It's suddenly more than halfway through my fieldwork, and I'm starting to wish I had at least a month more in Ethiopia. The interviews I've had were fairly interesting, though sometimes also rather predictable. I'm starting to wonder if I'm too confrontational or journalistic in my interviews in that I tend to put forward interpretations of events that I know would not sit well with my interviewees, just to see how they would react. I'm not sure that's an advisable tactic, and to be honest, to call it a tactic is exaggerating the amount of forethought that went into it. When it comes right down to it, when I'm being serious about something I'm pretty confrontational. The archival work has only just started, and I'm only starting to realise how much there is to look through. On Monday when I hit the archives again, I'm bringing my camera. I'm going to have so much stuff to go through, I've no idea whether I have enough time.
It's a Saturday, and I did ponder for hours the merits of travelling out of my room. But I've got work to do, and the sky is grey, and I've been running around the past few days, and it just happens the internet is working for now (sshhh, don't startle it!). Plus I'm a lazy ass traveller. Some of you might know this already.
Anyway, this week I've been spending more time in the considerably more rarefied atmosphere of the UNECA building and the AU compound. Within those little pockets of cosmopolitanism, there's less harrassment, though I still often get the 'Are you Japanese?' But at least it's not shouted at me from across the street as a part-question, part-greeting, part-jeer, part-call for attention. (Incidentally, though I've going on about all these people shouting at me, at times it's rather more benign. Couple of days ago, two girls shouted at me 'Hey China!' and when I turned around to look at them they started giggling and ran away. Annoying, but didn't feel particularly threatening.)
In these compounds I also met people who spoke with an American accent, and at first I thought they might be African Americans, but turns out the rich kids here go to these schools where they pick up an American accent. Figures.
It's also slightly annoying that people here don't usually reply to emails, and you can't get to talk to them unless you actually turn up on their doorstep. Yes, that makes the fieldwork so much easier.
So. Saturday, lots of thoughts about going out, gave in to inertia, and now I need to start working.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
A Perfume Excursion
Suddenly, I feel like wearing Agent Provocateur. I didn't wear it much when I was in Singapore because it is one of those perfumes that is just 'too much', especially in the Singaporean heat and humidity. Because I didn't wear it much in Singapore, I never thought of bringing it along with me. Just goes to show that I'll always regret not bringing every single perfume I have everywhere with me.
Monday, September 05, 2011
The Great Ethiopian Adventure - The Skanky Issue
Yes, I just gave money to prostitutes. Anyone interested in finding out the unfortunately not very skanky details (and won't scold me for taking unnecessary risks) can ask me. ;)
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Two Days into the Great Ethiopian Adventure
Addis and I got off on a bad foot. I arrived at the airport, and my first encounter with the people of Addis was when a crowd of taxi drivers tried to grab my luggage and make me get on their cab, no doubt so they could charge me an exorbitant rate.
This set the tone for the rest of my first day in Addis when, totally exhausted from the journey, I nevertheless attempted to walk around near the hotel and, later in the day, ventured into the upper echelons in Hilton (not my hotel!) to buy a local SIM card. On hindsight, doing that while I was seconds away from comatose was probably a bad idea.
First, the poverty - the area I'm staying in is supposedly the wealthy neighbourhood of Addis. This means that while the sideroads are still dirt, the main roads are paved, hooray! For the first few minutes of my first walkabout in Addis, I was a bit puzzled by the sheer number of youths and young boys sitting on the street with little buckets of dirty water. It wasn't long before my shoes were caked with mud and I realised that (1) it's the rainy season, (2) most of the roads are dirt paths (in the wealthiest neighbourhood in Addis!), and so people get their shoes cleaned by these boys. But being hyper-conscious (see below) of my foreign tourist status, and being absolutely certain I'll get charged some horrendous amount for the same service, I refused to stop to get my shoes cleaned. Yay dirty shoes!
Ignoring all the little children asking for money also made me feel like a bitch.
