.

Like most Austen nerds, I feel like Jane and I are long lost sisters. Separated by time, space and a continent. So of course, I was disappointed last year when I visited Winchester Cathedral and didn’t even realise that I was tramping thoughtlessly about my beloved Jane’s burial place. I should have known, should have felt some kind of spiritual connection. But the cold marble floor was just a floor. When I trooped down the road to the house where she had died, I felt nothing.

So instead, I connect with Jane in other ways. By reading- of course. By saving my beautiful Complete Works tome for home and taking my paperback copies out and about. By watching adaptations- movies and miniseries alike. Watching Austen on screen with my sister and my girl friends is fantastic for bonding. And last of all, I connect by blogging. See how Jane unites the sisterhood? That's why we love her.

Happy birthday Miss Austen!

The Well Read Meme

2010-12-12T12:03:00.003+11:00

Legend has it that the BBC have asserted that the following list will make you ‘well read’, but that the average person will only have read six – six! – of these novels.

The instructions are:

1) Copy this list
2) Bold the books you’ve read in their entirety. (As in, all the way through.)
3) Italicise those you’ve started but didn’t finish, or have only read an excerpt of.
4) Tag other book nerds.
5) Highlight any books from the list you own, but haven’t read.

Bitching. Let's do this thing.

The Books
Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
The King James Bible
Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
Nineteen Eighty Four (1984) – George Orwell
His Dark Materials – Phillip Pullman
Great Expectations– Charles Dickens
Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
Complete Works of Shakespeare
Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
Birdsong – Sebastian Faulk
Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
The Time Traveler’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
Middlemarch – George Eliot
Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
Emma -Jane Austen
Persuasion – Jane Austen
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe – CS Lewis
The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
Winnie the Pooh – A.A. Milne
Animal Farm – George Orwell
The DaVinci Code – Dan Brown
One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
Lord of the Flies – William Golding
Atonement – Ian McEwan
Life of Pi – Yann Martel
Dune – Frank Herbert
Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
The Secret History – Donna Tartt
The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
On The Road – Jack Kerouac
Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
Moby Dick – Herman Melville
Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
Dracula – Bram Stoker
The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
Ulysses – James Joyce
The Inferno – Dante
Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
Germinal – Emile Zola
Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
Possession – AS Byatt
Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
The Color Purple – Alice Walker
The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White
The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
Watership Down – Richard Adams
A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
Hamlet – William Shakespeare
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

Results
32 read
20 half read
7 unread on the shelf

Verdict:

*I doubt the BBC ever actually said this.

* I always knew I was bad at not finishing books that didn't grip me but 20 half finished? That's disgraceful. I need to get over my commitment phobia.

* In fact, I actually thought I'd have more books left on the shelf.

* I agree with Lauren from I was a teenage book geek, it'd be interesting to check off a list of YA fiction. Or even another genre- like fantasy. I read a lot of both.

* This was fun in a show off nerdy sort of way. When my friends and I go away on our annual holiday, some of us always end up with those Top 100 books leaflets from stores like Dymocks. It always seems like a good idea- often after midnight- to go through and mark how many we've all read. I like to be the one that's read the most. It's a point of weird pride with me that I would hate anyone to take away from me. Just like my useless Scrabble skills.

So, how'd you go? Make it above the 'BBC average'? Course you did.

The Moment Killer 4#

2010-12-11T16:26:00.001+11:00

Hi blogging world, it's been awhile in interwebz terms. Forgive me. I'm looking forward to reading all the blog posts I've missed from others over the last couple of weeks.

I started a new job about a month ago. It requires a lot of networking and schmoozing. That's right. Socializing and me. You can imagine. Which means that now is the perfect time to bring back the Moment Killer series. (It's not as cool as it sounds- unsurprisingly- but you can catch up here, here and here)

Without further ado:

November, 2010

Girl: Hi there. Just the Sydney theatre, please. On Hickson road.

Taxi driver: No worries, love.

