I originally posted this without a title and thus, I have already started my March fail with style.

Uh.

Yeah.

Hi, there.

Even though I moved to Brisbane a month ago (and my gosh, that has absolutely flown), I have been lazy.

Have I been blogging as I promised I would?

No. I have not. Clearly, I have not. This is an abhorrent thing and I am a terrible person. *awaits the onslaught of rocks*

However, I am here! And now, because you are unfortunate enough to click on the link that led you here, a general run-down of what I'm doing now.

• I am living in Brisbane, as said before. I live on a particularly freaky-deaky train line. So freaky, in fact, security guards man the train at night. (If you live in Brisbane, you'll probably know which train line I refer to.) There are also large spiders and a see-through gecko.
• University has begun! I'm in week 2. I'm meant to be doing readings now. PROCRASTINATION. I'm studying media and comms now, and will hopefully be doing so for 2 years. Then - and this is pretty much the only thing getting me through the next two years, because I am forever haunted by the thought that this could have been my last year - I am fleeing to Melbourne for journalistic post-grad.  
• A cat followed me home today. I nearly won our house a pet, but alas, the cat seemed to realise it wasn't meant to follow me inside and instead sat outside, staring at me.
• There might be work, there might be Centrelink, there might be both. Excitement.

Okay, so there isn't really much going on. There's a real reason why I'm posting. 

My pal Justin (by which I mean, pal that I haven't technically met but because he and I exchanged in a Rick Astley Lyric-Off on Twitter we are pals for life) (I am overusing pal, someone make it stop) posted a delightful post with questions. It came from this one here, and you know how I am with memes and questions and things! I do all those things in lieu of posting normally, because I am lazy.

Without further ado, answers to questions!

Why do you blog?

I blog because I'm a writer. I like to think I'm a writer, anyway. Rather than howling at various unfinished manuscripts, I might as well show the world that I can write and get a variety of hits.

Also, it's a way to vent. Imagine if all these thoughts were stuck in my head all the time. 

Who is the one person that's meant the most to you, alive or dead?

It's been so long since I've read through my posts, I can't remember if I've mentioned my grandfather. My Tata, as we all call him, is the greatest person alive. The majority of my family regard him as a lunatic, which, to be fair, he really is. But he toes the line of genius and madness pretty well. Throughout everything I've ever gone through, he's the only one who's just let me be who I was. The emo hair, dyed purple then blue then black? Greeted with, "It's lovely, mi Natashita, because you are lovely," rather than my grandmother's, "WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU DONE" and feverish prayers to la madre. The freaking out over school, and subsequent home schooling? All met with general coolness. He is also the only person in my family to actually converse with us as though we're intelligent adults.

Which would you choose, if you could one have one: wealth, wisdom, love, or fame?

Probably love. Love is all... you... need... *hides face*

I would like to be loved and to love someone else, because it's a darn awesome feeling.

Do you have any hilarious stories that you can share involving alcohol or "other"?

I don't drink or participate in 'other', but I was extremely tired once - 11 hour shift waitressing coming off 6 hours sleep, then a train trip up to the Sunshine Coast for a friend's 21st with extremely hyper friends. My best friend told her boyfriend to watch me when we were at another friend's place after the party, because I was that tired I would probably do something stupid while she sorted out beds and whatnot. Conversation ensued.

Me, looking at table: Wow. That's a lot of lightbulbs.

Him:Yeah.

Me: They're probably doing something illegal with that many lightbulbs.

Him: What can you do that's illegal with a lightbulb?

Me: You should smoke one.

Him:  You should probably go to bed.

Me: Probably.

Trina had made up a nice bed for me, but I found a pile of pillows on the floor that I also liked and refused to leave. So she made the bed for me on the pillows, and that is the last I recall.

What's one thing that you have a problem with, morally/politically/etc., in the world?

