V e r i t a s . S o p h i a . I u s t i t i a

Sunday again. The weekend passes so quickly. On Saturday I watched a brilliant film at VivoCity- 3:10 to Yuma. A western in the classical mode, sparse, drought-strickened landscape and tumbleweed, a poor rancher holding his hungry family together at the seams agrees to escort a notorious Jesse James-type outlaw to a town where he is to taken to board the 3:10 to Yuma (hence the title) where a noose awaits. A cat-and-mouse chase ensues between the men guarding the outlaw (a sardonic and tauntingly cocky manipulator played to near perfection by Russell Crowe- who else can nail the intelligent thug like that guy) and outlaw's gang, led by his second-in-command who, as the western film demands, is a total sociopath. The guards are gradually killed off till it's a two man psychological show-down between the smooth -talking criminal and the uprighteous, tortured rancher played by Christian Bale, the film ends with the requisite shoot-out in a small town and well, anymore said and this post will have to come with a spoiler alert. Anyhow, charismatic outlaws seem to be all the rage among this year's Oscar-contenders- American Gangster, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (which I am dying to watch when it opens next weekend), Eastern Promises, No Country for Old Men... not that I'm complaining; for someone who's never been a continent close to a desert, I am oddly drawn to westerns,... the good guy-bad guy banter and mindgames, the desolate landscapes, the psycho villains...

Two films I really wanna catch next week- Jesse James, as mentioned, and Atonement, though I'm trying to keep my expectations low for the latter just because its source is one of the finest, most moving and well-composed novels in the last decade. I'm imagining a English Patient type of movie- lush period drama, lovers made for each other by torn apart by fate (wicked, wicked fate!), much tears and swooning and of course, Kiera Knightley emerging from a fountain in a dress so thin she might as well be naked.

I am 28 years old today. It's my birthday, and most of the "happy birthday"s I've received today have been, "oh, happy birthday"... I guess one little bird told another told another told another. Personally I'd rather have had the day go by unnoticed rather than hear a half dozen apologetic, "hey, I heard it's your birthday today... erm, happy birthday." Am I supposed to be touched? Nevermind... it's been a rough day, and it's got nothing to do with birthdays. God, how many times have I written that word... six! that's once in every line you closet attention-seeking wench... Anyhow, as prior mentioned, today I came, very suddenly in the morning into the very horrifying realization of the sheer amount of work I have to finish by... well, there are many different deadlines, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is, goddamn it, I don't know how in the good Lord's name I am gonna get it all done. I've been under pressure before, but today's realization was something new. I felt like Roger Federer on a 70 match winning streak suddenly playing Rafael Nadal for the first time... on clay.

I gotta get through this. Somehow. And not just get through it but really hit the ball out of the park. Tips for a person under duress: personally I've always gone for the Geoffrey Rush character's signature line in Shakespeare in Love, "it'll be alright... how... I... don't know". Haven't tried counting to five and forcing through sheer will fear to dissipate, as recommended in Lost, but somehow I think I'd be doing A LOT of counting at my desk if I tried it. Sheer will isn't one of my greatest strengths... hmm, but surviving is. No, don't even think cue Gloria Gaynor.

It's my frakking (Battlestar Galactica!!!) birthday. I'm 28. Chart says 22 to 32 (the Start of Fulfilment of Greatness): when you either live up to the lofty ambitions you had from age 12-21 (the Age of Potential) or become just another guy on payroll in a cubicle. Unless your ambition was to be a guy on payroll in a cubicle, in which case, well done, you've made it in life.

I am closer the end than the beginning of the Start of Fulfilment of Greatness... and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a wee bit nervous where I'll be at 33. Terrified on my birthday that I'm on my way to becoming a faceless, nameless member of this society of mediocrity.