Girl: Thank you.

Taxi driver: So, the theatre. Are you an actress?

Girl: Ha, oh no. I'm just going to this launch thing. For these award nominations.

Taxi driver: Ah, you're a reporter.

Girl: Kind of.

Taxi driver: Any famous people going to be there today?

Girl: I think so. Cate Blanchett is presenting. I'm pretty excited actually. I sort of love her. I'll probably see her and like, freak out.

Taxi driver: 'Aaaah! Cate! Oh my God!'

Girl: Ha ha. Something like that, yeah.

Both chuckle- they have bonded.

Girl: So, how has your day been?

Taxi driver: Well, I woke up and remembered I still drive taxis for a living.

Girl: Oh.

The Benefactor

2010-11-27T13:45:00.002+11:00

Dear Friend,

Compliment of the season. I am about to become very, very rich. In fact, I would even go so far as to call myself a multimillionaire.

Don't be jealous- I will tell you my secret:

Good deeds. Helping people.

You are confused. I will explain.

It has been not yet been two weeks since I commenced my new job. With it, I received a work email address. An inbox designed for press releases, media invites and newsletters.

I tell you, darling one, you will not believe what I have received instead. Pleas for for assistance from people in need all around the world. Widows, bankers, doctors, political refugees and lonely hearts.

They have lead dark and troubled lives. Mrs Cunningham has terminal cancer. Her lawyer has embezzled the fortune left to her by her late husband and all she wants is someone to head her charity when she is in this world no longer. Mrs Julianna is looking for love and friendship. Jane Kombayi's husband was murdered in the Zimbabwe land disputes. Dr Kevin of the Bank of Switzerland is seeking the next of kin of a client who died in a tragic plane crash eight years ago. Mr Evans wishes me to share in his UK lottery win. David King just wants me to last longer in the bedroom.

Sweet stranger friend, I feel it is my duty to do all I can to enable them to live better lives.

Collectively, they have offered me a fortune worth approximately 150 million dollars. It is a decadent sum, and one I am not sure I could invest in the right firms.

Consequently, I hope that my decision for contacting you will be given your genuine approval! Though I know that a business of this magnitude will make anyone apprehensive and curious considering the facts that you do not know me in person but I assure you that it is 100% risk free.

Please kindly comment below indicating your interest and bear in mind that at the end of this business I will compensate you with 40% of the total money.Please, provide me the following: as we have 5 days to run it through. this is very very URGENT PLEASE.

1. Your Full Name.....................
2. Your Mobile Telephone Number........................
3. Your Contact Address....................... .................
4. Occupation/Position Held
5. Bank account details (BSB and Account Number)........

Urgent response will be highly anticpated and appreciated

Thank you in anticipation, dear beloved. My lawyer will contact you shortly.

May God smile down upon you.

Sincerely,

Lady Jane Fontana

When You Are A Journalism Student

2010-11-16T11:24:00.000+11:00

Now that the university semester has drawn to a close, we reflect on the months gone by, and submit this feedback with the hope of winning Co-Op vouchers or ten cents worth of photocopying money.

So here's a tribute to everything about journalism that has turned us into the frazzled, jaded, semi-informed individuals that we always wanted to be.

* Superiority complex. We think we're better than every other communications major, or at least, that we have it far harder than they do. We look down on those in Writing and Cultural Studies and patronise the kids in PR, Advertising and Social Inquiry. We'd have something to say about the people enrolled in Information and Management too- if we knew what the hell it was that they actually did.

* Watching Q and A on Monday nights. Everyone in your life outside thinks you're a loser, but we ask each other "Did you see Q and A last night" the way normal people ask "Did you watch The X Factor?"

* Working for free. It's cute that some degrees don't require internships until the final semester of the last year. And if you only have one unpaid gig on the go- you're clearly not working hard enough. Please acquire two or three internships to juggle with your studies, part time job and social life.

