There’s a trail of tropicO’s around my house at the moment.

I’ve been humming the Tom Jones/Cardigans version of ‘Burning Down the House’ for about a week now.

There’s a Paul Simon CD under the CD player in the car. The speakers aren’t working. I’m using the “If you build it, he will come” method of Getting Things Done.

Catstagram makes me happy.

Cynical thought association during a commercial break on what feels like another Monday night

– Get a dog. You’re single. Buy this food, or it will get fat. So will you. Then you’ll never find a husband.

– You are fat. Buy into our new fad. You are not worthy.

– If you owned this car, you would find yourself basking in the wonder of the wilderness with extremely attractive and well styled friends. You will be socially accepted.

– INSECTS! Single mothers, buy this bug spray. Rebellion serves as further proof that you are failing your children. You need to find a man.

– Buy this car, and your IQ will increase. Along with your ego. If you buy any other car, you are stupid.

– I can’t write about that vampire film.

– Here’s an ad for the television show about to resume. Now we’re just showing off.

All that is missing is National Geographic, August 1992

I have been unable to pinpoint the catalyst. Annual Shedding of Youth Day? New Years Day? Monday?

To date, 2011 feels like a strange year. The year to end an era.

A number of important dates are pencilled (some are engraved) in my calendar. Many of them mark significant transitions. The end of a tumultuous time for a loved one. The end of childhood in my generation of my family. The end of my current career (such a bold term) as I know it. The end of one stage of my academic pursuits.

With no offence to Mayans intended, 2012 seems like it will be a year of beginnings.

2011 is a year of transitions.

I am impatient.

New levels of self-obsession

My own sign off on the last post triggered a memory from Year 4…

Mr H – a tall man with giant ears and a penchant for staring at Mother Stone’s chestal area rather overtly – once made me write lines after I was caught passing notes in class. His indignation was not directed at the note passing, but rather my incorrect spelling of the word ‘sought’. My punishment was to write ‘Sought of, not sort of’ 25 times. I was outraged, though complied with his demand.

While counting the lines on the piece of paper I submitted, Mr H started to blush. He hadn’t considered the context in which I had used the word ‘sort’, and only now realised that my spelling was in fact correct. He apologised, laughed awkwardly and I think I could actually hear the recoil of his brain when he realised that he had been out-smarted by a 9 year old.

Daft thumb tack.

Procrastination: Complete.

Free time!

When semester comes to a close with the submission of my final assessment task on Monday, I will have my life back for a glorious month before knuckling down with my head buried in text books until November.

While that sounds quite glorious, right now I’m doing my best not to freak the frizz out! So, I’m taking a short break (procrastinating) to list a few things to look forward to once the end of semester craziness is over with.

In the month that is mine, I will:

* Spend quality time with R
* Play with the fuzzy snails
* Make time to see my friends and family
* Write about the awesome Christmas, birthday and New Years Eve of 2010
* Get an eyebrow wax to resolve the hostile take over my brows are waging on the rest of my face
* Take some photos!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
* Listen to music
* Watch some films
* Go to the theatre
* Donate blood
* Write some letters to people I know, and people I don’t
* Read a book for entertainment!
* Clean and reorganise the house
* Drive
* Do something spontaneous without worrying about my schedule

Back to the books. The sooner this task is finished, the better.

Sincerely studying… sort of,
Agnes Stone

She’s no dog biscuit, that’s for sure

Some people impact your life without them even realising it.

M is a lady that I have shared a lot of laughs with. We’ve helped each other plan journeys and recounted endless anecdotes about places we had been to, and places we wanted to go.

Earlier this year, M and her husband funded and built huts in a poverty stricken community. She said it was a life changing experience, and cried every day she was there.

M continues to give people hope with her positivity. In the space of only a few months, M has been diagnosed with breast cancer, a heart condition, and also had a stroke. Despite this, she showed up at work today. To actually work. On a Monday no less.

I hadn’t seen her in weeks, and figured she was off on an exciting holiday. Then I saw her standing in the kitchen today, drinking coffee from the Christmas mug she uses year round, comforting a colleague who had just heard M’s news. She is an amazing lady, and today I finally told her that. I’m thankful to have had the opportunity. It’s sad that so often, comments like these are left unsaid.

It’s a little bit sham-y

Support your local, independent cafe!

Tourism Australia and the NSW ‘government’ are chipping in $2.5 million for Oprah Winfrey (Yes, she has a surname; no, it’s not TM) to visit Australia. Does she really need to raid the cash register at McCafe to fund her trip?

And now for something completely different…

Does this score Oprah the Guinness World Record for highest paid pro… talk show host?

Australia: The land of the free (Or so we’d like to think)

Dear Australian Government Australian Taxation Office,

Thank you for your kind note. I see that you failed to adopt the cost cutting measure I suggested during your previous collection. Are the extra 26 characters necessary? Perhaps you will reconsider.

I do hope that you, our politicians, the unmotivated and the 12 year old parents (They can order dinner, smoke, work on the next kid and drink their rum – at once!) have a splendid time spending the tax money. I feel privileged to be granted the opportunity to donate more money to your needs.

I beg you to use the funds to better our nation – Invest in quality education (The education system is going to have a hard time dealing with all the bogan offspring harvested during the previous baby bonus program), efficient transport, accessible health care, the environment, positive social change. Reward the hard working, support the genuinely needy.

You have 12 months to satisfy these requests. Alternatively, you could give my money back.

Agnes J. Stone

Dear diary

Today I:

– had some fun dressing to a theme (I wore a top with photos printed on it to go on a photo-expedition). Every outfit needs a little whimsy.

– ruined a pair of perfectly pretty shoes. The view was worth the walk along the muddy path and resulting wet feet.

– enjoyed getting “lost”, which I think is just a negative way of saying “I went somewhere unexpected and saw something new”.

– saw a hang glider/intensely-macho-butterfly-man take flight.

– thought about approaches to time, perspective, the role of stress, the meaning of friendship versus social validation, creativity.

– wore my panda socks. I can be thoughtful AND superficial. It’s called multitasking.

This one goes out to you, 301.

Oh all night study bender, how you transport me back to the sleepless nights of my youth. The sea of paper, the scrawled notes, the typo filled document, the aches caused by poor posture, the eye strain, the bad hair. The difference now is that it’s not the night before my assignment is due.

Dear Bed,

I miss you. Wish you were here I was there.


No, I won’t roll over.

The content of this space seems to have shifted into musical territory, with a lack of actual input.

I have felt a little weary of posting my recent ramblings, as most have been written in a make shift diary. This hesitance bothers me, as hitting that Publish button initially resulted in a sense of emotional release. So, in the spirit of pushing myself past obstacles and ignoring other-self preservation instincts, I will share with you the mundane content of my notebook.

So when I get it together and update this thing, grab a cyanide soda and try not to drool on your keyboard as you are lulled into a deep sleep.

First though, I need to chill some apple cider.

Sincerely the poor man’s Stilnox,