It's the race that "stops a nation", but has the glitz, glamour and girls gone too far?

November breathes an air of sophistication for Melbourne during Spring.
Flowers bloom, the sun shines brighter, and the grass grows greener.
The highly coveted AFL grand final kicks one last goal, The Royal Melbourne Show entertains school holidaying children and the Melbourne Fringe Fest performs for the lovers of all things art.

But before the Summer vibes hit the wet, wintery saturated streets, there is one event that turns heads, darts eyes and sends tongues rolling; The Melbourne Cup Carnival.

This year's cup carnival saw 150th anniversary celebration bring credence to the party-like atmosphere.
Grand Australian racing ladies and lords, such as Gai Waterhouse and Bart Cummings, once again went neck-to-neck with international racing heavyweights for the golden trophy.

But it seems in 2010, it's no longer about the thoroughbred fillies, but about the female fillies.
The money, time and effort spent on waxing, tanning, manicuring and beautifying oneself has hit an extreme.
Young women are spending hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars each racing carnival to look and feel their very best. Sure, we all listened to our mothers when they told us to comb our hair, brush our teeth and polish our shoes, but when the end result of this primping and preening is drunken embarrassment, is it really worth going to such lengths?

Maria Demi from Branched Out Beauty* certainly thinks so - "It's a few days of fun, where us ladies can glam up and splurge a bit. It's no longer just a leg wax and a spray tan - the demand is there for body scrubs, massages and facials...these are the occasions where clients don't have to feel guilty about spending a large amount of money on themselves to look and feel beautiful."

While most of the "ladies of Flemington" ooze east suburban wealth, in their tailored suits, Myer purchased hats and French perfumes, it is the daughters of these ladies that are bringing shame on what was once an elegant, annual Melbourne event.
While Jean Shrimpton caused outrage back in 1965 with her stockingless, hatless and hemline less outfit, it is clear, that if in attendance today, Ms. Shrimpton would be the one in sheer outrage at the very sight of these 'fillies' who flock to Flemington.

"Young women do tend to have that confidence to show more flesh than the more mature women...but we must remember that the younger generation are very open and carefree...they have little to no inhibitions, and if they do, they fix them with [beauty and cosmetic] treatments." Ms. Demi explains.

One look at the Flemington grounds after a big race will indicate that today's racewear culture is not about eluding that elegant, sophisticated sporty look, but about "looking hot" and eyeing up campaigning celebrities and buff football players. - Oh, and drinking as much champagne as humanly possible.

One female race attendee I spoke with, who preferred not to be named, admitted that "It's like clubbing, but with daylight."
"You want to look hot and have fun." she explained. "I begged my boss to give me the day off, so I could spend some time with my girlfriends and dress up. If you need me, I'll be vomiting in the rose bushes."

Another punter, known only as 'Dylan' agreed - "It's just a bit of fun, y'know? Have a beer and have a bet."

While the culture of the Melbourne Cup Carnival has evolved - rather colourfully - over the years, it is certain that those female fillies who once graced the social scene of the track now stumble, stutter and slut the sidelines in short China manufactred dresses and banal ity-bity feather fascinators.

Horrible to witness, irritaing to watch and utterly expensive, the Melbourne Spring Racing Carnival is nothing short of overrated.

* Indicates names have been changed

Summer Fun, Be Mine!

After another soul sucking semester, university has finally ended for 2010.

I now stand in front of a gleaming door, waiting to be destroyed with exhiliration and exhuberance.

The next four months has the potential to be filled with pure pleasure and carefree fun in the sun.

I am determined to make this season a summer to remember, with great focus and priority given to developing networks, froclicking in fulfilling hobbies and saving money for future travel ventures.

Time to wipe the slate clean and make some positive changes!

Let the adventures begin!

Canine Competition

Melburnians, brace yourself.

There is a scary social epidemic sweeping our streets and infecting our feet.

Take a deep breath. Count to three....

1,2,3...let's just be honest....

Poo.

Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, poo.

There is a horrifyingly putrid case of doggy doo popping out (literally) all over the streets of Melbourne. What was once an occasional finding in a lush green park, is now a daily normality for the walkers of suburbia. And god, I am shit scared. (again, literally). Not only for the well being of my footwear, but for my reputation as a socially sane, law abiding citizen.

How have I come to this conclusion, you ask? Well!