* Working for money. Speaking of jobs, ensure sure yours is in the media industry. And brag covertly in casual conversation. "Sorry, I'm late!" you can say as you slip into a lecture or seminar forty minutes after everyone else. "We had to do a live cross to Justin Bieber at work and his publicist was cranky because it was past his bedtime."

* Shameless self promotion. In the age of social media, journalists are brands. And brands market themselves. You are not a stalker if you are aware of every single story your classmates have ever published, every award they've won and every internship/job they've picked up. You've just been successfully spammed.

* Procrastination. When in doubt, just refresh the Sydney Morning Herald website twenty times and read aloud the stories about killer crocs and 20 year old Mexican Police Chiefs. Hey, if it's news, then it's work.

* Late nights and all nighters. If you see a lone figure wandering about campus in the wee hours of the night, be reassured that this is not an angry wraith or melancholy spirit- it's just a journalism student with a deadline. They should have started their stories three weeks ago, but those Old Spice videos on youtube were just too darn compelling. What are you doing at uni at that time anyway?

* Technology.

I There are two types of journalism students- those who use Final Cut Pro to edit their videos, and those who use imovie. Enough said, really.

II An eternal quandry: lug about a camera and tripod twice your size and look professional, or prevent scoliosis by booking out a hand held camera and looking like the amateur student that you are?

III Yes, your camera will run out of memory. Yes, you will record your most important interview without audio. And yes, you will lose all your footage for no reason.

IV One day, when you least expect it, you will trip over the tangle of cables plugged into your audio recorder and break your neck.

* Acquaintances. This is the only conversation you will ever have:

"So what do you do?"

"Oh, I'm studying journalism."

"Journalism, eh? Does that mean I'm going to see you reading the news one day?"

"Oh, er-"

"Or maybe on A Current Affair or Today Tonight?"

"No-"

"Journalism, eh? Well, I'll be keeping an eye out for you on the telly."

"Ok."

* Health. You will either have a permanent cold because your body never has enough time to relax and recuperate or become violently and cripplingly ill at inconvenient high pressure points in semester.

* Food.

I It is both a blessing and a curse that uni is within a hundred metres of a McDonalds, a 7/11 and a KFC. I crave cheeseburgers when I'm stressed- which means in the week of a deadline, the golden arches do great trade. Personally, my eating habits have evolved so that I'm either living on cheeseburgers or eating breakfast and then nothing else for the rest of the day- and not noticing.

II If you are not a fast food whore, then you are an enviably and painfully gourmet foodie. The naughtiest takeaway you ever indulge in is sushi- or dumplings at an achingly trendy student hangout. In lectures, you skim your favourite food blogs for the perfect avocado, salmon and chickpea salad. You make your own bread. And your homemade lunches are lusted after by everyone.

* Niche specialties. There are environmental nuts, fashion freaks, foodies, sports fans, Greek community experts, politics nerds, pop culture geeks and even a couple of existentialists. Or as someone put it last week "By this point, we all know who's good and who's shit."

* Outliers. While everybody else is planted in front of a computer, frantically typing/editing material they've been preparing for weeks- or at least, the last couple of days, the outliers are swanning off to lunch with friends followed by dinner and drinks. They don't have a story yet- hell, haven't even had an idea. But somehow, they pull through without losing any sleep. You love them, you loathe them, you despair of them, you want to be them- and yet you'll continue to be lamely conscientious. Stuck in your own nerdy ways.

Happy holidays, everyone.

How is it for you?

2010-11-04T08:39:00.000+11:00

Yesterday, I was at a slightly pretentious launch for an independent film app and the creator of the platform said that people choose their entertainment because of two things- marketing and word of mouth.

I learn What to Watch through Twitter and different blogs. For movies, I read the reviews from Entertainment Weekly and the New York Times. For books- again, I use both those sites and I also read a lot of blogs. If a review really sticks out with me, I will buy that book on the same day. How terribly impressionable. EW is again my messiah when it comes to television. Although occasionally, the weekend papers also have some helpful hints.

