The Lights Are On...

Well there it is... The project is finally ready and this little, seldom posted blog is no longer needed. If you're a random visitor or someone searching for more me, then feel free to read away. However it should be noted that Rewnad doesn't live here anymore...

I have moved on to Mightier* things. Come visit sometime.

*Hopefully.

The Four Little Ponies of the Apocalypse.

I asked her... and she said Yes!

Woot!

At some point in the future I may update this post to explain the title but given the post drought* around here I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.


*That being a drought of posts as opposed to the period following a drought.

Are they Mighty enough or should I call them Rob?

So I start a blog and then never write in it... ah well.

I may or may not have mentioned this but a certain person has been studying like a demon for quite sometime now. Next Tuesday is the day it all ends... *fingers crossed*

Due to said study being stepped up over the last month I stopped looking for work so that I could concentrate on alleviating her stress instead of my own. In the lulls however I have been attempting to re-learn how to draw.

I think I am finally there. The mightiest of sketches have been sent off for evaluation and should they be received favourably I shall begin the actual task of telling my story... well, one of them.

A couple of my other stories I intend to send off to an artistically gifted friend whom I hope will choose one and render it into a more visually enhanced state.

I love Rob.

Perhaps an explanation would help. In the past I have informed you what I happen to be listening to at any given time. My tastes in music are wide and varied... the proper word would be eclectic.* The main time spent listening to music is when I am occupied with house hold chores. There are many cd's on my shelf but the one getting the most use lately would be Robbie Williams Greatest hits. Yes... POP, I remain unashamed. There is bad pop I admit, most of it probably falls into the bad category. However there is also the Wonderful, magnificent Rob! Don’t believe me? Go listen... still don't want his babies? That's cool. We can agree to disagree.

But I won’t stop there; one Rob is not enough... Exhibit B: Rob Thomas. Frontman and author of most of their music, this Rob steers the goodship Matchbox 20! Three Freaking awesome albums... go listen. It irritates me that the Matchbox has been relegated to the label of Pop. Just because the commercial stations Spam their Singles doesn’t mean the rest of their albums don't deserve to be heard on those radio waves! Thar be good rock music in them thar hills! And more than a bit of soul!

Admittedly This Rob has now released a solo album the majority of which I have yet to hear. Not because I don’t want to rather that I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I am well aware it is quite Poppy but if Williams can then why not Thomas.

And then there is Robin Williams… he may not create glorious music but he still deserves a mention and your love.

Rob’s FTW!

So I just checked my email and have received favourable replies in regards to my Mighty Artistic Undertaking. Now all I need is a website…

Incidentally I’m not listening to any 1 cd today… rather my mp3 playlist is working its wild magic with everything including Rob, Rob, Roxette, Tool, Chef and many more.

*A point to note I learnt that word from watching Sister Act 2 - Thanks Whoopi!

Crazy Mary vs Lazy Susan

Start music... Ben Lee again. This time he is Breathing Tornados. I can't see that as a very safe thing to be doing.

Aaargh! *swaps to "good" headphones* Much better let's start that again.

Today has been strange; the old juice of creativity is sloshing around in a listless kind of fashion. It wants to do something, create brilliant... whatever. So between the household tasks I have drawn, played, sang and now written. I have decided that even if it doesn’t serve any artistic purpose and will never make me any money, writing here still counts towards my desire to "write". Let’s face it, I can embellish the truth, fly upon the horse of fancy and if all else fails it isn’t hurting my words per minute so it's technically helping me get a job.

Getting a job. I am somewhat ambivalent when it comes to this topic. I am not getting any younger and as every year passes I get less and less employable. However at the same time my health stays obstinately at the same level of, whatever... The employment consultants reckon working in a call centre is my best bet but the idea of that is rather uninspiring. Hence my desire to do something, anything, creative.

So we went and saw Sky High last night. My choice, I had been kind of depressed during the day and I felt like watching something fluffy. It was exactly what I expected it to be. Mildly amusing and entirely predictable. I have always liked Disney movies, they never ask too much of you and as long as you don't ask too much of them then you are never disappointed. Sky High is Disney's answer to all the superhero movies gracing the silver screen lately.

If however you want more than to just be amused I advise you get your arse out and see Wallace and Grommit Curse of the Were Rabbit. Awesome funny movie that anyone can get a laugh out of. Bright eyes... burning like fire... heh heh I get it now. Cracking movie.

So here’s some advice that all should heed. Whatever you do, don’t go back and read anything you may have written in your early youth. It’s depressing. When I was more chronologically challenged I had the bad habit of writing songs. I had the mixed fortune of discovering some of them when I pulled out my guitar and bag of music today. Needless to say they are bad. They are all happy sounding and could fit easily among the rest of the crap your local commercial radio station plays and merely be considered not good. Then again maybe not. But they all have an underlying message, and most of the time that message is depressing.

