Help help help! This morning I broke down because I felt like such a failure. I keep looking up to my siblings and I know that I'll never be like them. They involve themselves in this and that, have a cv bursting with experiences of every shape and size, and then there's me- the one who couldn't even stay in a job at EF because she's such a darn weakling. Aaargh! My ego is practically reduced to the size of a little pea at the moment. I. am. so. scared. Not scared in a panicky way- but I have that sinking feeling that I shall always be stuck in a rut. A piece of nothingness, an Elizabeth-shaped hole in the universe. And then maybe I'll scuttle off to Brussels to translate- and dissolve into oblivion. What does it matter if I was top of every class? They do not tell you that what you need is the fire, the guts, something I seem to be entirely lacking. At least yesterday I might have helped a poor ill old cat, belonging to a friend and former teacher of mine, who is in Luxembourg. I heard its cries from the well at her house.
Dear me, I am so giddy with hollowness. What is there when I peek inside? Nothing, but a desire to be like this and that. I can't even be original in my wishes and dreams! I remember writing essays back at school. I did so well because I remembered bits and pieces from what I read. I guess my memory was my best feature. I managed to fool people into thinking I had the fire and the spark. I never used to know what to do with the characters in my stories so I just killed them off, or they committed suicide, probably out of the boredom of happening to land in a story of someone this boring. Maybe I was right when, before sixth form, I thought for about a day that I should abandon my beloved English and German, and take up Maths and Physics and become an engineer or something similar. I had the marks. All I needed was the courage to admit that I'm not the artistic type, however much I want to be. At least I would have been some kind of a success, and Mum would not have been disappointed. She would have had a reason to beam and be happy for me, and I would have had a great job, and a lovely, secure feeling inside.
Now that I let it all out, I feel a little better. At least I have admitted my own disappointment to myself. And if you were wondering, the title of this blog is the name of a Radiohead song. Yes, I am listening to them a lot lately, especially their later stuff, for which many people do not give them enough credit. Those who know me will know that it's not just the experimentation for its own sake that impresses me, but the fact that they still manage to make beautiful music that even musically illiterate people like me can appreciate. I just love them! And the notion of disappearing and nothingness is rather relevant at the moment. The only video I found on Youtube of the recorded version of this song was made by a fan and is kind of weird and puzzling, so I thought you should look it up yourself, lest you do not like weird and puzzling things.
On a different note, and to show that, despite all this, I've actually been happy and serene for the past couple of weeks, these will cheer you up for sure:
This one is about pretentious drivel.
This one underlines what we all hate about critics.
This one is for all those who love/hate linguistics.
These people have a brilliant sense of humour! Enjoy! (Just posting those links already makes me feel better!)
Till next time,
Lizzy
xxxx
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
TV and nostalgia
Woke up feeling like I was hit by a truck. Wasn't feeling too well yesterday night either. In fact I engaged in some real potato-couching - I watched one and a half episodes of Britain's Next Top Model (watching the bitching and the glamour always gives me the kicks), and then I watched CSI. CSI keeps you watching, but except for the ingenious storyline, it's crap. The acting must be the worst I've seen in ages (excluding Becky of course), and this is coming from a person who knows next to nothing about acting, and needs really crap acting to be induced to comment. The red-haired bloke who has the main part has to stare straight into the camera and put on his painfully outdated so-last-decade sunglasses whenever he says something of a certain DEPTH and SIGNIFICANCE, as if the viewers were so dumb that they needed to be told when to listen. Furthermore, the producers of the show have the sick habit of putting in this groovy music whenever they're examining some butchered body in an advanced state of decomposition. If they think that finding out how a person died is some geeky endeavour for hopeless bland geeky over-enthusiastic idiots, they should be taken to have their head, and heart, examined. This show simply underlines the misconception that all scientific people are dim-witted and possess no sense of style whatsoever. This is obviously a wrong generalization , but dear me, shows like these just strengthen it. The cinematography of the show is also very clinical, stark, bleak and scientific. Lots of ice-cold blue and highlighter green and grey and metallic colours and other assorted ugly colours- my insufficient ability to describe colours specifically is quite unforgivable I know. Bottom line, despite all these shortcomings, it kept me glued to the sofa, listening intently to every word. The appeal of detective stories is universal indeed. No wonder there's something like 754857585 such shows on TV.