Once I've discovered something, I like to be the word of mouth that encourages other people- I've been this way since I was about nine years old. It probably says something about my ego. Seven different people have read my copy of The Hunger Games (which, incidentally, I went out and bought fifteen minutes after reading a two sentence blurb in a NYT feature on YA books back in 2008.) Back in primary school, I even remember giving my shiny new copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire to my teacher so she could read it and lend it to her kids. Thinking about it now, that probably explains why that book is in about four different pieces at the moment. I actually bought a new copy yesterday- my first replacement for a Potter book, and probably not the last.

When gushing recommendations don't work, I resort to nagging- or even ambushing my friends when we're shopping. Last year on our annual vacation, I think I actually picked out a copy of The Hunger Games and forced it upon my friend. She was alarmed, sure, but you know what? She enjoyed it.

And it's moments like that that make my bossy vendetta worthwhile.

Of course, you can't see/read everything first. This is why it's important to befriend people that are comfortable enough to gift/lend you things you wouldn't ordinarily go near. And if it's hard making friends, just steal ideas from stranger. Noticed that everybody on the train is reading the same book? Go and buy it. Is everybody on Facebook posting samey status updates about how great a particular movie is? Go and watch it. Unless of course, you generally go out of your way to be alternative. If so, I don't know why you're reading this.

So how is it for you? How do you decide which movies to watch, which books to read and which TV shows to tune into? When was the last time you discovered something that you just had to rave about? Or perhaps a better question is, why did you first decide to see Inception?

October 30

2010-10-30T13:16:00.000+11:00

It's been just over a year since I visited last. When I see the flowers, I realise belatedly that I should have brought something. Anything. But, like last time, I'm empty handed. I even scrounge in my handbag for something that could serve as some kind of token, a sign of my presence. Silly, really, who am I trying to prove it to? At any rate, all I have are my keys, my wallet and lip balm. Nothing of use. I hadn't planned this. But I was driving by- which I rarely do- and the detour seemed fitting.

I stand there for awhile, looking down. It feels stupid and awkwardly formal- is there any point on standing on ceremony? I sit down gracelessly.

It's a sunny Saturday morning and there are only three people around. Myself and a couple in their fifties on the other side of the parkland. The woman is talking to the ground at her feet- her voice, whiny and nasal, carries across the grass. Her husband is clutching a grumpy, pudgy little dog in his arms. It seems wrong to judge them. After all, am I not the one currently sitting on a grave?

Grief is private but it's also selfish. I mourn who you were to me when I know you have family and friends that all loved you. I can still hear your voice. Is that strange? I can see your face, picture your expression, I even remember the smell of your school blazer- which you would sometimes force upon me in deranged fits of chivalry.

Driving here, I wanted so badly to cry but now that I'm here, I just want to smile and remember the stupid things you used to do.

Every 30th of October will be this way now, I think. Memorable if only because they signify your absence. Last year, I had a job interview which meant that I missed out on seeing the first half of Wicked with my friends. This year, I'm stuck at home finishing assignments. I should be editing a TV piece right now actually. But instead, I'm writing this. The undeniable truth is that I am here and you are not. It's times like these that life seems cruelly random.

Am I supposed to catch you up on what you've missed? The TV shows and movies, the political drama over the last year that you would have adored ranting about. The fact that you were right about the film thing. Should I tell you about my own life- uni, work and the boy you'd go out of your way to hate even though the two of you would have bonded over cricket? Or should I mention how your absence has changed the people that loved you?

I think about you everyday but I can't visit too often because it hurts.

Until next October.

100 Words: Friendship

2010-10-27T22:53:00.001+11:00

It's hardly cocktails and gossip. I always bought into the idea that that was how it was supposed to be. But I've never been that kind of girl. I thought perhaps you might change that- hoped, even. That was optimistic.

