Happiness is...

Yesterday, being Christmas, was spent with my family, and of course resulted in some serious food indulgences. My grandmother hosted this year, and as matriarch, maintains all the familial archives on my mother’s side of the family (read: photographs).

My grandma has kept pretty much everything, and remembers everyone in the photos – some of these photos are about 100 years old. Included in amongst the photos was the first letter I ever sent to my great-grandma, written just as I was learning to write. I’m not at all sure what the context of the letter was, though I think it's pretty cute.

 

In truth - my handwriting has only gone downhill from there - who knew your handwriting could peak at the age of 5??

Cute letters aside, my Aunty (a psychologist by trade) was asking where she could obtain a copy of those kitsch old 70’s comics “happiness is”. Remember them? Despite being unable to assist with the query, it got me to thinking about what happiness is. It’s my firm contention that happiness is a close relative of “satisfaction”, but is only very distantly related to “euphoria”. That is, happiness means contentment, and only sometimes floating on cloud 9.

Anyway, having thought about it for about 24 hrs, here’s a few of my happiness is moments:

• Having a sparkly new pedicure, where the nail polish is so super-glossy I can see my reflection
• Climbing into a freshly made bed after shaving my legs (ahhh, smoooooth)
• The first sip of freshly made coffee, consumed while sitting on the veranda when it’s quiet on the street
• The glorious sensation of the cool water around my ankles while I walk along the beach on a hot day
• Having great big belly laughs – especially when I laugh so hard I cry
• A great big bear hug, just when I need it
• Having someone compliment a scarf I’ve knitted
• The sensation of passing a subject that I’m worried I’ve failed
• Sharing a bottle of French champagne with those I  love

Special thanks to my Aunty for reminding me that happiness really is all about enjoying the little things in life.

King George Square is brought to you by the numbers...

Brisbane City Council is putting on an exhibition of the 12 days of Christmas, with various artists creating works around a particular number. I haven't managed to see them all, but here's a couple that are cute.

In case you can't quite see it, that's the number 3 on it's side in the ginormous bra. According to its tag, this is a 12C (sizeable).

While taking this picture this morning, a gentlemen strolled over and asked me what I thought was inside. I told him, and he said "well, I'll have to take your word on it - it's not my area of interest. Oh hang on, it is my area of interest, but not my area of expertise". Way to make a cute moment kinda creepy, nimrod.

And of course the number 4. I'm not at all sure what the broken bits of phone have to do with anything, but the silver tree and birds are kinda cute.

There are no words...

Image found via A Cup of Jo. I don't know about you, but I wish I was holding a hooded eagle.

The ring of death

This has got to be my favourite week of year. Why? I hear you ask. Obviously, because it's Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. I know, I know, insert obvious joke here about the lawyer (in-waiting) who likes sharks.

But, let's face it - this is hardly the face of a creature only a mother could love....who's a pretty boy, then??

I ask you - what's not to love about a killing machine that can travel so fast it can shoot out of the water, enormous jaws gnashing, and tear you in two??

Apparently the most attack-prone area around Shark Island in South Africa is dubbed the ring of death - I love it. Can't think why sharks have such a poor reputation when they hang out in the ring of death...

But seriously, I love these bad boys. They're just amazing, powerful, intriguing...the list goes on. There's a great video on YouTube, showing two guys hanging out in a cage, into which an unsuspecting shark accidentally breaks in. I'm unable to embed it here, but check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ro2jwQ-r2HA. In the original video there's a chilled out chap at the end of the video, nonchalantly referring to the fact that \safe cages are now used. How comforting.

So, with all this inspiration that Shark Week is bringing, what's a girl to do? Here's my updated list:

1. Finish law degree, practical legal training and get admitted to the Supreme Court;
2. Become a highly paid, much sought-after, yet relaxed lawyer;
3. Use said high salary to travel to Shark Island in South Africa and watch these critters fly!

Well, that all seems readily achievable.

Stoked!

There's an amazing new exhibition at the Museum of Brisbane called The Stoke. The exhibition documents the history of skateboarding in Brisbane, and is seriously awesome. Wall upon wall of Schmitt Stix, Powell Peraltas and Vision Gators.

I bored my cohort to death with stories of me sporting a bowl cut and high-top converse in the eighties; tick-tacking madly to keep up with my brother while we rocked around the streets on our boards (mine was his old hand-me-down). I had wild dreams of landing massive ollies, and sliding with grace and ease down the concrete gutters in our neighbourhood. These dreams were shattered when my natural clumsiness revealed itself - I came flying off after my board came to a shuddering halt on a rock in the middle of the road. My board stopped, but I kept going, landing in an ungainly fashion and giving myself a minor hairline fracture of the thumb.

