With Christmas just around the corner it is no wonder that the Bathurst branch of D.I.T. (where I am currently employed) held their Christmas Morning Tea this morning. It was basically just a little "rock up and bring a plate of something, as well as a $2 gift for Chris Kringle..." The event was quite nice, considering how unprepared I was for it - and I managed to score two presents for myself!
So this morning before work, in a kind of "oh god I forgot this was a things!" rush, I grabbed the cheese from my depression-shop (which I didn't end up opening), and some water crackers from Woolies (where the evil robot lady did not attempt to kill me...this time...) as well as some paper plates to present what turned out to be a rather popular cheese-platter (someone else had had the forethought to provide some cabanossi, which set the whole thing off really quite nicely - plus I got rid of my depression cheese!)
As for my "Chris Kringle" gift - I ran into The Reject Shop this morning in a big of a rush (I do have a bus to catch, you know) and checked out what they had for $2. If you've never been to The Reject Shop before, it turns out that this is a very large assortment of things. I ended up settling on one of those "magic trees" which basically grows crystals on a cardboard tree by soaking it in a liquid made up of ammonia and some other things, and exposing it to air.
It might not sound like it, but I actually did put quite a bit of (admittedly ADD) thought into this gift. Initially I was going to buy one of those squishy balls with all of the flagella over it, as a kind of gooey (and relatively safe to throw) stress toy, but then I thought that that was potentially pretty dumb. Instead I turned around and stared long and hard at some decks of playing cards for a good while, only to be hit by the best gift idea that one could purchase for $2. Science.
That's right - This year I opted to give the gift of science! I mean, I work in the department of information technology. Surely, one would imagine, the average staff-member here would be more than a little scientifically minded, and may be a little curious about what was going on...Or, you know, they could think that it was pretty and place it on their desk for all to see. Either way, I gave a gift that lasted (you can repeat the experiment over again after the crystals drop off the tree, as long as you mix them back in to the liquid...)
In return for providing the miracle of crystalisation I was rewarded with the opportunity to either take another "player's" gift, or to select randomly from what was left wrapped on the table. I (stupidly, I might add) chose to go from the table - even though there was a perfectly good yo-yo currently in gift circulation! Oh my god why did I not steal the yo-yo?!
I picked the gift which most resembled a magic-eight ball (in the hopes of, you know, getting a magic-eight ball) and unwrapped it to find hand-soap. Not the gift I was expecting, but still one that enables my obsessive-compulsive tendencies, so I was pretty happy (although my therapist would probably be otherwise.) The other gift I received - a box of Belgian pralines - was in return for successfully answering a trivia question (which was, admittedly, really easy) - "What initials did rapper 'Hammer' lose from his name?"
I was more amazed that there were people there who couldn't answer that question, than the fact that I got in first.
The moral of this story is that it isn't the quantity of gifts you receive that matters. Rather, it is the quality of gifts - or the amount of joy you receive from them. I know people people tell you that it is the thought that counts, but really that's not entirely true. Today, someone received an angle-bracket in the Chris Kringle draw. An angle bracket. The thought was there, yes, but I'm sure that the person who received the yo-yo is having infinitely more fun with their gift. Damn I want that yo-yo...
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Just Once Can You Not Betray Me?! JUST ONCE?!
I'm fairly certain that my friend and ex-work colleague Shibby is some kind of double-agent. Earlier this morning, we were discussing the fact that the ABC has miraculously decided to schedule the Doctor Who Christmas Special on Boxing Day - less than 24 hours after the UK has seen it. This, for me, is somewhat akin to a Christmas Miracle, especially as the ABC have a tendency to air regular episodes of Doctor Who about three weeks behind the UK, and specials aren't normally seen for months.
Really - before I go on - I just need to state that this is cooler than fezzes and bow-ties combined.
It was shortly after this branch of the discussion that I realised that Shibby and I had been talking about this very issue not twenty-four hours beforehand! After noting this with Shibby, I decided that surely they were spying upon us - they are, after all, a great evil organisation, and we have both done work with them in the past. Image how easily they could have bugged us!!