I'm a Christian, and the one thing Jesus told us to do was to love everyone. Every. One. It's hard to do, I know that as a fact, but what really gets me going is when Christians preach hate and intolerance. 

Name one genre of music that you've always wanted to get in to, but never knew where to start.

Classical. There were some really great musicians and composers that I listened to at work last year, but beyond my minute knowledge of classical guitar I know nothing about it at all.

If you could have any ONE piece of technology, fictional or real, what would it be?

Jetpack. Hands down.

What superpower would you want, if you could have any besides omnipotence?

The ability to fly. It would come in extremely handy during peak traffic times. Except I'd like to fly like Johnny Storm. FIRE!*

*am not a pyromaniac

If you had that power, would you use it for good or evil?

Good. Escaping peak traffic in a ball of fire is always good.

Have you ever thought about whether or not you'd survive the zombie apocalypse? If so, what's your plan?

If the zombie apocalypse happens, I'm far enough away from the Brisbane River that I should have enough time to get away. (If you look at the river, that's where they'll probably come from.) If I'm at uni, I'm stealing a car and driving to the centre of the country. The zombies will probably die by the time they reach said centre of the country.

What is the worst book you've ever read? (If you don't read, "What is the worst movie you've ever watched?" is a potential substitute... but start reading, fool!)

Oooh. Jaid Black's Deep Dark and Dangerous. Misogynistic, terribly written and - oh man. Herp Derp Derpalot is more appropriate.

And, finally, if you could travel back in time to any time period, which era would you choose?

I would probably go to the 1700s, 1800s, or back to ancient shenanigans. My opinions of all have been tainted by movies and Mr Darcy.

Your turn now! 11 questions plus one for good luck.


EDIT: Justin - the guy I linked to above - has informed me that I'm supposed to put 11 questions of my own at the bottom. I never said I was good at this blogging thing.

If you could meet any person, past or present, who would you meet and why?

The character you most identify with in books (or movies, if you're that way inclined, but really. Books)?

The stupidest thing you've ever done. 

The stupidest thing you've ever seen posted on Facebook. Failbook does not count. 

What is your favourite video game (inspired by said best friend's boyfriend opening up his computer and the start noise being something from Halo, he tells me)?

If you were to become known by any name in particular - a tabloid nickname, if you will - what would you like to be known as, and what would you actually be known as?

Is there a particular piece of clothing you're attached to? You know, your ratty old Cons or something?

Name a job, existent or not, that you'd happily do for the rest of your days?

What does it take for you to wake up in the morning? 

If you could be any villain from anywhere - I accept Wickham as a suitable villain - who would you be, and why?

You're signing off from an email, text, FB message, whatever. How do you do it? 

Random questions, but whatever. Enjoy!

Fates and Stars.

Occasionally, I read a book that drains me.
I can't quite describe the multiple levels it drains me on. Certainly emotional, but there's something else. A sense of awe at the words that have caused whatever my reaction is, and I need to shut myself off because they're too beautiful.
After all, you can only ever read a book for the first time once, so you might as well savour it madly.

I have just read a book, and I suppose I'm writing about it now because I've not read a book in quite some time that drained me. The Fault in Our Stars.
I started this book, and I finished it falsely to begin with. I flicked. I was stressed at the time when I received it, so I didn't want to read and fall into someone else's pain, be overwhelmed with sympathy only they deserved. Selfishly, I wanted to hold onto my own mind's worries, the ones that don't matter. The ones you know don't matter.

Today, I read it fully.
I cried.
I have cried during one other novel, and that was during a time when I cried over the Lion King and Fantastic Four.

I don't know how to describe fully what I'm feeling after reading it, but I feel less sure of things. Less sure of what matters.
I want to curl up in my bed and sleep for days, in the hopes that I'll understand whatever it is this book has caused me to feel.
I'm silently tossing up making deals with God to let me never go through what Hazel and Augustus and Isaac did, be it as a daughter or sister or girlfriend or wife or mother or grandmother or aunt or friend, and dismissing it as a futile activity.

