Still seem to be frantically busy getting things done in time for various deadlines, some of which are overdue already, like getting my interview for Sleepybrain ready, some of which are coming up next week, like the 4 Minute Wonders proposal that Petite, La Spin and HC and I are working on. I'm beginning to regret the decision to attend the Meredith Music Festival this weekend. Still, it'll be fun.
La Spin sent me a great link to the Passion Pictures website. Animation, film clips, illustration. HTML and Flash version available. While I've yet to have a thorough look, the examples of their work that I have looked at are very impressive and jealousy-inducing.
It is now officially the silly relevant-to-my-studies blog entries and want, instead, to write about completely irrelevant issues. Like skirt-twirling. A friend at work, Y, pointed out to me at the start of skirt-wearing season that skirts tend to rotate around the body in the same direction everytime. I had noticed the skirt-twirling phenomenon before. At one stage it used to drive me mad, and I was constantly stopping to rearrange my various skirts so that they were properly aligned. But then I became resigned to it and let them rotate as they wished. I even started to judge distances and time by how far my skirt would twirl. The walk from work to uni, for instance, takes aproximately three-quarters of a full rotation, whereas the walk from work to home takes a full two rotations.
I hadn't noticed, until Y drew my attention to it, that skirts rotate in the same direction, although this is not uniform to all people. Y's skirts rotate to the right, mine to the left. A quick survey at the office indicated a fifty-fifty split on direction. I'm guessing it's probably something to do with hip alignment, or stride. I've also yet to observe if some skirts (and as such, some fabrics) twirl more rapidly than others.
Thieu and I spent the weekend in Sydney, getting back last night. It was a very enjoyable break. Petite had loaded me up with a large list of places to visit, but we only made it to one on the list: Oh! Calcutta; an Indian restaurant. We were starving when we went in, and Thieu, eyeing the serving sizes announced, before we even started, that he intended to buy some Portuguese chicken from the take-away store when we left.
Of course, an hour later we were groaningly full, and the Portuguese chicken was forgotten about.
The weather was crap, it has to be said, but I was kind of smug about it, in the way that Melbourne people often are about things to do with Sydney. Still, it didn't rain, and it meant that walking around was not unbearable.
There was much non-typical behaviour from me, including sleeping in until 10:45 on Saturday. And I must admit that the only fruit I ate all weekend was floating in the top of the sangria we consumed on Sunday night on a tapas restaurant in Bondi.
We stayed with R on Friday and Saturday, and attended his local street fete on Saturday morning. Thieu was very excited because Spongebob Sqaure Pants was there, mingling with the crowd. "I'm going to shake his hand!" said Thieu, and dashed off, pushing small children out of the way. He came back with a signed Spongebob postcard. "I can't believe it. I shook Spongebob's hand." he said, shaking his head, "I wish we'd had a camera."
Later that weekend, on the ferry, a woman next to us pointed to a figure on Circular Quay. "That's Geoffrey Robertson" she said, "I walked past him before." Thieu wanted to get off the boat and shake his hand too. "Imagine shaking Spongebob's and Geoffrey Robertson's hand on the same weekend." he said.
