I really don't like it when I am too busy or sick to write

I feel like I am in need of another post-every-day-for-a-month challenge to get myself back into this whole blogging thing but I know that if I do that I will just have a whole lot of nonsensical short posts. It is difficult to keep up with school work, a social life, stupid artistic hobbies and a blog all at once. It isn't just a blog that I'm trying to write for though, there are also notebooks to fill. I have almost filled my current notebook actually, which means I can move onto the fancy looking one I got for my birthday.

I am finding that things are jumbled and hectic at the moment. It doesn't seem like I am maxing out my time while I am doing it, but when I finally get an ICDL lesson in which I do nothing but listen to Angus and Julia Stone, go on Facebook, go on Twitter, Google why chameleons change colour and decide to write a blog post, I realise how much stuff I have been doing lately.

I have been working hard with my classmates making a documentary about the surf culture of Australia, which involved going to the beach and interviewing random people I had never met before. That took up an entire Sunday but was extremely productive, and still not finished. Let's just put that on the 'need to complete' pile for now because I have to stare meaningfully at my booklet of history and geography assignments for a moment before deciding it can go straight to the 'need to complete' pile. Oh yeah I also have that little pet project I was working on. . .  I better add it to the pile.

My school work load isn't actually that bad, I just find a majority of it tedious and unnecessary as I already know what I want to do after school. What is adding to the hectic constant doing stuff is my social life. Here i thought I'd never have one of these but alas, people actually want to be associated with me. I'll have to ponder how that happened later because I have to plan a party, make sure I can go to a get together with people, hang out with some people, make some mixes for people because I am slowly spreading Saint Motel through the school like a disease, and remember to put certain books in my school bag so I can lend them to the people I recommended them to. Also I need to go to Timber Town with the awesome Bekasaurous.

Australian's spell Gaol (jail) weird.

I'm not trying to sound like I'm complaining I absolutely love spending all this time with everyone. It is awesome! I just recently realised how much of this socialising business I do. I still have plenty of off time but the point I am trying to make is I have been busy chilling in my off time. Not writing.

Reading, yes but not so much writing.


In my head this is a bit of a problem. For starters It means I am getting out of practice and my blog posts are turning out like this mess. So i decided to post at least once a week. Even if I have to write the post during the ad breaks of my Sunday evening Bones and Castle line up on channel 7, I will make a post before the week is out.

This is my promise to myself and to you. Whoever actually reads this thing.

RachOddSocks

I can't think of an interesting title

It's no secret that change is an odd and inevitable thing. Changes can vary from good to bad to just plain random. Many are annoyingly unavoidable, like getting old or needing a new car because your dearly beloved van exploded. What I think is curious about change is how some changes jump out like a terminator and hit you without so much as an "I'll be back", while others creep up on you, milling in the shadows just out of sight, like a ninja until one day you flick on the light switch and BAM you're ten years older than you realised.

I'm glad to say that the whole growing up thing hasn't slammed me like a freight train just yet. Sixteen is not old enough to start looking for silver strands in the hairline. I am also glad to say that I'm growing up and am pleased with my progress so far. Sure I miss nap time, but I earned my current shoe size and I won't be going back from a 9 anytime soon. That's right, size 9 women's. If you want to buy me shoes, refer to this.

So why all this talk of change? Well just today when I was hanging out the washing for my dad (aren't I nice?) I remembered when I was younger and had some dark blue shoes that were pretty cool. I have no idea why I recalled this while hanging out the washing and I have no idea where my shoe obsession has come from but it is relevant I assure you.

So, I had these cool dark blue jogging shoes that I would wear an awful lot. I wore them so much that they got massive holes in the soles and out the front. My feet also outgrew them to the point that my toe would stick out the hole. Mum didn't notice for a while because I didn't draw attention to it but when she did we went straight to Big W to get a new pair. Would you believe they had a shiny new and nicer smelling pair of the same shoes in a bigger size just waiting for me? Honestly I think my mum must have been incredibly relieved to have such a quick shoe shopping trip. If I remember my toddler years correctly, shoe shopping with kids is horrible.

My mum got me the new shoes that fit much better and I was shocked to see the real damage to my old pair in comparison to their beautiful and young replacements. It wasn't just the obvious holes that made walking through puddles a sock-drenching wonder, but what was really surprising was how much the blue had faded. I knew I had needed the new shoes but really, how had the colour vanished so much without me noticing? Had it bled while I walked through the door of Big W? Would I find a dark blue puddle in front of one of those wet floor signs at the check out?

It's the sneaky ninja changes that are the real wonder. The changes that happen so gradually your eyes get used to them and it seems like there is no change at all, until you get a glimpse of how it used to be. You spot a pencil line somewhere low on the wall where you were measured as a kid, you find an old t-shirt in a box tucked away in the garage that looks small enough to fit on a teddy bear and remember fitting in it yourself. Or maybe you find a mix you made years ago, listen to it for nostalgia's sake, and find yourself wondering aloud "Who on earth would put this much Kelly Clarkson on a mix?" only to realise you are making fun of your own tastes.

