Hi, I'm Not Dead.

Once upon a time I kept a weekly blog. During this mystical, magical time, I had whole Sundays to think about ideas, to write and edit and find pictures and generally be good at things. That time has ended.

Now we live in the dark times. Since the great reckoning, blog posts have been scarce, a thing of deep memory, of myth. There are some who question whether they ever happened at all. And those people are kinda dumb, to be honest, because it’s only been a month, sheesh.

So I don’t really have the brainpower to write anything too funny or clever, but I did just want to check back in and say HI I’M NOT DEAD and PLEASE DON’T STOP LOVING ME and other various things in caps.

So… hi, I’m not dead. Please don’t stop loving me. Here is what I’ve been doing since the last blog:

Teaching. Oh god, so much teaching. Prac teaching has been an incredible experience, I’ve taught whole days, multiple grades at once, cool science stuff, lame grammar stuff, some in between history stuff… whatever. I’ve made incredible leaps and bounds in my teaching, wonderful connections with kids, and a terrarium for some reason. 

Admittedly not a very good one.

·      All the other stuff that goes with teaching. I’ve been getting up super early, and planning late into the night. I’ve been photocopying everything I can get my hands on and giving up lunch times because kids are naughty. I’ve cried (only the once), I’ve laughed, I’ve hyperventilated, and I’ve sung instructions in stupid voices so that kids actually do what I’m asking them to do. 

Oh hey, that's me.

·      ASSignments. To be honest, I know that real life teaching is going to be super stressful, but it seems to me that doing that and then NOT having to write 5000 words about how I am doing that would be really good. So yeah, bring on the end to assignments. I’ve just finished two absolutely massive ones, but I have two more absolutely massive ones to start this week. Kill me.

Ok I know this looks like colouring-in but it was actually a really difficult assignment.

·      Baking. It makes me feel better, as discussed.

·      Buying a new laptop. One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging is because I knocked a bottle of water over my old faithful girl, the macbook in a red case I’ve been carrying around with me for almost five years. She spluttered, she coughed, and she died. I think I might actually write a eulogy to that beautiful machine for the next blog post I manage to write. Because while I love my new one, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same without that old white box.

·      Working on a musical. Yeah. I know, what. Boyfriend is directing the school musical. It starts tomorrow. Mostly my job is putting microphones on students, telling them to stop talking backstage and wading through their sweat to take the mics off again. It’s a good time.

Let's play, "Guess the Musical!"

·      Sleeping. A+. Would recommend.

·      Watching Game of Thrones. Super pissed about Cersei/Jaime/ the showrunners’ general lack of faith that their audience can understand nuanced characterisations. But still enjoying it very much. Though if I see another scene with Loras flirting with literally every man in Westeros one more time I’m going to hurl a brick at HBO. He’s meant to be heartbroken, you guys fail at queer characters ok bye.

·      ??

Yeah so, that’s me. I’ve missed blogging with every fibre of my being that isn’t devoted to all those other things. But I’ve honestly been working seven days a week, every week, for some months now. And it’s not about to stop. I have my fourth and final prac starting at the end of this coming week, three assignments and an exam and THEN I’ll be done. Also I have to be backstage in a musical for the next week. Basically, what I’m saying is, I’m not dead, please don’t stop loving me, and let’s reconvene in a another couple of weeks.

Until then, blogaroos.

xx

The Uncomplex yet Perfect Relationship of me and Lizzy King (We are not in Love) - Guest Post by Kyle Walmsley

Today's (late) blog comes to us from Kyle Walmsley.

I live in Darwin. I am writing this blog in Queensland. Which is where Lizzy lives. Which is poignant. I won’t be seeing Lizzy while I’m here. I’ll tell you why.  I first met Lizzy King when I was running a small bookshop in Notting Hill and she was a famous actress shooting her latest movie and I happened to spill orange juice all over myself and her.

This was not how Lizzy King and I met. That’s the plot of Notting Hill. We’re also not in love. As far as I know. No. We’re not in love.. In fact we’re not even close friends. In fact I hate that bitch. Woah. Sorry, that’s not true. But our relationship isn’t as complex as Hugh Grant’s and Julia Roberts in Notting Hill… which isn’t that complex to start with… which is what I’m writing about today as guest blogger – the uncomplex relationship of Lizzy and myself through the power of social media and words.

Lizzy and I aren’t close friends. That seems like quite a stinging statement, even though I thought about it and practiced it. I really like Lizzy. She’s funny, and clever, has mad theatre skills, we both love comedy and the Kransky Sisters. In fact, our journeys matched up quite strangely the same – we both moved from Brisbane to nowhere, different nowhere, in order to embrace a change and take a break from city living.  

