Meus Parem Locus

Me? Narky?

An incorrect address was texted to me for a party last night, which left me stranded in the inner burbs of Rozelle with a six-pack (of beer) and look of confusion on my face.  A phone call to the the inviters caused much kerfuffle and mirth until it was realised that I was actually at an old address from some 3 years ago.  Not knowing where I was or how to get to the right place (not to mention the $25 it took me to get there in a cab) meant I was a tad frustrated when calling for assistance.  "Don't be so narky!" was shrilled at me over the phone when I expressed the slightest annoyance at the issue (and I mean slight - like "it's going to take me a while to get another cab from here").   

Eventually flagging down another cab I made my way to the correct address in another suburb (another $15) to be lost again in a sprawling waterside complex with christian-type onlookers.   Two more phone calls and i made the destination - a little pissed off but trying to project good cheer and get over myself.  Not helped by further comments like "grumpy Kev" and "why do you think I'd still be living there".    Quite proud of myself - I maintained my forced smile and drifted into the background (where I find myself most comfortable in these situations), drank my beer, smoked too many other people's cigarettes and spoke of French things to a French couple.    That cheered the night :-)

Recently I have been realising the different scene "worlds" that exist around me.   The vast majority of my social circle are down-to-earth, practical, dare I say it "more masculine types" that are unconcerned with celebrity gossip, fashion, how you look, what brand of clothes you wear or what type of beer you drink.  We hang out in the same kind of places, know that we're accepted and don't put expectations on each other.  I exist easily and happily within it.   

Touching on some of the other "worlds" tends to remind me why I don't play in that space anymore (or at least, try to play because I am concerned at what others may "think").  Don't get me wrong - I love the diversity that is out there and am happy to dabble when the opportunity arises but I also admit I will avoid the opportunities unless somewhat compelled to comply.  I have friends from all different "spaces" and love and respect them each for their own qualities.  Is this making any sense?   Maybe I'm talking bollocks but it fits for me....  I know where I am comfortable and where I am not.   I sometimes take such comfort from the poetry of Donald Rumsfeld....  I leave you some inspiring and prosaic words... :-)

As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know

Uncle sleepwalks

A $397 parking fine has not dulled the excitement of becoming an uncle for first time this week!  Young Conor Donegan was born on the morning of April 29 in Barcelona to my brother and his wife.  A surprise phone call, that I debated answering (number blocked, me half asleep coming home from work on the train) that had the greeting "Hello Uncle!" from my exhausted brother set a smile on my face for the remainder of the week.   Some photos came through on Friday - I've added them to my album link on the right :-)    Only 25 days to go before I see him in person - any doubts about excitement for the journey are swept away!

So the $397 fine....   A few weeks ago (in the space of one week) I received TWO fines for the first ime in my life.  One was for failing to produce my weekly train ticket for the jobsworthy ticket inspectors (as per a previous post) that I managed to have retracted, as I could prove that I did actually have a ticket (left it at home) with a faxed photocopy.   The other was for parking in a disable parking spot at Rose Bay.   Now let me tell you - I would NEVER knowingly park in a disabled parking space - and the fact that I did highlights the inadequate signage placed in the car park.  Not to mention the ground covered in dead leaves and twigs from the massive trees on either side of the space.  If I was disabled I certainly wouldn't want to park there as the space is so squashed you could hardly clamber out of the car, never mind dealing with mobility issues. 

And everything else is getting so bloody expensive lately!  My strata fees up 33% for the next year because the building needs painting, credit card interest fees, water bills, petrol, food blah blah blah.  I'm starting to have my own credit crisis.  The credit card has been removed from the wallet...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night, after coming home from the pub with Jason fairly hammered, I had another one of my sleepwalking events.  The first time - a few years back - I managed to tip a glass of cordial on top of my laptop and get back to bed without thinking about it until the memory returned the next morning (needless to say the computer was fried, but I luckily (a) didn't start a fire, and (b) rescued the hard drive).   This time I woke up this morning, walked into the living room and saw a coverless cushion on the couch.  On the floor by the kitchen was the cover.  What the...? Then it came back to me that I remembered waking up (sort of) on the couch and going back to bed (this was after we had gone to bed in the first place - about 1am).   I have no memory of cushion derobing so that must have happened before.   What the hell is that about?    A bit scary :-(

ow not again!

Met up with De and Zoe for brunch this morning (at the impressive Lemon cafe in Surry Hills - I normally object to waiting for a table at breakfast time but this was worth the wait) and afterwards we went for a walk through Centennial Park.

It's the first time I have really ever spent any time there (I know - 8 years living down the road and still clueless to my surroundings) but it is such an impressive place!   Made all the more special by the Autumn sun angling through the blue sky.   I took a few pics...