And John Green has taken my breath away again with a book, and if I write like that one day - if I drain just one person the way his words have drained me - then my words will be a success.

Book Review: A Vision of Lucy by Margaret Brownley

Feisty photographer Lucy dreams of becoming working for the local newspaper - but of course, the editor doesn't quite share her goal (in a time where women were mothers and wives, he wouldn't have been the only one). But Lucy is determined to prove his assumptions about females wrong, and sets out to take a photo of the reclusive David Wolf, the man that's had the town abuzz for months.
Lucy doesn't count on falling for this man, and he certainly didn't see himself falling either. When events collide - changing Lucy's life entirely - how will she deal with this, and how will David adjust to his new love for Lucy?

So, honestly?

I kind of liked this book.
I certainly wouldn't say I wholeheartedly loved it - it is, like most of its historical romance genre, predictable. But it drew me in, and I found that I did trot along with the storyline. It's a book that can be put down, and while the romance was beautiful, I didn't develop enough of an attachment to the characters to, say, stick out the entire novel and not skip to the end to see if my hunches were correct.
Which they were. Like I said, predictable, but not in a bad way.
If you're looking for something new, inspired and gripping - you won't find it in this book. You'll probably have a good time, as I did, but it blends in amongst a group of writers whose work is much of a muchness.

This is another BookSneeze post, where the book (ebook in this case) was provided to me for free on the proviso I blog honestly.

Chris

My brother is a special breed of human, and I mean this in the best of ways. The child was recently visiting us for Christmas and his birthday, and on the way home from dinner out with family we were discussing Shakespeare.

(By 'we were discussing Shakespeare', I mean my parents, Chris and his girlfriend were trying to convince me that Shakeapeare is the epitome of irrelevance and I passionately declared otherwise.)

Of course, this led to discussions about English/literature studies at school. "Seriously, Tash," said Chris. "Do I really need to know how metaphors and appropriation work to be a well-adjusted human being?"
"With you, all signs point to yes."
"No," he said, continuing over me, "I don't."
"Without Shakespeare and appropriation, you wouldn't have the Lion King. THAT, dear child, is Hamlet."
"You know what I think it is? I think it's actually a metaphor."
"... What? What part's the metaphor?"
"Well, it can't be a real story. Where are the poachers?"
Because singing animals do, in fact, make a story real.
"So I think that Scar's a poacher. It has to be Scar, because he's the only different lion."
"Because he kills Mufasa?"
"Exactly."
"But that makes no sense. Why is a poacher hanging around with hyenas?"
"To integrate himself with the lions."
"So then when the sequel rolls around, we're looking at a poacher that desperately wants to live amongst the lions and falls in love with a lion, but then is exiled because he's discovered to be a poacher, but finally when the lead poacher is killed - nearly rescued by the lion it wanted to kill - the poacher is welcomed back into the pride and is given the hearty consent to marry the lion he loved?"
"Exactly, Tash. AND THAT IS WHAT ENGLISH DOES TO YOU."

After getting a comment on my old costume post (muchas gracias, Kiwi), I thought I should update it.
When I was in the initial throes of costuming, it was winter. When winter hits, I always feel like it'll never end. Thus, I went with the gorgeous, but not-so-practical-for-summer, steampunk awesome costume.
I also came to the conclusion that my bank account would be attacked gruesomely if I went like a lonely loner down that lonely road.
So I have changed it again, mwahahahaha.
Ha.

Basically, this time I've decided to go with a Little Red Riding Hood costume. I was going to go Amanda Seyfried style, but practicality won out. (I am uncoordinated at the best of times, and dancing in heels with a floor length gown and cape isn't the cleverest concept.) The cape - made from a deliciously deep red - hits somewhere between mid-thigh and knee, and falls beautifully. I doubled up the fabric on the hood, so it's quite heavy, but it sits nicely as well. Under this, I'll be wearing an old white shirt of mine that I'm currently trying to reconfigure into an off-the-shoulder blouse, plus an old black skirt of mine and a black, sort of corset-inspired, belt.
Makeup, I plan on doing winged eyeliner and red lips. I trialled the lipstick at Christmas (being a general fail at makeup) and I now have to figure out how to make it last. Eating absolutely destroyed the lips.

