Black nail polish- it's dangerous!

With the Beijing Olympics coming up soon, China has been a popular topic of discussion. At lunch today, my colleague Phil was talking about the death sentence in China. He said that, in China, there are 68 offences that are punishable by the death sentence.

I asked, "What would be the smallest thing you could do, out of those 68 offences, that would result in the death sentence? What would be the most minimal offence?" Phil took a look at me and said, "Wearing black nail polish."

Obviously, Phil was kidding. And obviously, Phil knows nothing about fashion.

Phil's comment didn't even leave a dent in my good mood. Because my black nail polish had given me this new, exciting feeling. I felt dangerous and edgily trendy. I felt secretly rebellious. I had an extra bounce in my step today.

A mini makeover can do wonders for your confidence...try it!

WYD Super Thursday....super scary!

In my last entry, I know that it appeared that I had made peace with World Youth Day. Unfortunately, it is making me frazzled again. I think that I have a condition called Pope-a-phobia.

I am too scared to catch the trains or go into the city, in case of massive train delays. And large crowds of pilgrims give me the creeps. One of my friends, who works in Martin Place, says that he wants to lean out of the window and scream, "SHUT UP!" There's only so much singing, guitar strumming and general hysteria that a Sydney CBD worker can take. There are pilgrims everywhere! Even outside of the CBD, there are clumps of pilgrims, walking around with giant flags and their orange backpacks.

Pope Benny himself also scares me a bit. I saw some footage of him in the Popemobile, driving through the Sydney CBD. Okay, so you would think that the Popemobile would chug along at a pleasant pace...a pace suitable for an 81 year old Pope, right? Not so! The Popemobile was careening through the streets, swinging around corners and speeding in general! And, to be honest...I would do the exact same thing! You see, us Sydneysiders have been all but banned from the city. We are afraid of traffic jams and delays. And so, if you are the Pope, and you have all the space and road that you want, why not speed and go a little crazy?

As the Pope swept through the streets, I saw him raise one of his arms. A panicky thought came into my head...is the Pope giving Sydney the finger? Because the only real reason a Sydneysider would raise their arm while in a car would be to give someone the finger, the bird, the big eff off. But no...he's the Pope- he would never do that! The finger never materialised, and instead, he kept waving and waving to the crowds.

Only a few more days of World Youth Day/Week/Thing to go. I am sorry to say it, but I want it to be over soon.

World Youth Day...or World Strewth Day?

About a month ago, I saw a funky-looking ad on TV. It had very bright colours, lots of smiling people in it, and a rock'n'roll sound track. So there I was, nodding along to the beat, when the logo came on screen: "WORLD YOUTH DAY 2008". I felt totally manipulated and ripped off. These advertising gurus had tricked me into thinking that the Pope was cool! They sucked me into watching an ad for World Youth Day!

So the next time I saw a bright, hip ad, I was cautious. I thought to myself, "It's probably for World Youth Day...they're not gonna get me this time!" I watched the ad through cynical, narrowed eyes. And then...I saw that it was an ad for the new Coldplay album, available on iTunes. Also not cool!

Over the past few weeks, us Sydneysiders have been bombarded with posters, ads and train announcements about the Pope's visit for World Youth Day. Before World Youth Day even began this week, we were sick of it. It's not all the Pope's fault...the city of Sydney has a habit of panicking when something big comes along, and shutting down all of the main roads and keeping its inhabitants out. I think that sometimes, people forget that Sydney is actually a business capital, and that we don't just lie around on Bondi Beach all the time. We need our CBD to work in, people!

As you may be able to tell, I have been a bit frustrated and cynical towards WYD. Quite a few of my friends have asked me if I was going along to any of the WYD events- the mass, the music, the singing in the streets thing. This is probably because they know that I am a committed Christian. But I am not a Catholic. I don't agree with the Pope's stance on many things. I also don't like seeing the message of Jesus commercialised. Also, all of those young people marching down the streets and singing are really annoying.