Shibby decried this fact, promptly declaring that they may or may not be spying on us, but that they are most definitely "Idea Thieves". It was then that she made her major slip-up in keeping her cover a secret. "I emailed them AGES ago, when Channel 10 was playing Torchwood at crumby times," she started "and I was like 'Dood, you should totes buy the rights to play Torchwood 'cause you already have a market for it - Dr Who. So it'd do better on your station ANYWAY." That, of course, would seem perfectly innocuous - were it not for what she said next.
You may wish to brace yourself for the damning evidence: "...Didn't hear back from them...Months later, the ABC is all 'OHAYYY WE'RE PLAYING TORCHWOOD NOW!'"
"Oh suuuure," I hear you thinking, "what's the big deal?" The big deal, buster, is that Shibby has now had not only one of her ideas implemented by the ABC - but she's had at least two (and one of them seemingly over-night, so we know that she works fast!) And those are only the changes that I know she's made to TV. There are also countless design influences that she's had on apps and websites produced by the ABC, and goodness knows what she's done behind my back.
Alas - I fear that we haven't much time! We must band together to stop this threat to our security, and so forth. Or we could, you know, just go along for the ride. Because, after all, if she is a double agent, then she appears to be working quite well on the side of humanity (as opposed to the ABC) - she got us Torchwood on a decent channel, and she has scored us Doctor Who within a reasonable time-frame.
You know what? Stuff it.
I for one welcome our new Indie-Girl Overlords.
The moral of this story is that I may, or may not, be a double agent. This may, or may not, just be me covering up the fact that I really am a double agent. Later on, when you accuse me of being a double agent, and having never told you this fact I may, or may not, then use this blog post to show you that I confessed to the whole thing. Internet sarcasm it a truly magical creation. I wonder if I'm on a watch list now.
Really - before I go on - I just need to state that this is cooler than fezzes and bow-ties combined.
It was shortly after this branch of the discussion that I realised that Shibby and I had been talking about this very issue not twenty-four hours beforehand! After noting this with Shibby, I decided that surely they were spying upon us - they are, after all, a great evil organisation, and we have both done work with them in the past. Image how easily they could have bugged us!!
Shibby decried this fact, promptly declaring that they may or may not be spying on us, but that they are most definitely "Idea Thieves". It was then that she made her major slip-up in keeping her cover a secret. "I emailed them AGES ago, when Channel 10 was playing Torchwood at crumby times," she started "and I was like 'Dood, you should totes buy the rights to play Torchwood 'cause you already have a market for it - Dr Who. So it'd do better on your station ANYWAY." That, of course, would seem perfectly innocuous - were it not for what she said next.
You may wish to brace yourself for the damning evidence: "...Didn't hear back from them...Months later, the ABC is all 'OHAYYY WE'RE PLAYING TORCHWOOD NOW!'"
"Oh suuuure," I hear you thinking, "what's the big deal?" The big deal, buster, is that Shibby has now had not only one of her ideas implemented by the ABC - but she's had at least two (and one of them seemingly over-night, so we know that she works fast!) And those are only the changes that I know she's made to TV. There are also countless design influences that she's had on apps and websites produced by the ABC, and goodness knows what she's done behind my back.
Alas - I fear that we haven't much time! We must band together to stop this threat to our security, and so forth. Or we could, you know, just go along for the ride. Because, after all, if she is a double agent, then she appears to be working quite well on the side of humanity (as opposed to the ABC) - she got us Torchwood on a decent channel, and she has scored us Doctor Who within a reasonable time-frame.
You know what? Stuff it.
I for one welcome our new Indie-Girl Overlords.
The moral of this story is that I may, or may not, be a double agent. This may, or may not, just be me covering up the fact that I really am a double agent. Later on, when you accuse me of being a double agent, and having never told you this fact I may, or may not, then use this blog post to show you that I confessed to the whole thing. Internet sarcasm it a truly magical creation. I wonder if I'm on a watch list now.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Calm Blue Ocean?! That Just Makes Things Worse!!