Battery decreasing, my charger is over thataway, so I shall update with pics in a few days.

Because there's half an hour to go, I'm rounding up. Down? Down.
(I was never born to do maths.)
It's five days until Christmas. This is particularly alarming to me. This is my last year as a teenager. My last Christmas as a teenager.
I know that I'm technically an adult in the eyes of the government (such fools you are, government) but it sort of feels weird. In about 3 months, I'm twenty years old. It has gone pretty darn fast.

But that's not the point to this post.
Basically, a thing of note (cue shoddy iPhone formatting):
• There are shenanigans happening on the Christmas charts in England. Mr Alex Day, that guy I've written about, is attempting to become the first unsigned artist to reach number one for Christmas. Or something. I've been paying bucketloads of attention to the technicalities, but basically if you buy the song, proceeds go to charity, Alex wins the Internet.
IT'S LIKE BILLY MACK BEATING BLUE ALL OVER AGAIN.

You should do things, and I should link to things. Make all our lives easier.
I hope that link works. Go forth and do things.

So this year has been pretty fun. I'm sort of wanting to curl up in this house forever, but degrees are needed. You know why? Because the second I get my degree, I am flinging myself onto a plane and becoming an Englishlady.

Bring on 2012, bring on Christmas, bring on a no 1, and bring on the hordes of customers awaiting me tomorrow.

That time again. Naturally.

No, I don't mean Christmas. I feel surprisingly organised for that (a miracle in and of itself).
It's time for packing.

Never mind that I'm not actually moving to the new place until January, or later. The 20-plus people we have staying at Christmas have ensured that not only am I literally sleeping outside with the dogs (a childhood dream fulfilled), but that I have to remove all of my books from my room.
All the books, contained in labelled boxes. Gargh.

This time, I'm being organised, despite what those boxes suggest. (My room no longer looks like that. Everything is as neat as it can be, considering there are thirteen boxes shoved against a cabinet.) I have decided to effectively double my packing time by making lists of exactly what book is in each box, and labelling each box prominently. I am no longer packing books into flimsy chip packet boxes. I am packing them into sturdy book boxes (Random and Harper, I love you), and so far no Spanish dictionaries have come exploding from the sides to kill me.
Also, this year it was a lot easier to get a hold of boxes.

SCENE: My workplace.
ME: Mandy, do you mind if I take these boxes home? Mum wants me to start packing.
MANDY: [practically weeping in gratitude] YES. Take them with you. Take them all! Please. Just get rid of them. I don't want them.

The advantage of my workplace is that we also sell DVDs. This year, I have three Roadshow boxes with my DVDs perfectly snug inside. This may not seem like much, but I had to run and show Mum when I started packing. "Look, Mum! They fit perfectly!"
"... right..."
"How do you not care about this?!"

So on Saturday - or Sunday, depends on what the parentals feel like doing - my books and DVDs will be making the 2hr journey to my new home. I actually haven't seen my new home, except for in pictures. I have the smallest, security-screened windowed, room. NO MURDERERS WILL BE GETTING ME. My parents are buying me a TV (I asked if I could swap this for a corset, seeing as I have a perfectly functional TV, but they said no), and while I'm down here, I'm also not paying rent. Due to some other shenanigans, Nick is habitating my room until I'm up there. And he's paying my rent instead.
Quietly, I was freaking out over that. I didn't want to be spending $270 a week. God is pretty amazing, in how He works stuff out.

And now I'm getting distracted.
Post end, I think. Au revoir, little biscuits!