At one point I also saw a guy carrying a rifle and having been deluged with images of Africans carrying guns, I silently freaked out for a while before realising that he was standing in front some sort of government building. (Note to self: try not to stare too obviously at guys carrying guns.) To be fair to me, the government building was seriously nondescript and didn't look at all like a government-building-deserving-of-scary-looking-armed-guard. I've since discovered that they have these armed guards in front of all sorts of buildings, even the Ministry of Health and the Radio & Broadcasting Building.
Second, the near-panic of coming under intense scrutiny by every single person who sees me. I guess I'm used to more-or-less blending in in a fairly cosmopolitan environment. Here, I stand out because I'm chinese - I keep getting people calling out 'China!' after me, or the equally misinformed who've cast wider nets: 'China, Japan, Korea!' Every single taxi driver I've met has seen fit to tell me that there're now many Chinese in Addis helping to build roads. A particularly wide road was pointed out to me as being of Chinese origin. Not that I've seen more than 3 or 4Chinese (all men). Also, (and this was almost inevitable) today an old guy shouted at me (in perfect English!) 'You chinese are poor people! Why don't you go back to your own country!' This was such a familiar sentiment, it was almost reassuring to finally hear it.
I also stand out because despite being in my rattiest shirt and jeans, my clothes still look much MUCH better than the vast majority of the people on the streets. I find myself wishing I had more dirt on my clothes so I don't look so goddamn rich. EVERYBODY stares at me.
Today, two particularly obnoxious guys tried to talk to me and when met with a stony wall of silence, asked 'Why are you running? Are you scared of us?' Thus, I learnt that in addition to being foreign and rich, I was also conspicuous because I was walking much faster than everyone else on the street. Later on, after being bombarded with requests for the time by people who were trying to start a conversation/pickpocket me/get the time, I also realised that it might be a bad idea to wear a watch when everyone else's wrist is unadorned.
Third, I didn't know my bloody way around, and didn't want to keep consulting my map. I flagged a taxi to bring me back to my hotel after visiting Hilton, but neither the driver nor I knew the way. And so we ended up on a merry-go-round in which both of us got increasingly frustrated because the road names on my map didn't match the road names he knew. The people here don't put much stock in road names and go mainly by landmarks. Too bad for the tourist who relies on a map. So the street I knew as Cape Verde Street, he knew as EU street because the EU is located there. The street I knew as Ghana Street, he knew as Urael street, after a church on the street. I think he nearly threw me out of his cab. In the end, when we finally found our way, he demanded nearly twice the agreed fare, and I was really too tired to argue. Let's just say I don't think he was unhappy about this little adventure at all. He even said 'ciao!' as I legged it out of his cab.
So I ended my first day tired, hungry, and more than a little miserable. Luckily, with warm food at the hotel and a good sleep, today was much better. I managed to find the National Library (I walked past it twice before identifying it), walked into a couple of bookshops (and spotted some books that I'll buy before going back to the UK), walked past the National Museum, and finally ate injera, a local pancake-like thing made of sourdough that you eat with meat/stew. While walking through the city, I managed to walk through this area which looked pretty much like a slum to me, a long dirt road with small shack dwellings and mats spread along the road with various types of produce for sale. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought I was in a small kampong in the Malaysian countryside 20 years ago. While I was walking, I kept wondering when the road would end and whether I'd end up in some strange place outside the city centre. I didn't dare turn back, because there were so many people staring at me, and I didn't want to look lost. And of course when I finally emerged from that strange road, right in front of me was this enormous walled compound with (yet another!) armed guard and a big sign saying 'no photography'. It was as if I'd emerged into a different world with paved roads and expensive cars. It was only later that I learnt this was the Prime Minister's residence.
Gosh, I just realised all these reflections are based on just 2 days in Addis. One last thing before I stop writing for now. Walking in the city centre today, I saw quite a number of secondhand booksellers - not book stores, because most of the time the books are just placed on a piece of tarpaulin along the road. The more established ones have a permanent shack to house the books. While most of these books were fiction and looked like they were printed in the 1970s (lots of young adult fiction that looked really ancient), I saw some really interesting ones. For example, Marx and Engels 'On Britain', a book by Ayn Rand, a book on African philosophy, and a seller tried to interest me in a book on Japanese culture (no doubt he thought I was Japanese, though why a Japanese would need to read a book on Japanese culture is beyond me). Of course at least 60% of the books for sale were in Amharic, so my observations are based on the book titles I could read.
