It’s been a busy week of not having a job anymore for me in Canberra. The little bookstore only needed people for the first few weeks of school so now it’s either (or rather jobs that I’ve applied for) the pet store (PUPPIES, destress while working, what could be better then that), MYER (aka the Hudson Belk of Australia, maybe I can be an elf since they only need Christmas casuals) and the Belconnen Arts Centre (first off, I love spelling centre this way, but hate the way favourite is spelled and secondly I would die to help out at this arts centre, it’s so exciting).
So, in between eating Doritos, grocery shopping, buying myself some cute new shirts (and a giant Derby hat/headband), and a movie ticket to Tomorrow when the War Began, and a few more cards for the people I love, I’ve been working on graduate school applications. God, I’m sure a bore right now. BUT, everything was turned upside down when last weekend I went to Floriade which is the Flower parade initiating the start of spring in Canberra (and most of Australia). The theme was imagination so you can see how I was like a small girl, in a poofy dress jumping around all the flower beds and letting every smell hit my nose like a bomber. Yes, wars and flowers go together, VERY WELL.
So, Floriade, what all did I see? Well, I saw a traveling band (aka traveling organ that looked like a train car and had naked mermaid statues playing miniature violins. So, you know those jokes where people play the little violin because you’re whining WELL PEOPLE ACTUALLY DO PLAY MINI-VIOLINS YA ASSHOLES, SO I’M GOING TO WHINE ALL I WANT). This is where I should tell you that I have a bit of a temper…I like to call it a passionate flare and it just so happens to get the best of me on public transportation, when I’m asked absolutely stupid questions, or I feel at all belittled. I’m not very good at closing my trap, or filtering it for that matter. And last week (this is a rant, prepare) I was “BAM!”med on my blog for arguing that Taylor Swift’s VMA song was a good lesson in forgiveness. Apparently, NPR and a political writer in SC didn’t agree with me. However, instead of getting immediately angry and turn into the flame flaring dragon I can be, I calmly thanked her for her opinion and moved on. My mom was proud, she could have hung that blog comment on our refrigerator. And I, learned for once, that the well manners of the South (and the North because Northerners are awesome) actually work. So, “bless your heart” you terrible, sadly mistaken, cynical political writer for South Carolina, “bless your wee little heart, Grinch.”
Okay, back to flowers. I think this blog would be best, and more fresh with a few pictures.
So, the theme was imagination, which I have more then my fair share of. It’s a bad seed gene that my brother and I both share that gives us mad creativity skills but then limits us to actual logical thinking (me more then him). So, imagination, here’s how I feel about you; if I was locked in an insane asylum I would 1. write the most dysfunctional poetry in my head and 2. live inside my own imagination. While snapping shots of this sign I was having a little diddy of a conversation about how Narnia, Hogwarts, Wonderland, DISNEYLAND, and wherever Coraline goes in her movie, must all be REALLY near each other so that they can just travel about through all of them via the Yellow Brick Road. Ask yourself friends if you wouldn’t just want to escape into THAT adventure.
Because I’m a fourteen-year-old girl (I’m obsessed with Justin Beiber, paint my nails an odd assortment of bright colors, and prefer to wear bows that have sequins in my hair) I chased this flower female down through crowds of Asian people (because Asians are the main population in Australia) and got a picture of her leaning over to (I’m more then sure) pollinate a few people she saw (maybe cute boys, maybe not)(yes I’m making this sexual, and yes I’m using multiple sets of parenthesis because it is my way).
This was my favorite flower, out of the millions of flowers because it had evil pointy petals. And what is more oxymoron (which my fiction sneak-in class just had an argument about the other day, my professor guy said he thought oxymoron’s were like “military intelligence” which I thought was absolutely hilarious…the rest of the class didn’t agree) then a pointed, angry flower. (That was a long parenthesis, I seem to getting worse with my parenthitis, the disease where overuse of parenthesis is common). YAY ANGRY FLOWERS.
The caption pretty much says it all, but what place has a bamboo maze, only the land of OZ, aka wonderland, aka FLORAIDE CANBERRA. So, happy I experienced all the childlike wonder of this miniature parade. I’ll post a few more pictures now without my ghastly and strange commentary just for shits and giggles. If i had a “wish you were here” postcard I might post it here, at least…I wish some of you were here. :) Haha, bye!