Someday I may come across the tapes of an even younger version of my self singing silly songs about how great life is when your best mate is just cotton and fluff. Songs from a time when your health is something that your mother worries about and depression is a much bigger word than cat. Will that be depressing? Or amusing?

When you go out to a Chinese restaurant for your sister in-laws birthday and your brain informs you that the round about in the middle of the table is called a Crazy Mary. Don’t believe it. However if such a thing does happen to you and as the meal progresses your mind updates its opinion to Lazy Mary … no that’s not right SUSAN!! Lazy Susan! Take my advice, don’t share this thought process with those around you. Much mockery will ensue. Much safer to just stick with good old Crazy Mary.

Yesterday I was quite sure I was Magic.

As always the pile of dirty laundry was huge on Monday. Unfortunately the load of washing I had put on the line on Saturday that doubtless had been almost dry was caught in a morning shower. Through the haze that is Monday my mind managed to register the starting rain and the impact it would have on our clothes. I raced down stairs and out the back door. It was raining lightly and the clothes could be retrieved without being more than dampened. However the process required that I stand under the steady waterfall coming off the roof of our new patio. So it was that the clothes were only slightly damp however I was quite soaked.

Later I went outside and saw that there was a light breeze, a large amount of blue sky and the only grey clouds were far in the distance. Foolishly I put the washing out again. Half an hour later I raced out side and retrieved it again.

A friend visited me for lunch and as he was leaving I noted the blue sky and how I hoped the weather would hold as he rode home. Jokingly I promised that I would not put out any washing that afternoon as the act would probably summon the rain once again.

But of course I did not truly believe in my ability to summon the rain. Later in the afternoon I had been to the local hardware store and bought some line to fashion a makeshift clothesline under the patio. However not all the clothes could be hung on it... and there was the clothesline, its multiple lines beckoning invitingly. The weather will hold they seemed to say, it hasn’t rained in hours and the breeze is perfect for drying. I was hanging the second shirt when I felt the first drops...

Perhaps I am magic. I have been watching the weather out my study window all morning with a feeling of paranoia. I fear for the dryness of my clothes but it has been over an hour now… Perhaps I am not magic after all.

So I went away on Friday, full of juice, and surprised myself by actually following up on my good intentions by sitting down and writing almost a full page. A page might not sound like much I admit, but it is more than I have written in one sitting for no reason other than wanting to write in a very long time.

Overcome with a sudden sense of dread I paused in writing this and quickly loaded up the page of fiction in question. Whew... it doesn’t suck.

So now i'm wondering where the story is going to go. I had it all planned out and never wrote it. Now years later I want to write it, but not the story that I planned. Maybe I should just go and write another page and see how that goes.


I like Firefly. People have been telling me it's good and that I should watch it for a while now. Last Wednesday we borrowed the DVDs off a friend and by Sunday we had watched all 13 episodes. Last night we decided to start again and try and watch as much as possible again before we give it back. I am glad I have only just seen it. I would have hated to have seen it and then had to wait a long time for more. As it is I only have to wait till the end of the month till I get to see Serenity.

Hmm I managed just under a page last Friday and today I spew out more than that.

I am listening to Ben Lee's Awake Is The New Sleep... and it is good.

The Juice of Creativity.

The Juice of creativity is very akin to Coka-Cola in a share house. Some days you wake up and stumble to the fridge of your mind and find it in abundance. Several bottles in the regular part, another in the freezer to make it colder quicker and more bottles on standby sitting on top. Other days all you can find is half a bottle that has been left out on the table from the night before and has gone flat. You drink it out of desperation but the only good idea that comes from that is the idea that you shouldn’t have drunk it and perhaps some sort of food would stop that churning feeling.

This last week my mind has been forcing me regularly to an overstocked mind-fridge and filling my head with wild ideas. More importantly, dredging up old ideas that I had thought ran out of juice and changing them into new and shiny possibilities.

Almost seven years ago I wrote the first chapter of a book as the final submission for a writing course I was doing at the time. It was polished interesting and had a cruel hook at the end. In short, it was good. Then once the course was over I stopped. I told myself I was taking a break from writing to give my mind time to recharge.

Perhaps three years ago I went back and re-read that chapter and my fridge was again filled with the juice of creativity. I edited that chapter like there was no tomorrow and added much more to it in the process. When I was done it was twice as long as it had been and ten times better. Then I went on to write the second chapter and my mind went phut. There was a hole in my Juice bottle and the fridge was empty.

And now I have all these new ideas that completely change the story. I have no idea how it is supposed to end any more...

Perhaps this afternoon I will attempt to write something. I might just pop out to the shops now and see if I can't stock up on more juice.