Up until about three minutes ago (from the time I started writing this) I was nervous. So very, very nervous. Now, however, I am completely over the moon. Although I cannot make any official statements right now, I can give you a horrifically cryptic blog post in order to cause speculation - or perhaps just annoyance.
At midday today I had a meeting with various people from the university's division of information technology to discuss my future at the uni. It wasn't anything like "Oh, you're a horrible employee and you are fired RAWR!", but something more along the lines of deciding the capacity in which I would be employed, and the permanency therein.
Now, in my mind at least, any discussion with anybody at anytime that has anything to do with my future employment makes me quite nervous. As you may know from previous blog posts, I handle neither the thought of unemployment, nor the thought of being impoverished well at all - and so about fifteen minutes before this meeting started I was almost eating my own face with terror.
As the minutes ticked on I looked for someone to talk to about my current stress levels, and the fact that they were rising in a manner which mocked the mass of an object as it approaches light speed. I looked on MSN and tried to talk to Spud, but he must be out helping Lydia at the moment because I received no response from him. So I then talked to Cheva (who refuses to read any blog, so I could say whatever I want about him here and he wouldn't care...) who told me that he loves that, and that I'll be fine - his words helped a little, but not as much as I would have hoped...
For anybody who doesn't know me, I am, a great portion of the time, a great ball of nerves and neuroses. There are lots of things that make me worried or anxious (and I am, theoretically working with someone to overcome this...) such as being touched on my belly, and the ocean (hence today's blog post name) - and the thought of not having enough money to provide for myself and the ones I care about deeply is right up there.
As it turns out, however, I could not have been more wrong in my fears, as the second the call started I was rewarded with some brilliant, wonderful news. As it turns out I will not face next year with uncertainty or doubt about my future. No. I will instead face it with the prospect of a year-long contract, a pay rise, and over-all wonderfulness and joy...
I worry for nothing.
The moral of this story is BREAKING NEWS - It can now be revealed that I have been offered (and have accepted) a position at Charles Sturt University as their newest programmer! I'll be on a level 5, first step salary and I'll be entitled to leave and sick days and...just...everything wonderful! It also means that I'll be working regular hours (9 - 5 I am lead to believe) and it's a 12 month contract with a really high likelihood of being renewed at the end of that time. I can only sum up my feelings as: YEE!!
At midday today I had a meeting with various people from the university's division of information technology to discuss my future at the uni. It wasn't anything like "Oh, you're a horrible employee and you are fired RAWR!", but something more along the lines of deciding the capacity in which I would be employed, and the permanency therein.
Now, in my mind at least, any discussion with anybody at anytime that has anything to do with my future employment makes me quite nervous. As you may know from previous blog posts, I handle neither the thought of unemployment, nor the thought of being impoverished well at all - and so about fifteen minutes before this meeting started I was almost eating my own face with terror.
As the minutes ticked on I looked for someone to talk to about my current stress levels, and the fact that they were rising in a manner which mocked the mass of an object as it approaches light speed. I looked on MSN and tried to talk to Spud, but he must be out helping Lydia at the moment because I received no response from him. So I then talked to Cheva (who refuses to read any blog, so I could say whatever I want about him here and he wouldn't care...) who told me that he loves that, and that I'll be fine - his words helped a little, but not as much as I would have hoped...
For anybody who doesn't know me, I am, a great portion of the time, a great ball of nerves and neuroses. There are lots of things that make me worried or anxious (and I am, theoretically working with someone to overcome this...) such as being touched on my belly, and the ocean (hence today's blog post name) - and the thought of not having enough money to provide for myself and the ones I care about deeply is right up there.
As it turns out, however, I could not have been more wrong in my fears, as the second the call started I was rewarded with some brilliant, wonderful news. As it turns out I will not face next year with uncertainty or doubt about my future. No. I will instead face it with the prospect of a year-long contract, a pay rise, and over-all wonderfulness and joy...
I worry for nothing.