And then walking back to the car after dropping the girls off, I rolled my left ankle for the second time in two weeks - really badly.   Holy crap it's a painful thing to do the second time :-(

¡Un poco loco!

What a week it has been!  The rain came tumbling down for most of it but that didn't stop me from spending the last 7 nights out and generally imbibing alcohol in various forms (I mean different types of drinks, although a jelly shot did get involved at one stage).   It has also been a very busy time in work, where for the first time since I have started at the company I can honestly say I am enjoying my time there.  Busy yes, but good-busy, and feeling like I'm part of something.  After 2 years of f*cking around not knowing what I was supposed to be doing with no management or support, it seems I've come to the end of that tunnel. 
♖

The holiday is only 5 weeks away now, and I am finally starting to feel some excitement about it.  I don't know why but I have been completely unable to get myself into the holiday mood.  Maybe it's because I'm still unsure of where we will be staying in London or something.  Or maybe I'm just thinking of how much it's costing!   But to hell with that....
♘

Am I a freak? That's the question I have been asking myself this last week.  When everyone else is moaning about the gloomy weather, the "freezing" temperature (hardly) and the constant threat or delivery of rain, I revel in the autumnal glory.   Seeing the yellow, red and brown leaves on the ground brings a sense pf warmth, security and inner glow that is indescribable.  The trees are half bare and people walk around coats and (premature) scarves.   My artistic eye (just the one, dear) comes out to enjoy the scenes from a stereotypical seasonal calendar.  Jason expresses concern that I appear to like decay and death in the nature around me, but I disagree.  It goes back to my childhood, although why I have no idea.  Autumn in Ireland was a hell of a lot colder, wetter and darker than here.   
♗

I sit here with my Spanish books in front of me.  My sister-in-law is heavily pregnant with child, and I have been trying to converse with her online in Spanish (she is Catalan from Barcelona).   I am daunted by the challenge (my last missive was typed after a few glasses of red) and even drove into the office this morning to pick up my Spanish Grammar - Easy Learning book to pull it together.  I need to pull myself together now to make it happen.    ¡Madre de Dios! ¡Yo soy un poco loco esta mañana!
☼

Yesterday, myself and Jase celebrated 3 happy years together.  A quiet affair (we were both worn out after the week)- we had a wonderful dinner (fab pork, apple & sage sausages with pepper creamed potatoes and vegies) with candles and music at home, while listening to the rain hammering outside on the balcony.  It was wonderful.  Here's to many more :O)

Just tax the STUPID people!

Ireland has a new Taoiseach (pronounced tee-shock - our name for the Prime Minister role).  Biffo (Big-Ignorant-F*cker-From-Offaly) Cowen, officially known as Brian Cowen, will take the reins from our corrupt leader after 11 years in office.   I don't know - either corruption has become more frequent in recent years or the media have become more diligent at seeking and exposing it.   In Ireland's case, no amount of indignant or incredulous huffing and puffing in the papers, on the radio or at the family dinner table seems to make a blind bit of difference to the outcome of a general election or lemming-like allegiance to a favoured political party.

“The accomplice to the crime of corruption is frequently our own indifference”.   

*****************************************
So anyway, I did my exam on Monday this week.  80 questions, multiple choice, open book.  Not too challenging you may ponder... and it wasn't.... but not to be underestimated either.  I needed every minute of the 2.30hrs alloted to finish it with any degree of confidence.   As a result of waiting for the results, I have not signed up for the following module, and find myself somewhat at a loose end this weekend, with no omnipresent studying guilt lurking over my shoulder.   

I should be able to make a start on some of the other million things I need to focus on.  I should but I'm not.   Hungover from a big night last night I find myself happy to read papers, type my blog and generally fart around.  Even the plan to get the car washed for a few advertisement photos (yes - I'm selling it - I never use the bloody thing) seems horrendously daunting.   How I got myself up and washed and down to meet my dear friend John for breakfast at the overrated Bitton ($30 EACH) I do not know - even the memory tires me :)

*****************************************

RANT: There are certain things that should not be tolerated and no amount of insanity, poor upbringing or drug/drunkeness can excuse.   Lighting bushfires, throwing rocks at cars and buses (seems to have become a favoured pastime of unruly teenage suburban shitheads of late) but the latest mind-numbingly f*cking stupid thing is pointing powerful lasers at approaching civil aircraft.   It seems to have happened quite a bit over the last few months in NSW, and the pilots and authorities are helpless to do anything about it when it happens.  Some dickhead with a powerful laser pointing up from bushland or their bedroom window is not an easy thing to locate, even less to prosecute successfully.   