Resplendent in the middle of the exhibition is a replica of the skate bowl from the Mooroka Skate Shed. Three dudes were mucking around on it today, grinding on the rails and generally having a cracking time.

I love this image - a dude making the most of the sculpture that sits outside the Brisbane Magistrates Court.

I plan on heading back in there for another look soon.

Papercuts Hurt, Work Safely

Ever since seeing (500) Days of Summer I have been in love with this poster. Seriously - searching high and low/googling madly while avoiding work or study. To no avail. Then one random Friday night, I stumble across it.

All I need now is for it to be printed on high quality paper, framed beautifully and presented to me on Christmas day... Possibly the best thing about this poster (aside from its infinite cuteness) is that it speaketh the truth.

Big ups to http://ben-mullins.blogspot.com/2010/06/papercuts-hurt-work-safely.html for making it available.

Southern Adventures

I often lament that my life is REALLY dull and that I never do anything (insert high and whiny voice here). I particularly like to blame working and studying full time for this. However, it's recently come to my attention that I do in fact have a life, it's just that I sleep-walk through most of it.

So being week two of summer semester, it was the perfect time for southern adventures. Namely, hanging out with one of my favourite friends in beautiful Sydney. And Sydney really turned on the weather for my trip; clear blue skies, plenty of sun, and beautiful breezes.

We spent a good portion of our time together shopping, drinking and eating - truly, these are 3 of my favourite things to do, even though I am often overheard (from up on my high horse - the view is better up there, you see) that "shopping is not a hobby". I tell myself that recognition of this fact counter-balances the fact that I do it as often as possible.

Here's just a portion of the evidence of the recent trip:

Pedicure - delightful. Though I feel the need to use the word "classy" about strolling round Bondi Junction wearing the freebie pedicure thongs until my toenails dried (some 30 minutes).

Images from the Brett Whitely gallery in Surrey Hills. Such a talented man, and it seems, one with a penchant for cutesy imagery, such as those delightful finger skateboards. Also, that statement written on his wall (life is brief, but my god thursday afternoon seems incredibly long): never were truer words spoken. 

 Trunks are back ya'll.

Beautiful, beautiful Coogee...

Mr Matey!!!

Mr Matey!!! Please tell me I'm not the only one who remembers this ad:



This is the stuff of 80's Australiana....

See what happens when you leave Brisbane...

See...you leave Brisbane, and 'Can Do' Campbell decided that laneway bars and restaurants are the way forward...If I'm honest, this is really just an opportunity for a gratutious shot of some laneway art snapped on the walk back to the office from uni on Saturday. Yes, Saturday. The folk I was sharing a computer lab with were getting a bit too much for my delicate nature.

I figured the walk back to work would satisfy my need to avoid study momentarily, and give me the chance to spot frollicking water lizards in the Botanic Gardens on the way down. On the way I noticed this very cool laneway, which leads to the Laneway Bar. One I have visited and confirm is very cool. If only my life afforded me the opportunity to visit it more frequently. Stay tuned though - I foresee pre-Christmas alcohol-fuelled forays.

It's moll, not mole...

Earlier today, I caught myself saying to a former colleague (who was lamenting his teenage daughter’s misadventures) “don’t worry; there’ll come a time when your daughter says I’m sorry. I was a painful moll”.

There are a few things to consider here:

1.       It’s my experience that upon entering their early twenties, most young women emerge from the hormone haze and apologise;  but if I’m wrong, I’ve given the dude false hope that his daughter will become semi-human one day;

2.       How is it that so many people misspell the word moll?? Owing to Kylie Mole’s 80’s fame, and the word’s recent resurgence, so many people I know spell it ‘mole’, not ‘moll’; and

3.       Given I’m not using the word correctly myself, it’s slightly hypocritical to get hung up on incorrect spelling, when I’m accidentally calling this chap’s teenage daughter a prostitute.

Not my smoothest move. My case in point:

–noun Slang.

1.

gun moll.

2.

Archaic . a prostitute.

Thanks http://www.dictionary.com/. Thanks for reaffirming my spectacular case of foot in mouth.

In other adventures...tonight brings a myriad joy: study, study, and subsequent successful avoidance of study.

I promise myself so regularly that I will become a diligent student of law. As my marks demonstrate, I’m very successful at lying to myself. And now I’ve tortured myself by going to www.zenhabits.net/ - a site I like to visit to refocus my mind. Tonight’s topic? Procrastination....the irony.