Dead Letter

Dear Indi-of-the-Past,

We have completed (however satisfactorily) our first year of university.

Has the way we percieve ourself changed? Has the way we percieve life changed? I don't know.

But we have gained perspective.

University is not that big a deal. It is not the end of the world, not even the unbreakable walled path to a specific, singular career.

It is frightening. But it means us no harm.

We have met people. Interesting people. We have realised it is not imperative to fit in straight away. That there is a peace and comfort in solitude. And companionship in a crowd.

We have realised there is time. We have learnt that living each moment like your last, that keen awareness of one's mortality, does not mean one must achieve all their goals NOW. To know, to see, to have, NOW. It means appreciating what one DOES have now and all those tiny, fleeting instances only your soul will truly remember. Like the colours in the sky. Like the feeling of running. Like ringing up a friend, or sitting with your dad, or making hot chocolate on the stove with your sister, late late at night, when you can't study any more.

We've learnt InDesign is a LINKING PROGRAM. That Illustrator is a VECTOR BASED PROGRAM. That we must walk before we run and it isn't about manipulating the medium to suit your purpose, but allowing the medium TO manipulate your purpose.

That patience
is
key.

That compassion
is
all.

That we are 18.

That we must be realistic and forgiving of ourselves.

So, we have learnt alot.

Dearest Indi, you were so nervous about the future. But we have come so far. And so much has changed.

Jay is happy in Canberra and we are so happy in turn. I see her becoming a brilliant architect, or at least some sort of creator. Ess-dear will heal the world. She seems to be enjoying her degree and I believe it suits her perfectly. And she recently got a job too! Opposite Tea's apartment, would you believe!
Tea is still searching for her calling. She is confused. She has been through a truly tumultous year, full of shadows, wavering incadescent light and explosions of sunshine. I feel she will be searching for a while. Like us all, I suppose. She'll find a path soon enough. And we intend to be there.

We went opshopping the other day for the first time in months. We salvaged a few cds from the messy rows, all with cloudy, smudged, plastic covers.

Mum was dubious as to their quality, of course. But I've imported them and they're all fine. Something tells me I should return them all again, for someone else to find. Maybe I'll leave a note in their covers, maybe to tell them to come here. A cycle.

But I would like to keep one, I think. It is green - nicely designed. The Rasmus' Dead Letters. I would like to keep it because I opened it up and it spoke to me. A passage of small white writing against stormy green on the jacket says that:

"A DEAD LETTER IS A

LETTER THAT HAS

NEVER BEEN

DELIVERED BECAUSE

THE PERSON TO WHOM

IT WAS WRITTEN

CANNOT BE FOUND,

AND IT ALSO CANNOT BE

RETURNED TO THE

PERSON WHO WROTE IT".

I imagine a world of dead letters, hanging in space. I imagine victims of war or devastastion. A dark limbo of dead letters.

And I suppose I fling this letter out to you, into the void, to hang there too.

All my love,

Indi.

So

I haven't blogged in a very, very long time.

(Luckily, no one really cares 'cos no one really reads this!)

BUT

I am avoiding Uni work. Specifically 9 Learning Journal Chapters, a website to be constructed using only TextEdit (or whatever it's called), technical printmaking research, conceptual printmaking research, research for a quiz, research for another quiz, my writing portfolio, drawing, and probably something else.

Mm.

I am on the third last day of my two week mid-semester break and have nothing done. Sigh.

Also, at the mo, contemplating my spirituality and the mortality of immortality.

Hm.

I can't wait for the summer holidays. I can't wait to lay with Tea, Jay and Ess on the grass and look up into the night sky and contemplate our existence and the possibility of a pineapple empire.

And I can't wait for Tatjana Jones and the Saucer Man to hit cinemas for the Christmas holiday season.

Thoughts, incoherencies

I can't wait for Persephone.

