Those Mad Ad Men.

Madmen is rather a clever show, n'est pas? Stylistically, it's fabulous. I'm not sure where they got all those 1940s-era typewriters, but someone did a great job. The constant smoking is a little odd - It's like the director discovered that smoking was more prevalent back then, and now feels like it won't look authentic without wafting smoke in the background of every shot.

But it's good. It doesn't take its audience for fools. I love the furniture as well.

A Reason to Stay

Thursday Night Risotto

1.5 cups of Arborio rice.
Approximately two litres of chicken stock, not too concentrated.
A splash of red wine.
Approximately two cups of grated Parmesan cheese.
4 ripe tomatoes, washed and cut into sickles.
250g bacon, rindless and diced.

Place the tomatoes on a baking tray covered with baking paper in a preheated oven (160 degrees) just as you start making the risotto. By the time the risotto is done, you'll have delicious semi-dried tomatoes. Just be careful not to burn them, depending on how efficient your oven is.

Fry the bacon in a large non-stick heavy-based pan until crispy and delicious. Remove and place in a bowl, but try to keep the bacon-tasting oil in the bottom of the pan. Throw in the rice, and brown for a couple of minutes, stirring constantly. Pour in enough chicken stock to cover the rice, and stir 'til it thickens. Keep adding just enough stock to cover the rice until the rice tastes cooked - It'll probably take you about 1.5-2 litres of stock to get to this point.

Throw in a splash of red wine at some point as well. People usually use white wine for risotto, but I can't stand the smell of cooked white wine, and bacon is almost a red meat anyway so it tastes better with red.

Add the bacon and parmesan to the risotto, and stir. Leave to thicken for a few minutes, and serve with fresh cracked pepper and the semi-dried roasted tomatoes on top.
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I made that the other day.

I've been on HOLIDAYS. In the most unexotic sense of the word possible. It's midsemester break and I've been to uni and made Constitutional Law notes. I did spend two days on my Father's boat up in Pittwater, which was lovely and relaxing, though. I remembered how much I love camping, and lit a newly enthusiastic desire in me to go camping more often.

Yesterday was the Surry Hills Festival, which made for a most delightful Saturday. A bunch of people showed up, so we spent most of the day eating our way around the stalls, before jumping on the promotional 'V' jumping castle and drinking promotional cans of 'V.' It was a little embarrassing how difficult it was to spend ten minutes on a jumping castle. I guess I was fitter at the age of six than I will ever again be.

In the evening, Dan came over for aforementioned risotto, then we biked down to the local pub near my house ('The Harbord Hilton') to watch the rugby match. I care little for rugby, but I was happy to sit there quietly nursing a beer. Just the kind of evening I wanted.

Bicycles made it that much more of a novelty.

One night to be confused, one night to speed up truth.

We fired up Dan's brazier last night (the one he dragged me to the hardware store to buy a month ago) and made slow-cooked steaks on the hot coals, with tomato salad, roast potatoes and eggplant on the side. I was hungry when we started cooking, but by the time it was done I could have eaten off my own arm.

Why is it April already?

The theory that makes most sense to me is that as we get older, each day, week, month, year is a smaller and smaller proportion of our total time spent alive, thus feeling like it passes quicker and quicker. This is what I'm using to explain why I can be 22 and feel desperately like I'm running out of time. To do my homework, to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, to buy new desk chairs from Ikea because I hate the heavy, squishy one I have right now.

(Heavy, squishy is also from Ikea)

I want one like these :

A ROCKING chair. Nothing could possibly contain my glee.

Not wasted day.

The day started torrentially with gumboots, rainhats and new umbrellas, and only let up for a brief respite mid-afternoon.

I skived off study in the library after class to instead spend some time with Dan, because it's been weeks since we've been able to do something other than stay home with my sister, or go out to the pub for someone else's occasion.

We checked out the sale at David Jones, which was my first time in a department store since coming home from Paris seven weeks ago. I don't think I missed out on much in that seven weeks. Afterward, I dragged Danny to see the Moran Prize portrait and photography exhibition that was free at the State Library.

Tonight the waves were crashing so loudly at the beach you could hear them from my house, so we took Sammy down for a walk to take a look, while the drizzle slowly started up again.

I can't feel guilty for not studying when the day has been a funny sort of productive anyway.

Chaos.

Well, someone out there was listening to me because today was pleasantly overcast, and the temperature didn't get over 22 degrees. It's supposed to be raining all week, and I can't wait.

Today has just been one big exercise in Why One Should Not Make Plans With Any Intention Of Keeping Them. I raced into uni to hand in an assignment and made it there with half a minute to spare, after asking the bus driver to let me off somewhere that was clearly not a bus stop, because traffic Just Wasn't Moving. I didn't go to my Constitutional Law lecture, mostly because I was so on edge about the almost-late assignment, I didn't think I'd be able to sit without fidgeting for an hour and a half. Instead of doing work as intended, I chatted in the library.

Awesome, Luisa.

This evening I was supposed to be seeing Tom Stoppard's Travesties at the Opera House, but a blackout wiped out the entire central business district's electricity grid, so we were turned away at the door, and went to get beers by candlelight at a pub instead. I did feel that a significant opportunity for shop-looting was lost today, and nobody seemed as excited as I was by the near-anarchy that a simple power outage brought.

I won't even go into the usual daddle about all the work I envisaged myself slaving away at this evening. My saving grace is that the weekend was productive, so I feel like I deserve to waste an evening, somehow. I've been watching the new trailer for Where The Wild Things Are over and over again, and I think this little guy is the best :

Ache.

Sydney is making me sticky and miserable, aching for a place where the weather doesn't snivel around me like a wet blanket. I was writing an assignment, weaving as usual through procrastination, blogs, newspapers, and Facebook, when this photo caused a sharp intake of breath, and the sudden return of that dull thud somewhere in my soul, because Goddamn why am I here instead of somewhere like there? In this tepid, heaving city full of orange people and their giant sunglasses and Bondi beach, and the endless driving everywhere, and the seasons that consist of one continuous Summer punctuated by a few weeks at a time of dreary semi-cold where people still wear flip flops, but throw on a coat and a scarf.

Often I love it, but still I miss the mountains. Always.

Picture from here.