In their usual wisdom, the Macquarie St clown show rub their temples and mumble things like "review penalties" and "banning private sale/use/importation of such devices", then scurry off for another Building Developer function to bump up their election funding in exchange for signing new releases for their mates. 

There IS no excuse for this sort of behaviour and this is where I get very right wing and think no end of fines, community service or "rehabilitation" is going to deter these idiots.   Either set up a gulag in the middle of the Great Sandy Desert and throw them in there, or off with their heads.    We don't need people like that in Australia, nor would anyone else want them.  Of course - another solution may be as the immortal words of Edina Monsoon (AbFab) stated "Why not just put a tax on the STUPID people" - wouldn't that be an interesting thought?

It's not all about the soup...

I wanted to wait for about 24 hours before I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) on yesterday's disappointing dinner (non)event.   Having spent 3 hours putting together a special meal for some invited friends (one of whom has a temporary eating disability), a brief phone call received at 6.30 provided little information other than "argument", "not coming" and "speak later".   

Of course I was pissed off big time - both in terms to looking forward to the evening and missing a large part of the day that I could have spent studying for Monday's exam.   I still am pissed off but I'll get over it.   We enjoyed our part of the dinner with far too much wine, then went out on the town and had a great night, unfortunately descending into drunken reasoning of "it's 12.30 - no itsh not - itsh 1130 cos the clocks go backsh".    I am unlucky with dinner guests - either my invitees are too unreliable or my cooking sucks.   

tictictictictictictictictictictictictictictictictic....
The cooling fan on my laptop is driving me nuts.   I direct a little desk fan onto the thing (the Macbook pro's get unbelievably hot if you do anything involving heavy processing) yet still it whirs.   I need to get it in for a service quickly.

Yes I have an exam tomorrow for the first module of my diploma in financial services, with an 80% pass level.  I spent all day today working back through the material, doing practice exams, re-doing old questions... it's been a blast.  I can't wait until its out of the way - I look out the window and have an undeniable urge to get out and take photos or wash my car or something.  Anything.   

Extensions of ontological existences

Last night I indulged in another of my Woody Allen DVD nights...

His material polarises people like Monty Python comedy or Vegemite (Marmite) - you either get it or you don't and there is no in-between! But Diane Keaton should appeal to all...

And some wonderful quotes (Boris is Allen, Sonja is Keaton)

Sonja: Violence is justified in the service of mankind.
Boris: Who said that?
Sonja: Attila the Hun.
Boris: You're quoting a Hun to me?

***

Russian gentleman: So who is to say what is moral?
Sonja: Morality is subjective.
Russian gentleman: Subjectivity is objective.
Sonja: Moral notions imply attributes to substances which exist only in relational duality.
Russian gentleman: Not as an essential extension of ontological existence.
Sonja: Can we not talk about sex so much?

***

[Boris is bothered by thoughts of suicide]
Boris: Something's missing.
Doctor: What?
Boris: I don't know, I feel a void at the center of my being.
Doctor: What kind of void?
Boris: Well... an empty void.
Doctor: An empty void?
Boris: Yes. I felt a full void about a month ago but it was just something I ate.

***

Sonja: Judgement of any system, or a prior relationship or phenomenon exists in an irrational, or metaphysical, or at least epistemological contradiction to an abstract empirical concept such as being, or to be, or to occur in the thing itself, or of the thing itself.
Boris: Yes, I've said that many times.

Bring back plastic peach

A lovely time-warp weekend on the Gold Coast at the Hotel of the Year (1977).  The weather was a pleasure - made all the more sweet by the cold and rain back in Sydney (teehee).   But the tired and creaky "resort" we stayed in was at the same time both weirdly nostalgic and crap.    Shite -brown formica kitchen benchtops might have been all the rage 30 years ago, but in the cutting edge market of the new developments in the city, it can't last at these prices.   Not to mention rusty solid hot plates on the ancient cooker.

But there was clearly a little facelift sometime in the mid-eighties, with a tastefully liberal application of "plastic-peach" for the bedroom.

I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of the bathroom - suffice to say the buzzing flickering flourescent tube kept me out of there as much as possible.    But apart from the lodgings, the weekend was lovely and a trip to Byron and to Brisbane to see family was all good fun.  It was a miracle we got to go anywhere, considering I forgot to book a hire car until 1 hour before the flight.  Oops

J'accuse! Mr D with the Dagger in the Station

It was not a good morning, last Thursday.   Oh it started off quite well - the way they do - lull you into that false sense of benign end-of-weekiness but at some stage the dagger will fall.  And fall it did.

It started with a pleasant enough trundle to work, feeling myself lucky for scoring not only a Millennium train (with very lovely air conditioning) but also a seat all to myself on a sunny balmy morning that Autumn in Sydney does so very well.   And, as is my wont, whilst sitting there feeling capital about my station this morning, I of course had to think of things that have been rather unlucky of late to balance the mood. 