Today I was reminded that the world is not only full of black and white, but blue, green, red, yellow, orange, vermillion, magenta, marigold, silver, turquoise, amber, grey, jade, lilac, lapis luzuli, bronze, cream, brown, pink and every colour in between, and that every one is different and beautiful. How lucky we are. How lucky we are to be in a world so beautiful.

And yes there is bad. There is lots and lots of bad. But bad is only a vaccum. It's just the absence of good.

Or is it?

Another thought- black is created when all the colours are absorbed. And white is when all are reflected. So if you follow the 'white is good and pure and black equates to badness' thing, then in order to be good perhaps the key is to reflect all you love and think is beautiful, rather than absorbing them and hording them away.

But who's to say black is the colour of darkness anyway? And who's to say darkness is bad? Or IS darkness bad, a word formulated to describe those frightened feelings surrounding that shrouded figure in the night. Then we mustn't confuse darkness with black, the night and shadows.



All you need take from this is that we are blessed, and all you need to remind yourself is a look at the sky.

quickie

Only fellow Illustrator novices can understand the gentle satisfaction that comes when the pen tool co-operates for the first time.

Peaceful sigh, and curtains close.

ATTENTION! ATTENZIONE!

MISSES CASHEW, SPARROW, ESS

My fellow creatives,

This is a matter of dire importance!!

Your mission: to see Henry Selick's Coraline.

Pricey but necessary.

Then you must return so we can discuss the formulation of our own independant, minature, stop motion studio.


Warning: it IS very creepy and can be VERY sinister. But it's also beautiful, so so beautiful. The music, the animation....

'At Last' (or, a micro entry for the faint hearted)

A moment for weary celebration -

I FINALLY finished downloading a trial version of Adobe Illustrator CS4 for my Visual Communication Technology assignment. It took 3 days.

And I can also almost play Clocks with my eyes closed. (!!!!!)

dead egg

This morning mum lifted the woolen blanket covering Sir Norbert's cage to find he had laid an egg. We had suspected Sir Norbert was female, but Little Sis and I had maintained she be called 'Sir Norbert' nonetheless. But now our gender-ambiguous cockatiel isn't gender-ambiguous anymore, mum's pressing for 'Norbie', or at least 'Lady Norbert', but I figure - why can't ladies be Sir anyway? And Sir Norbert had a nice ring to it.

The egg is very small and blushed with the faintest pink, and Sir Norbert seems to like playing soccer with it. We're not banking on immaculate conception; we know its a dead egg, and even if there had of been a Mr Sir Norbert, it probably would have died in the cold last night anyway.

Now we don't know what to do with it. I think I read somewhere that dead eggs can have a psychological effect on birds, because they never hatch. I want to remove it from the cage - she seems to have detached herself from it already. But I don't know if I want to touch it. It doesn't seem right.

I don't want to feel the cold alabaster of that tiny egg. It'd feel like death itself, in all its unassuming manner.

Sir Norbert seems rather bemused by this thing, both part of her and not. Thankfully she's young.



I have to work soon, so I'll make this quick:

That grey creature, anxiety, has been gnawing at my stomach ever since we came back to uni. I really must find a better way to deal with stress. I want to do yoga again.

I rescued our dusty old keyboard from the questionable, dark domain beneath Little Sis's bed. I cleaned it up and found a power pack for it, and I can almost play the opening part of Clocks. It's amazing. I haven't the longest attention span, even for things that interest me, even when watching a good film - my mind is forever inclined to wander. But I must have kneeled before that keyboard for at least half an hour, my mind completely engrossed by the keys and the sounds emanating from them, without my mind wandering at all. No matter how often I stuffed up, I just kept going. And going and going. And I didn't get frustrated once. It felt wonderful.

Ummm.....

I want Jet's new album.

I went to a Gallery with Ess.

I wrote a crummy story.

I bought a 2nd hand book called 'The Tao of Physics' which I am very excited about.

Annnndddd....

I have lots of work (uni and otherwise) to sink my reluctant teeth into.

Mucho love!