Abstraction

Hideous RSI. Right arm, from shoulder to wrist to my fingers. Perhaps a little (or a lot of) overexaggeration, but I'm never too impressed when it flares up. Work today. Fairly satisfactory despite being rather quiet. I didn't have anything much set to do, so I stuffed around with the RO website. Then took myself on the painful journey of working through a tutorial to create a Mambo template from scratch, yes I gave in to 'reading the rules'. I was dissapointed when I couldn't see it in the admin panel (as you would be) technically the whole thing took less time than re-downloading Dreamweaver so not that bad. However I tried - as a last resort going through a template selection module (which you just dump onto the site somewhere) and it was there! Really strange. I hate it when it looks okay in one area but you can't get to where it is actually useful. Oh well, a small triumph - how productive it acutally was erm well yes. I probably wont use it. I had to prove to myself I could. Familiarising myself with more of SQL and coding (desipite nice shortcut buttons, hooray for plugins) can only be somewhat helpful. Went with Col (my sort of other boss) to drop some dishes back at a catering place. GAS somewhere in South Melbourne. Small but VERY nice. The weather was superb and I later had nice strollish walk (just not quite as fast as I normally go) down to Villagio to hand back even more platters. The woman there had customer service down to a tee. Nice people give nice comments (There's one foul generalisation for you). The train. Could I say now that LOVE Connex (sorry for the love word Sam). Lilydale line now stops at Spencer Street. No more swapping trains for me :D Less excercise I suppose - no more running up and down the stairs at Flagstaff, but I can deal with that! I am reading 'My Name is Asher Lev'. Which I have read before. It is by Chaim Potok. We studied another of his in Yr.12 (The Chosen). I much prefer this one. It is a fairly dark kind of book, a personality being built and shaped. About a Jewish boy and his facination and pursuit of art, cultural and religious barriers. It does not have the best (as in the happiest) of endings. I remember feeling quite disturbed after finishing it the last time. The book itself - is that good, you forget the world of the literary and get lost in the emphasis and the facination of colour and line and the bruised mind of Asher. I do not know if the Brooklyn Crucifiction (the painting mentioned near the end of the book) is real or not, I shall finish reading and then go and investigate - that and other such characters. Speaking about 'the literary'. I was sitting on the train and had put the book down briefly to 'check out' (haha) the guy opposite me. Just in the fact that he was an interesting character. He had a felt hat on, very nice clothes and a MAKE POVERTY HISTORY band (not one of the standard rubber ones) on. Anyway. His clothing didn't entirely bear testament to the statement of "make pov..." I'm really not a good judge at what is expensive in fashion, however his tie was rather suave (:p I like that word). Mind you I did consider the fact that the mph campain is about awareness. It did have me curious. At the same time as this judging (perhaps you could call it that) - I was thinking about myself and where I am with that. No I do not have a band. I did scam some postcards from an Oxfam shop while in Adelaide. I have been after getting a band. Two things holding me up - a) they are miles too big, I have to find an extra small one from somewhere (however pathetic that sounds) b) I'm not sure if I can be satisfied in merely being part of an awareness fashion trend and not really doing anythign about it. Now, the literary aspect was entirely this massive desire to describe him and get thoughts down on what was going through my head. I will not type what I did write out as I seem to have covered the situation already. Something that must have somehow reached my very dead brain in Lifeskills yesterday was the, 'What makes you feel alive' question. I was in the bath tonight, with Norah Jones playing (definitely bath music) and thinking about next year and uni. I got thouroughly indecisive about course choices again - right when I thought it was worked out. Interactive Media would be useful, I am I guess somewhat skilled in that area. I enjoy it. I like making things fit and work. I get a thrill of getting something to look just right and work well. Arts/Health would allow me to touch on the psychology that has always facinated me (that being people). I can do photography in either - that is no issue. I cannot however seemingly do writing as I would like to do it (Professional and Creative) unless I am specifically in that course. I think I nearly cried on the open day I found that out :\ what a pain. I feel alive when I write. I did not list that course on my preferences as it is 'too hard to make a living from'. What a fool. Silly girl. I will bend over backwards and beg to do some stuff on that. I will pull strings and if Deakin decides to be unhelpful I'll work something out. It is strange. I've had plenty of 'crazes and fazes'. A vast number of hobbies as I was growing up. Skills that I attempted to force (such as various sports and music) and a few talents that I found I actually posessed. I used to draw a fair bit - I was quite good (not now). I could not however go beyond the realistic, I would draw from photos and not my imagination. If I took up art again I would I think find myself in a postion of abstract. Life has become infinitely more complicated since I was twelve. If anything, photos do reality justice by excluding the greater world and framing the specific. I find myself drawn much more to the Picasso style art now than the Tom Roberts of yesterday. As to realism and writing. I have found I do write better from observation/experience or for example, those emotions or expressions that you can translate from one familiar situation to a foreign one. Imagination is freer with writing than with art. You play with words and not paint - actually no, that's just a bit strange. Unique ideas do take time to apear. I need people like the man I saw today to trigger inspiration. That saying, I shouldn't be too worried what uni course I get into, experience in every realm is useful. I'd prefer to write from life and so I must continue living it regardless of where I am. My, what a lot of rambling tonight has been. I was going to talk about my Grandparents dropping in for a visit - with a somehow related (but not really) older guy, Warren. And some comment my Grandma said about when his wife died, his niece would describe him as being like a lost puppy... and so my mind went off on a tangent. My Grandpa has Altzhemers. My Opa died of it. He's getting worse slowly. He has a specific smell, I always smell him when I hug him - like really smell him. They are moving at the start of next year. Their house is another of those places I know as home. I will miss what memories I have tied to the carpet, the pictures on the walls, the staircase, the plaque in the garden... Grandma bought choc-chip cookies :D Such a Grandma thing. She's incredibly patient with him. It was her birthday yesterday. He forgot. Well. Unless I make it on here sometime early tomorrow afternoon, this shall remain empty for a few days. Until then.