However, after watching some of the WYD mass on TV today, my heart has been softened somewhat. Cardinal Pell seemed really sincere in his sermons, and I think that he preached God's word faithfully. It did seem really nice to see so many young people excited about Christ, and it was great that the city of Sydney could be lit up by so many faithful hearts. Also, some of the mass reminded me of yesterday's Miss Universe pageant, which cheered me up. They had some young Catholics dress up in their national costume, and it was not unlike the young Miss Australia/United States/Japan etc parading in their freakish national costumes.

So, I may not be the biggest fan of Pope Benny. I don't think that I need WYD to affirm my faith- I get the same atmosphere and good feelings at church every week. But I think that being a grump doesn't help anyone, and maybe I shouldn't criticise something until I've seen some of it with my own eyes. But I am still yet to see Pope Benny! And...I kind of do wish that he wore Prada.

Carla, the secret blogger

I was chatting with one of my work friends about my new zine, Ask Aunty Carla, and how good it felt to write it and sell it. Claire said, "You know what you should do? You should write a blog." I didn't know what to say. The whole time I have been blogging (about 5 years now), I have never told anyone I have worked with about it. Sure, my friends and family all know that I have a blog. But I have always been shy about telling work people. I like being a bit anonymous, and watching things unfold on a daily basis. I like quietly observing people. I like having a secret creative life.

So I just nodded, and waited for the topic of blogging to pass. But Claire kept talking about it! She said, "I definitely think you should have an online blog. You would be really good at it. You have such a quirky writing style, and you could make it look all funky! I would definitely support you in that. You should look into it and do it!" I just nodded mildly and murmured that it sounded interesting, and that I'd think about it.

I felt a bit smug after that conversation- that I could conduct a whole secret life, and the people around me wouldn't know a thing! But I also felt a bit mean...did this make me a liar? Maybe I will tell Claire if I quit that place sometime. But for now, I like keeping a little piece of my life to myself. I know that this is totally ironic, seeing as people I have never met read my blog. But I do feel like I am sharing things with friends. 

A stretch Hummer will always get people talking

You know that you're in for a bumper weekend when it involves...

Fig.1. A stretch Hummer.

Fig. 2. Colourful biscuits.

Fig. 3. Clowns at sausage sizzles.

I saw all of these things at a wedding this weekend. It was a good day.

Does anyone find goths scary any more?

I was on the train this week, coming home from work, when I noticed two goths being harassed. Well, not harassed, but...interrogated. The goths were about my age, and they were pretty mild-looking. The girl had heavy eyeliner and long black hair with a bright white streak. Her boyfriend had facial piercings, a weird shaved hairdo and he was wearing a spiky dog  collar. But really, haven't we seen it all before? Goths and emos really aren't a big deal any more. We have all figured out that they aren't scary. We know that it is about personal expression, and not terrorism. 

Anyway, these two goths were being eagerly questioned by a young, non-goth guy. He just kept asking them why they dressed the way they did. He wanted to know if it was a choice that they made. He mentioned that sometimes, he chose to get drunk- and so, did they choose to dress as goths? I know, that logic doesn't even make sense, but the guy kept using that argument. Was he saying that wearing black is a way to punish yourself, much like alcoholism? I'm still not sure. The young man also asked: was it religious? Was there something serious happening in the goths' lives to make them dress the way they did?

The two goths were very nice and patient with the young man, and they answered all of his questions. They said that they got drunk sometimes, too. They told him that they were actually quite happy. They said that they just liked dressing the way they did. They told him that they were not afraid to be goths- they wanted to be goths, so that's what they became.

The train stopped, and the two goths and I got off the train. The young man called from the train, "But why? There must be a reason!" The two goths looked amused, and began to walk home. I turned around and said, "I think you guys look great." The goth guy said, "Thanks."

I saw the goth girl the next morning, and she was wearing a tracksuit. It was black with an angsty-looking design on it, so I guess it was still gothic. I told my friend Jasmine about this whole experience, and she said that where she is from (China), there are no goths or emos or major subcultures. So I guess Jasmine's question  is not "Why do goths dress funny?" But rather, "Why are there goths?"

