Saturday, February 24, 2007
On Thursday evening I was waiting at Spencer Street Station (yes, Spencer Street, not Southern Cross) for my train. It wasn't arriving for about 10 minutes so I decided to go up and have a look at the Sock Shop to see if I could find any interesting stockings to add to my already monstrous collection that takes up an entire large drawer in my bedroom.
On Thursday I had been at work. Yes, work! I've managed to find myself a job, and a most fantastic job indeed. I am a builder of giant puppets! I think I must have the only job in the world where the large, pendulous boobs of a blue bunyip get in the way of me doing my work properly. On this particular Thursday evening I was still wearing my work clothes. "Work clothes" are basically anything I can find that I don't mind getting paint and glue on, and are cool enough to withstand the heat in the large, un-insulated tin shed in Footscray that is the workshop. This Thursday's work clothes were a pair of fisherman pants, and a bright lime green t-shirt acquired from the time I was an Orientation Volunteer at Uni. Both clothes and me were adorned in a layer of dirt and sweat, my newest accessory. In less long winded terms I was not looking (or smelling) my rosiest. This Thursday was the Thursday that Channel 7 for some reason had decided that they were going to film inside The Sock Shop at Spencer Street Station. I don't know why, or for what, but they had cameras there. I didn't really notice them when I walked in, but suddenly it was me, the woman who worked there, and the Channel 7 crew inside the tiny shop. The man behind the camera smiled slyly at me as I perused the wall covered in printed tights. The smile was one that said "why hello darling, don't you look just TERRIBLE today. What a shame you'll be featured in this cutting edge story about the rise of the sock trade we're showing on the next edition of Today Tonight.". At least, that's what his smile said to me. It could have just been a general friendly smile and an unfortunate facial defect made it seem otherwise. I was somewhat alarmed at the cameras this particular Thursday. Thoughts immediately entered my head of all the people from high school who would turn on Channel 7 that night to recognise a very dirty and dishevelled me looking at striped stockings. I imagined them calling out to their high school boyfriends who they now live with in the same postcode as their parents, yelling from the lounge room "look, it's that Erica from high school! Hasn't she turned out horribly!". These kinds of thoughts enter my mind quite often, most often when I'm at the supermarket and notice someone from my year level selecting tomatoes. The general response to this is for me to duck down behind the bananas, and slink slowly away from the produce section with my basket, hoping they don't notice me as I grab a head of broccoli on the way past. In the supermarket you can hide. On television you can not. Did anyone see me? Was I featured in a story on Sunrise about places to shop in Melbourne? Did Kochie make an uncouth remark about the horrid looking girl in the background of the last shot? Did the woman he sits next to whose name I don't know laugh and scold him fondly for it? Or did I look so terrible that they decided they couldn't use any of the footage at all? I may never know... Did anyone see me on television? I hope not.
Channel 7, puppets, television, train stations, work
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Having awesome shoes. Having an acoustic guitar. Playing John Denver. Having a lovely smile. Being from Melbourne. Being actually able to hold a tune. Being felt sorry for. Being sunburnt. (They also offered me sunscreen)
Adelaide, busking, Erica Ordinary, music
Wednesday night, in Adelaide, some time around 10pm.
Mum, out of the blue: What have you been doing? Erica, somewhat tipsy: Hi mum, i've busked in rundle mall, then explored the city. We have been watching an arty gig thing tonight and will probably do similar the rest of the week. Mum, unguageable emotion: Sounds interesting. Erica, somewhat drunk: It is.
Adelaide, family, mum, SMS
Monday, January 29, 2007
I have begun to nudge some rather large wheels. In fact not just rather large, incredibly large. The very first, tiny step towards motion that could very well be the furthest motion my life has seen so far.
I never told you about my trip to Adelaide. Or the events leading up to that trip. All you received was that one tiny bit of information. That I was going to Adelaide. Those who read ericaordinary.com would have gleaned a little more, but not much. Adelaide was a whim. His name is Rob, and I walked myself out onto a limb toward him that could have snapped at any time. It turns out that it didn't, and I arrived back in Melbourne on my feet. Not just on my feet: floating at least two off the ground. Before the Friday night when I arrived we hadn't even kissed. We had thrown sticks at and flirted with each other on the lawn of the Treasury Gardens, and shared two very brief goodbye hugs. The final night he was in Melbourne we stood next to each other watching The Mountain Goats, and, although all I could think about was putting my arms around him, TimidErica took over. We simply stood, side by side, and I have never felt anything such as what was running through my arm when it brushed his. Why did I choose a boy named Rob from Adelaide? Because something was switched on inside me when we met. Something, now that I'm aware of it, if it were ever to leave I think I would feel emptier than I have ever felt before. I have found myself planning my months ahead to include his visits to Melbourne and mine to Adelaide, yet this Wednesday it will only be four weeks since we first met. I have also found myself making a second trip to Adelaide, because the 15th of February is too far away to wait for him to visit Melbourne. I've found myself peeking at jobs advertised in Adelaide on Seek whilst applying for those in Melbourne. I've even found myself actually emailing off an application to one particular job in Adelaide. Originally curiosity; increasingly appetising. And I have found myself tentatively researching business and music opportunities in the state of South Australia. These are the kinds of things a boy named Rob from Adelaide can do to me. He uncovers wheels I never would have thought existed before three and a half weeks ago. I'm scaring myself ever so slightly with possibility. Can anyone give me advice?
