Erm, anyway…

I’m taking a little break from this site. I’m feeling a bit distanced from my normal blogosphere right now, plus the new semester at uni starts next week and being busy and unmotivated is hardly a good combination when it comes to running a blog. No definite time frame before my return, but probably only a short while because you know me…I don’t stick to anything for very long. I didn’t want to put up a placeholder image saying “I’m on hiatus” though, because it makes no sense to block a pathway to the content (on the off chance someone actually wants to check it out!) and besides, the word hiatus always makes me think of hernias.

If anyone is interested in keeping up with me, I’m still blogging (almost daily) at my livejournal, (20 Digit Combo) and will be posting random nonsense over there. It’s not a replacement for this blog, since it’s more a midway between this and my Tumblr (which, FTR, has a new username), but it’s something. I have it set up to enable comments from non-LJ users, so you really have no excuse not to redirect your affections for me there…
Don’t worry, I’m kidding.

So then, adios amigos. It should go without saying that I want you to be excellent to each other.

My lovely commentors: Julie, Caity, Simply Precious, Ash, Monkee, Sandalwood, Angelica, Charley & Vanessa.

Today on the suckiness scale:

You might have noticed I changed the little intro at the top. I got bored of thinking of obscure things for the last segment, and besides, “Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”¹. You’ll notice my recurrent theme of lame silliness remains though – hurrah.

I’ve been a bit out of the loop with this site and blog-hopping and such lately, so thanks to those of you who have still been commenting even though I’ve been a lazy arse and haven’t returned any yet. I’ve actually opened up a side-blog at livejournal and have been posting there almost daily for the past week. It’s definitely not going to be replacing this blog, but I’m using it for shorter, more topical entries than my desultory ramblings here, as well as to post pictures, lists and so forth. Consider it a hybrid of this place and my (currently neglected) Tumblr. Oh, and if you didn’t pick up the pathetically pleading subliminal message in all that: add me!.

To be honest, I’ve been feeling pretty frustrated today. No, not that sort of frustrated.² I’ve just been having one of those days (weeks, actually) where it seems all the more obvious that life and the world in general is not the way I want it to be. And that’s definitely a problem, not just because it means I think the whole world is wrong in virtually every way (it is, I swear!), but because I can’t do a thing about it. Everywhere I turn I see prejudice; corruption; indifference; inanity. Cruel school children; rude sales clerks; gutters full of cigarette butts; McDonalds’ commercials; borderline-pornographic “music” videos and just so many other little signs that the world is a complete mess and so bloody shallow. It depresses me but I have no means or medium to try to change anything. The salt on the wound is to see people who do have a voice and can make a difference just squander the opportunity. I have to wonder sometimes if anyone else even thinks there’s a problem. Maybe I’m too sensitive; too querulous, and these are just carping criticisms of problems other people don’t even have an issue with. My mother says I get myself too worked up about such matters and that it’s this sort of attitude that makes people snap and commit mass shootings in classrooms and shopping centres. How sweet…my own mother is worried I’m going to become a mass murderer. Well she needn’t worry because I’m about as passive as they come – I can’t stand violence or conflict. I’m drastically more likely to join a hippie commune than the army reserve.

Anyway, tomorrow I have to put on my happy face (assuming I can find it, hardy har har…) to go doorknocking for the Leukaeamia Foundation, which I’m sure will do nothing to improve my mood because when it comes to such things I find most people to be less than benevolent. Of course I’m hoping all the traipsing up and the down the streets won’t be in vain, but let’s just say I expect more slammed doors than munificent donations.

On a happier note though, since this entry so far has sounded very grouchy and negative, I bought a new fish last night. His name is Basil (still going with the The Picture of Dorian Gray theme!) and he’s an opaline gourami. I like gouramis, not least because they’re extremely cheap (this little fella cost me $6.95!). He still seems a little nervy and I think he’s a bit intimidated by Lord Henry, but I managed to get a photo of him earlier today, albeit a rather fuzzy one:

And no, your eyes are not deceiving you, those stones really are bright pink, and so is the plant. Between that, the Oscar Wilde doll that usually sits on the table beside the tank and the view across the room of a huge poster of Morrissey being hugged by Johnny Marr, I can’t say I’m surprised that Dorian (RIP *sniff*) and Lord Henry seemed at times to be more than “just friends”. Do fish even have sexual orientations, I wonder? I doubt it, but I’m still going to say those two were friends of Dorothy.

Since I’ve been feeling so shitty today I’ve been comforting myself with eBay, because hey, isn’t more useless crap exactly what one needs when depressed? I’m struggling to resist some of the more useless things I can’t justify having, like rubber ducks dressed up as ninjas, one of those Oscar Wilde action figures I mentioned a while back and coasters made from old vinyl records, but I have bid on a set of original Rough Trade 7″ (record) singles by The Smiths, released in the 80s. I’d sell my own brother into slavery for them³, but considering they’re pretty rare the winning bid will probably be hundreds of pounds more than I can afford (though I am currently winning at a measly £33). Is it mean to wish every Smiths fan on the planet would slip into a coma for the next few days so that I’m not outbid? Thought so.

So…questions. If you’ve made it this far, kudos to you. Have a cookie.⁴

1. Do you use livejournal? Share your username if you have one and don’t think I’m too weird to be added to your f’list.
2. Random question: What type of milk do you drink? (Eg. Whole, skim, soy, etc…)
3. Just to warp your minds, a serious question at the end this time: Do you believe that everybody has a soul? If so, how would you define said soul?

