Saturday, 28 February 2009

Try as I might and Hyperventilation

Another attempt to broaden the spectrum? Why not?

The nature of business management has crept into a lot of things for me lately. Subject selection, noteworthy pieces of news, relatives' updates and stories, etc. The way in which power is held over the parts that make up a corporate body... Zzz...

That didn't work. I fell asleep before I could finish. It was an attempt in earnest as well. Let's start smaller. And less money-related. And for heaven's sake, let us for once not revert to Mother 3 as the default topic.

Although chapter 7 of the handbook was just released on the secret forum.


Control yourself, Man.

University students of Australia all return to study around this week, myself included. Many in the water park were unable to talk of anything else. "Pub crawl" this and "concert" that. The important parts of uni life were the main topics of discussion. It'll be nice to blog from my desk again, instead of this mobile phone. Hmmm... Another topic is surfacing.

It seems my paranoia exploded again this afternoon. I read into a simple story a lot more than was intended. I saw break-ups and self-loathing. I saw destructive behaviour leading to unhealthy dependance. I saw delusional people walking in circles. Still, she really shouldn't have brought up the topic of fruit conserve. Especially fig. It tears at a mutual weakness. The analogy of the preservatives was hard to miss.

Have a safe night, everyone.


P.S. *twitch* I'm fine.


P.P.S. Thanks for putting up with me.

Friday, 27 February 2009

The drab alternative... isn't so bad

It appears that I must blog from the local library. I've just put through my subject selection for next semester. Yes, I know. It does indeed start next Monday.

This also brings sad news. I was rejected (of course) from studying Italian this year. Oh, well. With my terrible grades, I was foolish to hope.

This semester I will turn everything around. Regular exercise, regular sleep, regular diet, regular study (University and scripture); a fully regulated lifestyle. I'm actually looking forward to it with great anticipation. It should help in my quest for good health. Actually, this morning I bought myself a nice set of bathroom scales to the same end.

I'm taking some electives this year: Computational Biomechanics and Organisational Behaviour. Should be interesting. On top of purchasing the text books, I should probably read them this time.

Hope all the Uni students on the Aus timetable had a relaxing holiday. Time to get back to it.


P.S. I'll also be living on a tighter budget this year, so don't be offended if I can't go out when you ask. I still care. Just in a poorer way.

P.P.S. I hope everyone enjoyed "The Water Hole" (see previous post) and to those that haven't seen it yet... There's still two days left! Don't miss out! Get yourself to the ACCA quicksmart!

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Emergency blog!

Everyone in Melbourne! Hear ye! Hear ye! If you haven't seen it already, you must (no choice) see the exhibition currently on display at the ACCA. It's a mind-blowing installation by Gerda Steiner & Jörg Lenzlinger entitled "The Water Hole".

Trust me. You will thank me later.

P.S. It's only on display until the 1st of March. Hurry!

Should I? Shouldn't I?

I'm out the other side of one of the most difficult semesters of my academic life and I've got more than a few cuts and bruises. What's my response to this?

Why not try adding Italian to my course?

Am I insane? Of course. But am I stupid? I hope not. I'd like to think I've just found the motivation to push myself to achieve what I should be capable of. It'll look good on my CV as well.

I have a few weeks once it's started to test the waters, but for now I'm gonna hit the books and go over my Italian notes from high school.

Catch ya!


P.S. I can't get enough of those dumplings for dinner!

Monday, 16 February 2009

Home is where the lasagna is and The world today

She has established herself psychologically as a Bendigo girl. Her home is where her base is. She works in Bendigo, she goes to the gym, the library, the fruttivendolo and the bank in Bendigo. She likes the way she can smile at people wandering down the street, unlike in the city. I'm so proud of her. The self-professed "city girl" is thriving in this semi-rural community.

Me, on the other hand? My home is where someone cares for me. It's my mate's couch, my room in college, my girlfriend's new house, a spare mattress below an air-conditioner and even the family house on the odd occasion. I love to be distracted from what needs to be done. This has to change, of course. I'm taking responsibility. I'm seeking assistance where I ought and making my own way where appropriate. I've organised successful events (never to the same degree as my sweetheart, who hosts a killer dinner party) and taken appropriate steps to help others.

Still I find I'm more comfortable on the move. This blog and my email account is enough home for me, as long as another soul is sharing my experience and I'm sharing theirs. This is in stark contrast the her mannerisms; her need to hold her own. This might be a reason why we function as well as we do. She likes to do things her way, exercise control, and I like to be part of a strong story, share someone's plight without making it my own. I like to be as fertilizer to the plant, or a stake in the ground to gently assist. I don't want to be a graft. I don't have an appealing enough bouquet or fruit to offer. Maybe when I do, I'll offer my own splash of colour, but until then I'll just make sure that hers shines bright.

