Hey Mother Nature, settle down.

I've been crazily lazy over the holidays with my little piece of joy (aka this lovely blog). But truth be told, after having a relaxing Christmas period and finally deciding to get stuck into some work, I couldn't, because my eyes have been glued to the TV.
The recent floods have just been devastating. I'm heart-broken, and I'm sitting safely in Melbourne. I cannot begin to imagine the pain that these poor people must be feeling. Words just fail me, which doesn't tend to happen very often.



Image URL: http://www.abc.net.au/

I know it has been drummed into everyone, but we need to donate, donate, donate. Skip that morning coffee for a week or two, and give it to the people that don't have a home anymore.
Go here for how you can donate.
A personal favourite of mine though, is something that local Vic/Melbournians can help with. Onya magazine are running Onya Aid on Australia Day, at Honey Bar in South Melbourne. Check it out.

But now, country Victoria is in danger of flooding? Come on, Mother Nature. Give us a break.




ImageURL:http://www.abc.net.au/

To keep up to date with the Victorian floods, keen an eye on the Vic Gov website.

And, although I say, give and give and give to our family and friends that are struggling in QLD. I urge you to remember, something that happened in our backyard not that long ago, something that is still effecting people, and I talk of Black Saturday.
There are families who still don't have a home, who are still struggling with their grief, who are still reliving their trauma like it happened yesterday.
Don't forget them.



What a contrast! Image URL:http://www.kidsolo.com/

http://www.blacksaturday.com.au/

They say Australians are known for sticking together in the tough times, helping out when it's needed. Prove them right.

Hope you are all happy and safe.



Wanted: Christmas spirit.

Last night as I was sitting in the car, staring at all the non-existent Christmas lights, I turned to my Dad and stated, 'It just doesn't feel like Christmas.'

It usually doesn't take much to get me in the festive spirit, I love present shopping, and if you sing me a carol, it'll be in my head for days. I love the Christmas period, otherwise known as December. I love seeing a Santa everywhere I go, I love those annoying tunes, I love those crappy movies, and I love the 'togetherness' and seeing all those people you haven't seen for months at the annual Christmas parties.

There's something about this year, it's just not right. I don't like the fact that basically everything is open on Christmas day, I don't like the fact that I walked around Highpoint the other day for six hours and only heard two carols, and I definitely don't like the fact that I feel like a scrooge.

Maybe I'm just in an awkward period, too old to really get into it, not old enough to have kids to help leave out Santa cookies and milk (or as tradition in the Stewart household, Beer and BBQ shapes).
Whatever it is, I have eight days to shake it, and I'm determined for next year to be bigger and better. I think I'd cry the day I felt too old for Christmas.

Although, this morning, this did brighten my day. Thank you Sandi Sieger.

Does anyone feel the same? Do you think people are beginning to take Christmas for granted?

I'm nineteen, and my parents pay my rent.

Living in my own little bubble for the last week (and how heavenly that week was...) has meant a serious lack of blog reading and media interaction. This morning, I woke up, blew the dust off my laptop, and got ready to read everything I'd missed (oh, and avoid the ninety-odd emails waiting for me). This little beauty of an opinion piece, and its five hundred comments, is what caught my eye.

http://www.mamamia.com.au/weblog/2010/12/im-23-i-live-at-home-and-heres-why.html

                        I was trying to put the actual piece on this post, but blogger is being a pain-in-the-arse

So, apparently Lucy is lazy, spoilt, ungrateful and a whole bunch of other names which basically translates into a no-hope-Gen Y-leach-on-society.
Guess what? She's not.

I'm nineteen and I live at home, most of the time. At home, I live with my Mum, my Dad, and occasionally my twenty-one-year-old brother. When I live at home, Mum or Dad cook dinner, Mum does my washing, and if I want to go out for dinner with the girls and have a few drinks, Dad will drive me. I don't pay board, but I can stack a dishwasher and I can follow a recipe.
I usually have a hectic Monday-Friday uni schedule, so I also live in a small, two (kind-of-three) bedroom, flat about five minutes away from uni during the week, with my brother (who pretty much lives there full-time). And, my parents pay the rent.