The moral of this story is BREAKING NEWS - It can now be revealed that I have been offered (and have accepted) a position at Charles Sturt University as their newest programmer! I'll be on a level 5, first step salary and I'll be entitled to leave and sick days and...just...everything wonderful! It also means that I'll be working regular hours (9 - 5 I am lead to believe) and it's a 12 month contract with a really high likelihood of being renewed at the end of that time. I can only sum up my feelings as: YEE!!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Dionysus Is My Home-Boy
There is something intrinsically wrong, it has been stated, with me talking like I did in the title of this post. I am frequently told by Spud, amongst others, that I am never to speak like that again. This doesn't stop me, of course, however it's usually just to cause them some particular ire, most often for no other reason than it gives me the jollies.
Note I said "most often".
A friend of mine (and I should also acknowledge, Spud's, because he knew him first) by the name of Squiggles is moving to Bathurst shortly with his girlfriend Emma. I can sum up my feelings about this scenario in one word. But really, that wouldn't make for much of a blog post, now, would it?
There are many reasons why it's very very exciting to have Squiggles and Emma in Bathurst for reals and for keeps. Mostly it's because I consider them close friends, and it's always nice to have close friends around me (especially when Andy is moving back to Sydney, like, today...) - it means that we get to do super-chocolatey-fudge-coated-awesome things together more often.
The secondary reason which has me super hyped right now, however, is that Squiggles plans on running a Scion game when he moves here. Scion, for those who don't know, if like D&D (kind of) except that it's set in the modern day, and you're the son/daughter of a god/goddess. Yes, you read that correctly. Of course, you don't have the ability to warp reality, or anything so over-powered that it would break the game - at least, not to start with - instead you start off as what I'd call a super-human. You may, for instance, be able to run faster than seems possible, or you might have the ability to control animals.
For Squiggles' game, we get to pick from the Dodekatheon - a group of 12 Greek gods and goddesses including, but not limited to Ares, Hades, Zeus, Hera, Athena, and Poseidon. I have selected, as my "divine parent", Dionysus - God of (amongst other things) partying the hell down. My basic character concept is for a guy named Daeon, who is a student at some college or another (to get his mother off his back), but who also runs a rather successful party-planning and DJ business on the side. He may seem like Van Wilder in concept, but my guy is genuinely likable, and not a complete and total tossing tool.
I'm quite excited to see how this game pans out, especially as Lydia is playing a scion of Ares, and Spud is playing a scion of Hephaestus. But there's still, like, a month to go - which is totally pants. Assuming that I don't explode in the interim, I'll update you on what it's like to play Scion when we've started.
The moral of this story is that in-proximity-friends seem to be like the heads of a hydra. Andy is leaving Bathurst, which (as the panda should have indicated) makes me quite sad, but then Squiggles and Emma are moving to Bathurst following that. I'm also aware that it's not the last time ever that I'll see Andy, because he's just moving to Sydney, and I'll be visiting there fairly often, I hope - and when I do visit Sydney, I'll get to see him, along with Roo, Shibby, Marija, and maybe a swathe of other people (hopefully unexpectedly, I do so love that!)
Note I said "most often".
A friend of mine (and I should also acknowledge, Spud's, because he knew him first) by the name of Squiggles is moving to Bathurst shortly with his girlfriend Emma. I can sum up my feelings about this scenario in one word. But really, that wouldn't make for much of a blog post, now, would it?
There are many reasons why it's very very exciting to have Squiggles and Emma in Bathurst for reals and for keeps. Mostly it's because I consider them close friends, and it's always nice to have close friends around me (especially when Andy is moving back to Sydney, like, today...) - it means that we get to do super-chocolatey-fudge-coated-awesome things together more often.
The secondary reason which has me super hyped right now, however, is that Squiggles plans on running a Scion game when he moves here. Scion, for those who don't know, if like D&D (kind of) except that it's set in the modern day, and you're the son/daughter of a god/goddess. Yes, you read that correctly. Of course, you don't have the ability to warp reality, or anything so over-powered that it would break the game - at least, not to start with - instead you start off as what I'd call a super-human. You may, for instance, be able to run faster than seems possible, or you might have the ability to control animals.