I'm dead tired from walking today. I must have spent 4hours walking, most of the time taking huge detours because I was trying not to look lost. If you only get to know a city after getting lost in it, I must know Addis bloody well by now. Though a taxi driver I met today thought I'd been living in Addis for quite a while. I guess I'm good at looking confident and... lost? No, not lost at all! (I needed a taxi because I was, of course, lost.)
(The Great Ethiopian Adventure to be continued...)
This set the tone for the rest of my first day in Addis when, totally exhausted from the journey, I nevertheless attempted to walk around near the hotel and, later in the day, ventured into the upper echelons in Hilton (not my hotel!) to buy a local SIM card. On hindsight, doing that while I was seconds away from comatose was probably a bad idea.
First, the poverty - the area I'm staying in is supposedly the wealthy neighbourhood of Addis. This means that while the sideroads are still dirt, the main roads are paved, hooray! For the first few minutes of my first walkabout in Addis, I was a bit puzzled by the sheer number of youths and young boys sitting on the street with little buckets of dirty water. It wasn't long before my shoes were caked with mud and I realised that (1) it's the rainy season, (2) most of the roads are dirt paths (in the wealthiest neighbourhood in Addis!), and so people get their shoes cleaned by these boys. But being hyper-conscious (see below) of my foreign tourist status, and being absolutely certain I'll get charged some horrendous amount for the same service, I refused to stop to get my shoes cleaned. Yay dirty shoes!
Ignoring all the little children asking for money also made me feel like a bitch.
At one point I also saw a guy carrying a rifle and having been deluged with images of Africans carrying guns, I silently freaked out for a while before realising that he was standing in front some sort of government building. (Note to self: try not to stare too obviously at guys carrying guns.) To be fair to me, the government building was seriously nondescript and didn't look at all like a government-building-deserving-of-scary-looking-armed-guard. I've since discovered that they have these armed guards in front of all sorts of buildings, even the Ministry of Health and the Radio & Broadcasting Building.
Second, the near-panic of coming under intense scrutiny by every single person who sees me. I guess I'm used to more-or-less blending in in a fairly cosmopolitan environment. Here, I stand out because I'm chinese - I keep getting people calling out 'China!' after me, or the equally misinformed who've cast wider nets: 'China, Japan, Korea!' Every single taxi driver I've met has seen fit to tell me that there're now many Chinese in Addis helping to build roads. A particularly wide road was pointed out to me as being of Chinese origin. Not that I've seen more than 3 or 4Chinese (all men). Also, (and this was almost inevitable) today an old guy shouted at me (in perfect English!) 'You chinese are poor people! Why don't you go back to your own country!' This was such a familiar sentiment, it was almost reassuring to finally hear it.
I also stand out because despite being in my rattiest shirt and jeans, my clothes still look much MUCH better than the vast majority of the people on the streets. I find myself wishing I had more dirt on my clothes so I don't look so goddamn rich. EVERYBODY stares at me.
Today, two particularly obnoxious guys tried to talk to me and when met with a stony wall of silence, asked 'Why are you running? Are you scared of us?' Thus, I learnt that in addition to being foreign and rich, I was also conspicuous because I was walking much faster than everyone else on the street. Later on, after being bombarded with requests for the time by people who were trying to start a conversation/pickpocket me/get the time, I also realised that it might be a bad idea to wear a watch when everyone else's wrist is unadorned.
Third, I didn't know my bloody way around, and didn't want to keep consulting my map. I flagged a taxi to bring me back to my hotel after visiting Hilton, but neither the driver nor I knew the way. And so we ended up on a merry-go-round in which both of us got increasingly frustrated because the road names on my map didn't match the road names he knew. The people here don't put much stock in road names and go mainly by landmarks. Too bad for the tourist who relies on a map. So the street I knew as Cape Verde Street, he knew as EU street because the EU is located there. The street I knew as Ghana Street, he knew as Urael street, after a church on the street. I think he nearly threw me out of his cab. In the end, when we finally found our way, he demanded nearly twice the agreed fare, and I was really too tired to argue. Let's just say I don't think he was unhappy about this little adventure at all. He even said 'ciao!' as I legged it out of his cab.