This reviewing thingy is really getting me hooked :-D! The thing is, life is very quiet and ordinary at the moment, so it's no use going on and on about it because otherwise I'll bore you to sleep. On Sunday I was very depressed and so I got all bothered and flustered and dug up Radiohead. Ah. Exquisite. Sometimes it hits me like a rapid flash of light that those guys were so good- 'OK Computer' still ranks as one of those albums that most struck me and that I really love. I still clearly remember the day I bought it. I went to Valletta early before my Spanish lesson. I think it was the tenth of March 2003- in the midst of the Referendum and General Election chaos. I recall being all panicked and flustered because I could not find it anywhere. Then, finally, I found it in the City Gate shop. For a girl who was always terrified of what Big Sister and Brother were going to say, (I was proud that way and had this tremendous fear of ridicule and criticism, huge remnants of which unfortunately remain to this day), it was a big deal to splash out my saved-up pocket money on an original CD. I remember the joy and delight on my first playing it. Dear me, I was such a weird little fourteen-year-old! (and I did not know how to download songs yet.) Ah nostalgia. I had documented that momentous day in my diary of course, but I think I've lost the diary or it got thrown away. Anyways all this recalling came out of my intention to post this link to a much-loved Radiohead song which they never recorded properly. It's all very heart-wrenching and romantic and it's called 'True Love Waits'. Apparently there's another song with this name but it is not a cover.
Before I conclude, I shall say that lately I've been writing addictively in my diary. It's become the thing I turn to when I'm not feeling too good about myself. Sometimes I feel like life will pass me by while I'm busy writing diary entries. It all sounds so mediocre yet it's the one thing that I seem to be able to do of late. It's like the last lifeline before one starts feeling hopeless, hollow and mediocre. I seem to falter at every attempt at creativity but I still have to keep writing or else I feel rather dead. Moreover, diaries are a good way to put all the pieces -thoughts, feelings, perceptions, experiences- into at least a semblance of a whole. Yet I am happy. Life is very tranquil and some things are sorting themselves out nicely. (I have the (deputy) Dean's recommendation!!!). I should be off now since I've ended up writing journal entries about writing journal entries. Dear me, I should get me a life. But not really, I've actually got work to do (Yes, not joking!) once I leave this blog. Actually I should have started ages ago. So I shall bid you farewell and Happy Santa Marija!!!
Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx
This reviewing thingy is really getting me hooked :-D! The thing is, life is very quiet and ordinary at the moment, so it's no use going on and on about it because otherwise I'll bore you to sleep. On Sunday I was very depressed and so I got all bothered and flustered and dug up Radiohead. Ah. Exquisite. Sometimes it hits me like a rapid flash of light that those guys were so good- 'OK Computer' still ranks as one of those albums that most struck me and that I really love. I still clearly remember the day I bought it. I went to Valletta early before my Spanish lesson. I think it was the tenth of March 2003- in the midst of the Referendum and General Election chaos. I recall being all panicked and flustered because I could not find it anywhere. Then, finally, I found it in the City Gate shop. For a girl who was always terrified of what Big Sister and Brother were going to say, (I was proud that way and had this tremendous fear of ridicule and criticism, huge remnants of which unfortunately remain to this day), it was a big deal to splash out my saved-up pocket money on an original CD. I remember the joy and delight on my first playing it. Dear me, I was such a weird little fourteen-year-old! (and I did not know how to download songs yet.) Ah nostalgia. I had documented that momentous day in my diary of course, but I think I've lost the diary or it got thrown away. Anyways all this recalling came out of my intention to post this link to a much-loved Radiohead song which they never recorded properly. It's all very heart-wrenching and romantic and it's called 'True Love Waits'. Apparently there's another song with this name but it is not a cover.