I never understood what 'give and take' meant until I realised I was the only one giving. It's a hard habit to quit. So I smile and do whatever you ask- except that I'm slowly imploding with resentment. I don't like who I am around you and therefore, I don't like you.

I'd never tell you though- you're too charming.

100 Words is a Mr London Street initiative.

Lessons from 50 Cent

2010-10-24T14:37:00.000+11:00

Twitter is a place to stalk the thoughts of people smarter, funnier, richer and more famous and successful than you are. It is also a medium for self improvement.

This is why all self-respecting women should follow 50 Cent.

Since joining Twitter in late August, the misogynistic and incoherent rapper has dished out a number of useful tips for ladies looking to better themselves.

Flat chested? You should probably get a boob job- otherwise Fitty just don't wanna hear from you, yo. Similarly, if your backside is anything other than ready for this jelly, you should probably think about surgery.

If cosmetic enhancement doesn't work, don't feel disheartened, just understand that he's a busy man- he doesn't have time to sleep with us all. As the great man himself phrased it "I'm not paying all hoe's on twitter want me. Lol."

That said, he still appreciates a little loving- he's a good person and he deserves it after all. Plus, it relaxes him and he doesn't ask for much.

This all being said, don't bother following him if you're not attractive (see above requirements). He wants ugly people off Twitter. In fact, he's even considered paying hackers to delete the pages of the unfortunate looking.

It's only fair after all. He shouldn't have to have the burden of looking at you.

And if you think he's a jerk, it's only because you're jealous that he's sold more records than you have. If you're a hater, you're going to hell. Just something to keep in mind.

100 Words: The Note

2010-10-15T08:30:00.001+11:00

I didn't see it folded in the corner at first. When I did, I agonized over what it might say. There was no way it would be nice.

I unfolded it:

YOU ARE AN INCONSIDERATE IDIOT

I only read it once. The handwriting was neat and careful.

I waited for the burning shame in the pit of my stomach but I was calm. Because it was true and because regardless of this, I didn't think a complete stranger had any right to dictate how I felt about myself.

I tore it up and let the pieces fall by the roadside.

100 Words is a Mr London Street initiative. I wanted to see if I could do it.

The Philosophy of Watching Embarrassing Movies

2010-10-04T19:00:00.000+11:00

I'm foppish and you love it against your will

The movies you watch when you're feeling low, vulnerable, homesick or just ill are often completely different to the films you watch normally.

How else to explain the fact that I always find myself watching romantic comedies starring Hugh Grant whenever I'm down? Is it that, in an unstable world, watching him play a bumbling yet charming Englishman over and over provides some consistency in my life?

And why do my sister and I watch episode after episode of Gossip Girl when we're feeling fat and ugly? It seems contradictory to watch stylish thin people on screen while dressed in tracksuit pants and bingeing on chips. It's not as though the self loathing produced by this combination burns calories.

Last year, stuck on a nine hour flight, having already been awake for over forty hours, it was not the range of award winning films provided that I turned to. Nope, I watched Twilight one and a half times, sobbed through the end of Marley and Me and sat through the entirety of High School Musical 3.

Embarrassing. Surely it can't be just me. What lame works of cinema do you turn to in times of need?

A 30 Sentence Kid In The Front Row Story, by 28 Authors

2010-09-29T21:35:00.001+10:00

So that crazy Kid that's always sitting in the Front Row is starting a 30 sentence story and he's nominated me to contribute part two. From here, I have to pass on the duty of writing part three to another blog- and I choose you, Pikachu! Just kidding, I choose Sugary Cynic.

Here we go.

The Story So Far

1. Jane never expected to visit Belarus, but it was the only possibly solution after what had happened.

2. Her lonely planet guide had advised her that it was a great place for birdwatching- so she packed her binoculars- Todd would have been proud, had he not been lying in a coma.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

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28.

29.