No, I don't come from an insanely rich family.
No, I don't demand money from parents. It's actually the opposite. The number of times I've started to pack my car to drive up to house #2 for the week only to have a fight with my Mum about the groceries she's bought for us, is off the scale.

I'm in a crappy $14 an hour job that I've had since the end of school. I come home on weekends to work, AND to see my parents, because let's face it, I have the best relationship with both of them. I've tried to get a better job, to help my parents out with money, but no-one wants to hire a basically unavailable uni student who lives in two places.
My brother earned (he doesn't have a job at the moment) quite a bit more than me, so is able to help my parents out with bills, and he also gets rental assistance from the Government, money which goes to my parents.

I'm not stupid, I do realise how lucky I am. But, do not call me spoilt, ungrateful or a "typical Gen Y".

I come from a close-knit family on both sides, and it was a natural instinct for my parents to offer all the help they're giving their children. They don't live in poverty whilst my brother and I live in 'luxury'. We ALL live comfortably.

We live in 2010- an era where people are so different and unique that you can't stereotype them to their generations. So what if my parents what to help me and my brother have the best start to adult life as we possibly can? It's their choice and they're happy to do it. I'm driven, I work hard, and I'm determined about the path I want to take, so why can't I accept the help my parents want to offer me, without being labelled something I'm not?

When uni is over, when I have a hex debt that will make me ill, when I have a career, when I fully move out, when I become an adult, I have no doubt my parents will be by my side, ready to help. When will that be? It could be in a few years, it could be in ten years. But nobody is pushing me, especially my parents, who are happy to take it as it comes.

So before you go to call me spoilt and naive, and you continue to hassle Lucy, how about you don't? Because you're not us, you're not our parents, and you don't decide how we live our lives, just like we don't decide (or judge) yours.

Now, I'm going to sip Martini's beside my insanely huge pool and light a cigarette with a $100 note, all whilst my parents clean my room and do my laundry.
*If you don't realise that last statement is sarcasm, you have to get out more.

Hairspray (The Musical!) Review

Last night— after getting lost because of Melbourne CBD’s ridiculous street signage to find cheap parking— I saw Hairspray. The musical is being performed at Melbourne’s Princess Theatre, which isn’t my favourite theatre, but it gets the job done.


After a spot of shopping at South Wharf and a bite to eat in Chinatown, S and I were ready to take out (uncomfortable— one of the reasons I’m not a fan on the Princess) seats and enjoy the show.

I haven’t seen the original 1988 movie, but I’ve seen the 2007 re-make and I know all the music (even the ones they annoyingly decided to leave out of the re-make).

I was really excited for the show, and as it was a Tuesday night, I was expecting an understudy or two, but we were lucky enough to be treated to the full regular cast. But as the curtain call ended and everyone started to leave, S and I turned to each other, both of us left incredibly underwhelmed.

The opening number, Good Morning Baltimore, is supposed to be big, loud and set the scene. Unfortunately, it does none of the above. Jaz Flowers, who plays Tracy Turnblad, has a booming voice, and looks great on stage, but was stiff in the opening number. At first I put this to the fact she is a relative newcomer to the stage, but as the play progressed, I became more and more disappointed with the choreography. I was really excited to see (Hairspray choreographer) Jason Coleman work his magic, but well, he didn’t. There was a lot of standing still, but in saying that, there were some moments that were ‘wow’, like You can’t stop the beat.

The setting (those who are familiar with the Princess Theatre will understand) was displayed on backing screens; there wasn’t actually a ‘set’ per se. It was also cartoonish, which worked to a certain extent because of the fun, up-beat nature of the musical. However, after a while, it just gave me a headache. In my opinion, the backing screens mixed with tangible setting pieces would have worked much better.