So I ended my first day tired, hungry, and more than a little miserable. Luckily, with warm food at the hotel and a good sleep, today was much better. I managed to find the National Library (I walked past it twice before identifying it), walked into a couple of bookshops (and spotted some books that I'll buy before going back to the UK), walked past the National Museum, and finally ate injera, a local pancake-like thing made of sourdough that you eat with meat/stew. While walking through the city, I managed to walk through this area which looked pretty much like a slum to me, a long dirt road with small shack dwellings and mats spread along the road with various types of produce for sale. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought I was in a small kampong in the Malaysian countryside 20 years ago. While I was walking, I kept wondering when the road would end and whether I'd end up in some strange place outside the city centre. I didn't dare turn back, because there were so many people staring at me, and I didn't want to look lost. And of course when I finally emerged from that strange road, right in front of me was this enormous walled compound with (yet another!) armed guard and a big sign saying 'no photography'. It was as if I'd emerged into a different world with paved roads and expensive cars. It was only later that I learnt this was the Prime Minister's residence.
Gosh, I just realised all these reflections are based on just 2 days in Addis. One last thing before I stop writing for now. Walking in the city centre today, I saw quite a number of secondhand booksellers - not book stores, because most of the time the books are just placed on a piece of tarpaulin along the road. The more established ones have a permanent shack to house the books. While most of these books were fiction and looked like they were printed in the 1970s (lots of young adult fiction that looked really ancient), I saw some really interesting ones. For example, Marx and Engels 'On Britain', a book by Ayn Rand, a book on African philosophy, and a seller tried to interest me in a book on Japanese culture (no doubt he thought I was Japanese, though why a Japanese would need to read a book on Japanese culture is beyond me). Of course at least 60% of the books for sale were in Amharic, so my observations are based on the book titles I could read.
I'm dead tired from walking today. I must have spent 4hours walking, most of the time taking huge detours because I was trying not to look lost. If you only get to know a city after getting lost in it, I must know Addis bloody well by now. Though a taxi driver I met today thought I'd been living in Addis for quite a while. I guess I'm good at looking confident and... lost? No, not lost at all! (I needed a taxi because I was, of course, lost.)
(The Great Ethiopian Adventure to be continued...)
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
London riots
As much of a cliche as it is, I can feel a real sense of pain from the 'nation', or rather, the myriad populations here in the UK. There is great bewilderment at the violence that has seemingly erupted from nowhere and the sheer inability of the state's forces to cope. People are asking why so many youths have suddenly decided to 'turn on their own communities', a phrase that has been used over and over, and how this has happened.
Some point to the structural marginalisation of disaffected youths, with little in terms of a future and job prospects, ignored and condemned by society, suspicious of the authorities who have always been suspicious of them, who have no voice, frustrations to vent and nothing to lose. They say that this violence was only a matter of time. Others call the violence plain hooliganism with immoral, opportunistic looters simply out to get goods for free. They say that these youths have had every opportunity to better themselves but have chosen not to out of pure laziness, and that socio-economic justifications for the violence are pure hogwash. Still others resort to the 'culture' argument, talking about the breakdown in values and the failure of parents to instill the correct values in their kids.
I think that there are structural factors underlying the violence. It is true that these youths feel as if they have been marginalised, and that they have no stake in this society. To a large extent their frustrations are justified. However, the fact that there are structural causes of the violence does not take away the moral responsibility of the perpetrators for what they have done. A cause is not a justification. That they chose to vent their frustrations in this way, that they chose to acquire a voice in this way, that they chose to drown that voice in the clamour of greed and selfishness and thoughtlessness, that they chose to hurt others who were largely innocent of any wrongdoing - these are choices that are not acceptable. Yes, they were dealt a bad hand, but this does not automatically exempt them from making the right choices, and I fully support dealing harshly with them, if the state's resources allow.