Are goths, emos and other subcultures a big deal any more? I'm not sure. Sydney is a pretty colourful city, and I don't get that shocked by people who look different from me. We're all people, underneath the clothes and makeup. Maybe we all look funny to someone else.

I am not sixteen, so let me into the pub!

A mysterious visitor comes to Carla's place...

Geoff and I hit the town recently. Although I am not really a town-hitter- okay, I am a bookwormy nerd- I do like to have a bit of a party every now and then. The Sydney Film Festival was on, and we visited a pub in the Rocks before seeing one of the films. 

I was feeling confident and glamorous, and I strutted towards the pub door. I mean, hello, I was wearing a scarf with sequins on it. Sequins do great things for a girl's self esteem. Anyway, a massive dude blocked my way through the door. "I.D. please," he said. This was greatly annoying. I mean, I am a grown-up girl who is married, who doesn't want to be treated like a baby by the bouncer. I just wanted to have a grown-up drink before seeing a highly cultural and intelligent film. Like, the film was French and everything.

I protested, "Oh come on, let me in, I'm almost thirty!" Well, I'm 26- close enough. I just thought that saying "thirty" would add dramatic effect. Then the bouncer said, "Well, you look sixteen, so give me your I.D. card." Damn it! I went through the indignity of getting my driver's licence out, and having the bouncer wriggle the driver's licence around in the light to make sure the hologram was real. When he finally decided to let me in, I said, "See? I really AM almost thirty. Now, check his I.D. [pointing to Geoff]- he's 3 years younger than me!" All of this was true, and it was only fair that my husband should have his I.D. checked, too. And you know what? The bouncer totally ignored me and let Geoff walk in. Geoff attributes this to the fact that he has recently grown a very manly beard, which he thinks ages him handsomely. Geoff, of course, believes that I should feel flattered that the bouncer thought I was a teenager. I do feel a tiny bit good about it. But mostly, it was embarrassing trying to get into a trendy bar and being treated like a schoolgirl.

But perhaps the door man knew about my new friend, the dinosaur...

I mean, only little girls would play with inflatable dinosaurs, right? My friend Elissa had a birthday party that weekend, and what could be a more perfect present than a giant, inflatable dinosaur? Elissa is a bit of crazy girl, and also, she was heading overseas, so she could easily deflate the dinosaur and take it with her. So at around 11pm on a Saturday night, Geoff and I lugged this dinosaur through the streets of Bondi, until we found Elissa's house. She screamed with joy when she saw my new dinosaur friend, wrapped her arms around it and immediately christened it Daisy. I personally thought that the dinosaur was a boy, but whatever. At least it made her happy. If an inflatable dinosaur asked for my I.D., I would totally show it to him/her, because inflatable dinosaurs are just SO adorable.

Kinokuniya Zine Fair!

My new zine, Ask Aunty Carla!

And some new friends...soft pet rocks!

Yesterday was spent at the Kinokuniya Zine Fair, selling my latest wares: a zine called Ask Aunty Carla, and some soft pet rocks! Ask Aunty Carla is like an advice column, but inside a zine. I have also illustrated it. This season's issue helps you to deal with perverts, space-hoggers and mumblers. It has practical, yet funny advice. It was a blast to write and illustrate, but not so much of a blast to photocopy, collate, etc! The soft pet rocks were originally going to be made from real rocks. But my husband Geoff and I had to catch the train to the fair, and I didn't think that lugging a bunch of rocks around would be practical. So I thought, why not make some rocks?

Kinokuniya is a beautiful, enormous bookstore, situated in the Sydney CBD above The Galeries Victoria shopping arcade. We sat at small tables throughout the store. Geoff and I were sitting in the kids' books section. Apparently, it was the ideal position- much better than being situated in Philosophy and Computer Books, say. Anyway, it was wonderful just sitting in the bookstore- I felt like a real author, you know? There was a lovely, calm at atmosphere at the zine fair that day, and a great time was had by all. Lots of lovely people bought my zine, and the soft pet rocks went to some friendly new homes. It was such a joy to be selling things that I have made myself. Over the past few years, I have had a bit of a break from being creative, but now I am back in force and feeling fabulous. Thank you to everyone who came along, and a special thank you if you bought my stuff!