I'm gonna keep this short cos the start of the school year is always a son of a bitch, but hey, I can't let a Grand Slam go by without saying something. The warm-up tournaments for the Australian Open have, as has been the case lately, not been very useful in helping suss out who the major contenders will be. Can anyone really see Michael Llodra (Adelaide) or Eleni Danilidou (Hobart) as 2008's first Grand Slam champions? That said, the final between Justine Henin and Svetlana Kuznetsova in Sydney could well be a sign of things to come in the next fortnight. Kuzzie was a point away from leading 4-0 in the final set but Henin rallied, as usual to win 4-6 6-2 6-4, bringing her head-to-head against Kuznetsova to a ridiculous 15-2 (I mean, this is the number one versus the number two we're talking about).

Andy Roddick won his third straight title at the Kooyong exhibition tournament, but Federer's gone on to win the Australian Open all three years, so I really don't think we should be reading too much into Roddick's chances at the year's first major. A few intriguing subplots have been carried over from the end of the last season into this one and the Australian Open could provide some answers here-

Are we gonna see a sophomore slump from Novak Djokovic? The 20 year old Serb was the break-out star of 2007, ending the year as the indisputable world number 3, but he was completely off-color during the Masters Cup and struggled at the Hopman Cup earlier this year. The Djoker has a lot of points to defend this year and whether or not he can consolidate or better his position as the biggest threat to the Federer-Nadal axis will be one of the most compelling stories of this year.

Speaking of Nadal, the Spaniard, like Djokovic, had a dismal end to 2007 and an equally shaky start to the new season. He's not won a title since Stuttgart in July last year and was manhandled by Federer at the Masters Cup. That said, it's become a bit of a moot point that Rafa's time in the sun is always the first half of the season, culminating in the French Open and Wimbledon, after which he usually becomes almost a non-factor. But Rafa's 2008 campaign hasn't had the best of starts- he suffered the worst defeat of his career in the final of the tournament in Chennai, winning just one game against Mikhail Youzhny. Has the high-octane style of the Spanish bullfighter finally worn him down physically? I think Rafa still has a good two or three years ahead of him, but his performances at the clay court season will be a good indicator of whether he's beginning to get a step slower.

And of course, if he does, expect Roger Federer to pounce on the French Open immediately. The 2008 season could see the first time a player wins the Golden Slam (all four majors and the Olympic gold) since Steffi Graf in 1988. Federer's the overwhelming favorite at the Aussie, Wimbledon and US Open, but has played second fiddle to Nadal at the French for the last three years. If Rafa doesn't control the clay court season as he's had the last few seasons, the mighty Fed has a very good chance of winning it all this year.

Another player who's winning it all and really does not look like she's stopping any time soon is Justine Henin. For a while it seemed the Belgian's career would be overshadowed by the Williams sisters ala Mandlikova by Navratilova or more recently Roddick by Federer, but Justine has shown in the last two seasons that she can take on the sisters and bring the silverware home. She's not lost a match since that freaky semifinal meltdown against Marion Bartoli at Wimbledon, but at the WTA Championships, she showed just how good her memory serves her, avenging her loss against the Frenchwoman by double-bageling her in the round robin stages.

Henin will start as favorite for the Australian Open, but keep a look out for Maria Sharapova. Last year was her worst season but she made up for it in grand style when she powered her way into the final of the WTA Championships and was just narrowed edged by Henin in the best women's match of the year. She has that championship glint back in her eye and the way she was hitting at the end of last year was quite phenomenal. She faces a stern challenge at the Australian Open- a possible second round encounter with Lindsay Davenport- and the crowd, needless to say, will be rooting for the comeback mom who's lost just one of 20 matches since she returned to the tour after a maternity leave we all thought was a retirement. The two women are both high velocity hitters, Davenport has the cleaner groundies but Sharapova is younger and fitter. My money's on Shazza and if the standard of the WTA Championship final was anything to go by, it'd be a real treat if we get an Henin-Sharapova final at the Aussie Open.