So why aren’t we close friends? I remember growing up, girls especially, seemed to always be pressured into having a best friend. Or a few best friends. In the theatre too, everyone likes to greet everyone with the biggest loudest, “DARLING!!!” you can manage across the room, and introduce everyone as “THIS IS ANDREA SHE’S SIMPLY THE MOST FABULOUS BEST PERSON YOU’LL EVER MEET AND I LOVE HER AND SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND!”. Which is full of insincerity and cheapens real connections. Who I want to fly a flag for are not best friends. I want to fly a flag for those friends who you don’t ever see. Those from whom you aren’t drifting further apart from, but are in fact quite stably and comfortably secured in the perimeters of their consciousness, with no guilt or anxiety about having to climb the ranks of their priority list.

My Facebook feed is made up of three categories: 1) close friends, 2) mentals and 3) Lizzy Kings.  Let me go through these for you now for a little deepening in understanding.

1) Close friends – these are people in my real life that I know. I often see them. I work with them. I know when they’re lying on Facebook, I know when they are seeking out attention, I don’t really care what they’re up to on Facebook because I’ll either see them in real life soon and hear about it, or am involved in what they’re Facebooking about.

2) Mentals – Include people I actively seek out for my own disturbing amusement. People like Annika, a 24 year old mother of three, who has lots of fights with her on again off again boyfriend via her facebook statuses and as I look over now to see what her status is it reads “F**k off you geriatric b*tch, don’t tell me “you know” how to handle my child. You’re opinion is completely unwanted here.” .  People like Steven, 28, who insist that money isn’t real, and that you are actually able to pay bills, fines and government institutions with a piece of paper that is signed and reads “this is legal tender”.

3) Lizzy Kings - These are people that I know, have shared some sort of experience with and now exist only in my news feed. I see them in real life… never. I live in a different state, a different time zone, and here’s the real hard truth – will likely not see them again, outside of bumping into them at the in the street or theatre… or the Gatton local bachelor and spinster’s ball.

These are called the Lizzy Kings because Lizzy King is the model for this category. We met in 2010, creating poetry on stage as part of a creative team that brought an independent show to Metro Arts in Brisbane. Then Lizzy became my favourite person in the world by working her connections to get me a free ticket to The Kranksy Sisters at the Powerhouse. We laughed. We cried. We fell in love again. With the Kransky Sisters. 

And that was it. That was the last time I saw Lizzy. And it’s not because I did a poo in her letterbox, or we fell out of love (we were never in love), it’s just that in life things happen, people end up in different places in the world, and some people are closer than others.

Now here’s the interesting thing. Twenty years ago, had you wanted to keep in contact with a Lizzy King, you’d have to really make an effort – write letters or use the telephone (that’s right, TELEphone… because that’s what they called phones back then). THESE DAYS every week I have a new insight and understanding of Lizzy – through this very blog and her Facebook and her postings on both. I know lots of things about her, her likes and dislikes, political opinions, and what’s she’s been up to. If I were stalking her through a dating profile website, I could totally make the conversation on our first date amazing thanks to all the interest and study I could do around her (once again, not in love). And not just Lizzy but ALL Lizzys. I know intimate details and feelings about people that I haven’t seen in years. We exchange birthday thankyous – share occasional memories of meetings past and frequently ‘like’ each others outward creative expressions… but that’s it.

And it’s awesome. In fact it’s my preference. You get to uphold images of people in your mind with just the good bits, and the filter they choose to use to broadcast to the world, heck knows, I certainly wish I could take a few relationships and erase out the boring, or frustrating bits or the bits where they got to see me have a tantrum or embarrass myself. It’s totally non-committal – I can check in on the other person whenever I feel like it, and they me. And even if they’re sick of hearing from me, I can still check in on them. It’s perfect. It’s true love (it’s not true love).

Please note – the reason this blog is late is because I didn’t submit it on time. Whatever. It’s not like I’m ever going to see Lizzy for her to get me in trouble. (Editor's note - no, but you did give me free reign with the photo...)

Kyle Walmsley circa 2010 when we knew each other IRL - Photo by Amelia Dowd. 

Kyle Walmsley is an actor and writer based in Darwin in the Northern Territory. He writes his own blog at www.imverytiredandcranky.blogspot.com

In Real Life (tm)

I can sing a rainbow...

A little while ago I told you that the Internet is my religion. And it is. I wrote a whole blog about it so it must be true.