30. The three of them left as quickly as they could and vowed never to return again, especially if Jane was in town.

Booktastic

2010-09-27T19:39:00.001+10:00

People often say to me "Hey Manda, what books are you reading at the moment? I'm looking for something good."

Just kidding, that hardly ever happens. When it does, my mind normally goes completely blank, despite the fact that I know I was only at a bookstore the day before. Either that, or I happen to be re-reading something that I am too embarrassed to share.

On Christmas Eve of 2008, I decided that from that day on, I was going to read 80 books a year. Stephen King recommends this in his memoirs, and although, at the time I hadn't actually read On Writing yet, that little tip cropped up continually in interviews with successful novelists and screenwriters. Last week, I finished book #60 and #61 for 2010. (22 of these have been re-reads as I'm poor and I find repetition comforting.)

Anyway, here are a few options, just in case you are looking for something good to read over the holidays.

Classics

Best: 1984. The book that cool kids like to name drop and that I bought for $6 at Basement Books at Central station one Sunday afternoon. It's pretty bleak and at times rather dreary, but there's something unsettling about it, even 61 years later. For about three months after I read it, I was dying to make a newspeak reference in one of my communications tutorials. Then I'd remember I'm too shy to contribute to class discussions.

(Worst: The Catcher in the Rye. I desperately wanted to love this book, but like last year's read On the Road, this great American novel gave me the shits. Holden Caulfield isn't a rebel hero- he's a pain in the arse. The way it was written was refreshingly charming for the first few chapters, but as Holden became more and more grating, so too did his stream of consciousness narration. I'd expel him too.)

Award Winner

We Need To Talk About Kevin: Lionel Shriver's Orange prize winning novel is about a mother whose son murders nine people at his high school, two days before his sixteenth birthday. It's dark, disturbing and pretty uncomfortable to read. It's the kind of story that always stays with you- hidden in that shadowy part of yourself that even you don't want to admit to.

Fiction

The Piper's Son is a more adult sequel to Melina Marchetta's Saving Francesca- although you don't have to have read the latter to appreciate the former. There aren't many really good books about people in that awkward early twenties stage post high school- this one is gritty, messy, sad, beautiful and perfect.

Before I fall- Lauren Oliver. I bought this book last Monday afternoon and finished it Wednesday morning. It's set in high school but marketed as an adult book here in Australia, so make of that what you will. 18 year old Sam Kingston relives the day she dies seven times, learning more about life than she ever did while she was alive. I cried. Most of those tears were shed while I was sitting next to my mum and sister on the couch as they watched Australia's Next Top Model. You know those stories that make you appreciate everyone and everything you love just that little bit more because you realise how short life is? This is one of those.

Lols

The Family Law- Benjamin Law is a senior contributor to Frankie magazine. His stories about growing up Gaysian are hilarious. Think David Sedaris, but dare I say it, a little bit more lolworthy.

Dawn of the Dreadfuls- The prequel to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Not great, but funny enough. It's weird seeing Lizzy with suitors other than Darcy, Collins and Wickham.

_____________

So what about you guys? (If you're still here.) What books have you read this year? What did you love/hate?

Before I end your suffering, let me throw in a shameless plug for The Shelf. It's an online magazine put together by five fabulous journos. And me. If you liked this post for some reason, I've written a feature about the popularity of YA fiction for The Shelf that you can read juuuuust here

The Dry Spell

2010-09-20T19:59:00.000+10:00

An Excerpt From A Conversation That Took Place Three Weeks Ago

"And how's your blog?"

"Oh, yeah. Good. Going through a bit of a dry spell at the moment."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I dunno, I get in front of the computer to write something and I'm like 'meh', can't think of anything. I don't know. I don't want to be one of those people who writes posts like 'Hai guyz, can't think of what to blog about today. Here's a video of a river dancing cat!' "

Pretty sure my inspired eloquence in conversation has finally translated itself to the written word. It was bound to happen eventually.