For Squiggles' game, we get to pick from the Dodekatheon - a group of 12 Greek gods and goddesses including, but not limited to Ares, Hades, Zeus, Hera, Athena, and Poseidon. I have selected, as my "divine parent", Dionysus - God of (amongst other things) partying the hell down. My basic character concept is for a guy named Daeon, who is a student at some college or another (to get his mother off his back), but who also runs a rather successful party-planning and DJ business on the side. He may seem like Van Wilder in concept, but my guy is genuinely likable, and not a complete and total tossing tool.
I'm quite excited to see how this game pans out, especially as Lydia is playing a scion of Ares, and Spud is playing a scion of Hephaestus. But there's still, like, a month to go - which is totally pants. Assuming that I don't explode in the interim, I'll update you on what it's like to play Scion when we've started.
The moral of this story is that in-proximity-friends seem to be like the heads of a hydra. Andy is leaving Bathurst, which (as the panda should have indicated) makes me quite sad, but then Squiggles and Emma are moving to Bathurst following that. I'm also aware that it's not the last time ever that I'll see Andy, because he's just moving to Sydney, and I'll be visiting there fairly often, I hope - and when I do visit Sydney, I'll get to see him, along with Roo, Shibby, Marija, and maybe a swathe of other people (hopefully unexpectedly, I do so love that!)
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The Important Part About This Story Is That I Had An Onion On My Belt
If I were to personify the part of my subconscious that controls my dreams, I could not go past describing it as a slightly senile baby-sitter. "Now Tiger", I hear you think (or say, if you're prone to talking to your computer - and hey, I don't judge), "Calling your own mind senile is a little bit harsh" - well just hear me out.
Most nights I dream - and I remember the dream quite vividly, too (occasionally for quite some time afterward, depending on the impact the dream had on me...) - and I dream in colour, and there are ever-so-many dramatic plots and storylines and twists and turns. It is like being in a cinema watching some kind of epic film - only I am the epic film.
So there I am, using my terrific element control powers to fly through the air, chasing after someone who was picking on one of my friends, and hurling great balls of fire at them with ease that would make Mario envious, when suddenly I'm awake and writhing around in my bed slightly. I was just wooshing around the farm I used to live on - what is this strange soft creature covering me and why am I so warm?
And I'm not woken up by an alarm either - no - it seems that my brain decides that those climactic moments in my dreams are exactly the right times to alert me to the fact that what I was enjoying so much is not the real life. Following this, no matter how much I attempt to return to the my land of epic fantasy, I cannot - oh sure I can start a new dream, but unless I've been experiencing a horrible nightmare (in which case I return to exactly where I left off) going back to my miracle world is nigh on impossible.
In summary, my sleeping mind may as well be going: "Why don't you sit right back and I'll tell you a tale...And oh what a tale it shall be...*exceedingly epic and genuinely engaging story that gets to about 3/4 of the way through* and then...huh? Where am I? What was I doing? Oh yeah, I was telling you about the time that I *other story that is in no way related to the previous one*". Unless of course I'm having a nightmare, in which case it's more along the lines of "Did I ever tell you about the time your grandmother and I ran naked through the streets of Kabul? Yes? Well I'll tell you again! *you listen and start to fall asleep* Oh - you almost fell asleep there! Why not let me tell you about the time your grandmother and I ran naked through the streets of Kabul to keep you awake..."
And it's not just limited to dreams, oh no, now it's started to extend itself to my waking hours. Every morning, as I'm moving around the house preparing for work, I have thoughts about what I want to tell you all on that day. The second I reach a computer - BAM and the blog concepts are gone!
The moral of this story is that I'm still trying to figure out why on earth I opt to go swimming in my dreams. I am terrified of the ocean, and I'm even more scared of the fact that something is going to come at my from inside deep water and touch me or eat me or something like that. I would much rather stick to the dreams where I have super special awesome powers of magic and coolness, or the ones where the black knight whisks me away on his stallion to his castle where everything is always clean, and it's usually raining and the chocolate is dark and...*swoons*
Most nights I dream - and I remember the dream quite vividly, too (occasionally for quite some time afterward, depending on the impact the dream had on me...) - and I dream in colour, and there are ever-so-many dramatic plots and storylines and twists and turns. It is like being in a cinema watching some kind of epic film - only I am the epic film.
