I just had one of those floaty, in-between thought and daydream moments when I knew that magic was afoot - or at least giving the venetians a quiet little shake.
I am presently holed up in my office at uni. Let's just ponder that for moment. I am sitting in a corner office at Melbourne University, heaters on, door locked, all by myself. There is no washing machine to load, no bench to wipe, no table to tidy, no dinner to plan. And yes, of course Virginia Woolf is whispering in my ear - "I told you so". It is made all the more delicious because I have a thermos of chicken soup and am riding a pseudoephedrine tinged cloud of cold medication - I've entered the woods of the cold but yet to trip-trap across the bridge to full blown flu. (And with my quiver full of chemical and herbal remedy arrows, who knows, I may defeat this lurgy yet).
So I was curled up in the comfy chair - yes, the room is that big! - getting lost in Kevin Brophy's book on "Patterns of Creativity" when I decided I needed to come up for air. I put Kevin down just as he was trying to explain to my fuggy brain Aristotle's take on mimesis and it's implications for understanding poetry (I'm sure I've got that wrong but I'll enjoy correcting myself). I wandered (ooo I realised I had typed 'wondered' instead - I kinda like that) over to the computer - one of those indecently large, sleek, lovely-to-behold "apple" things that I adore and my husband loathes and there it was. Exploding into starbursts of crimson, aqua, gold and emerald. Unfurling streamers of colours, waving at me like those fantastic balloon creatures that they have outside of used car yards. I was transfixed. I let it lure me. It saturated my tired irises and sparked something off deep inside my neural pathways. I think I mentioned my love of pretty, shiny things. And look where that has led me on this cold, rainy, Melbourne lunchtime. To you. I told you magic was afoot. And then, and then, and then..... I found this. And it changed everything. And now I'll share it with you. Here it is, imagine it is in a small, turqoise box (no, not that pale blue Tiffany hue). You lift the lid, it sticks a little because the cardboard is thick and this box wants to be kept safe. And there, nestled on bright yellow tissue paper is this....now click. And enjoy. We can talk about it later.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Slippery when wet...
Well here I am. Virtual swim-suit on and standing on the high-board looking down at the patch of blue that is my open lap-top screen. Big breath and dive - arghhhhhhh! Splash. Sink. Swim? And emerge in the wonderful world of the blog-o-sphere. Kick back, blow some bubbles and look around. Come on in, the water's fine!
My first blog. Scary. As a writer I tend to guard my words - the written ones are special. I seal them up in password protected files and unlock them when I'm alone, turning them over in my mind, rolling the words off my tongue, letting them take me where they will. And I'll keep doing that - it's an integral part of my bower-bird personality, the "look at that glittering thing over there, let's take it and keep it safe" thing.
My "walking out in the world out loud" self is another thing altogether. I throw words about like confetti - explode them like those party-poppers, wave them about like sparklers. Delicious, gorgous treats to be shared. Here, take some, I've got plenty more cooking. No, no, really, you have to try this - you'll adore it, promise. In other words "come play with me". Ah ha! I think I've found it - yes. It's the "come play" factor of the blog that I like. It's what has got me reading blogs like Penni Russon's beautifully whimsical Eglantine's Cake. Or the whip-smart Pursuit of Harypness - and the divine Mixed Nuts by Nadia Niaz - and yes, I'm just naming a few because quite frankly it is taking me a while to get the hang of this stuff and if I list any more we'll be here till Armageddon. Good. So yes, I wanna play. I do. Even if, just like the playground, I may get the cyber equivalent of the odd football to the head (crikey I was a magnet for that as a kid!) or step into a game I'm really not equipped for - remember British Bulldog? (An outrageously violent school yard game where you had to run from one side of the oval to another, dodging thugs whose job it was to take you down in any way they could. It was banned at Donvale Primary because of the broken bones and bloody noses - which made it even better). But hey - I've got a sneaking suspicion it may just be fun. And that is something I'm always up for. Except when I want to nap. Then I want you to pat my head, tuck me in and tell me everything will be just fine. Napping is its own kind of fun. So I am now going to do the terrifying thing and hit "publish post". And then I'm away. Let the ride begin.
My first blog. Scary. As a writer I tend to guard my words - the written ones are special. I seal them up in password protected files and unlock them when I'm alone, turning them over in my mind, rolling the words off my tongue, letting them take me where they will. And I'll keep doing that - it's an integral part of my bower-bird personality, the "look at that glittering thing over there, let's take it and keep it safe" thing.
My "walking out in the world out loud" self is another thing altogether. I throw words about like confetti - explode them like those party-poppers, wave them about like sparklers. Delicious, gorgous treats to be shared. Here, take some, I've got plenty more cooking. No, no, really, you have to try this - you'll adore it, promise. In other words "come play with me". Ah ha! I think I've found it - yes. It's the "come play" factor of the blog that I like. It's what has got me reading blogs like Penni Russon's beautifully whimsical Eglantine's Cake. Or the whip-smart Pursuit of Harypness - and the divine Mixed Nuts by Nadia Niaz - and yes, I'm just naming a few because quite frankly it is taking me a while to get the hang of this stuff and if I list any more we'll be here till Armageddon. Good. So yes, I wanna play. I do. Even if, just like the playground, I may get the cyber equivalent of the odd football to the head (crikey I was a magnet for that as a kid!) or step into a game I'm really not equipped for - remember British Bulldog? (An outrageously violent school yard game where you had to run from one side of the oval to another, dodging thugs whose job it was to take you down in any way they could. It was banned at Donvale Primary because of the broken bones and bloody noses - which made it even better). But hey - I've got a sneaking suspicion it may just be fun. And that is something I'm always up for. Except when I want to nap. Then I want you to pat my head, tuck me in and tell me everything will be just fine. Napping is its own kind of fun. So I am now going to do the terrifying thing and hit "publish post". And then I'm away. Let the ride begin.
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