The Life and Times of a Fabled Flower

So what have I been doing with my free time?

Well, instead of doing things like looking for a job and studying (y'know, more productive stuff ... ) I've decided to channel all of my energy into gif making!

I've created a second page for them here.

SerenaGreyMars Photobucket

And yes, what I said is true, as I would never take the credit for someone else's work.

( Click behind cut )

And now y’all, a moment here. I am shaving my head for a cure. A CURE. FOR CANCER. While the fundraiser is technically for Leukaemia and all, this for me is more of a solidarity thing. And a money thing too, I guess. I mean, if they find a cure for blood cancer maybe the theories can be applied to boob cancer? I don’t know. SCIENCE.

So I’m shaving my head because I watched my grandma lose all her hair towards the end there, with what started as boob cancer that turned into blood cancer that ended as brain cancer. And I wasn’t there in the end. The VERY end, I mean, last breath and all. There’s an entry about that a ways back and I’m still not over the guilt and latent anger and maybe this will help? I don’t know. It’s three years later and I spend a lot of money on pink ribbon shit and I want something more tangible. So a fuzzy head for a few months will help. And money. For cures. So someone else doesn’t have to watch their motherfatherdaughtersonbrothersisterauntunclecousinbestfriendworstenemy get sicker and more frail and dead. Because it’s honestly the worst feeling in the world and the only way you actually escape it is by being in that position yourself and no one wants to be there so CURES.

The worst was watching my Grandma lose her fire. I mean, she mostly used her fire to get fiery at Mum for not taking her numerous and never-ending doctor’s appointments she mostly didn’t need (except for the Oncologist ones, obviously) with the same seriousness that she did, and in return Mum would get fiery for her not actually doing anything worthwhile with their money like making themselves more comfortable in their house or going overseas or at least somewhere FURTHER than Hervey Bay (which is only about an hour or two away), but you know. In the end we forced them to put air conditioning in their tiny house, get chairs that would help them stand up (Pa’s Parkinsons and Grandma’s failing...everything, really) and cable TV. So at least they could have more channels to watch when they sat in their now cool home all day between appointments. And then two years later Mum had her scares and DIDN’T TELL ME UNTIL AFTER THE SURGERY TO REMOVE THE CYSTS and we got all fiery about that too.

There’s a lot of fire in my family.

ANYWAY. Personal, touching story dotted with the many arguments had over the years and now losing hair, need sponsors. I’ve given Beth the leave to be the one to cut off my ponytail, but maybe I can talk her into giving that honour to the highest donation. Second highest can decide whether or not I go shiny-bald or light fuzz. Or highest, depending if Beth lets the ponytail go.

You can sponsor me HERE. Currently I’m a lone wolf in this regard, but am totes open to teaming up and kicking malignant ass. Benign ass too, but as a pre-emptive strike measure. Shave, colour, play with it till it teases out to some confusing Victorian era beehive that requires 16 good, strong men to carry, I don’t care. Join if you’re brave enough, donate if you don’t wanna lose your luscious locks but enjoy watching others cry a little as they lose theirs. I’m not sure if I’ll be a crier or not yet, mostly because I’m currently in the phase of OH GOD IT’S SO HOT AND MY HAIR IS SO HEAVY SHAVE ME BALD NOOOOW, but it’s the longest it’s been since I was 14. It could go either way at this point.

So in conclusion: shaving head in memory of Grandma, want people to give me money for eventual cures for doing it. GO TEAM GO.

EDIT: For some the link isn't working, so go to http://www.worldsgreatestshave.com/, scroll down to 'Sponsor a Shaver' and when the 'search for a shaver' page comes up, type in 'Amanda Gould' and set the drop down menu to 'Queensland'. THEN you'll find me and it'll go through the motions. Sorry all.