So there I am, using my terrific element control powers to fly through the air, chasing after someone who was picking on one of my friends, and hurling great balls of fire at them with ease that would make Mario envious, when suddenly I'm awake and writhing around in my bed slightly. I was just wooshing around the farm I used to live on - what is this strange soft creature covering me and why am I so warm?
And I'm not woken up by an alarm either - no - it seems that my brain decides that those climactic moments in my dreams are exactly the right times to alert me to the fact that what I was enjoying so much is not the real life. Following this, no matter how much I attempt to return to the my land of epic fantasy, I cannot - oh sure I can start a new dream, but unless I've been experiencing a horrible nightmare (in which case I return to exactly where I left off) going back to my miracle world is nigh on impossible.
In summary, my sleeping mind may as well be going: "Why don't you sit right back and I'll tell you a tale...And oh what a tale it shall be...*exceedingly epic and genuinely engaging story that gets to about 3/4 of the way through* and then...huh? Where am I? What was I doing? Oh yeah, I was telling you about the time that I *other story that is in no way related to the previous one*". Unless of course I'm having a nightmare, in which case it's more along the lines of "Did I ever tell you about the time your grandmother and I ran naked through the streets of Kabul? Yes? Well I'll tell you again! *you listen and start to fall asleep* Oh - you almost fell asleep there! Why not let me tell you about the time your grandmother and I ran naked through the streets of Kabul to keep you awake..."
And it's not just limited to dreams, oh no, now it's started to extend itself to my waking hours. Every morning, as I'm moving around the house preparing for work, I have thoughts about what I want to tell you all on that day. The second I reach a computer - BAM and the blog concepts are gone!
The moral of this story is that I'm still trying to figure out why on earth I opt to go swimming in my dreams. I am terrified of the ocean, and I'm even more scared of the fact that something is going to come at my from inside deep water and touch me or eat me or something like that. I would much rather stick to the dreams where I have super special awesome powers of magic and coolness, or the ones where the black knight whisks me away on his stallion to his castle where everything is always clean, and it's usually raining and the chocolate is dark and...*swoons*
Monday, December 13, 2010
Change Does Not A Holiday Equivalate
I have, it would seem, one of the strongest drives for change out of most people I know. Now, I'm not talking about the global kind of "heal the world" change where you write a whole bunch of letters and hope that your one, insignificant voice can do something about a political issue which has probably been going on behind the scenes since before you were cogent...No, I mean change in my own personal bubble.
It may shock some of you, especially those who know me well, but I have a problem with consistency and stability. If things in my life are the same for too long I start to get antsy - antsy as in anxious and depressed. It also seems to "inflame", as it were, any OCD and ADD tendencies that I exhibit.
I've had a few noticeable or major occurrences of this in the past few years, and each time it goes down I tend to need to make a decision that is going to majorly affect my life. There was the time, half-way through my honours year that I decided that I wasn't going anywhere, and that I may as well find a job - my supervisor convinced me to stay on and I ended up with first degree honours.
Then there was the time that I wanted to quit my PhD after 6 months because it was really dead-end stuff (in my eyes) - this time there was nothing anybody could say to dissuade me from my chosen course. So I packed up my life and moved to Sydney, because apparently there's "where it is" in terms of I.T. jobs (and yes, I know that the phrase is technically "where it's at" but I refuse to abuse grammar in such an obvious way.)
After spending another half year in Sydney, I became exceptionally depressed (the worst I have ever been, I believe) and really just could not cope with life, so I made the decision to become self-employed and move back to Bathurst to be around a larger group of my friends, in a smaller (and altogether friendlier) community. The whole "self-employed" schtick lasted about 2 months, until I managed to land a job at the Service Desk, where I currently work.
Of course, I'm perfectly happy with my job - but I've lived in the same place now for almost 5 months (maybe even over 5 months) and it's starting to grow tedious. Characteristics that were charming at first have now become boring and old. There is never enough room to have people over for D&D; the bathroom is just plain weird; I still don't own a lawnmower.