Before I conclude, I shall say that lately I've been writing addictively in my diary. It's become the thing I turn to when I'm not feeling too good about myself. Sometimes I feel like life will pass me by while I'm busy writing diary entries. It all sounds so mediocre yet it's the one thing that I seem to be able to do of late. It's like the last lifeline before one starts feeling hopeless, hollow and mediocre. I seem to falter at every attempt at creativity but I still have to keep writing or else I feel rather dead. Moreover, diaries are a good way to put all the pieces -thoughts, feelings, perceptions, experiences- into at least a semblance of a whole. Yet I am happy. Life is very tranquil and some things are sorting themselves out nicely. (I have the (deputy) Dean's recommendation!!!). I should be off now since I've ended up writing journal entries about writing journal entries. Dear me, I should get me a life. But not really, I've actually got work to do (Yes, not joking!) once I leave this blog. Actually I should have started ages ago. So I shall bid you farewell and Happy Santa Marija!!!
Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The blue and yellow whistle
The great thing about being unemployed and having a lot of free time is that you are constantly discovering new talents. A couple of weeks ago it was singing, now it's whistling. Since I am crap at whistling per se, I managed to get me a whistle, and dear me am I talented!!! Last Friday I went to Etnikafe on my own since my sister gave me a complimentary ticket and no one could accompany me on that day (sob sob). The show was good. There's no other way around it. Being rather illiterate musically, I cannot really wax lyrical on the technical prowess of the band. Yet, from what I could hear, they have managed to blend their traditional folk roots with more modern urban sounds, such as reggae, ska, rap and whatever other genres they cite as influences. I had been a great fan of theirs in the time when they released Zifna (their second album I believe), yet then they reached a bit of a dead end. They had managed to revive Maltese folk music and convince people that it could be great fun. They had injected energy into what we thought were dead forms of expression, using traditional Maltese instruments such as the zaqq, and involving folk singers (ghannejja) and bands which regularly play at feasts. It was all a load of 'briju' and newfound joy at being the quirky, loud, temperamental inhabitants of this flawed yet ultimately adorable small sunny island. The sale of things such as pastizzi at the shows added to this feel-good aura. Yet, a year later, in 2004, they immediately seemed to be losing their spark and becoming repetitive. However, now, to cut a long story short, they've found a way to retain what made them so special, while progressing at the same time. I particularly liked the song about the immigrants ("Klandestini Rock") sung (or rapped) by John from IQ, "Kollox tal-Plastik", sung by the ex-Lumiere frontman, as well as a song about the waves and the sea and the guitar (its name escapes me), sung by the sweet-voiced Alison Galea from Beangrowers.
Hmm seems this reviewing thingy is drawing me in. Anyways,my favourite part of the evening was when I got to make a lot of Briju. I was very quiet for most of the evening- the atmosphere was very civilised- lots of journalists around (I think it was Complimentary Ticket Night). However, at the end of the night, they gave us each a lovely whistle to blow. My beloved beloved whistle: Its tip is white, yet then it opens into a lovely shiny plastic blue with yellow paper ruffles at the end. Pure art haha. But I loved the thing the moment I saw it. I shall probably draw a smiley face on it with tipex, to match the tip and to give the thing a face if I have time. Anyhows I blew it so much!!! Wiii! That's what I love about Etnika. They always manage to end with a bang. I also loved the routine of the drunk hamalli, which involved five "dancers" pretending they're drunk and fashionably lacking co-ordination. Apparently they were supposed to be co-ordinated, but my sister's accident with her shoe put in an odd, endearing delay. Ah the graceful Galeas. Furthermore, I liked the way they entered and exited on the "karru"-like structure. Very mass-meeting/ festa tar-rahal-ish. Very happily noisy and Maltese.
I had other things to write about (such as racing and spluttering and laughing in the sea with Claire :-D). I also met up with a former teacher and good friend of mine who came from Luxembourg :-D. Yet, this blog is already long and I am already tired, hence now I will conclude it and bid you farewell. Till next time,
Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx
PS I could not not post a link to this song, even though I had promised myself I would not mention Keane so much, to give the impression I'm not too boring and one-track minded. But I just LOVE this rendition of this heart-wrenching Rufus Wainwright song, probably more than the original. And it's best to be honest to blog readers, rather than give false impressions lol. Enjoy!