It was only a few weeks ago that I decide to haul my cold blooded body out of bed for a spot of daily exercise (and dare I admit, the odd sneaky singalong to the iPod.)

As I merrily jogged down the street, I noticed several spots of peculiar brown mush dotted along the pathway.

Mental voice: "Step to the left, dog turd exactly 0.5 metres ahead"...."Phew!"

I dismissed the incident and continued on my way.

Fast forward a week of university lectures, tutorials and regular day dreaming sessions to Friday- Ah, glorious Friday! The one day of the week where weekend-fun anticipation begins and life motivation kicks in. 

People seem more chirpy, more relaxed and more confident on a Friday. (Oh my, did Australia Post's marketing department ever get that one right or what?!)

Friday morning jolliness beaming, let me assure you that, at 8:23 am, I felt so connected to the path of poo that I successfully avoided stepping in what was, by then, a dried, crusty dropping. Head held high, I strided on by....

But you see, it wasn't until later that day, that I realised the disastrous potential that dog poo is causing.

Cue the first ever elective class for the new semester. A new subject, at a new campus, with new people to meet and new friends to make. Bring on that Friday optimism, baby!

A little bit past 11am, and I am slightly late.

"Shit."

I hurriedly dash into the class, plonking myself into the first seat I see, hoping that the tutor failed to witness my crass, inefficient entry.

She doesn't, and I slowly slump, hoping I haven't carved the niche of being "that" late person.

I listen attentively for the majority of the three hour class. Three hours is a long time to be talked at, and hey, don't get me wrong, I love a good discussion on the politics and power of fashion marketing, but even a millionaire would be hitting the wall of boredom.

So naturally, I did what any other human would do. I made the journey to mind-space where personal thoughts and quite often, 'to-do' lists are carved.

Post mental grocery list, I notice a peculiar scent.

"These bohemian Brunswick peeps really are big on au natural..." I think to myself.

I cross my left leg over the right, and continue to mentally asses the need for enviro-friendly dishwashing liquid to that of a generic brand.

I squirm in the warm seat and re-cross my right leg over the left, trying find a comfitable sitting position.

"Phewwww. Someone in here really needs to invest in a can of Rexona!" I secretly concede.

I look at the tutor, chatting away about target markets and demographics and such, then look to my watch.

"10 minutes until break-time...yeahhh!"

As I continue to fidget in my seat, I sigh and stare at the ground.

My eyes bulge out of my brain and my mind starts to panic as I glare at what is a mortifying lump of sweet, brown POO stuck to the inner of - god forbid - my most favourite leather flats.

"OH SHIT!" (literally).

That steaming, stinky scent I could smell over the past hour wasn't some bohemian Brusnwick babe boycotting deodorant...it was me!

(Okay, no, it wasn't me that stunk, it was a trodden-on-deposit of some scummy, Sydney Road pooch that stunk! Ahhh!)

I start to panic and pray that no one else has realised that "Late girl" endured  a social transformation to "Late-and-stinky-dog-poo girl"

Big, Bridget Jones style block letters run through my mind screaming profanities.

"FUCK! What do I do? OMG. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Mid-mind scream, the class breaks for morning tea, and like a lightening bolt, I zip out of the room faster than a Melbourne weather prediction. I take three deep breaths and make a beeline for the bathroom and barrel into an empty cubicle. With one hand pinching nose, the other clutching a wad of toilet paper, I frantically wipe away the disgusting deposit off my shoe.

After coaching myself through the dirty, vomit inducing ordeal, I subtly sneak back into the classroom. And for the rest of the tutorial, play pretend to that mornings eventful escapades.

Now I can't preach for the residents of Moreland City Council, or even Melbourne for that matter, but I have come to the conclusion that when one is walking down such an ethnically urban social scene as that of Sydney Road, all necessary steps should be taken to stare at the ground. Don't bother with your mind's friday feeling of euphoria, because the poo epidemic is everywhere - Dogs don't use toilets, and let's face it, what green-living, pro-life activist would pay a lousy ten cents for a plastic bag?

Melbourne, proceed to the path with caution!