A major positive for the musical was the casting. They all worked well and cohesively, as you would expect, but my absolute favourite was Esther Hannaford who plays Penny Pingleton. She is a breath of fresh air, and absolutely hilarious. Trevor Ashley (Edna Turnblad) and Grant Piro (Wilbur Turnblad) are also stand outs, and the Tuesday November 23 audience were treated to something a bit special from these two. During (You’re) Timeless To Me, this two ran into a bit of trouble. I’m not completely sure if one of them forgot a line, or a move of some-sort, but at one stage Ashley turned his back on the audience trying to hold back his laughter, the two over came it well however, and involved the audience. There are also a few familiar faces in the cast. Jack Chambers, winner of SYTYCD 2008, plays Link Larkin. He isn’t any Zac Efron, but the boy can dance and sing. Motormouth Maybelle is played by Cle Morgan, a top twelve contestant from the first season of Australian Idol (She was good, but not as boisterous as Maybelle needed to be). I also spotted another SYTYCD finalist, Heath Keating, in the chorus. Although, I kept a close eye on him whilst he was dancing and showing off his amazing technique, I couldn’t help but worry he was going to break his ankle again!

The Without Love number was a big disappointment, again I look at the (lack of?) choreography to be the reason why. But, the thing that shattered me the most, the thing that I was looking forward to was (Come So Far) Got So Far To Go, which wasn’t played. In the 2007 film version, the song is played during the credits, so I was expecting them to do it for curtain call. And it would have been a perfect song for curtain call. S and I were shattered!

What sums up the show most was during curtain call. Piro was trying to get the audience on their feet; a few jumped up enthusiastically, a few stood up reluctantly, a few stood up because now they couldn’t see, and many remained seated.

Hairspray is worth seeing, the highs do outweigh the lows, however, don’t set your sights too high, or you will leave disappointed.

It’s okay though; S and I drove home pumping Hairspray tunes with the windows down, and had an extra loud sing-a-long to (Come So Far) Got So Far To Go.

This, is why I had cornflakes for dinner.

I had cornflakes for dinner tonight. Apart from the fact I forgot about the whole if you drink a glass of wine you can’t drive thing, I’m broke. And I blame the twenty year old bubbly blonde girl who was in front of Myer today.


I went shopping today with a uni lovely to celebrate the end of the year, and to spend the cash I don’t exactly have. It was all going swimmingly; I’d brought clothes, shoes and jewellery. But then, we got hi-jacked. She jumped out from her little stall like a three year old on crack, and grabbed our hands, telling me I have beautiful nails (C’mon, I’m a nineteen year old girl; I never tire of going to a manicurist and having them rabbit on about how ‘beautiful’ my nails are). From that moment, I was pretty much hers.

Because this girl (woman, maybe. Nope, I’m going to stick with girl) had us eating out of the palm of her hand, and she “liked” (yes, I’m using DOUBLE talking marks) us, she offered a deal.

We got three of these little beauties for $100. They’re usually one for $70, but she offered us two for $100 and then decided to throw a third one in “free”.

They are pretty nifty; they include a nail buffer, nail file, cuticle oil and lotion. And they make my nails really shiny.

I’m a sucker for bargains, most of the time I can’t justify spending money on something that isn't on sale. Today, something evil happened. I’m excited to use the stuff, it smells fantastic, and the couple of nails that the (very good) sales girl demonstrated on, look awesome. But, I still can’t believe I spent so much on this little baby. It’s for the good of my nails though, right?



Please help me justify having to have cornflakes for dinner because of this baby. Please?

I can't wait...

I can't wait... to relax.
I can't wait... to read the books I want to read.
I can't wait... to write things I want to write.
I can't wait... to go to Sydney with two of my besties.
I can't wait... to spend Christmas with my family.
I can't wait... to be at home.
I can't wait... to overdose on mangoes.
I can't wait... to see all my friends.
I can't wait... to get a new job
I can't wait... to spend endless time at the beach.
I can't wait... to have a glass of vino to celebrate.

                                                       I can't wait...


I can't wait to be here again. Thank you summer...



