Puff Paint

Ok, since I admitted it a few weeks ago, I will again now.

I made a shirt in craft at school when I was 11. When I say made, I just painted it. The actual shirt was an old white polo shirt that I found in my brother's drawer. We all needed a white shirt for the activity at school, I forgot and last minute snuck into my brother's room and found the shirt. It was slightly off white, though when it was purchased it would have been "white".
So with my creativity in full swing and a set of puff paints, I decided to paint a Christmas tree, with some presents underneath. Though we all had to put the slogan, "Jesus is the Reason for the Season". So neatly underneath I wrote that. And I had a shirt that I proudly wore to Christmas Carol singing on the corner of the shopping town in Engadine with the other members from Church. I also wore it as a costume, but will tell you about that another time.

So a few weeks have gone by since I last wrote. Elliot the plant has grown, I am successful for now (with the plant that is), and I keep getting to know a fella called Mike. We went down to this beautiful part of the world called Anglesea, just before the start of the Great Ocean Road. I do miss the ocean, one of the sacrifices of moving to Melbourne. You may argue if you are a Melbournite that it is next to the ocean. Yes, technically, yes. But Melbourne, you have a bay, and it is flat and the water a disturbing colour for a bay. One that no desire inside of me decides to nudge me and go, "Hey Lloyd, swim!" Possibly if I was covered in a hot substance, like fire. But the Ocean is about waves and raw white/blues/grays crashing and singing. Mike did oblige nicely and we went down onto the actual beach. It was not swimming weather but at least part of me did nudge me and say, "Hey swimming wouldnt be totally out of the question, no?" And the wind roared back onto us from the Ocean. It was like it was breathing onto us, I opened my mouth and it filled my lungs. Fresh and brilliantly clean. Ocean.. yes I miss you. But the weekend was great and the clash of movie titles occurred. First it was 'Inglorious Bastards' then followed by 'Notting Hill'. Mike has no control over these posts so I will say Mike chose the latter. He loves them movies that make him cry. Joking aside, do people watch sad movies to evoke their own emotions from their own memories? Or is it simply a human being upset over a tragic story that they can relate to as humans? Mutually exclusive perhaps.

Last weekend (the weekend before the ocean weekend) I decided to surprise my Dad for Father's Day. I flew up on Sunday afternoon after work and timed it so he arrived back from Church and there was Lloyd standing on his doorstep to say hello. I had made him a card, I used markers from work and drew a spotty tie and expressed how much I really do value him. Without Dad, aside from the obvious giving me life thing, could not have done many of the amazing adventures in my short life. Through simple support and sometimes the good old parent financial aid, he loves me unconditionally. Even if I make crap cards.

Also met up with the girls from work who were on a luxury weekend away in Sydney. I gate crashed it and then moaned a lot of the time as they continued to do girl things like Yoga (which I was forced to do also) and then flower shopping. All of this was also when I had my pyjamas on as Kitty thought my pyjamas were suitable yoga attire. I thought we were heading straight back to the car, but no. We went to one of the most expensive suburbs in Sydney for brunch. I kinda loved it though. PJs in daring places, kind of like people not knowing you got no underwear on yeah?



They are eating chips.



So am I.

Tutankhamun finishes in another few months and so those flags inside my head (the non-literal kind) remind me that I need to find work. And they will not be lowered until there is some new form of employment I know is to be lined up. There is so much inside of me that I want to explore through my career and it is just the point where I need to choose which part. Or can I involve all parts? No limitations should be applied. Kind of like IKEA but not made in Sweden. Sweden does seem to be a cool destination though, make note to go there.

I wonder how long my flat has been around? Wish I could ask it. Doesnt talk back usually so its establishment date really wont be an exception. Yeah nope, no answer.