A step through the musical Stonefield

As I stand on a peak hour tram, more squished than a tinned oily sardine in a supermarket clearance trolley, I impatiently flick through the 1200 or so song choices on the old iPod. Fellow commuters grip poles and clutch handbags and briefcases. Noise is minimal, with the occasional jingle of a mobile or the odd chattering of teeth as the tram door flies open, slowly freeing up faded seats. I soon find myself (rather loudly) humming along to the ‘Recently Added’ playlist. I look up from the land of ‘pod to see several death stares shot my way.

 One listen to Triple J’s Unearthed High 2010 winning single and the temptation to coo along with the ‘ooohs’ of the main chorus are far too great.

The four sisters that make up Stonefield hail from Gisborne, a little country town an hour’s drive from Melbourne that forms the gateway to Victoria’s stunning Macedon Ranges region.

 Amy, Hannah, Sarah and Holly Findlay have a unique sound. Unlike any other young female band, Stonefield’s down to earth style toys between genres of indie, folk and jazz, with a pinch of soul and a sprinkle of rock.

Surely my fellow commuters would agree with the rest of Australia when they say that Stonefield are destined for big things.

Stonefield’s winning single, ‘Foreign Lover’ is currently on high rotation, on not only Triple J’s playlist, but also my own and soon yours.

I recently spoke with lead singer Amy Findlay to find out what’s next for the winners of Triple J’s Unearthed High 2010 Competition. 

Triple J Unearthed High 2010 winners Stonefield.

Big congratulations on winning Triple J’s Unearthed High 2010 competition! How does it feel to be considered Australia’s newest darlings of Indie?

Thanks! It feels very exciting. So much is happening for us and it’s still unbelievable to think that people all over the country are hearing our music on their radios. At the same time, parts of the whole experience have been a little overwhelming because it all happened so fast. However nothing to take over the happiness and excitement of it all!

Stonefield was up against some other great unsigned talent, what motivated you to enter the competition?

       We certainly were up against some great talent. To be honest, our mum was the one who told us to enter the competition. We didn’t think we had much of a chance because of the amount of outstanding music that comes out of Australia – a lot of it being from young people.

We actually recorded ‘Foreign Lover’ the day before the competition closed. We uploaded it that night, then pretty much forgot about it. A couple of weeks later it was being played on the radio. It was an absolute shock.

Most kids only get to rock out in their dreams, but as winners of Unearthed high, Stonefield won the chance to play alongside British India in an exclusive lunchtime gig at your local high school – Gisborne Secondary College. How was that experience for you as a band?

It was definitely something different from any normal school lunchtime! It was one of the best experiences we have had so far. Everything really sunk in once we started playing our first song to the audience. British India was awesome and everyone really enjoyed it.

You entered the Unearthed High competition as ‘Iotah’, but recently changed the band name to ‘Stonefield’. Where did the inspiration for ‘Stonefield’ come from? How did the band feel about changing the name?

We live on land that was covered in stone, and when we first moved to Gisborne, our dad built our house out of that stone. So we came up with ‘Stonefield’.

At first it felt pretty daunting, as we had already had a name change a few years before this one, and we know how hard it is to come up with a decent band name.

 We realise now that it was a good change and we think we did it at the best possible time, with the release of our single ‘Through the Clover’. Stonefield works better for us than ‘Iotah’ did anyway.

In August Stonefield are supporting The Cat Empire at the Prince of Wales - Are you excited to perform to such a big crowd? Is there any ruling out of backstage ‘rock-star’ like antics?

We are very excited to be supporting such a successful band that we have a lot of respect for. If by ‘typical rock-star antics’ you mean drinking, smoking, and what not... I think we will all be grounded if we don’t rule them out!

Your musical influences are old school legends including Frank Zappa, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. Are there any other bands on a personal level that you rate?

Where to begin...Hannah and I love Perth band Tame Impala. They have a really cool sound that is inspired by the same sort of era as us. We also like Lady of the Sunshine – Angus Stones’ solo project. Sarah loves Coldplay for the piano orientated music they have, and Holly just can’t get enough of Frank Zappa.

We didn’t buy our own music until recent years because our parents have their own mini music library going on at home with plenty of goodies! Growing up our favourite albums were Led Zeppelin II, Prince’s ‘Diamonds & Pearls’, anything Santana, Frank Zappa’s ‘One Size Fits All’ and ‘Joes Garage’.

“You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family” – Four sisters in a band; has there been any arguments or tiffs?