The presence of law and order in any state is always an illusion predicated on the acquiescence of its population. When even a significant minority refuses to respect law and order, the illusion breaks down and lawlessness is easily married with impunity - this is, after all, the principle behind civil disobedience. 'Rioting' is cathartic, and when a critical mass of people is reached, it is also strangely easy, especially in a state where the government is unwilling to turn its full capacity for violence on its own people. But sometimes there is no easy path that is also morally justifiable.
When all is said and done, something needs to change about the system. The 'rioting' is an immediate problem that needs to be solved; the 'rioting' is also a symptom of a larger problem. For too long we have looked down our noses at the youths roaming the streets in loud, rowdy gangs, dismissing them as stupid 'street trash' who will never amount to anything, and never looking at the reasons they are this way. We forget that they are also looking at us looking at them, and we forget that they feel our disdain and react in anger. We forget that they are human too. That the riots have called our attention to this does not absolve the rioters of responsibility, for to make that argument would be to once again deny the agency of these youths; it has merely reminded us that we are responsible too. We cannot stand apart from the riots and judge, for we were complicit as well.
Some point to the structural marginalisation of disaffected youths, with little in terms of a future and job prospects, ignored and condemned by society, suspicious of the authorities who have always been suspicious of them, who have no voice, frustrations to vent and nothing to lose. They say that this violence was only a matter of time. Others call the violence plain hooliganism with immoral, opportunistic looters simply out to get goods for free. They say that these youths have had every opportunity to better themselves but have chosen not to out of pure laziness, and that socio-economic justifications for the violence are pure hogwash. Still others resort to the 'culture' argument, talking about the breakdown in values and the failure of parents to instill the correct values in their kids.
I think that there are structural factors underlying the violence. It is true that these youths feel as if they have been marginalised, and that they have no stake in this society. To a large extent their frustrations are justified. However, the fact that there are structural causes of the violence does not take away the moral responsibility of the perpetrators for what they have done. A cause is not a justification. That they chose to vent their frustrations in this way, that they chose to acquire a voice in this way, that they chose to drown that voice in the clamour of greed and selfishness and thoughtlessness, that they chose to hurt others who were largely innocent of any wrongdoing - these are choices that are not acceptable. Yes, they were dealt a bad hand, but this does not automatically exempt them from making the right choices, and I fully support dealing harshly with them, if the state's resources allow.
The presence of law and order in any state is always an illusion predicated on the acquiescence of its population. When even a significant minority refuses to respect law and order, the illusion breaks down and lawlessness is easily married with impunity - this is, after all, the principle behind civil disobedience. 'Rioting' is cathartic, and when a critical mass of people is reached, it is also strangely easy, especially in a state where the government is unwilling to turn its full capacity for violence on its own people. But sometimes there is no easy path that is also morally justifiable.
When all is said and done, something needs to change about the system. The 'rioting' is an immediate problem that needs to be solved; the 'rioting' is also a symptom of a larger problem. For too long we have looked down our noses at the youths roaming the streets in loud, rowdy gangs, dismissing them as stupid 'street trash' who will never amount to anything, and never looking at the reasons they are this way. We forget that they are also looking at us looking at them, and we forget that they feel our disdain and react in anger. We forget that they are human too. That the riots have called our attention to this does not absolve the rioters of responsibility, for to make that argument would be to once again deny the agency of these youths; it has merely reminded us that we are responsible too. We cannot stand apart from the riots and judge, for we were complicit as well.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Phone hacking!
Phone hacking: Hunt worried Murdoch 'was not told'
There're quite a number of people who don't believe the Murdochs' 'ignorant & betrayed' defence. I don't know really, I think it's not as clear-cut as that. I thnk in a big organisation, responsibility & judgement becomes diffused almost. It's too easy to 'choose to know as little as possible', or see dubious practices as 'the way things are done', or to decide to 'let someone else think about it because I've got more urgent things on my plate'. All those little sins of negligence that culminate in a significant wrong. I'm not surprised that something like this could happen, and I think that while the specific crime might not be the same, malpractices, large or small, are probably present in any big organisation. When in a large enough group, the crime of many becomes the crime of none.