Q&A with Martin Flanagan

On Wednesday October 13 a couple of us from Hotch Potch were lucky enough to sit down with Martin Flanagan. I also got the incredible opportunity to interview him.
Due to the size restrictions of the magazine, I wasn't able to post the full interview. But he gives some incredible answers, and the full interview is well worth a read:

Q&A with Martin Flanagan

Australian journalist and author Martin Flanagan is best known for his sports writing in popular newspaper, The Age. During Flanagan’s recent trip to Ballarat, to talk at a Ballarat writer’s conference, he had a chat to Hotch Potch about journalism, books, football and why aspiring writers should ‘just do it’.
 

Considering you graduated with a degree in Law, how did you get into writing?

It was something I always wanted to do from the time I was seven or eight. And I sort-of never really believed I could do it. When I was at University, I did what you’re doing, I got involved with the University newspaper and I was playing with the University Football club, and I used to write match reviews for them, and noticed a lot of people at the club liked what I wrote, so it sort-of encouraged me. And I had a brother, who was very good to me, and he always collected everything I wrote. That was a great act of respect from him and it caused me to have more respect because although I’ve always wanted to be a writer, I didn’t know anyone, who wrote, that was interested in the sort of writing I was [interested in] and I didn’t know I’d be able to become a writer.

 What was your first piece of writing published?

Ah jeeze, it would have to be something I did with the Uni footy club. But I did write a political piece around the time of the dismissal of the Whitlam Government, which happened in my last year of law, and it happened during my final exams. And I remember writing a piece for a supplement they put out but other than that, it would be the footy stuff. But I did write a play that was performed by a group of drunks [laughs], I don’t think it was a very good play, but a few of my mates would put it on.

 How did you break into the writing field?

I spent a couple of years roaming the world, and when I came back I was trying to write a novel. I landed a job writing scripts for children’s radio with the ABC, I went for a job as a journalist for the ABC and didn’t get it, I then got offered a job at the Launceston Examiner [Tasmanian Newspaper] and took it, I had no idea whether I’d like it or not. I got into it and loved it, and the great thing about journalism is that it makes you go places you’d never otherwise go and it allows you to meet people you’d never otherwise meet. That’s very good for me. That’s what I love about journalism.

 If you could only choose one topic to write about for the rest of your career, what would it be?

I would hate to be put in that position. I’m best known as a sports writer but it’s interesting that in the history of sports writing, most of the well known sports writers have written about sport and something else. The great cricket writer of the early 20th century was Neville Cardus, he wrote on cricket and classical music. Then there was a guy called John Arlott he wrote on cricket and wine, and there’s another great sports writer called CLR James who wrote on politics and cricket so I have vigorously resisted as a journalist, ever being boxed in to one particular pursuit. And in terms of my books, I’m always trying to do something a bit different.

Talking about your books, what was it like writing The Line with your father, Arch Flanagan?

That was pretty enormous. I loved him a lot, I admired him a lot. I knew him, but I didn’t really know him, because I didn’t know about his experiences on the Burma Railway. I knew something about what it meant, but to write a book with him, meant I had to enter that relationship and that reality in a very real way. Dad didn’t really know if he wanted to do it, and when it first came out he was quite shocked, but when they were on the Railway, a lot of blokes were dying and my father would have made a great journalist, he reports very accurately and honestly. There’s no elaboration or exaggeration. Gradually, the widows of the men that had died, and children and grand-children would contact us. I got a letter just the other day, and one sentence in Dad’s book was all they knew about this particular bloke, and that was when it became very powerful. And then the thing that really chuffed me was that my daughter, who was teaching at Ballarat Clarendon College, taught it. So it was three generations, and in fact my daughter knows it better than I do, because once I write a book, I never look at it again. But she can tell you all the chapters, and she’s got insights into it I don’t know, that’s a wonderful thing.

 What are you working on at the moment?

I’ve just done a book with Richo [Richmond Football player, Matthew Richardson], that was a joy. He was a joy to work with, and that’s the honest truth. He’s not interested in footy books, he doesn’t read them. He has no interest in the gossip and he doesn’t speak negatively about people, and he didn’t want to say anything that would hurt Richmond [Football club]. So we just wrote a book about the game as we love it and that has just come out. I’ve also had a novel I’ve been working on for about five, six, seven years, so now I’ve gone back to that.