We can’t help but have arguments sometimes. It’s easier to say whatever is on your mind when you’re talking to your sisters, but at the same time we get over it pretty quick and move along with what we are doing. It works as an advantage really, because there’s no beating around the bush in our rehearsals. Majority of the time we get along and have a lot of fun together.

The exposure from Triple J and local music gigs has created a fantastic launch pad for a career in music – have you been approached by any labels or record companies? What are the band’s plans for the future?

The exposure has been incredible, and yes we have had a lot of interest from all sorts of people. At the moment we are taking things slow, sussing it all out and not signing anything just yet! We realise the importance of not rushing into anything and making sure we make the decisions that are right for our band. We are independently releasing an EP later this year and we are also going to focus a lot on writing new material and playing lots of gigs. 

Stonefield’s singles ‘Foreign Lover ‘and ‘Through the Clover’ can be downloaded free  here 

Visit Stonefield’s page here 

Wintertime in the Macedon Ranges

Winter is a wonederful time to be in the Macedon Ranges.

The Macedon Ranges Shire covers approximatley 1700 Square kilometres and is divided into the following localities: Gisborne, Romsey, Lancefield, Carlsruhe, Woodend, Macedon, Mount Macedon and my family home base, Kyneton.

Despite the chilly night breezes and icey grey slush come morning, the country lifestyle is truly unique.

I feel very grateful to be able to live in the city and retreat back to the country to work at Monsieur Pierre.

At present, I feel somewhat of an unofficial ambassador for the region - after living in the country for 8 months, I have developed a liking to all things provincial - with particular reference to my writing subjects and personal dress style.

I am curious in exploring other regions of the shire and beyond!

Waking up at the family home: Kyneton

A naturious view of vertical tree trunks

Morning fog: looking down the driveway

Dancing through life, the way I feel.

We wasted so many truths

that we depend

on getting by

another lie

On every other thing that dies

and as his voice beckons out

I hear the end

The end of trauma slowly setting in

My body seems to stop and freeze

Stop!

Well I just dance the way I feel

Stop breathing!

Imagine none of this is real

Well I just dance the way I feel

These are the lyrics to UK dance act, 'Ou Est Le Swimming Pool' 's recent debut single.

This song has become rather mainstream, but I love the authenticity in the song's lyrics.
It's the type of song that provides the listener the ability to get lost in the rhythm, pace and emotional intensity.

There are so many takes on what this song is loosely based around, from the tale of a lost lover, lost sense of self or lost friend. Clickmusic.com describes ‘Dance the way I feel’ as “A well-produced and insanely catchy little number,”, while Triple J claims the Camden based trio’s single as an “electronic anthem.”

Personally, I love the idea of stopping, and dancing the way you feel. On one too many nights out, I have repeated this phrase to myself, in a bid to rationalise and allow my inner voice to mentally block any significances that were happening at the time.
The build-up to the chorus - a mix of synthesisers, drums and keyboards – rings eerily similar to that of a school choir.

When I think of those town stomping nights out with friends, and how vulnerable a mix of alcohol and self worth can make you feel, this song could be the ultimate soundtrack to a mental breakdown. It could be our inner selves, our core, or our inner child, singing or crying out for peace, for truce, or for emotional freedom.

In the middle of a dark, smoky and deafening club, Ou Est Le Swimming Pool’s “Dance the way I feel” would be the crediting song if my soul-searching, young adult life were to be broadcasted in a miniseries, a la’ ETV’s ‘Skins’.


Watch "Dance the way I feel" by Ou Est Le Swimming pool here

Tough love

''Omg I love my baby sooooo much'' 9:24am


''I can't believe you did that. Such an ass. Get fucked'' 4:01pm


''Cant wait to see you tonight '' 8:13pm




These are the words of young women the world over, all active in loving, yet emotionally fluctuating relationships. Never afraid of a good PDA, these girls provide pure comic gold for their friends and followers in social cyber space.
One particular young lass I used to go to highschool with appears to be in a 'love/hate/love' connection rather than the normal 'love' type of relationship.
Almost every day, this status updating addict will express four seasons worth of emotions, all subtly directed at her other half. Of course, she has never named the person who has caused her the heartache/sporadic act of declared gratefullness, however, just quietly, I'm sure we social networking junkies all know who she is referencing...
This woman intrigues me. I don't understand how she can critise her partner and call him a ''fucking dickhead'' yet, two hours later affectionately declare just how much she loves her man, how sexy, how wonderful, how smart etc. he is.
Sometimes I really want to slap this girl and tell her to contain her ridiculously idiodic updates to herself, all in the form of a sarcastic comment that, only the girl's close friends would suggest in the tone of a light hearted joke:
''How could you do this to me?'' 11:58pm
''Because your a stupid whipped mole?''