Hmm seems this reviewing thingy is drawing me in. Anyways,my favourite part of the evening was when I got to make a lot of Briju. I was very quiet for most of the evening- the atmosphere was very civilised- lots of journalists around (I think it was Complimentary Ticket Night). However, at the end of the night, they gave us each a lovely whistle to blow. My beloved beloved whistle: Its tip is white, yet then it opens into a lovely shiny plastic blue with yellow paper ruffles at the end. Pure art haha. But I loved the thing the moment I saw it. I shall probably draw a smiley face on it with tipex, to match the tip and to give the thing a face if I have time. Anyhows I blew it so much!!! Wiii! That's what I love about Etnika. They always manage to end with a bang. I also loved the routine of the drunk hamalli, which involved five "dancers" pretending they're drunk and fashionably lacking co-ordination. Apparently they were supposed to be co-ordinated, but my sister's accident with her shoe put in an odd, endearing delay. Ah the graceful Galeas. Furthermore, I liked the way they entered and exited on the "karru"-like structure. Very mass-meeting/ festa tar-rahal-ish. Very happily noisy and Maltese.
I had other things to write about (such as racing and spluttering and laughing in the sea with Claire :-D). I also met up with a former teacher and good friend of mine who came from Luxembourg :-D. Yet, this blog is already long and I am already tired, hence now I will conclude it and bid you farewell. Till next time,
Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx
PS I could not not post a link to this song, even though I had promised myself I would not mention Keane so much, to give the impression I'm not too boring and one-track minded. But I just LOVE this rendition of this heart-wrenching Rufus Wainwright song, probably more than the original. And it's best to be honest to blog readers, rather than give false impressions lol. Enjoy!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Smelling the roses
These past few days have been quiet, sunny and happy. Rarely have I felt better. The only thing I am anxious about at the moment (and it's a rather big deal) is university. I desperately want to know whether they will let me into second year or not, and I still have to get the Dean's approval. What makes it a bit worse is the fact that everyone is busy registering for the study-units of the coming year. Only God knows what infinity of confusion I shall have to face as regards study-units and late registration, if they let me in that is. But despite all this, it has been a great few days. I went swimming, met my friends, went out, shopped, the works. AND I finally started reading again. I had been having a bit of a reader's block, maybe because of the heat but more probably because of the confusion in my poor little head.
Yesterday was a particularly nice day. I met two friends I had not spent time with for a very long time- Diana and Demelsa. Together with Claire, we went to Sliema and I bought me a nice girly pair of gold earrings and the flip flops that had been continuously eluding me. (My beloved old ones are making an odd rattling sound when I walk.) It seems that simple, plain, FLAT flip flops with DISCREET straps which BLEND IN with whatever you're wearing and are NOT made of plastic are a rare commodity these days. Or else, I'm a lazy shopper. After that, we unexpectedly met Desiree :-D!
Anyhows, when I started writing this blog, I had this grand, sublime idea about how I was going to convey the feeling of being blessed, that I had been sensing of late. Yet, it is turning out to be just another mundane blog full of mundane trivial little things. The thing is, as I was sitting on the bus a couple of days ago, I realised just how lucky and blessed I am, and how sweet life is at the moment, despite the odd fact that I was passing by the smoke-stacks of the Marsa industrial estate at that precise moment. It really would be an act of excessive emo jaded-ness (This word does not strike me as existent) to complain much at the moment. Naturally there are a good number of things that I would like to see change, yet compared to all the pain and misery I can glimpse in the world, well I have to be excessively cliched, but one has to count one's blessings. Moreover, the fact that I am finally on my way to changing my course is really a huge sigh of relief. I was genuinely quite terrified of teaching and it gave me a dull yet undeniable sinking feeling. You might be thinking that I am an awful wimp, but I have to be honest to myself, wimp or not. Now it is easier to talk about what I want/need to do, even if I have acknowledged that I might need to go and find work as a translator in Brussels/Luxembourg. For once, I can say "we will see" ("issa naraw") - my favourite phrase- without a tone of dread and a sigh of resignation.
This morning I dutifully kept my promise to cook for the family, naturally under my dad's watchful eye. After a certain unsuccessful attempt at cooking pasta back in a Home Economics class in Form 2, it has been rather difficult to convince people to trust me alone with water and raw pasta( I had thrown the pasta in cold water). Anyhows, being the awesome illustrious person that I am ;P, I pulled it off brilliantly and am proud to say everybody simply LUURVED it!! Poetic licence allows me to exaggerate a bit :-D.