But I'm trying to fix my situation - no-one enjoys a depressive person who also happens to be hyperactive. At first I was just going to clean up the place, break the lease, and move into a larger flat, but there are two problems with that. Problem 1 is that I would then be farther away from Spud's place that I would like - he is currently within my comfortable walking radius, and I don't want to break that. Problem 2 is that Andy won't let me.
So, instead of defying the powers that be (i.e. Andy) and searching for an apartment, I have started the task of rearranging the house I am currently in. This involves (at this stage) swapping the lounge and office around. Whilst this means that the lounge is now somewhat smaller, it hasn't really lost its ability to function as a place where one views media, and is indeed more "homey" than before. It also means that the "Drama Space" (where we hold D&D) is much larger, and could possibly now accommodate a table, which will make people a great deal more focused when we play.
The moral of this story is that moving stuff around the house is more difficult than you would imagine. When I lived on campus at uni it was pretty simple to change my room around when I started feeling "the need", and if it was strong enough then I could always shift the tables and couches around in the common room as well. Now I have to fit things through doorways that shouldn't, by rights, be able to accommodate them (and yet Spud and I managed to somehow get that couch into the new lounge...) Wow - If that's not a metaphor for anal, then I don't know what is...
It may shock some of you, especially those who know me well, but I have a problem with consistency and stability. If things in my life are the same for too long I start to get antsy - antsy as in anxious and depressed. It also seems to "inflame", as it were, any OCD and ADD tendencies that I exhibit.
I've had a few noticeable or major occurrences of this in the past few years, and each time it goes down I tend to need to make a decision that is going to majorly affect my life. There was the time, half-way through my honours year that I decided that I wasn't going anywhere, and that I may as well find a job - my supervisor convinced me to stay on and I ended up with first degree honours.
Then there was the time that I wanted to quit my PhD after 6 months because it was really dead-end stuff (in my eyes) - this time there was nothing anybody could say to dissuade me from my chosen course. So I packed up my life and moved to Sydney, because apparently there's "where it is" in terms of I.T. jobs (and yes, I know that the phrase is technically "where it's at" but I refuse to abuse grammar in such an obvious way.)
After spending another half year in Sydney, I became exceptionally depressed (the worst I have ever been, I believe) and really just could not cope with life, so I made the decision to become self-employed and move back to Bathurst to be around a larger group of my friends, in a smaller (and altogether friendlier) community. The whole "self-employed" schtick lasted about 2 months, until I managed to land a job at the Service Desk, where I currently work.
Of course, I'm perfectly happy with my job - but I've lived in the same place now for almost 5 months (maybe even over 5 months) and it's starting to grow tedious. Characteristics that were charming at first have now become boring and old. There is never enough room to have people over for D&D; the bathroom is just plain weird; I still don't own a lawnmower.
But I'm trying to fix my situation - no-one enjoys a depressive person who also happens to be hyperactive. At first I was just going to clean up the place, break the lease, and move into a larger flat, but there are two problems with that. Problem 1 is that I would then be farther away from Spud's place that I would like - he is currently within my comfortable walking radius, and I don't want to break that. Problem 2 is that Andy won't let me.
So, instead of defying the powers that be (i.e. Andy) and searching for an apartment, I have started the task of rearranging the house I am currently in. This involves (at this stage) swapping the lounge and office around. Whilst this means that the lounge is now somewhat smaller, it hasn't really lost its ability to function as a place where one views media, and is indeed more "homey" than before. It also means that the "Drama Space" (where we hold D&D) is much larger, and could possibly now accommodate a table, which will make people a great deal more focused when we play.
The moral of this story is that moving stuff around the house is more difficult than you would imagine. When I lived on campus at uni it was pretty simple to change my room around when I started feeling "the need", and if it was strong enough then I could always shift the tables and couches around in the common room as well. Now I have to fit things through doorways that shouldn't, by rights, be able to accommodate them (and yet Spud and I managed to somehow get that couch into the new lounge...) Wow - If that's not a metaphor for anal, then I don't know what is...