Jeremy Hunt has said News Corporation still has questions to answer about why Rupert Murdoch and other executives did not know about the extent of phone hacking at the News of the World.
There're quite a number of people who don't believe the Murdochs' 'ignorant & betrayed' defence. I don't know really, I think it's not as clear-cut as that. I thnk in a big organisation, responsibility & judgement becomes diffused almost. It's too easy to 'choose to know as little as possible', or see dubious practices as 'the way things are done', or to decide to 'let someone else think about it because I've got more urgent things on my plate'. All those little sins of negligence that culminate in a significant wrong. I'm not surprised that something like this could happen, and I think that while the specific crime might not be the same, malpractices, large or small, are probably present in any big organisation. When in a large enough group, the crime of many becomes the crime of none.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
My Bucket List
1. Create a collection of perfume that I really love
2. Visit Scotland as many times as I like
3. Read about the history of Scotland
4. Never feel trapped
5. Have a month-long (real) holiday somewhere I don’t usually live
6. Write a non-academic book
7. Share a good bottle of wine with a good friend at least once a month
8. Travel somewhere at least twice a year
9. Visit Italy again
10. Read at least 1 ‘fun’ book every month
11. Have at least 1 splurge meal every month
12. Always look out for new music to listen to
13. Go for a concert or play at least once a year
2. Visit Scotland as many times as I like
3. Read about the history of Scotland
4. Never feel trapped
5. Have a month-long (real) holiday somewhere I don’t usually live
6. Write a non-academic book
7. Share a good bottle of wine with a good friend at least once a month
8. Travel somewhere at least twice a year
9. Visit Italy again
10. Read at least 1 ‘fun’ book every month
11. Have at least 1 splurge meal every month
12. Always look out for new music to listen to
13. Go for a concert or play at least once a year
Monday, April 04, 2011
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Poor whale :(
The Loneliest Mystery of the Deep
For the last 12 years, a single solitary whale whose vocalizations match no known living species has been tracked across the Northeast Pacific. Its wanderings match no known migratory patterns of any living whale species. Its vocalizations have also subtly deepened over the years, indicating that the whale is maturing and ageing. And, during the entire 12 year span that it has been tracked, it has been calling out for contact from others of its own kind.
It has received no answer. Nor will it ever.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sleepy shopping
I often go grocery shopping when I'm sleepy and have lots of work to do, on the assumption that I'll have no time to cook, and will need to food to keep me awake. Unfortunately, this means I often go shopping while half asleep and preoccupied with thoughts other than 'Do I need milk?'
Anyhoos, that's what happened today, and I wasn't really thinking about what I was taking off the shelves until I checked out:
1. 1 small tub of chocolate swirl ice-cream
2. 1 bottle of Coke
3. 1 bottle of Diet Coke
4. 2 cans of Red Bull
5. Tiramisu
Comfort food + Caffeine. I have my priorities straight.
-------------------------------------------------------
Woohoo new blog design! I was a bit sick of the old bimbotic pink one, and wanted something a bit more sober, calmer, quieter... you know, to reflect my all grown up personality now. Also, my eyes ached from looking at the old design. Ah, the perils of growing old...
Anyhoos, that's what happened today, and I wasn't really thinking about what I was taking off the shelves until I checked out:
1. 1 small tub of chocolate swirl ice-cream
2. 1 bottle of Coke
3. 1 bottle of Diet Coke
4. 2 cans of Red Bull
5. Tiramisu
Comfort food + Caffeine. I have my priorities straight.
-------------------------------------------------------
Woohoo new blog design! I was a bit sick of the old bimbotic pink one, and wanted something a bit more sober, calmer, quieter... you know, to reflect my all grown up personality now. Also, my eyes ached from looking at the old design. Ah, the perils of growing old...
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Billie Holiday, Audrey Tatou and Chanel No. 5
To be honest, I like the song more than the commercial.