From Kelly Clarkson to Saint Motel, from impossibly tiny to women's 9, from gameboy colour to a Samsung Netbook named George. These are just a few gradual changes that I am immensely pleased for, but there are still changes that I would be OK about taking back even for just a moment. Like the change from nap time and ABC's to sleep deprivation and World War II research.

Though now that I try to think of things that I associate with childhood that have changed drastically, I have trouble finding them. I'm looking around my room for examples only to see a sailor hat, a pile of soft toy monkeys, bed sheets of Lightning McQueen from Disney's 'Cars', a Nerf Gun and Nerf Sword, and a pair of rainbow striped gumboots. Guess I'm not as grown up as I claimed.

RachOddSocks

The Kidnapper's Throne

I recently displayed my completed instillation art sculpture around my school and had my friend take pictures. I like making really creepy art, mostly because I'm a fan of irony and people don't expect bright happy little Rachy to tie her younger brother to a chair, cut him lose, write a message on the chair in what appears to be blood then name the grotesque piece "the Kidnapper's throne".

While you may question my mental state a bit, I do ask you to let me explain the concept behind my chair, though I have a sneaking suspicion that I have done this once before already. Bear with me, even if you are human and not a bear.

The Kidnapper's Throne was an idea born from an Angus and Julia Stone song called draw your swords. Whenever I hear the verse "See them snakes come through the ground, they choke me to the bone. They tie me to that wooden chair, here, on my throne" I get the image in my mind of someone tied to a wooden chair, bound by snakes that coil around their tensed wrists and ankles like ropes. Their fingers scratch feebly at the arms of their unwanted throne as they are choked by the reptiles and held, helpless, in place.

I do have quite an unusually vivid imagination and listening to the song made me wonder if anyone else would think that way about it, or if they would need the image before their eyes. So I decided to make the throne I envisioned, but make it one of freedom.

I want the audience to look at the chair and imagine a scenario. I want them to see someone that had been trapped in this chair in the middle of a Field looking at a freedom they could not reach. I want them to look at it perplexed by the possibility that someone could be tied to a place, an unwanted throne, with no way out and no one looking to help. I want them to wonder how the victim escaped. I want them to imagine, like I do when I look at the chair, what it would be like to be trapped in freedom.

There is no symbol of death or torture within this artwork, not intended anyway. It is about the contradictory nature of the world. How you can live in a place of freedom, yet still feel trapped by social inadequacy. Or how you can be king or queen, looked up to by many, high on your throne, but feel like it is torture. But most of all I wanted to show that even when we are bound by both rope and tape, there is always a way out.

More irony for you: This artwork is about optimism and hope. Wouldn't pick it huh?
 

This is by far the best thing I have made ever. What is great about it is that it changed meaning as we moved it around or took shots form different angles. When it was in a playground, it was a symbol of lost innocence or of fleeing a trapped childhood. When it was next to a no exit sign, it was like a rebellious jab at society.

The chair still remained a contradiction though, not just because always smiling Rach was it's creator. The most commonly asked question about my chair was;

 "Can I sit on it?"

This is the chair in which someone was bound to. The chair from which my little brother tried to escape but only succeeded in giving himself slight rope burn. The chair that resembles what the spawn of Satan might be interested in when wandering furniture shops. Holy hyperbole batman!

Needless to say, I am proud of my creepy chair. It is a huge improvement over the last one i did for art. The one that I will take an axe to any day. It was also very fun taking the Kidnapper's Throne around the school. I would like to thank Miss Prue Hazelgrove for taking these awesome pictures. She is featured here in the picture of us having a tea party with the Throne. She's the blond one.

I would also like to thank our school for throwing out tables and chairs and leaving a table of coffee mugs and plates unguarded. You made this picture possible.

RachOddSocks

Sorry about the lack of posting, I was off curing the common cold.

I didn't actually cure the common cold, but I did read Jeff Lindsay's Darkly Dreaming Dexter and am currently reading Dearly Devoted Dexter. That is relevant because Jeff Lindsay appears to be a fan of alliteration and curing common colds is quite alliterating. A love of literary devices is necessary for a literary rock star like a love of instruments is necessary for an actual rock star, weather it be adoring apparent alliteration or appreciating beautifully sculpted and sparkling imagery.

A simile is like a guitar, the metaphor is it's strings. Irony is the 'quiet please' sign in the corner of the music store. Hyperbole's cover the greatest instrument you could own. The sounds escaping to freedom from their entrapping amplifiers are all good friends with personification. The bang of drums is pure onomatopoeia to a literary rock star. Sarcasm is the over-worked employee saying "No it's not a bass guitar it's a pony" when asked a simple question. When the employee acts naturally you can tell he is an oxymoron. Oh look, a pun!

Well that was a fun paragraph. You probably wouldn't get half of it if you hadn't googled literary devices like I did to come up with all that. The burst of creative and nerdy humor, and my lack of posting, is due to the fact that i finally decided to write something other than a blog post or insomnia driven scribblings.

See I was going to write a short story. Then it got to be almost fifty pages long. Sadly, the many pages means I won't be posting it on OddSocks when it is finished. Once I am done editing I can email it to you, if you really want to read it. I'm sure my email is in my profile or something. It's about zombies. Lots of zombies.

RachOddSocks