Friday, December 10, 2010
Time Flies When You're Rocking Out
Last night I did something I haven't done for ages - I let the time slip away from me whilst playing video games. I know that doesn't sound like a big thing, but for me it is...well...pretty cool really. Anybody who knows me in person will be able to tell you that I'm a bit tightly wound, and getting to bed at a time that won't leave me all tuckered out the next day is something that I generally make a pretty big thing about - if I have to deal with people's IT problems, then I should be chipper and well rested, after all.
But no, last night I opted to let myself go loose with Andy, Lydia, and Spud. Well, when I say opted, I mean that I was having so much fun I thought it was like ten, maybe half eleven tops, but really it was ten minutes to one. The night started with the three of us settling down to watch Distraction - an old (by, like, 5 years) TV show on BBC4 which involves contestants putting themselves through hell in order to win a prize such as a car, or money.
After a couple of episodes of that, we shifted on to Banzai which is a show that allows the viewers to bet on a number of scenarios (such as how long a man can shake someone's hand for, before they pull away) and, although perceivably quite racist, it is really fun to play along with your friends. We're considering making a night of it and betting something tangible some time...Maybe...
After we had watched enough TV, and I had coloured Lydia's hair a nice red, I decided to fire up RB3 and spend some of my hard earned money on some expansion songs. Last night I bought quite a few, including (but not limited to) 'Somebody To Love' by Queen, 'Linger' by The Cranberries, 'Wonderwall' by Oasis, and 'Ironic' by Alanis Morissette.
Now, I know I've mentioned this before, but that song is not ironic at all. It has also occurred to me that, perhaps, there are many people who don't understand irony (given the number of times I hear it misused...) So, to round off this entry, I decided to compile a short list of things that are actually ironic:
The moral of this story is that I don't regret my late-night follies at all - although I do acknowledge the fact that I hardly stand up to the standard definition of "follies". The only issue that has really arisen, so far, from it is the fact that 'Somebody To Love' by Queen has been on repeat in my head all day. Well, that and the fact that now anybody asks me to pick between two or more options I want to go "Prace Bets Now! No Bet, No Get! BETTING ENDS!!"
But no, last night I opted to let myself go loose with Andy, Lydia, and Spud. Well, when I say opted, I mean that I was having so much fun I thought it was like ten, maybe half eleven tops, but really it was ten minutes to one. The night started with the three of us settling down to watch Distraction - an old (by, like, 5 years) TV show on BBC4 which involves contestants putting themselves through hell in order to win a prize such as a car, or money.
After a couple of episodes of that, we shifted on to Banzai which is a show that allows the viewers to bet on a number of scenarios (such as how long a man can shake someone's hand for, before they pull away) and, although perceivably quite racist, it is really fun to play along with your friends. We're considering making a night of it and betting something tangible some time...Maybe...
After we had watched enough TV, and I had coloured Lydia's hair a nice red, I decided to fire up RB3 and spend some of my hard earned money on some expansion songs. Last night I bought quite a few, including (but not limited to) 'Somebody To Love' by Queen, 'Linger' by The Cranberries, 'Wonderwall' by Oasis, and 'Ironic' by Alanis Morissette.
Now, I know I've mentioned this before, but that song is not ironic at all. It has also occurred to me that, perhaps, there are many people who don't understand irony (given the number of times I hear it misused...) So, to round off this entry, I decided to compile a short list of things that are actually ironic:
- The use of the word "Ironic" in the song "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette
- A piano repairman walking down the street and being crushed by a piano which was being lowered from a building
- The fact that the most used simplification of Occam's Razor is technically incorrect
- A librarian who worked diligently to restore several ancient manuscripts being crushed to death by a stack of books
The moral of this story is that I don't regret my late-night follies at all - although I do acknowledge the fact that I hardly stand up to the standard definition of "follies". The only issue that has really arisen, so far, from it is the fact that 'Somebody To Love' by Queen has been on repeat in my head all day. Well, that and the fact that now anybody asks me to pick between two or more options I want to go "Prace Bets Now! No Bet, No Get! BETTING ENDS!!"
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