Friday, February 04, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Return to Aberystwyth
The train ride to Aberystwyth has the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. Everytime I take the train, the scenery's a little different. The last time I took the train, it was early morning, and the fields and valleys were mist-shrouded in the semi-darkness. When I came back to Aberystwyth after the summer, it was a fiery sunset bursting through grey-blue clouds. This time, the trees were still bare from the cold, but the fields were covered with grass, and the glaring January sun had to shine through dusty train windows.
I couldn't manage to upload the video directly to blogger *shakes fist*, so I had to upload it on youtube first. And of course, I managed to capture the most boring bit of scenery. There were also quaint little cottages and flocks of sheep running away, startled by the train, and a whole - flock isn't even the word now - horde of ducks in the marshes, and horses, and sun-drenched valleys, and shadows of clouds on the hills. And then when the train nears Aberystwyth, the land flattens out into wide plains, and meandering rivers, surrounded by a wide berth of hills. When I finally stepped into my room, I was greeted by a rainbow of colours thrown by the crystals I'd hung at my window.
I couldn't manage to upload the video directly to blogger *shakes fist*, so I had to upload it on youtube first. And of course, I managed to capture the most boring bit of scenery. There were also quaint little cottages and flocks of sheep running away, startled by the train, and a whole - flock isn't even the word now - horde of ducks in the marshes, and horses, and sun-drenched valleys, and shadows of clouds on the hills. And then when the train nears Aberystwyth, the land flattens out into wide plains, and meandering rivers, surrounded by a wide berth of hills. When I finally stepped into my room, I was greeted by a rainbow of colours thrown by the crystals I'd hung at my window.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Quirkiness
I love looking at other people's homes, especially when they're as lovely and creative as this one.
However, what really got me was this - "The stabby thing is a frog spear from Erie Basin that I gave to Robin as an anniversary gift".
If anybody gives me a frog spear for any reason, whatever the occasion is (well, unless it's a frog-spearing occasion. But. Unlikely.), I will use it to stab the gifter and consider it an appropriate use of the amphibian-murdering weapon.
I'm just not quirky enough.
However, what really got me was this - "The stabby thing is a frog spear from Erie Basin that I gave to Robin as an anniversary gift".
If anybody gives me a frog spear for any reason, whatever the occasion is (well, unless it's a frog-spearing occasion. But. Unlikely.), I will use it to stab the gifter and consider it an appropriate use of the amphibian-murdering weapon.
I'm just not quirky enough.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
The Great Bedroom Backtrack
On the other hand, who am I kidding - I'd love to have a glamorous bedroom like this!
Moodboards for Living
I've been playing with the moodboards on the mydeco boutique. (note: it's actually a competition) Methinks I actually have a certain style that I kind of gravitate towards. Behold:
Moodboard 1:
Moodboard 2:
I don't really like styles that are overly minimalistic (e.g. all-white houses) or ornate (e.g. too many chandeliers, gilded furniture, & embroidered cushions). I kinda dig the casual-playful-eclectic styles. Something that's easy to live in.
Ah... the nesting instincts.
Moodboard 1:
Moodboard 2:
I don't really like styles that are overly minimalistic (e.g. all-white houses) or ornate (e.g. too many chandeliers, gilded furniture, & embroidered cushions). I kinda dig the casual-playful-eclectic styles. Something that's easy to live in.
Ah... the nesting instincts.
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Sobering thought
I think I'll need to start writing more, not just assignments, but in general. I'm starting to find that writing doesn't come as easily to me as it once did. This is partly because I'm writing denser (& hopefully more sophisticated) arguments, partly because the stakes are higher and I'm therefore more cautious about what I write. But it's also because I don't write as much anymore, on my blog or for assignments. Yes, I write much longer papers now, but I don't write as MANY papers. I need to get into the habit of writing stuff / nonsense again.
Saturday, December 04, 2010
I remember you as you were, Pablo Neruda
I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.
I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.
Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.
Pablo Neruda
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.
I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.
Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.
Pablo Neruda
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)