What’s that one about?
That’s a very hard question to answer. I’d need a lot of time, and probably a lot more tape then you’ve got.

What do you think is the appeal of your writing? Although you are predominantly a sports writer, your writing is enjoyed by many people including non-sports fans.
The biggest compliment I’ve had about the Richo book was from a woman who wasn’t interested in sport and she found it interesting. To me, sport is a common language. When I was younger, I hitch-hiked through other countries, and I couldn’t speak a second language but if you can speak the language of sport it’s just amazing. Sport is my second language, to me sport is like dance, it’s a language of the body, and if you can speak it, it connects you to people from all different backgrounds, all different walks of life, all different literacy levels. To me sport is a very basic way of writing about people, and if I were to walk into Ballarat as a journalist and walk up to people and ask them to tell me a story, they’d be ‘who are you?’, ‘why should I tell you?’, but with footy, it’s just this vast community and once you’re in it, things just happen. I spent a year with the Melbourne Footy club observing Jim Stynes and his battle with cancer, and Liam Jurrah, a traditional Aboriginal player. You’d have to go back to something like the Aboriginal cricket team that toured in England in 1867 to find a story like Liam Jurrah’s.


I just enjoy talking to people, I love stories, I love people who can tell stories, I love listening to them and everyone has a story, the only question is whether or not they want to tell it. People’s stories are a sacred thing, but with Richo he was great, he didn’t care what I wrote about him, but he cared about the other people around him, and so that was the arrangement we had about how we’d do it. My people are Irish, and in traditional Irish culture the story teller was a really important role. That person went round, carried the stories for the group. Years ago an Aboriginal actor said to me that the difference between white culture and Aboriginal culture was that in white culture the artist existed in opposition to the group, but in Aboriginal culture the artist is the spokesman for the group, and the story teller’s a bit like that. I get a real kick out of doing a story on someone; it’s a bit like a pencil sketch. And I get a real kick when I know I’ve got the likeness right. I just love it. But sometimes it isn’t always what the newspaper wants, so I have to work with them.

 You don’t actually follow a football team, do you find that helps?
I spent 1993 with the Western Bulldogs and I wrote a book on them, and in the course of that year, I went from taking footy for granted to seeing it as culturally fragile. I love its ‘Australianess’, I think it’s a great athletic invention, and I barrack for footy. I love the game; I love the places it takes me. I just love it. That’s how me and Richo came together, that’s how we feel.

In terms of your career, is there anything you regret?

Not really, I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve been lucky, Newspapers are a dying form, and I got to experience twenty-five years of them. I got offered a job from The Guardian in London and I didn’t take it, but I don’t regret that because I wasn’t as interested in England as I am in Australia. Journalism is a battle, it could be easier than it is sometimes, but in saying all that, I’ve had a good run.

 Does the idea of ‘death of print journalism’ worry you?

Yeah, it does, it worries me a lot. The internet strikes me as being millions and millions of highly individualistic perspectives, whereas newspapers imply community, and I believe in community. And you can’t have a long career in newspapers if you can’t speak the common language.

 Do you have any advice for young writers trying to break into the field?

Read. Whatever your particular interest is, whether it be sport or a particular whatever, read the best writers in that field. For me, and journalism itself, the greatest writer is George Orwell. And if nothing else, read his essay A Hanging, a great piece of non-fiction writing. Even though there a seemingly endless amount of bad journalism, there’s also an endless amount of what they call good journalism, so educate yourself in the best, be passionate about it and take whatever opportunities come your way, just start. At the end of the day, I have no better advice than the Nike ad- ‘Just do it’.


Flanagan’s book, Richo, will be available in book stores in the coming month. Until then you can read Flanagan’s work in The Age.


Hotch Potch would like to thank Martin for sitting down with us and answering all our questions.