''Babe, I love you more than words can express'' 10:17am
''Really? Then why post this. Geez, way to waste a perfectly good spot of social comment!''

''Don't know if I can trust you...'' 1:10pm
''No, you can't. Just quietly I'm sitting at my computer copying and pasting ripped pictures into a paint document and doodling nazi moustaches on your chubby little face. Also contemplating a mass photocopy sesh...''

What really intrigues me, is this lovely lady's motives in being so public. What does she expect to gain from it all? The confidence and esteem of saying what she feels half assed? Does she hope that her boyfriend will be the envitable romeo and confess his sincere apologies for tugging her sensitive (putting it nicely) heartstrings? Or does she expect a Facebook fairy godmother to magically click her networking heels and provide a key to the door that is the meaning of life, and casually throw in a karma sutra novel to, at the very least, satisfy this girl's physical desires?

No, in fact it's none of these. Several loyal friends concregate with her, several aunties provide advice and encouragement to her upside down dramas like she is a mini Schappelle Corbey in a death trial and her idiodic, albeit helpless, biffle continues to post that slightly promiscuous, love dovey appreciation shit. While in the meantime, one time acquaintances such as myself, toy with the idea of deleting her off our news feeds, or off our friends lists all together. I haven't pursued that option to the fullest- having found an example of a modern day primadonna; a damsel in distress, having trouble in the ultimate paradise. Instead of clicking of the button of the mouse, I have a giggle at this type of girl. Sad, soppy and the ultimate tragic pushover, with a fugly boyfriend....
But who am I to judge these once known strangers? I'm sure her dim witted boyfriend has a ''great'' personality, and good for them for being so dramatically in love. ''As long as their happy'' my father always says.....
Happy? That was 5 hours ago.

First Impressions

It's been nearly one year since I embarked upon the adventure of my life.

It was around this time last year that my bank account was starting to flex it's potential, daily to-do lists were being scribbled as I commuted to and from works and the excitment begun to loom.

I remember walking through the red carpeted lined international gate and turning to wave one final goodbye at my parents and friends. Filled with happiness and uncertainty, I clung onto my passport and stumbled through security before walking through the duty free hall, completley in awe of the volume of goods stocked upon the rows of shiny white shelves and cabinets.

The nervousness I felt minutes before I boarded CX 104 Hong Kong was intense. I was out on my own, ready for an epic 10 weeks of euro exploration!

Upon arrival at Heathrow Airport, I walked off the plane with relief. 24 hours in transit had played havoc with my body and mind. I felt a slight cold sweat and had an intense urge to brush my teeth to rid of the horrible aftertaste of the poor plane food. I headed straight to the bathroom and slapped intensive moisturiser upon my face, having endured the dry cabin.

After hauling my backpack from the carosuel I wobbled my self and my new turtlesque baggage to the tube station - The oyster card confused me at first, but this was my first exchange of words with a true Londoner. I sat inside the red, white and blue carraige and rode the train to Kings Cross St. Pancras.

8am on a relatively warm thursday morning, I observed the office workers standing gleefully infront of me. Reading papers, ipods pumping music and white shirts crisply ironed as the train raced past lines and lines of streets with connected townhouses - chimnies and tv aerials highlighting the tiled roofs.

Walking off the train, the colours of the tube signs above excited me - grey for Jubilee line, pink for Hammersmith, Black for Northern, brown for Bakerloo, blue for Piccadilly, Yellow for circle, Green for District, baby blue for Waterloo and City and red for Central lines. The Tube map initself is a british icon...!

I walked up the stairs of the station, jetlagged and weary, and was greeted with hustling Euston Road. Men in suits scurrying past with breifcases, tradies (both of young and fit and old and plump physiques) in orange overalls working the road sides like a good chap, and newspaper vendors flogging the day's tabloids.

Euston Road was, too, in a state of communal chaos:  red double decker buses raced with cars and black cabs, as pedestrians strutted over the faded road crossing instructions painted beneath their clob stomping heels.

