Past 6000

ALSO, we got past 6000 views! Wahey!

My cut-out-and-keep guide to Whether Or Not You Are Pretentious

Good afternoon, younguns.

Today I would like to talk about a fine line. This fine line is actually not so fine, because most people manage to see it and stay on the right side of it and not piss everyone off. Some people don't. Some people need it to be drawn on their faces with permanent marker (although would probably end up looking too meta for words).
I should mention that I am home alone, and it's raining with the strength of a thousand suns and there's thunder and all of it is going to my head and making me full of pent-up excitement. I want to go dancing. Someone take me dancing.

Anyway, this line is the fine line between artiness and douchiness. I have a checklist. See below:

You are a pretentious douchebag if: 

• You use other people's quotes inappropriately to make yourself seem wise. 
• Example: "Hope you're having a good weekend. Remember: nothing is without reason, not even nothing. Laters."
• You call yourself all sorts of things you are clearly not. Being a 'photographer' is the worst of this. If you are a photographer, that means that you photograph things as a profession. That is your job. If you occasionally take black-and-white photographs of food, you are not a photographer. 
• Example: "Oh yes, well I'm a journalist-artist-musician-photographer-juggler who works full-time at 7-Eleven." 
• You answer the question "what is your favourite book" with a literary tome that people have written 20000 volumes on and spent centuries analysing. 
• Side note to these people: I bet you a billion dollars that you prefer the Hunger Games to Plato's Republic in your spare time. Most people do. 
• You respond to any criticism by becoming a pseudo-psychologist.
• Example: "And here is my most modern work, 'Light bouncing off crushed coke can'. You don't like it? Hm, well I would say you are feeling neglected in your own life, vulnerable and likely to commit suicide by vacuum cleaner - my work is my expression, man, you didn't have to bring your negativity into it."
• You are Cole Sprouse (child-celebrity from "Sweet Life of Zack and Cody" turned self-obsessed poser). Look at his douchey tumblr here.  

There. That is my rant. Farewell!

Island Thoughts

It's Sunday and I am at Stradbroke Island. It may sound like a gay bar, but it is in fact an island off the coast of Australia, a quaint island that, every summer, attracts a pleasant buzz of tourists who invade in flocks like mosquitos. But now, it is Sunday, and everyone is going home for the beginning of term, so Stradbroke is returning to what I would assume is normal off-peak life. There are only 2000 people on this island, those who live here constantly anyway, and I keep thinking how funny it must be to live in a town that small. Imagine, you can't sneeze without everyone knowing when, where, snot coverage, etc. Wherever there's a small cluster of shops or cafes, the few teenagers glide magnetically towards it and all stand around in beachy clothes, looking bored in the way that we teenagers have so perfected. It must be funny to know that in another season all the tourists will wash in like tides and, for a few weeks, it will be like you're not in a tiny place, surrounded by ocean and Noreen's clothes shop (a real place).

These are my musings. Also, if you were looking for something to get stuck in your head, fear no more.

Mood Songs

As always, I have a bizarre and eclectic mix of music to present to you. Also, if you find yourself feeling angsty/miserable/overjoyed/horny/enraged/embarrassed/anyotheremotionunderthesun and have no music to adequately express your feelings, I would suggest stereomood.

Obscenely happy: Cassi - George Barnett

Contemplative: Underground - Washington

Ravey/party-esque: One More Chance - remix by Alex Metric 

I hope they please you (master).

That reminds me - sadly I will not be able to go to Woodford Music Festival (one of my favourite places) this year, but I am going to Big Day Out in January, and will see the likes of the Killers, Childish Gambino and Vampire Weekend. Golly gee I love how Australia, amongst all the poisonous creatures, happen to host a ton of groovy festivals. Wahey!

I'm back.

Guess the title announces my big news. For most of you, the few that you are, those who occasionally think "hey, wonder if Anna is still alive" or maybe just "well, I'm bored enough to eat my own eyelids, better check that blog I somehow found", this won't be huge news. But I'm happy to announce it - I am unequivocally, interminably, irresistibly back, and this time I won't ever leave you, I promise. I feel like the scumbag father who went out to get a pint of milk and never came home.

I won't talk about mocks. They were a big, exam-y mess, as one might expect. Yet, in a months time, I'll be doing the real thing, 14 exams and then... freedom. A big open world of everything that is waiting to be grabbed by the balls and manhandled. And I intend on doing an awful lot of manhandling. I'll be travelling, or maybe wandering is a better word, across many places of the globe, including but not limited to Greece, Holland, England, France, Ghana, South Africa. And I intend to use this blog as my chief manhandling record. Hopefully I can find in me the stamina and wordiness to keep track of all my observations, thoughts, friends and madness on the way. This will become one of those awful travel blogs; I'll have to change the name to "Holy Hell, Where Is Anna Now?!" and post lots of photos of me grinning psychotically in front of famous landmarks and eating food. If you ever visit this blog to find a giant picture of me, smothered in black pudding, arm in arm with Archibald, my only-slightly criminally insane hostel-neighbour who stuffs cats and bakes things into pie crusts, please alert the authorities.

I've been writing quite a bit. In fact, I have, in the short few months I have been away, decided that writing - in some form or another - is what I would very much like to do with my life. And before you don spectacles, lean in close enough for me to smell your aftershave (Eau de Superiority) and chuckle "but my dear, there's no work for writers in this modern day world!", hold your horses. In fact, banish them to the stables. I have, contrary to my usual style of doing things, thought about the fact that people are steadily becoming more interested in pixels than pages, and I have attempted to address this fact. I will not be dropping out of everything ever to become a tortured artist, but instead go into the realm of writing, publishing, journalism, et cetera, et cetera and be versatile, dahling, versatile. ALSO, I will be doing business studies, so I will be able to wear lady suits and blossom into a beautiful butterfly child of capitalist society.
Anywhoo, if you wish to read what I write, click on this picture of a penguin.

Also, I hope you like the new makeover. Very mature, I know. There are even birds flapping across the page, perhaps to symbolise my sprouting of wings and doddering off, like a fat toddler. Or maybe I like birds. Point is, it may look all grown up and white, but inside I am just as multi-coloured and bizarre as I have always been. This look does not condemn me in any way to a life of sensibleness, never fear.

Cheerio until next time*,

A.


(* Oh my god. I typed my usual cheery goodbye line, then figured, hmm, people say TTFN (meaning tata for now), so why can't I make my goodbye an acronym too? Then I typed it, and realised why.)