I suppose, in a way, my home is fairly fixed. If home is where the heart is, then mine doesn't like to leave Bendigo unless strictly necessary.

I'm very self-absorbed... Hmmm... Let me try and bear witness of the world around for a change. Even then I can only offer what I see. I don't give much weight to news reports. Maybe I'll start close and work outwards. It's a start.

My sister is about to start her course in Fine Arts. She loves to paint. she has just started a series about the plight of a vampire bat and his attempt to eat various pieces of fruit. He seems to be unable to do anything but try to swallow each piece whole, with little success. She has started to include interactions with a cat she literally dreamed up, whose whiskers are enormous and droop to the floor. Another series of hers is a recreation of a famous artist's work by using snippets from magazines and other art pieces. It really is something. But then again, so is everything. They're very good though. I can hear her response to that statement now: "Are they? Are they really? I'm so glad you think that they're good. Yes, this artwork has now attained a whole other status because my brother says it's 'good'." Dripping with sarcasm, of course. She's a funny one. "Am I? Am I really?"

My other, younger sister is in high school and the only one among us that enjoys sport to any real extent. She's talented with her school work and I hope she continues to do well. She has a fantastic sense of humour. At my mother's birthday party she had us in hysterics, merely by holding her face a certain way when holding a birthday card. It was the kind of reaction that performers would study years to perfect. I'd like to meet some of her friends though, because like all young'uns, she's very easily influenced, unlike the older one. She - the older one - might be influenced by an artist, but almost never by a person who's alive. Or at least no one she'll ever want to meet. Artists are usually best held at arm's length, I find. They tend to reek of broken dreams and vodka. Luckily, my sis is too young for much of either. One I spoke to who left the art world, tells tales of going from exhibition launch to gallery opening, wherever free grog was on offer. My sister of course says he's an idiot. I've not met many people who aren't in her eyes, though. She'll make a fabulous artist. I hope she does. I've got a bet running with an ex-girlfriend of mine, saying she will.

Well, that's my sisters covered. I'll venture more next time.

I hope everyone is coping. I hope everyone is more than coping. I'm in a good place, but I feel a little flighty.



P.S. I'd like to send out a greeting to a friend of mine from Wooster in the States. She's a colourful character, with emotional depth and a love of horses. She's a very special person, whom I miss a lot. She defines herself by her homosexuality and how very left of centre she is. I suppose I'm often defined by how lecherous I am, so I guess both of us are defined by our love of women. Thanks for seeking me out and spending time with me. I'll miss bringing every old friend from high school or wherever to meet you. I hope you'll come online more often, so we can chat. How is your brother? How is uni? How is your girlfriend? I miss you a lot, so please drop me a line. I might be being a bit presumptuous in assuming you'll read this, but what are the chances that my reader in Wooster is anyone but you?

P.P.S. I've forgotten your blog address. Please give it to me.

P.P.P.S. C- misses you too.

Friday, 13 February 2009

You're doin' it wrong

This is the first St. Valentine's Day that I'll be participating in to any real degree. I mean, certainly last year's was an effort, but it was a completely different story.

Last year, when I was "kind of dating" my last girlfriend (not in the usual on again, off again sense), she was scheduled to be back in the country on February 12th. As my girlfriends find out in turn, I'm the kind of guy who is very easy to care about when I'm around. Despite my forgetfulness, I will make every attempt to show said person the extent of my adoration. When I'm away from them, it becomes a whole other matter. I have a tendency to become paranoid. I never question the other's ability to remain faithful (as infidelity isn't something I could even imagine), but merely their ongoing affection for me. I become paranoid that they will only consider me an annoyance when I can't be doing things for them, just requesting contact all the time and I worry that my requests for confirmation will actually ensure that they won't like me when they return (I never go anywhere) and the paranoia builds and I become paranoid that my paranoia will ruin everything and... Stop! If I think about it, I end up shivering in the corner. Anyhoo, on to my story.

