okay, time to vent.
fuckityfuckityfuckityfuckityfuckityfuck.
I doubt that made any difference, but now I’m sure there is a greater chance of you understanding where I sit on the mood spectrum. it’s so ironic that my last post was a link and all about positive thinking, and I myself am currently feeling the polar opposite.
I suppose the smartest thing to do would be to harden up and take my own advice.
but hey, this is my space so I’ll do what I want with it.
I am at a bit of an emotional standstill and I don’t know what to do. I feel like there is nothing to look forward to or to fuel off; and at the same time I am even terrified to say that out loud because I know that what usually happens is that you spend your time being ungrateful for what you have and then one day, like the table cloth trick, it’s ripped right out from underneath you without warning and that table cloth that you never thought was that crash hot is suddenly the thing you miss most in the world.
I guess what I am trying to say through a series of unsuccessful profanities and metaphors is that I feel really awful and I don’t know why. I feel anxious for no really logical reason. I have assessments next week but I have myself organised and I trust that I’ll be okay – and besides; it’s not that kind of tension anyway. I just feel really miserable and have been crying privately more than I ever do! I know that a cry every now and then is not something to feel too tragic about, but for the past week I think at least twice a day I’ve had to supress that awful lump that rises in your throat, giving you a good indication that you need to get out of the public eye immediately before the waterworks start. I have work tomorrow which is a really early start – something I’m not looking forward to – but then I’m on my way back home for the whole weekend so I’m hoping that a decent hug from Mama bear and some time where I can just be myself will help me feel a little better. Not that I am relying on anyone to swoop in and eat up my bad mood; I am a big believer in being the gate-keeper to my own happiness. I also think that after next week I’ll be feeling a lot better because my two assessments will be out of the way and there will be something new to pump the endorphins through my veins.
In the meantime however, you now know why I’ve been ignoring this space.
Stay tuned to find out what huge happy epiphany or occurrence kicks my attitude in the balls.
M.
READ THIS! happiest facts of all time.
hey everyone, read this!
Holla guys,
check out my newest blog. Don’t worry, total madness. will still always be my NO #1 place to come and be, well, totally mad – but for the purposes of uni, we are required to submit an “E-Portfolio” at the end of this year. I thought; what better way to do that than to use a site that I have grown so attached to?
So here’s the deal, if you’re following me on here – take a look at my more studious and self-contained blog over at http://madelaineseportfolio.wordpress.com/.
If I were you, I’d feel free to comment/like/follow that blog as well 
Just as a suggestion, anyway.
Also people, I suppose in a way this isn’t really good advertisement for wordpress but you don’t actually have to HAVE a blog yourself in order to comment on those of others or to interact with them. You can comment and share your thoughts just as a regular internet user if you wish, or even as an irregular internet user; if that’s what you’re into! So yes, feel free to pop your two cents in even if you’re not a registered blogger. Hell, I’ve been popping my two cents in every space and ear that will take it~ having a blog is just such a fun and releasing way to do it. (There you go WordPress, I totally have your back in marketing.)
Ciao friends, and remember:
http://madelaineseportfolio.wordpress.com/
♥ M.
AUTO COUR
Our next assessment for THM108 is a self-devised, original performance or ‘Autocour.” At first, I didn’t know what this meant but gathered it was a French term. After doing some research I noted that it was involved in the practice of the school of physical theatre, L’École Internationale de Théâtre Jacques Lecoq. I am taking the purpose of the exercise to be developing something new and fresh whilst engaging in a creative process and challenging myself to hone old skills and learn new ones.
Collectively, we decided as a class on a theme that could act as a starting point because, admittedly, everyone seemed a bit stumped on where to begin. Death ended up having the highest vote as a starting concept (morbid, I know.) but I think what it really came down to is the reality that it doesn’t have to be specifically, ‘death’ and that there is so much room for other ideas and thoughts to stem from this one concept.
I am still feeling a little bit lost about where to start with my own piece, so I have been looking at the work of other playwrights, poets and authors and directors to hopefully stimulate some ideas and spark some inspiration. Interestingly enough, the first thing I thought of when it was decided that death was the theme was that chilling line from Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, “Wake up. Time to die.” I then revisited the movie and was inspired by some of the intensely emotional scenes, particularly with Roy Batty. What I think had me most interested was the concept of the Replicant; something perceived as non-human or not really alive, seemed to have more passion and life than those who were living themselves. In essence, those who were human and alive and living in this futuristic reality were practically soulless – the living dead.