Adelaide, boys, future, Rob
Friday, January 12, 2007
I wasn't quite sure how to tell my mum so I just blurted it out at the dinner table. Just after slicing the very top of my little toe off on a folded up banana lounge belonging to my Aunt. We were all eating chickpea and corn enchilladas that my middle sister had made, and it was the first time I had sat down to dinner with my family in some months.
"I'm going to Adelaide for the weekend." "You are? What for?" "To see a guy who I kind of really like," "And yet another weekend goes by without cleaning out the garage...or the spare room..." And thus was the reaction of my mother. Is it crazy to travel ten and a half hours on the bus to Adelaide? Especially when the number of hours you have seen this person for are less than the number of hours you will be on the bus? I will be back on Monday night. There are so many butterflies in my stomach right now that I can't tell where they stop and I begin.
Adelaide, boys, busses, dinner, insanity, mum
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Merry Christmas everybody!
Santa Baby (right click and save target as to download) Performed by Nayfn and Erica ( Christmas 2005)
Christmas, mp3s, music, Nayfn, recordings
Thursday, December 21, 2006
My mum and I have very different tastes. I walked around for quite some time yesterday trying to find an interesting, Melbourne made piece of jewellery for her Christmas present but instead came home with a dress for myself.
Today my middle sister and I went shopping together. "Have you got anything for mum yet?" she asked. "No... she was really hard to buy for," I replied. It was then that we walked past Barbecues Galore and I had my Brilliant Idea. "What about a new lounge chair for outside? That old wood one is all falling apart." "Yes, that's a great idea!" We walked into Barbecues Galore and found one outdoor banana lounge that was well out of our budget. Onward and downward to Kmart we went! It was there we found a perfect lounge, and after a telephone consultation with Dad carried it together to the registers, paid for it, and then carried it through the throngs of angry shoppers and to my car. This was where our troubles started (if carrying a large lounge through big crowds in intense heat wasn't trouble enough). As you will remember, after the Camira died I bought a new car. Tyvvie is a lovely automobile, but she is very little. Bianca and I set the lounge down on the bitchumen of the car park and stood with our hands on our hips looking at the boot. "How do we do this?" Bianca asked. "I'm not exactly sure," I replied, trying to mentally rotate the image of the lounge and place it into the mental image of the inside of the car. We opened the car, folded down the back seats, and then pushed the lounge into the boot. We pushed and pulled, this way and that, until we were able to get all but one leg inside the car. "It's not working!" I called from my position at the back seat while Bianca pushed from outside the boot. "We'll have to fold the front seat down too." I opened the front door and started winding the disc at the side of the passenger seat until it lay against the back seats. We resumed our pushing and pulling, and then suddenly all four legs were inside the car. Standing back, we wiped the sweat off our faces and admired our handywork. "Erica..." Bianca said. "Yes?" "How am I supposed to get home now?" "Oh..." I realised. "You'll have to take the bus..."
cars, Christmas, gifts, mum, sisters, summer
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
because I couldn't think of anything to write about.
because I wrote it all in emails and letters instead. because my blog felt different with all these people around. because I got tangled up in a South African boy and forgot about many other things. because I thought I was falling in love and it scared me. because he broke my heart. because people keep telling me to write something. because I ran out of stories I wanted to tell. because I am not anonymous enough. because it is my blog, and my outlet, and I need to decide when I write and when I don't.
In the background
Things I was given money for whilst busking in Run...
SMS conversation with my mum
Hurry up my chimney baby!
Why I went away...
Little Black Sheep
Section 8 Market
123 I Love You
can you fly like you mean it?
Diary of a Dilletante
fluffy as a cat
Get On The Blandwagon!
Hecho En Mexico
Hooked on Heat
I'd Rather Swallow Razor Blades
No Wallet Evolution
Quasi Boho Alterna-Whatnot
The Inane Asylum
The Teej Mahal
The world forgetting...
Things I've Written
Toothpaste For Dinner
Two Minutes Happiness
Treading Water 101
What's New, Pussycat?
You Knit What??
Quick Sex Pizza
Spinach & Ricotta Canneloni
Vegan Date & Pecan Loaf
Pumpkin & Sage Filos
Spring Harvest Risotto
Mexican Wedge Mountain
Homemade Ice Cream
Soda Fountain Recipes
Maybe Moving Out
The Ship of Destiny - Robin Hobb