After much uncomfortable communication that demanded a returning of my affection, my girlfriend at the time had decided she probably didn't want to date me anymore. This was after I'd spent more than I ought to on a new outfit in preparation for St. Valentine's Day. I'd also booked a swish restaurant and was intent on enjoying a meal there come February 14th. She had decided that there was no way we would be able to go out for Valentine's Day evening because of a number of reasons (the main one being that - although I had been dating their daughter for a number of months - her parents weren't to be told of our relationship on her orders, despite the fact I had had frank communications of this exact nature on previous occasions with both of her parents). It seemed to me that she was ashamed of me. Her parents are forward thinking types and our difference in race would hold no qualms for them. I could only invent images of a perceived difference in social standing that meant my then girlfriend would feel a burdensome guilt at being so closely associated with me. To this day, I'm not sure of the extent to which my own paranoia influenced these fears.

Hmmm... Where were we? Ah, yes.

Anticipating her likely rejection of my continued requests to go out together on Valentine's Day, I put in place a fail-safe to ensure I would be eating expensive Japanese cuisine with a pretty girl whether or not she would be there. I got in contact with a friend of mine, who I enjoy going out to dinner with (where we can share our appreciation of spicy food, video games and anime, but who has no romantic intention toward myself - and vice versa) and who happens to be a pretty girl and disclosed my intentions for the special day and told her of my apprehension about whether or not I could successfully convince my girlfriend to join me. She said she was happy to play back-up on account of having no other plans for the day (a pretty girl? on Valentine's Day? outrageous, I know). She agreed to be in the city on that day and I would get in contact with her as soon as I knew for sure.

I did everything with that special girl's comfort in mind. I dressed immaculately, but not out of place for just a routine visit (with alternate evening wear in the boot - "trunk" for you yanks - of my car). I ensured I'd brought gifts for her and her sister to signify their return, rather than in celebration of any romantic holiday. I then worked my charm (you in the back! stop laughing!) and after a mere half hour or so, she was all over me (try and keep your stomachs down). My plan was nearly complete. All I had to do, now that she had reaffirmed her affection (or at least lust) for me, was convince her to join me at the restaurant.

This was unsuccessful.

I proceeded to get in contact with my back-up, who willingly obliged. She dressed beautifully in a deep purple, velvet jacket and I arrived to meet her in my fancy dining attire. I then treated her to the most expensive meal I have ever paid for. We had upwards of eight courses of dainty dishes, from sashimi presented on an ice sculpture to see urchin with caviar. We had a great time laughing about our situation and the fun we where having and gave a toast to the stubborn girl who had made this possible.

This Valentine's I don't have the funds to make an evening like that possible, which is sad, because the amazing girl, who I'm blessed to hold the affection of, is more worthy than any other on the planet. I hope I can at least make her smile.

Please tell me if I'm doing it wrong.

She has my heart, but I still care about all of you,


P.S. I must also acknowledge one of my best friends in the execution of the restaurant endeavour. Without him, it would have fallen apart. Thanks, mate. Your hospitality and assistance are much appreciated. I love you, mate.

Monday, 9 February 2009

Multimedia nausea, bushfires and family

Wow... It is seriously easy to occupy one's time in the vast expanses of cyberspace. In an attempt to complete an assignment, I was proud of myself for only wasting an hour online before I sat down in earnest to complete the task at hand. An hour is still an hour.

Ducks don't need satellites. Truer words have never been spoken. Thanks for that, Kate.

Music, along with so many other forms of multimedia permeate our existence to such a degree that I often feel nauseous. Not in an elitist, judgmental way. I'm sitting here doing my homework, listening to Kate Miller-Heidke. Oh, now it's Antony and the Johnsons. Fistful of Love. It really is beautiful. Oops, sidetracked. Another side affect. I meant to say that in a very literal sense, I feel ill in the stomach. I go to bed after checking my email on my mobile phone and perhaps chatting for a while on an instant messaging service. I wonder why my eyes are sore and my stomach turns. I think to myself, what could have caused this? I've only been listening to music on my phone, playing games on my laptop, doing online worksheets for uni on my laptop on the train on the way to my amazing girlfriend's house, (oooh, now it's Gimme Some Lovin', The Blues Brothers) relaying my thoughts to the world (yes, all seven people in the world) via this blog while watching DVD episodes of Life on Mars (the UK version, obviously - nobody should bother with the US one) and eating a tasty chickpea salad with french toast. Hmmm... Could it be the french toast? My head feels ill with all the screens that hold my ever-shortening attention span.

Ah, well. Problem acknowledged. As reward I might play a little Diablo II.

