Inter-Universe Beauty Wrap-Up
Miss Louella Brite of Lorna, overall winnerThe Inter-Universe Beauty Pageant of 4082 (hosted by Earth) is over! The judges (me, and three of my female cousins) have tallied the votes (my childhood first, second and third place school sports ribbons were used to distribute the votes), and apart from one green ribbon which seems to have gone astray, here are the results:
Miss Lorna was the over all winner, with two blue ribbons, and two red. She was one of the very last I drew, and I remember putting a great deal of effort into her hair, makeup and costume.
Runner-up Miss Diamond Jack, a comet To my disgust (then as now) runner-up must go to Miss Comet – long blond Rapunzel hair, big dress and diamonds plastered over her … how predictable. She received two blue ribbons and one red. None of those were from me.
Second runner-up is the Venutian Chrystal NymphSecond runner-up Miss Venus received one red and one green ribbon, and tying for fourth place, Miss Saturn and Miss Uranus each received one green.
Now that I see them all side-by-side it’s interesting to discover there is a preponderance of yellow and green tones amongst the winners, excepting the shrimpy Miss Saturn. It’s good to see that even in that day and age green-skinned people weren’t discriminated against also – there are two greenies in the winning circle.
Well folks, I guess that about wraps it up. See you all at the pageant on the rainforest planet Lorna next year!
Miss Eve Adams of Uranus ties for fourth place
Also tying for fourth place is the Saturnine Miss Rilla Bow
Counting My Blessings
In this lead up to Christmas and the New Year period, amidst all the stress and busy-ness of work, marvelling at how quickly the year had flashed by, I began to reflect on what had passed, and what was to come in the next year.
It is too easy to become fixated on the sad things that happened, the regrets of failures big or small; to become impatient for the year to end so that one can start afresh. Life isn’t always a breeze, but it is important to remember to be thankful anyway, even for the simplest things. For every failure there are lessons that can be learned; from sadness, strength and insight can be gained. Simply to be in the possession of all one’s senses is one of life’s richest blessings. Imagine a world without music!
On this penultimate day of the year, I am counting up all the things I am thankful for. Why don’t you?
Postcards from Paris
Amelia-Jane, another graphic designer colleague from work, has been on holiday in the south of France for the past three weeks. Not that anyone in the department is jealous or anything like that. She’s due back on Monday, but her postcards have beaten her by a mere few days.
She sent a lenticular postcard designed by Marion Billet of Dragonart to the marketing department, which is super cute, and also a special 1950s Paris edition for me and the other graphic designer who was filling in for her. The photograph is by the famous Robert Doisneau, and was taken for Vogue in June 1951. The cover was reproduced in a new book on vintage Vogue covers published in 2009.
Ah, Paris, je t’aime.
Tattoo Nouveau
You know, I don’t sport any tattoos on my body (although I have an amusing anecdote about getting a fake one of a tiny red-backed spider on my neck when I was about twenty and on holidays in Lorne on coastal Victoria), but I thought this one was amazing. I came across it when I was researching a story on the Art Nouveau artist Alphonse Mucha. Pretty, and pretty intricate – I have to admire their high pain threshold. There are more at The Art Nouveau Blog.
I Speak Respected Mârbingwë
Look at the strangest thing I found in one of my journals last night. I was searching for some random poetry notes and came upon this. For the life of me I have no idea. It is certainly my messy handwriting scribbled down in a hurry, but I cannot recall writing such an obscurity. It’s like I was channelling someone from another time, or another planet. Perhaps it was a dream?
On the opposite page is a drawing by an ex-boyfriend. I hope it is not supposed to be me, because honestly, my nose doesn’t look like that at all.
Maybe Anghârad was a figment of his imagination and I was taking dictation, but that doesn’t seem likely either. He was not so fanciful – nor I his secretary, may I add.
And I find it slightly annoying there is no full stop after Ceir. It seems as though I had intended to write more. It’s like a fragment of Sappho’s poetry, tantalising me. And ‘gold is the currency of your mind’ – what does that even mean? Still, it would make a great opening first page of a novel.
She must remain a mystery.
Anghârad writes about speaking another language starting with M. Mârbingwë? I speak respected Mârbingwë.
I could see only the first three words on the page, the light was so bright. They said I am writing. I will say nothing until the gold is on the table. What gold? What am I buying?
Her story. The gold is the currency of your mind.
She is from Ceir …