Sadly, there is often one big idiot fly in the La Mer ointment. This idiot came in the form of a man who picked up one of my rocks. He smirked, held it up to me and asked what it was. After I explained, he continued to examine it. Finally, he said, "These are TERRIBLE!" Now, I am a seasoned retail girl. I used to work for Burberry, Prada and Bulgari. I knew that if the customer insulted my products, I would just have to be gracious and polite. But, friends, I no longer work for the retail Man. I work for myself. I made those little rocks while watching 2 whole seasons of Friends. I'd worked hard, and I wasn't going to take this dude's crap. So I replied passionately, "Well, YOU'RE terrible!" He then asked me, "Who would buy these?" And I said, "Obviously not YOU!" Then I promptly spilled coffee over some of my zines, as I was so incensed and offended. The happy customer went on his way, unaware that I was glowering at him. I told my newfound zine friends about this incident; one replied, "What a c***!" While I do claim to not know the C word, and I never use it, I do think that it was an appropriate title for that mean man. Much more effective than my timid, "What an A-hole!"

Staying home, going out, hearing weird things

I actually went out this weekend, instead of staying home and being an artist. Over dinner with some friends, a young man told me about the engineering work he did. I exclaimed, "Oh wow, you work with bridges and dwarves? That is sooooo amazing." My husband Geoff then guffawed, "He said bridges and WHARVES, not bridges and DWARVES!" Well, working with wharves is also pretty cool.

I am working on some crafty biz at the moment. It is not as much fun as I thought. There is a zine fair at Kinokuniya this Saturday, and yours truly will be selling a zine and some craft. I have been a bit hermitty lately. Making a zine and crafty things is fun for a bit, but I think that going out is better. Being creative can be so isolating sometimes. But I am working for an end result...hopefully some people will like my work and buy it.

I had a bad day today, and then someone sat on me and it got worse

The weather report can help us decide how to go about our day. Sunshine? Hang out the washing. Rain? Stay inside or go to the shops. I wish that I could be issued a Carla’s Life report, so that I can know whether or not I should get out of bed in the morning. I don’t believe in fortune telling or the like. I am just saying that it would be useful. Take today, for example. This is what the report would look like.

Carla’s Life Report. Tuesday, 17 June, 2008.

Big butts ahead

On the early morning train, a very fat person will attempt to sit next to you. But instead, they will literally sit on you. They will crush your right thigh and hip, and they will not move. They weigh about the same as a small elephant. It will be up to you to sigh heavily, slam your book shut and then squash yourself against the window. This incident will cause you to have very low self-esteem throughout the day, as you begin to be concerned that perhaps your body language is not assertive enough. You will also consider that perhaps, you are actually, truly, invisible. Because why else would someone sit on you? This idea of being invisible is actually kind of cool, so you try to focus on that thought instead.

Early morning screaming

Upon answering the phone at work, you will encounter an angry human being. They will shout at you and say that you don’t care. You may not care, but you must pretend that you do.

Aches and pains

Due to the arse that crushed your leg, you will experience aches and pains in your leg for the duration of the day. As you do not know the identity of the leg crusher, and you therefore do not have a real person you can blame, you will instead sit in a sulk all day. You attempt to tell your friends, but they accuse you of being fattist- that is, discriminatory. You tell them the facts: Someone sat on your leg. They were fat. It hurt, and it was rude of them. End of story. No discrimination there, people, just FACTS.

Extreme jealousy

This evening, there will be a screening of a particular Australian TV show. In this show is a character that you auditioned for. Someone else got the role. You will watch the show, glowering, and knowing that you could SO do a better job. You will consider sending your headshot to everyone know, and moving to LA tomorrow.

Now that I have read today’s report, I can now conclude that I would DEFINITELY NOT HAVE got out of bed today. Of course, there was no report, so a fat person sat on me, etc etc. No, I do not think that I will EVER get over the indignity of being SAT ON by another human being. What do I look like? A fluffy pillow? I must try to look more cactus-like.

Anyway, if anyone out there has Wednesday’s report, please let me know.