This scene gets me every time and unlocked my own desire to create this emotional intensity through simple but really powerful dialogue. It also reinforced that whole idea of successful drama proving that how something is delivered is just as important (and sometimes more) than what is being delivered.
So take a look at the video, and let me know if it gives you the same goosebumps that I get every time.
someone say something about a blog?
Hey kids.
So, I was sitting down, looking at my fingernails and staring into oblivion, contemplating the mysteries of the universe and the oddness of life itself
… when I remembered that I have a blog!
so here I am, recounting some past events and apologising that it took this long.
I am back in Univille, but only for the night as I have to work tomorrow. My family back home is in the process of moving house so I have been helping with that, moving my things from one house to the other in crates at a time. The move began last Saturday after my mum and grandfather re-painted some of the rooms in the new house. I, unfortunately, did not have the greatest of Saturdays. I was driving out of Univille and some guy scraped all up the side of my little car as I was merging over into right lane in response to the “FORM 1 LANE” sign. Apparently, he didn’t want to be stuck behind a red P-plater who has a maximum speed limit of 90km and so he floored it at the last minute and it appeared that we both ended up in the same place at the same time. It was awful; after exchanging details and one does in such a situation, I sat in my car and went into shock as I was phoning my mother who sent me straight back to Univille which was probably for the best, lest I should have another accident because of the state I was in. I was mildly embarrassed by the fact that I couldn’t control the fact that I was crying almost hysterically – but apparently in such situations this is normal or expected.
So after finally getting home on Sunday morning I started packing up my things and transferring them to the new house. Unpacking was a nightmare because, let’s face it, I am a bowerbird and a bit of a hoarder when it comes to detaching myself from things that were once significant to me. Once.
Last night was an interesting experience and very eventful. I was at a friend’s house until late, watching movies and catching up on missed laughs. I then went home at about midnight because I had given myself a personal deadline to finish part of an assignment before I went to sleep. At one o’clock I got a call from this friend telling me that they and the others back at the house had done the synthetic cannabis that had been kept hidden for a while. My friend was having a really bad experience and apparently everyone back at the house was freaking out and in a complete state of paranoid psychosis that immediately followed the high. They literally thought they were going to die and couldn’t comprehend the thoughts and feelings they were having. My friend was desperate to have it out of their system and was – in total sincerity - terrified that they might never be the same again and that if this feeling continued they wished that the would die.
I got straight back into the car and drove back to the house and sat with them, reassuring them that it would be fine and that it would pass and that I would stay with them until it did.
I did. And it passed.
But I was truly fascinated this morning when they had all come back to their original state; I wanted to know everything about the high and how quickly it became a deep and frightening low.
Anyway, they all came good in the end so nothing too much to write home about. But this is my latest events summarised 
Uni resumes Monday but my week starts Tuesday and I am really quite excited; I’ve really missed my class and friendly faces. It’s nice to feel the sense of missing Univille, something I didn’t think would happen as soon as it did and being able to come back and feel at home.
M.
where the wild things are.
KIDS!
don’t worry, I am definitely still present despite what must look like my total ignorance of the blog world. I have just been so super busy and on the go-go like a yo-yo. I should also impress upon you that right now, I am absolutely exhausted yet I feel that it’s definitely my duty to touch base and let ya’ll know what’s been happenink and how much fun I am having.
The camp I went on was absolutely sensational. There are no words really and everyone who I have told (we are not allowed to tell people who attend the university or plan to in the future, as it is top secret for a reason) I have had to do so in person. Alas, I have not yet discovered the power to telepath my stories and memories of the experience to everyone who reads this, but I will say this.
I have never felt more a part of something in my life until now. I feel as though I have finally discovered where the wild things are and so the colourful, creative and plain cookey part of me has found a home. I don’t even care if that sounds cheesy because it’s not to me. To me it was the most sincere welcoming into this new family and a new stage of the passion I want to pursue.
—
The weekend I have just had has, again, been one of total business but I love it! It’s like being a light switch that never gets flicked off and I am a big fan of electricity. Yesterday I went down to (the local theatre) to watch a touring production of KAGE theatre’s Sundowner. It was a piece of physical theatre as well as surrealism and image theatre that expressed a woman and her family’s experience of her Alzheimer’s disease. It was so beautiful; there was a really innovative set up in which they used about half of the regular stage, but then on the other half (towards the back) there was a platform stage, so that the back was higher than the front. And there was a translucent black curtain that separated this stage from the normal one. Each time the woman had a memory or an emotive experience, these internal scenes were done in the form of gymnastics or physical theatre behind the curtain with this soft pearly light – expressing them as a memory. It was absolutely amazing and we got the tickets for free because we are TM students
Following the show, we went and had pizza in the park and I ate my weight in spinach and feta pizza before driving up to the uni to watch MORE theatre in the Short Play Festival that was taking place in the uni theatre. There was great diversity there but definitely some more strong than others. That wrapped up at around 9.30 and I dropped some mates home who gave me a tour of their house and made me feel very welcome
I then came home and crashed in bed for a total of about six hours before getting up at 6.30 this morning to go to the markets with my nan that are about 35 minutes away. They were really cool and so big (they are only run twice a year so heaps of different sellers take advantage of the opportunity.) There was so much colour and I got a sweet top with a cool design on the front and a gorgeous little woollen hat.