The excessive length of this blog forces me to conclude it, but not before I gleefully announce that my first driving lesson is on Friday. Smell that? It's the maturity emanating from my every pore :p. Till next time,
Take care,
Lizzy
xxx
Yesterday was a particularly nice day. I met two friends I had not spent time with for a very long time- Diana and Demelsa. Together with Claire, we went to Sliema and I bought me a nice girly pair of gold earrings and the flip flops that had been continuously eluding me. (My beloved old ones are making an odd rattling sound when I walk.) It seems that simple, plain, FLAT flip flops with DISCREET straps which BLEND IN with whatever you're wearing and are NOT made of plastic are a rare commodity these days. Or else, I'm a lazy shopper. After that, we unexpectedly met Desiree :-D!
Anyhows, when I started writing this blog, I had this grand, sublime idea about how I was going to convey the feeling of being blessed, that I had been sensing of late. Yet, it is turning out to be just another mundane blog full of mundane trivial little things. The thing is, as I was sitting on the bus a couple of days ago, I realised just how lucky and blessed I am, and how sweet life is at the moment, despite the odd fact that I was passing by the smoke-stacks of the Marsa industrial estate at that precise moment. It really would be an act of excessive emo jaded-ness (This word does not strike me as existent) to complain much at the moment. Naturally there are a good number of things that I would like to see change, yet compared to all the pain and misery I can glimpse in the world, well I have to be excessively cliched, but one has to count one's blessings. Moreover, the fact that I am finally on my way to changing my course is really a huge sigh of relief. I was genuinely quite terrified of teaching and it gave me a dull yet undeniable sinking feeling. You might be thinking that I am an awful wimp, but I have to be honest to myself, wimp or not. Now it is easier to talk about what I want/need to do, even if I have acknowledged that I might need to go and find work as a translator in Brussels/Luxembourg. For once, I can say "we will see" ("issa naraw") - my favourite phrase- without a tone of dread and a sigh of resignation.
This morning I dutifully kept my promise to cook for the family, naturally under my dad's watchful eye. After a certain unsuccessful attempt at cooking pasta back in a Home Economics class in Form 2, it has been rather difficult to convince people to trust me alone with water and raw pasta( I had thrown the pasta in cold water). Anyhows, being the awesome illustrious person that I am ;P, I pulled it off brilliantly and am proud to say everybody simply LUURVED it!! Poetic licence allows me to exaggerate a bit :-D.
The excessive length of this blog forces me to conclude it, but not before I gleefully announce that my first driving lesson is on Friday. Smell that? It's the maturity emanating from my every pore :p. Till next time,
Take care,
Lizzy
xxx
Saturday, August 4, 2007
The menacing rabbit
This morning I had intended to go swimming but then I did not tell anyone and so ended up stuck at home on a sunny Saturday morning. Therefore I turned to this blog for comfort.
This attempt at comfort blogging was rather fruitless and so I decided to go to swim in the middle of the scorching afternoon, which means I shall be off very soon. But I thought I'd blog a bit before I left. This last week I watched two films I had been intending to watch for a very long time. 'Sylvia' and 'Donnie Darko'. 'Donnie Darko' is a very odd film, and even that is an understatement. The story is basically this: An angst-ridden teenage outcast, complete with troublesome past and psychiatric treatment, is saved from a sure death when he is called outside by a gigantic rabbit, or rather a man dressed as a hideous rabbit, who tells him when the world will end. In the meantime, a piece of aircraft falls on his bedroom. After this event, the rabbit keeps haunting him and telling him to do a series of increasingly dangerous and violent things- such as vandalizing the school and burning down the house of a corrupt televangelist. In the meantime, the boy questions time-travel, portals into a parallel universe, destiny, God etc etc. This film is a very weird film, the kind that has enough twists and turns and questions and possible answers to keep anyone who enjoys deciphering cryptic messages and complicated ciphers happy and occupied for a whole year. Yet, is it just that? A pretentious warped bucketload of encryption and labyrinthine mysteries, whose only complexity lies in cunningness rather than real depth? I think this film actually lies in between simply being a gimmicky series of twists and ciphers, typical of the sort of sci-fi addicts that are so numerous among teenage boys like Darko himself, and the genuinely quirky original little gem that it was touted to be by the numerous enthusiasts who made it a cult favourite. Thankfully enough, it has none of the usual feeling of pretentiousness usually associated with cultish indie films. Moreover it is well shot and acted. And Jake Gyllenhaal is Jake Gyllenhall (drool). There are some cringe-inducing gimmicks- the actual existence of the Berta Sparrow book about time travel (it's on the website, I've been told) is one such thing. But all in all, I'm happy I saw it, some six years after the whole brouhaha broke out. There was also a nice melancholic song in the film which is really beautiful and quiet- It is called Mad World and I think it's a cover. Enjoy!