Tsk, that pesky parking fine that was stuck to my windscreen when trizzing home from Jason's rugby practice last weekend - the fine that I only saw while gunning up to 70 down South Dowling Street - the one that then blew off my windscreen into the green flora to the left kerb.   Yes, yes.  THAT was unlucky.  Won't be so careless in future. 

Having changed trains a Wynyard (is it just me or does this place look brighter or fresher or something?  Is that a new coat of paint?) we trundled into North Sydney station and I was in pole position at the BEST door of the train - ready to launch myself towards the lovely shiny new escalators only 3 metres away before the general peasantry erupted. Speeding up those steps, I recall the stilted voxbox Cityrail announcer saying something about tickets being checked.  Tee Hee, I thought, we'll see some red faces this morning, as I knowingly reached into my wallet to remove my weekly.

It wasn't there.   What what!  But... where... what?  The cold dread came from the gut to the heart quicker than you can say "feeling capital" as I realised I had placed the ticket in my shirt pocket the day before (and this is even worse - I NEVER wear shirts with pockets - it is tasteless) - the ONE DAY I wear that shirt in un lune bleue.

Tail between my legs I approach the train security man (who had already spotted the ticketless symptoms), mumbling about my stupidity and I always buy a weekly and I can't believe this has happened...  He listens, empathises, agrees it's madness, and rips me off a $200 fine notice.  He mentions the appeal process (and hints a photocopy of my ticket plus fine faxed to the debt recovery office may get me off, but don't hold your breath (although I wish he held his - it was like gas from a bilge pump)).    I grump off (the only red face of the morning, it would seem) to get a little fruit salad for breakfast.   Oh irony, how you are a fickle beast.

Starving now, so I quickly grab my little fruit cocktail and put off a coffee until later.  Slumping at my desk after the obligatory & awkward packed-lift chat (no, you don't care what I'm up to this weekend - just because we're forced to be so uncomfortably close that I can see your eyeshadow clots doesn't mean we need to breathe words on each other) I open my  fruit cocktail to see I am not the first to enjoy it. Mr & Mrs Beetle seem to enjoying degustation this morning.   

Torn between indignant rage and disgust, I fling the container in the bin (breaking the recycling code - oh I was on a rebellious ROLL I tell you) and stomp up to the kitchen (euphemistically  labelled Level 6 café) to make myself a cup of tea and flick through the papers absentmindedly.  I made the tea somewhat absentmindedly too, as on return to my desk my first sip was spat out in horror.  I looked into the cup to see globs of curdled milk swimming around in the cup.   

I look up as a door opens down the corridor and a head sticks out. "Aren't you coming to this meeting?"
Shit.  What meeting?
"Yes - er - do I need anything?"
"I sent you the CV yesterday. I needed you to look at it first. We're interviewing in 5 minutes so you better be ready.  And put a tie on"

Ripping off heads at Central!

*sigh* when shall we ever see a little innovation from our useless State government in New South Wales (Free trains are out - SMH 13/03/2007).   

As a daily train commuter, I join thousands of others every day who are standing squashed in a stinking hot tin can to get to and from work.   
"The next train is only six carriages" comes the announcement to a packed platform at 7.45am. 
"Why!?!" I ask one of the dozy orange vests with his little rolled up white flag (they've given up years ago) and a whistle for blowing whenever it seems they feel like it.   
"It's timetabled that way" comes the mumbled response.    And that's the logic that drives the public rail network in this city.   That and the mad bitch at Central who thinks it would be "fun" to start singing "Good Morning! Good mooorning!  Your trains are all on time- good morning! Good morning to yoooooo" while I'm imagining ripping her head off and throwing it on the tracks.   

It seems that NOTHING is possible under this crowd of fuckwits.  I may be a leftie-leaning liberal (small L) for life but there is no way in hell that I would consider supporting this shower of corrupt cronies again.  I may even consider Liberal (Big L) for the next election.  ANYONE would be better.

                                                                *b*i*g****************b*r*e*a*t*h*

Slack, slack....  the digital world is converging on me.   A snap, last minute bid on eBay has resulted in a brand new iPhone, all lovely and shiny and unlocked for international use.   It's such a beautiful piece of engineering, so clever and charming... (yes I am a sucker for such things).

Without wanting to prejudice any outcomes, it is still nice to be able to say that things are looking a whole lot brighter on the work front these days.   Tomorrow may yet alter my enthusiasm, as I await a final meeting with the GM, but I am cautiously optimistic. 

And I somehow managed to pass my first assignment for my diploma.  Hurrah!