A first impression I will never forget; London, how I miss you so...

Quote of Hearts

''If you've got to my age, you've probably had your heart broken many times. So it's not that difficult to unpack a bit of grief from some little corner of your heart and have a cry over it'' - Actress Emma Thompson

Northern Exposure

The weather has quickly turned cold, and Melbourne has resumed work after the long summer holiday away -
I just love Winter! Winter is a time where true Melbournian style arises from the depths of corporate blacks and woollen scarfs.
Although Summer is full of festivals, music, balmy nights and long carefree days, the heat and humidity tend to play havoc on energy levels and force one into a 'minimalist is better' clothing policy.
But Winter allows more freedom in dressing. There are so many ways to create differant outfits and and play around with styles with fabrics designed to cover and insulate the body warm.
Long, leathery black boots, richly tinted trench coats and a secret obsession with corporate shorts teamed with patterned stockings all get me giddy.
In Winter you can wrap yourself up in glorious materials, slurp copious amounts of coffee without feeling guilty in the slightest and snuggle to those close.
Winter is allowing and kind to the soul, and I can't wait for the season to kick in at it's fullest - Melbourne rain, icy haze and all!

Retail Therapy Part 2

Today I ventured to Savers with two of my closest friends in a bid to escape the scorching summer heat.
Amongst the stuffy, cabbage scented racks of old, rotten fabrics, there were some gems to be found!

Louis Vuitton Scarf

Louis Vuitton Grafitti Bag

Louis Vuitton Tan Strap Bag

I delighted when I reached the checkout of the second hand mega store to discover the total was only $10.95! I am sceptical of the Grafitti Bag's authenticity, but have decied to use it as a new makeup case. Shopping Success!

Now, S is not for saving.

Retail Therapy

There are some fabulous summers sales on at the moment!
Within the last two or three months, I have nabbed some excellent bargains on several beautiful pieces to add to my expanding wadrobe.
I currently have a new affixation with the high street chains, such as Sportsgirl, Bardot, Portmans and Forever New.
Recently, I have been noticing a (slightly disturbing) new feeling whilst shopping. I know it's in the female genes to shop, and it's belived that shopping is the world's No. #1 recreational activity, but I have notcied within myself, that lately my purchases are of more value, better quality and are of a label or reputable fashion house.
Not only do I understand and appreciate, but I now relate to shopping themed television such as 'Sex and the City' and films 'Suddenly 30' and 'Confessions of a shopaholic'.
I am finding that, just like Carrie Bradshaw or Rebecca Bloomwood, the exuberance and gratification I acquire from the routine of finding the 'perfect' item, to the process of paying is thrilling, and quite frankly, rather liberating. It feels good to own nice things, to carry that embellished bag with pride all the way home and to have the glory of carefully unwrapping it and placing it in my eclectic wardrobe.

Here are my latest bargain purchases:

Bardot Sequin Jacket

Was $149.95

Bought for $50

Sportsgirl Sequin Cami

Was $149.95

Bought for $29.95

Bardot Satin Tuxedo Jacket

Was $129.95

Bought for $50

Country Road Tan Platforms

Was $229.00

Bought for $45.00 (technically free with store gift card)

Country Road Roman Gladiators

Was $99.00

Bought for $25.00 ($20.00 using remnaing credit on gift card)

'Some kind of Monster'

After recently watching Metallica's musical documentary, 'Some kind of monster' I have realised my creative potential. After a year away from acting and musicals, this documentry, amongst other insignificant realisations, made me realise how much I missed performing. In a weird artisitc understanding, I related to lead singer James Hetfield recovery from alcholisim, and the creative road the band edured to produce their platnium studio album 'St. Anger'. The hours spent writting lines, developing performance techniques whilst dealing with the band's personal issues came as a former familiarity.
I thought of the year that is to come, and the things I will be doing. I then thought of last year- my year as a responsible adult, where I chose to pound the city pavements in order to throw my savings and energies into seeing the world was much needed, in terms of living life. 2 years ago I thought having 'life experience' was a prequisite, but I now understand that it is a neccesity- like a key to a door- it is important to break away, disconnect and try new things to be able to come back and 'test the waters' with a more accurate judgement.
It's funny how such an obscurity like a metal documentary can make you realise your true passions in life....