Things I have learnt in the last fortnight or thereabouts when masquarding net-surfing as ‘work’:

- Eddie Izzard was in the running to be the Eleventh Doctor on Doctor Who. And how awesome would THAT have been? I would’ve actually started to watch a British Sci-Fi show! One that DIDN’T suck (Torchwood, I’m looking at you. You and your omnisexual Captain Jack. Seriously man, you just don’t put your thing in some things, that’s where the Darwin Awards began).
- Tim Curry did the voice of Arl Howe in Dragon Age. Captain Janeway is Flemyth. The Bisexual French Battle Nun is amusing me more and more as this game goes on. Claudia Black needs to do more work where she’s carrying a gun or voicing a character that can turn into a giant bear and rip a man’s heart out or something.
- A course in ‘Maintaining Infection Control in Personal Office Spaces’ costs approximately $350. Where I am going to find $350, even the internet can’t tell me. Oh sure, it can tell me I’m the millionth visitor to a site and that I’VE WON, but I think it’s just saying that to make me feel better. About not having $350.
- That I’m too afraid to Google any of my bosses for fear they’re on a sex offender list somewhere. I WOULD NOT BE SURPRISED, SOME OF THEM. Well, one of them. Sick, sick little man. I can’t wait until I quit, WORDS. WORDS WILL BE HAD.

And I probably shouldn’t anyway, not at work. Questions would have to be answered, shit would go down etc. They’re now threatening to take ‘Internet Privilages’ off of us if we use the internet for non-work related items. Let’s see, I currently have the Wiki pages for the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors, ‘Mystery Men’ and ‘Rage’ open (from an impromptu ‘Eddie Izzard’ Google), as well as Gmail, Hotmail and Improv Everywhere idling in the back. Yeah, I could totally pass all those off as work.

In other words, LET THEM TRY.

I’m going back to school! I’m pretty sure I vowed about 3 years ago I’d never return, but what better time to start when everyone else is finishing their degrees. I am Amanda, Mistress of Timing. It’s gonna be great. And by great I mean boring, because the course I want is pretty much an exercise in common sense. This is the part where I question the course fee and ask how they justify it. BUT A LEAD. And I went and had another interview and the lady was frikken awesome, loved my work, said I could borrow her studio for the prac aspect of the course and would throw me any interesting jobs that came her way. I’m...kinda blown away by that. So now it’s get the certificate, find some yahoos to practice on and get a portfolio up and running to take to OTHER places because she can’t offer me a job as such, but can get me started. It’s...everything. Everything I need and I’ve been looking for.

It’s something and I need SOMETHING right now. Because I really, really hate my job. This is different to the time where I really hated my Photography College job, but that’s because the second boss’s wife was a bitch and thought SHE was ALSO my boss and demanded I take a pop quiz on her area of expertise. A. Fucking. Pop Quiz. If there is one stunt you do NOT pull on Mama G’s kid, it’s a fucking pop quiz while on the job. I mean, seriously.

She had irritating bitchface tiny Hitler short person syndrome. Did one nice thing for me ever, and I suspect it was because she didn’t want the kids to be distracted by my sobbing quietly behind the desk after I was told my Grandma was on the way out. More on that in a moment, maybe another entry.

CHRISTMAS. It’s here, I don’t feel it yet, and I won’t get to see all the pretty lights OR go to midnight mass this year. Beth flies to Tasmania to see her family next Monday and I follow Christmas Day. We don’t have a tree at home because we’re slightly too poor, but that’s alright. I spend Christmas Eve at home, before Mum and Dad take me to the airport Christmas Day where I spend Christmas Dinner with Beth’s family, then New Years at Falls Festival sleeping in the back of a van or tent depending on whether Beth or I can drive the van. Then a further 5 days out at Maria Island where there’s no electricity and all we do is drink, play 500 and chase wombats. And sleep in convict huts. I’m getting my last decade of camping quota filled over approximately 2 weeks. In 2 weeks. I’m excitedly terrified, like a puppy that spies a bath for the first time. Also, I really really need a holiday and a chance to forget that certain people at work are dicks and should be put down. With a shovel. In the fields. Just out back. It wouldn’t take much. A late workday. A flat tyre. A broken mobile. No witnesses. A clang. A scuffle. A dead weight and a silent accomplice. A tarp, an hour’s worth of digging and we never speak of it again.

When murder fantasies start getting me through the days I know it’s time for a break.