Dear me, I have just spent half an hour reviewing a film that has been reviewed a gazillion times before. Talk about uselessness. But I'm kind of enjoying this reviewing thingy. I think I shall actually coin a new proverb :'Those who can, do. Those who can't, review!' It actually rhymes and it's better than the overused cliched teaching one. Anyhows I have to be off to swim now. I'll review Sylvia if I manage to come up with a couple of coherent sentences about it. Blogging about myself all the time is kind of rather tiring. BTW It's the end of the 'Under the Iron Sea' tour for Keane today. *sobs* And I did not manage to see them live. But I will manage sometime. In any case, I enjoyed the tourblogs. I must really get me a life. But, oh, how I love them!
Till next time, take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx
This attempt at comfort blogging was rather fruitless and so I decided to go to swim in the middle of the scorching afternoon, which means I shall be off very soon. But I thought I'd blog a bit before I left. This last week I watched two films I had been intending to watch for a very long time. 'Sylvia' and 'Donnie Darko'. 'Donnie Darko' is a very odd film, and even that is an understatement. The story is basically this: An angst-ridden teenage outcast, complete with troublesome past and psychiatric treatment, is saved from a sure death when he is called outside by a gigantic rabbit, or rather a man dressed as a hideous rabbit, who tells him when the world will end. In the meantime, a piece of aircraft falls on his bedroom. After this event, the rabbit keeps haunting him and telling him to do a series of increasingly dangerous and violent things- such as vandalizing the school and burning down the house of a corrupt televangelist. In the meantime, the boy questions time-travel, portals into a parallel universe, destiny, God etc etc. This film is a very weird film, the kind that has enough twists and turns and questions and possible answers to keep anyone who enjoys deciphering cryptic messages and complicated ciphers happy and occupied for a whole year. Yet, is it just that? A pretentious warped bucketload of encryption and labyrinthine mysteries, whose only complexity lies in cunningness rather than real depth? I think this film actually lies in between simply being a gimmicky series of twists and ciphers, typical of the sort of sci-fi addicts that are so numerous among teenage boys like Darko himself, and the genuinely quirky original little gem that it was touted to be by the numerous enthusiasts who made it a cult favourite. Thankfully enough, it has none of the usual feeling of pretentiousness usually associated with cultish indie films. Moreover it is well shot and acted. And Jake Gyllenhaal is Jake Gyllenhall (drool). There are some cringe-inducing gimmicks- the actual existence of the Berta Sparrow book about time travel (it's on the website, I've been told) is one such thing. But all in all, I'm happy I saw it, some six years after the whole brouhaha broke out. There was also a nice melancholic song in the film which is really beautiful and quiet- It is called Mad World and I think it's a cover. Enjoy!
Dear me, I have just spent half an hour reviewing a film that has been reviewed a gazillion times before. Talk about uselessness. But I'm kind of enjoying this reviewing thingy. I think I shall actually coin a new proverb :'Those who can, do. Those who can't, review!' It actually rhymes and it's better than the overused cliched teaching one. Anyhows I have to be off to swim now. I'll review Sylvia if I manage to come up with a couple of coherent sentences about it. Blogging about myself all the time is kind of rather tiring. BTW It's the end of the 'Under the Iron Sea' tour for Keane today. *sobs* And I did not manage to see them live. But I will manage sometime. In any case, I enjoyed the tourblogs. I must really get me a life. But, oh, how I love them!
Till next time, take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx
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