But let me tell you a little something about real life.

Real life is where hugs happen. It’s where hands can be held, faces can be squished and group huddles can be formed.

In real life last weekend I got to see my dad and my mum. I got to cuddle with my mum and talk about life at 11pm and have breakfast with her the next day. I got to encourage my dad to flush my brother’s fish, Anakin, down the toilet, and encourage my mum not to buy a new fish and try to pass it off as Anakin. In real life, my brother named his fish Anakin, because in real life, my brother is a hero.

In real life I went on a roadtrip with an old friend and a new friend. The old friend’s name is Tim, and the new friend’s name is Beth. Beth and I met on the Internet a few months ago, but in real life on the weekend, we got to meet with our faces. Once again proving that the Internet is awesome, sure, but nothing quite beats real life. Tim and Beth and I went to a place called the Macadamia Castle.  It is a castle. It has a giant knight out the front. It sells macadamias.

In real life we bought hats from a castle

Beth's hair is masquerading here as my beard

In real life I went to Grafton, and drank tea, and saw people I met in Newcastle, and drank tea, and met new people, and drank tea, and got to meet most of my internet friends, and wished Alex a very happy 21st, and talked and laughed and drank champagne. At the tea party I got to meet people who I follow on tumblr, and twitter, and people who like the same things I do, and people who are into things I don’t understand (like Eurovision) and people who make me laugh and… people. Someone said, “it’s the internet in real life!” – and they were right.

In real life I got to watch Muppet Treasure Island with 20 other supposed adults, and lay on the floor in a big heap of blankets and pillow pets and cuddles and was happy. I got to sleep on the floor with the same 20 people and giggle hysterically at Charlie saying “now Lizzy, don’t get any ideas” and zipping himself tightly into a sleeping bag. “If you try anything my sleeping bag will protect me”.

In real life there was bacon. And more tea. And quiet morning chats in the garden. And collaborative kaleidoscopes.

There was more roadtripping with Beth and Tim and now with 100% more Noni. There was new music to discover, and old music to sing along to, and harmonising with one of my favourite friends. There were silly chats and serious discussions and introducing Noni to Queensland.

There was seeing Boyfriend again after 9 days of Boyfriendlessness. And Indian food. And late night drives with The Hobbit audio book and chocolate.

But all of this is overshadowed by the first point: in real life there are hugs, and the Internet, for all its glory, will never be as good as hugs.

Converted

Clearly that is stained glass...

Internet is the new religion.

We worship at altars named Safari and Chrome and Firefox daily, and some old-fashioned people still worship at an old decrepit relic known as Internet Explorer. We connect through personal reflection on smart phones every few hours.

Personally, I live in the way of the Internet; everything I do is of the Internet, for the Internet and to the glory of the Internet. I love it and it loves me. Sometimes, the Internet punishes me for reasons I don’t quite understand. I do not question when the Internet shows me unending cat gifs or Sherlock/Watson fanfic, for the Internet moves in mysterious ways. The Internet knows best.

I pay a part of my monthly income to the Internet and it forms a part of my professional, social and family lives. Without it I am lost, wandering in the desert, helpless.

Trolls and cyber bullies try to misuse the Internet. They start holy flame wars and try to blame their problems on the Internet. But the Internet can be used for good; for charity, for helping others and raising awareness. It can be used to spread love and joy, happiness and fun. This is the true way of the Internet, and those who walk in the light know this in their hearts and hard drives.

The Internet is not like most, modern religions; it celebrates sex and sexuality. In fact it’s kind of pagan in its worship of all things sex.

The Internet has its own community of worshippers, brought together by the glory of the Internet, to bask in its love and share its joy with one another. I have many friends with whom I share a deep connection due to our shared love of the Internet. We met through the Internet, and worship daily together.

I am zealous in my conversion of others. I will enthusiastically show them videos and pictures when we meet IRL (In Real Life – a sad existence sans Internet) and discuss the merits of my favourite ways to worship – Twitter, Tumblr, my blog. I am always glad and excited when I help someone to become even closer to the Internet. And the Internet rewards me when I do this by giving me a new follower, a new person to interact with, a new reader.

The Internet is open to interpretation, and is its own holy text.

The Internet sent a prophet to us, his name is Stephen Fry and he is the one, true embodiment of the Internet.

The Internet’s most holy ritual is the scrolling through and checking of one’s entire feed.

The Internet’s most holy image changes regularly, as it is the Google Home Page.

The Internet’s most holy animal is the cat.

All hail the Internet.