Not entirely sure where I am, to be honest. Every building looks the same- grey, forbidding concrete blocks in which the only business that can possibly take place is bureaucratic. You come here to pay your fines, settle your debts, and it's all done with the utmost professionalism, which is to say, you can go through whatever you're here for without saying a word to anyone. Just follow the signs, push the button for a queue number, hand your bill or summons to Jacelyn or Clara or Caroline who're all "happy to serve you", according to their name tags.

I would like to sit outside one of these dreary buildings for a while. I am all of twenty-seven with no direction in life. For the briefest of moments, it actually brings a jolt of elation to feel homeless. Of course I don't know anything about homelessness, but I do know what it is like to have a home. All the responsibilities, you always have someone to answer to. My refuge is roughly a cube, big enough for a double bed, a home office, my books and CDs and a cage for my cavies, Graeme and Byron. I think the only real pleasure I get these days is just before I go to bed, when I see 'em jumping up on top of their wooden cottage or the stack of timothy hay and scurrying down, chasing each other.

I am rambling aimlessly. Which probably best reflects my state of mind right now- I don't feel like I am ready to enter this adult world... words like 'consequences', 'professionalism', 'responsibilities', 'deadlines' suddenly become so real. My time is no longer my own, and that is almost unbearable. I want to throw a tantrum, say no, act the diva I was in school, attend the courses and lectures I wanted. It's like free choice has been taken from me. I want to do things, but it's like I am confined in this straightjacket. Performance targets. Work reviews. Annual action plans.

I am sick of work. This isn't role-playing adults. It's real. And I am undermined as an art teacher because I have a passion for literature and the humanities. Like I should withdraw into a studio and paint paint paint or... I really don't know what they want of me, what I can do to make them accept that maybe I am really, really interested in all three of those things, and I don't have to make a choice, and I don't have to rank them in order of preference, and fuck you, don't you do it for me either.

Thus begins 2008. It came without much fanfare. I saw fireworks in the distance from my window at midnight but my bedroom was entirely quiet, the lights were off; I would in fact not have known one year had ended and another had begun if it wasn't for the tiny colored flashes from the noiseless fireworks. There was something satisfying and wonderful to be in bed all tucked in and cosy at room surrounded by darkness while the town was being painted red, blue, yellow and what have you... people all decked out in bargain items from the Boxing Day sales, getting themselves piss drunk in celebration of one year ending and another beginning. Was 2007 really so bad they can't wait to see the backside of it? It's been fairly uneventful for me so why make an event of it? Anyhow, there was no way I was spending the first day of 2008 with a hangover. Over MSN I made a toast with my best friend- vodka with orange in a plastic cup for her, gin and grapefruit juice in a mug for me. Day 1 of the 365 days of 2008 is almost over. Seize the day... quietly. I did some work today. Not a big deal I know, but after a month and a half of lying slumped in bed watching- in chronological order- House season 3, Heroes season 1, Prison Break season 2, Grey's Anatomy season 3, Ugly Betty season 1, Battlestar Galactica season 1, it actually felt revitalizing this morning to turn on my laptop instead of the TV. It was a good day. Went to the cinema, something I haven't done since I walked out of Lust, Caution the moment Wong Lee Hom opened his trap (what was Lee Ang thinking?!) and caught a film I'd been waiting months to see. It did not disappoint. On the contrary, it was one of my most enjoyable movie experiences in a while. Cinematically, there was no better way to start the new year, that's for sure. Of course we can count on Hollywood shite to come along soon enough, but for the moment, let me just revel in the quirky psychedelic rollercoaster ride that is Across the Universe... Suffice to say I'll never listen to the Beatles in the same way again. It's so experimental, like a film made backgrounds, created out of its soundtrack. Cut and paste songs by the Beatles, have a boy and a girl in love, weave the two elements together, let the story take on a life of its own (heck it becomes James Baldwin's Another Country, only helluva lot more upbeat). Get Bono onboard. Film it. And by God, you've got one gem of a movie, equal parts random and carefully choreographed, hilarious and heartbreaking, and almost always a visual and musical spectacular.