(The Real Man, Yoko Kanno)

It's time to get back to my maths sheet. The first few answers came a little too easily, so I rewarded myself (I do love to reward myself) with a chance to post. All this while, my beautiful girlfriend is slaving away at the hospital, fifty metres down the road. She's an intern. Way to make me feel inadequate (Cardiac Arrest, Madness - perfect song to come on right now - I have always appreciated the importance of slowing it down and not stressing). She hosted a top dinner party last night (an excellent chance to meet up with her hospital pals). she put on a professional spread. All I could supply was a professional smile. It was thoroughly enjoyable. I'm pleased to leave her in the company of the troupe I met last night when I trek back to the beach.

Although I did feel like a bit of an idiot for forgetting one of her close friend's names after meeting her for the third time (Saltwater, The Cat Empire).

I'd like to end on a less trivial note. Victoria has been devastated by the worst bushfires in history over the last few days. Many lives, homes and workplaces have been lost as the fires burn entire communities to the ground. All the while more destruction occurs up north with the torrential flooding. The cyclical irony strikes again. My prayers go out to the farmers up north and the Victorian families who have lost everything, from family members and friends, to the roof above their heads. I pray for the fire fighters and I thank God for the swift offer of help from the military by the Prime Minister and the aid packages on offer from the government. I also thank God for the charity in the hearts of everyone offering spare rooms, houses, shelter, etc. in response to this tragedy. Thank you for watching over me in my travels to visit my girlfriend, whose house is mere kilometers from where one of the fires raged. Give strength to the communities as they rebuild, and pull them together in faith.

It's been good to spend time with my family, despite tho odd sessions of tension, and my love goes out to all my family, those on the peninsula, those in Melbourne and the girl next to the hospital in regional Victoria.

Hope you're all safe (Lucky, Radiohead),


P.S. (Fantasie Sign, Carla Vallet)

P.P.S. (Where Have All The Good Times Gone, The Kinks)

P.P.P.S. Ok, the music is turned off now. I'm going for a walk.

P.P.P.P.S. I know it's ridiculous, but just wondering... Who's the Sydney-sider among my readers?

Friday, 6 February 2009

Oh, happy day! and Twilight hours

This morning, I was alert in lecture.
By mid-morning I was happily munching down on some hot cross buns.
Lunch time came around to a delicious schnitzel sandwich.
Afternoon lecture was as enthralling as the first.
Tutorial went smoothly.
Father called with good news about bureaucratic what-not.
I finished my novel (more on that later). Oh, Yes.
I organised to complete my assignment this afternoon.
I have free time to collect my thoughts and email my girlfriend.
All is well. Hmmm... *looks at header*

Probably have forgotten something... Oh, well.

Now, I'm no fanboy (except when it comes to Shigesato Itoi, Michel Ancel, Asian grocery stores, classic children's literature, etc.), but I must tip my hat to a certain Stephenie Meyer. She's just provided me with hours upon hours of endlessly enjoyable escapism in the form of her best-selling Twilight Series. The characters were detailed enough so that interest never faltered and the stories were such that I was never left with any feeling of dissatisfaction at what was being presented. I was left wanting to know more, but never uninterested as the events unfolded. It presented as cleverly structured teen fiction, and (despite highly critical friends of mine saying otherwise) although floral with descriptions of events and characters, was never saturated. It certainly gets my approval. I'd write essays on it (the code of ethics presented, the inbuilt advice for teenagers, the social commentary on human progress, the depiction of teen "love", the politically/historically interesting social analysis, the depiction of human emotions and emotional responses as well as the classic portayal of what it is to join the adult world, among many others besides), but that would detract from what it is meant to be: An enjoyable piece of teen fiction, depicting a fantastical world that teenagers can still relate to (thus ensuring inevitable comparisons with another best-selling series) and - more importantly for me - get lost in.

NB: I'm not actually a teenager... *sigh*

Get lost in a good book, y'all,


P.S. Who's my reader in Seremban? Hmmm... They didn't stay long...

Tuesday, 3 February 2009


Last night I retired to bed much later than I was intending to. I was absorbed in one of the many forms of escapism with which I pass the time. Last night it was tales of vampire romance. The night before it was raiding the catacombs beneath a monastery.

Escapism I find to be most useful at times. For example, at no point while I was immersed in the troubles faced by a mortal's love for an immortal did I contemplate the phone bill that was causing me to lose sleep. I then proceeded, unencumbered, to make use of the time one usually designates for repose in the traditional manner. Not that vampires need that, you understand. Not sleeping and all. Ever.

I hope to return home today after a day's study to race my friends from the Mushroom Kingdom in their "karts".

Another form of escapism is getting so caught up in a situation I love. A situation I crave. I maneuver myself around this vision of paradise in my head until nothing else can penetrate my mental state.


Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away... Lost you all for a minute...

Enjoy your fantasies, everyone,