So, safe to say that I have been VERY busy. But I am enjoying it so much and am really quite excited about all the people I am meeting and the things that I am doing.
I will keep you updated as ever, regardless of my drifting in and out of blogging. You will hear the stories when they are ready to be told!
M.
hope you read this.
hey.
i don’t know if you even come here to read my stuff anymore, but if you do, then hopefully you know this post is directed at you.
please listen to the song ‘Let Her Go’ by Passenger.
i have a pretty strong feeling that you’ll like it, it has your music flavour i believe and a really original voice i don’t really have a decent reason for not just texting you~ but i guess this seemed better so that if you didn’t want to reply for whatever reason or because it seems out of the blue, you wouldn’t have to and i would still be able to hope that you heard it.
ps: don’t worry, it’s not one of those communicative songs where i’m hoping you’ll understand a hidden meaning – i’m just hoping you like it.
i hope you’re having a st. Patrick’s Day
M.
a map of memory
***
I stare at the faces in my hand. Glossy and crisp, their smiles beam in response to my bland gaze. I remember that day. What day? It was the day I successfully tied my shoelaces for the first time. How were my feet ever that small? Inside a pair of Converse All-Stars with a sunflower print that had faded in the wash. They were my favourite shoes because of that day. My mother’s grin is caught somewhere between a great laugh and a self-conscious smile; her hands balanced between clutching a four-year-old me and steadying herself against the pixelated grass.
I miss that day. Not in the way that one misses a relative or a pair of flowery canvas shoes, no. I miss that day because the people who were living it were happy to do so. I miss being that child in the photo and recognising the woman hugging me around the middle.
That day is buried under five hundred more as I turn the page. Smiles with varying degrees of sincerity shout at me from a double page and I almost feel compelled to snap the album shut. But I don’t. Because I remember that day, second column in third row down. A perfect day, in my memory. A seven year old child cacooned in seven layers of clothing stands with her arms hugging the torso of a snow-man. Snow flakes obscure the image, preserving the memory in a dreamlike quality. It didn’t matter that the child spent the next week recovering from a cold or that the snowman melted. And it didn’t matter that her mother was in fact terribly scared of being alone. Because in the photo they are happy. Excited. In the photo, their story is as two dimensional as their faces. But it’s beautiful.
It is said that humans’ memory loses accuracy with the time and distance between the memory and the present. It is also believed that the more frequently we revisit a memory, the less accurate it becomes. In other words, those memories which we refuse to dwell on are still as potent as the day they were concieved.
…. TO BE CONTINUED
“storytelling … at a walking and sitting pace”
This is the title given to my first official university assessment. We are to partake in a two day camping trip that involves an uphill walk on rocky terrain. The purpose of this whole exercise and the reason it’s assessible, I suppose, is because we are forced out of our comfort zone and into one that is filled with people we don’t know and unexpected occurrences that will no doubt make themselves obvious when the time approaches. The whole point of the title ‘storytelling’ implies that we are expected to share stories and songs with eachother in a way that takes us back to the fundamentals of theatre and creating exciting productions – the discourse, conversation, emotion, memory and imagination that is exchanged between humans.
Individually we are to have prepared
2 stories
2 jokes
1 song
to share with the group while we walk and/or sit.
So this is why I write home to you, my friends. What stories should I tell? What jokes? I know what song I want to share with them but as for the other components, I am stumped. And I don’t even want to refer to them as ‘components’. I want them to be something relevant and special. It’s not a situation where you can ‘plagarise’ as we are simply expected to communicate and share with our peers. Stories of any form, and you could hardly say that an appropriated fable is considered original.
Do you have a story that you want to be told? To be famous amongst a small group of people half a world a way up to their elbows in sweat and dust, who will then be able to share your story with others?
Tell me your stories as I tell you mine.
I will tell you what they said and how your stories made them feel.
