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.

Coffin

Something I value about jobs is finding the really cool aspects and then sit outside of yourself and smile. Painting a base of a wall in one of the galleries for King Tut and having a 3500 year old golden coffin sitting there near me. Noone else is inside the galleries and it is late at night. My music playing from another of the rooms, educating the artifacts on music from 2011. Something about it, was just simply, simple.

I had a dinner party last night. Vegetarian style, and I so reminded myself of my mother. I do not know how that happened, but just how she loved to cook and host, I like doing the same. Though not the same kinds of food, my own twist. I like cooking but do not like those cooking shows and reality comps like Masterchef. It makes it so common and addictive and generic. Just like when you fight with window blinds and you pull the rope cord and the stupid thing does not catch or it lopsides and not straight across. And you end up communicating way too heavily with strips of metal and rope as to why it is not cooperating with your desire for less or more light.

Had my mate Dave here the past few days and he inspired me to go back to the ACMI (Some letters representing the museum of the moving image I think) and so I took another friend Bernard and his sister there. There is this pretty cool (yes Dave, pretty cool) wheel that moves around and around and then the lights start flashing and it comes to life. This is kind of stupid to explain in writing as I bet you have no idea what I am saying.. youtubing now... There, just watch.



And so, was showing them and then they walked out half way. Rude. Only to discover his sister is epileptic. Oh. So just check beforehand next time. Epileptic warnings are there for a reason.

Off to Sydney in a few days. My thoughts currently are mainly drained at trying to organise to hang with people. It is not an easy task. Funny how visits to see friends/family is not a holiday. Though hey, if my chicken Denise was still alive, I would be guaranteed to be chilled. Maybe I will find her grave. Just as much talking would go on, pre or post her death. RIP once again Denise.

I found this photo on my camera, taken the day I was about to move to Melbourne. I put it as my facebook profile. Because I was not smiling people told me it was a bad photo. Does a photo of a face have to be smiling to be a good one? I just liked the rawness, but trying not to be up myself with it. We attempt this all the time and fail yeah?

July is pretty darn cold..

The last week has been 2 degrees at night. This is Australia, not London. OK now that I have vented that I can also justify how lame I am that I have an electric blanket. It cures the cold really. Until its time to get up at 6am and go for a run.

The hill near my house is where I go for a run. When I leave to go there its dark so the first time I run up the hill there are other dark objects there too, they are other humans and canines. Then the sun begins to rise and the shapes get lighter and they dont all seem like criminals anymore but old ladies with their foo foo dogs.

The view up the top is just simply worth seeing. Probably more from the perspective of me who grew up in Sydney and from this hill you can see every part of Sydney, even the pretty airport..

I visited my family home last weekend and finally lugged some more of my possessions back to my home. In it was my coke bottle collection which naturally everyone has and realised I have nowhere to put it let alone display... into storage it goes. Along with all my written diaries I wrote in the space of 2003-2006. It is quite haunting to read them. They are written to God as such and how I felt. There is so much guilt and apologies in there, cause of how trapped and lost I felt, I couldn't even write the word gay in there, in case someone read it, but just kept begging God to change me and for me not to give up. I am simply so thankful I was given the path to get out of that mind. Though also makes me sad thinking of hw many people are still out there feeling that. I believe God never wants people to feel this guilt and hopelessness about who they are.

Holidays.. I want to decide where to go. I could go to London again and spend some time there for two to three weeks. Or go somewhere like NYC. Though both are expensive but full of possible adventures. Or the other thought would be to just stay here and do something local.

Sometimes I still censor things on here because of the worry certain people read it and dont want to offend or hurt them. I guess that is understandable, but then there is so much going on that I cant even begin to say and it looks like all I have to say is stuff about running up hills and coke bottle collections.

I also got my piano back in the house. Play Lloyd, Play.