2. Make 1000 origami cranes

Երկու. (That’s 2 in Armenian)

Make 1000 origami cranes.

Ok, 100.

Ok, 30.

Ok, as many as I can.

Ok, so I only made 7. But given I only decided to learn and make these at 4pm today, I think I’ve done ok. Those little suckers are harder than they look to make. Like Sadako, I fell short of my goal, albeit with far less fatal consequences. But in place of the other 993, I’ll attempt to at least pass on my new skills. So grab a piece of paper and play along.

First, make your paper square. Like, der.

Fold in half diagonally and vertically both ways. 

Yeah don't get cocky. 

Now lift the top corner and squish the edge in to make a new diamond. Yep, like that. 

  

Do that twice. Should look like this. 

Not so smug now, are we? Now fold the edges in so the bottom edges line up to the midline. 

Now shift the axis of the earth 16 degrees so that the light from the sun refracts through the solar system and if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands. 

And voila: 

So I can't say I've found a new passion, but hey, can make a mean paper crane. Thank you youtube.com. Where would our papercrafting skills be without you. 

Uno. Write a letter.

An old school skill. Writing a letter. Penning it. By hand. Phenomenal.

Mr. Lawrence, you are the snappy, snappy winner.

Cue, my Grade 11/12 English teacher.

It seems fitting that I should choose such an unassuming yet enormously influential person to include in my first post. Blogging. Blog. A word that didn’t even exist when last I saw him. Most of my assignments, and certainly the entire 280-page exercise book full of journaling genius were certainly hand written. Absolutely no shred of consideration for PC-processed rubbish. Yet here I am.

This man, along with very few others, is the reason and influence for my relentless, if not obsessive, preoccupation with the English language. From (all-too-often) time-to-time, you will have, undoubtedly, rued my many-uttered soliloquies on English pronunciation (as per Adelaidean convention, of course). A sideways glance, a murmured correction, Mr Lawrence is seldom far from my thoughts.

On my last day of high school, I gave Mr Lawrence a card. Scrawled in my 17-year-old hand, were the words:

Come to the edge, He said.

They said, We are afraid.

Come to the edge, He said.

They came.

He pushed them.

And they flew.

And never has it been more apparent, the impression a teacher leaves upon his student than the one this teacher has left on me.

So pedantic am I about pronunciation, punctuation and all other particularities of our beautiful language, that these are constantly the, ahem, talking point of choice in our home. You consolidated the teachings of my mum, my dad, and in more recent years, my sister. So for that, there’s one thing I want to say.

Thanks, sir.

30 in 30 before 30

As the end of my thirtieth year looms incredibly close, I reflect on some of the amazing things I’ve done. Things which would have been on my ‘Do-before-I-turn-thirty’ bucket list, had I ever written one. Things that have shaped me. Things that I’m proud of and things I could have done better. I’ve travelled extensively, including 3 months lone-starring it in a third-world country; 17 nations in total. I’ve lived overseas. I’ve done a menial job. I’ve used fake IDs and chopped off all my hair. I’ve met the man of dreams and had a baby. I’ve said ‘I love you’ and I’ve said ‘I’m sorry’. Blah blah blah.With only thirty days left on the clock until I’m hit over the head with the thirty branch, I’m taking on the challenges set my friends (thanks to a one-too-many-glasses-of-wine induced Facebook post, posing the question). Questionable motives aside, there are thirty things I have to do before I turn thirty. In thirty days. Easy.So what’s on this list? Without giving away the game, you can expect some outrageous escapades. such as eating fairy bread for dinner, watching a scary movie after dark and perhaps even a spot of white-girl-rapping. Seriously. Intriguing. Stuff.