Must return to my sulking now. Maybe I’ll have a teary and then pen a withering missive to The Courier Mail about the paucity of intelligent role models in the media and that society is indubitably doomed as a result. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Adios amigos. Be excellent to each other.

My lovely commentors: Simply Precious, Julie, Vanessa, Deanna, Georgina, Tiffany & Christine. It’s folks like you that remind me that not everybody in the world is a complete tosser.

Cool but nerdy fact of the day: A “wimpzilla” (not to be confused with a fictional Japanese monster) is a hypothetical sub-atomic particle of dark matter, theorized to be the source of ultra-high energy cosmic rays. You’d probably have to be an astrophysicist to understand that¹, but hey…”wimpzilla” just sounds cool.

First of all, completely random, but I want to plug this video:

If you missed the title when it flashed across the screen, that was Suedehead, one of my favourite Morrissey songs and also one of my favourite songs of all time, period. After talking about East of Eden² last week I was feeling all sentimental about this particular clip, even though the song itself has absolutely nothing to do with James Dean (nor does it even have anything to do with the title!). Words cannot describe how much I love it though (and I’m talking about the song itself now, not just the video!). I know a lot of people think my obsession with Morrissey is a bit nutty (words like “pathetic” and “deranged” have also been casually uttered…) but please, humour me. His music (and he himself) really mean a lot to me. Newsflash, I know.

So, you might be wondering what the heck the title of this blog is about (or else you’re just content to sit back and think: “meh, Aly’s mad…whatever” ). Well tonight is the last of a series of three football games between my state (the Queensland Cane Toads) versus our southern neighbours (The New South Wales Cockroaches). No, I’m not kidding, those are really the team names! I have sneaking suspicion that each named the other, lol. Obviously I’m supposed to be cheering for Queensland (even though it’s completely pointless to do so because it’s a “best of three” thing and we’ve already won the first two), but actually those aren’t the cane toads I’m talking about supporting. Nope, I’m referring to the real cane toads³ – the poisonous amphibians that are savagely beaten to a pulp with sticks/golf clubs/cricket bats by the Australian population en masse like it’s actually a national sport, which of course it’s not. There are even “Cane Toad Whacking” events in some places here, and people sell stuffed cane toads and cane toad leg keyrings and so forth at craft markets here (see picture to the right, lovingly borrowed from Wikipedia). Maybe I’m too soft, but I find this not only disgusting, but very cruel. I know the toads are pests and they can be dangerous to crops and other animals (after all, they are poisonous), but is it really necessary to resort to such brutal measures to control them? (Of course my opinion is NO.) Personally, I feel sorry for the cane toads. They can’t help what they are; why should they have to die for it? If I had the money and resources I’d open a cane toad sanctuary where they can be brought to and contained, so that they could still live without causing destruction to the rest of the country. And yes, I know that might sound a little ridiculous. You’re laughing at me now, aren’t you?

I do get very upset about animals being hurt or killed though – even things like cane toads and cockroaches (feel free to hurt the NSW footballers though, I don’t mind! Hehe). When I say I “wouldn’t hurt a fly”, I actually mean that literally. I won’t kill them. If I find a spider in my house I scoop them up to release them into the garden. Even green ants are safe, though the last one I released after it had already bitten me wasn’t very grateful because it came right back to bite me a second time. And heaven forbid I hear about a dog/cat/other domestic animal being hurt or killed! I actually react far worse to animals suffering than humans – partly because animals are so vulnerable and can’t speak for themselves to protest their treatment, but also just because I like animals more than people (I’m completely serious about that). Think about it: animals are incredibly loyal, they’re unconditionally loving and they don’t even have the capacity for negative human traits like spite, scorn and dishonesty. There’s an old feminist joke that asks “what’s the difference between a new husband and a new puppy?” and the answer is: “after a year, the puppy is still happy to see you”. It’s true though. Pathetic and self-pitying as it sounds, animals have always treated me far better than humans and I’ll usually leap to their defense first. (Though that’s not to say I don’t care about human rights – I donate to Amnesty International, but admittedly when funds are scant, PETA and the RSPCA get first dibs.)

Anyway, moving on, I’m starting to work on reorganizing the content here (and adding a few new bits and pieces), though it’s all “behind the scenes” stuff so far. I’m toying with a few small ideas for the visitor content section, and I’m definitely going to revamp the writing section (which at the moment is just poetry – I removed the other odds and ends a while back). I’m thinking of putting up some more random article/essay-type things like the Conversation as a dead art piece I published a few entries ago and perhaps some lyrics, though I’m not sure about the latter because they’re pretty shite. The poetry section could do with a spring clean too, since I hate almost everything in there at the moment.

And so it doesn’t just seem like I’ve been thinking out loud for that last paragraph (though, uh…I kind-of was, haha), allow me to post another (craptastic) poem, fresh from the notebook as of about half an hour ago. And just before anyone gets the urge to correct my spelling, I know “Bironic” is spelled with a ‘y’ not an ‘i’. It’s a jeu de mots…it’s intentional.

Bironic Hero

cramped, aching fingers brush smooth dry pages
like talc and satin against the skin
I see my thoughts in deep blue viscous ink,
words that only I shall ever read
I send a plaintive plea out to the world
      made with slaughtered trees and biros

but my voice never registers above a whisper
and this empty world has no wish at all to change
the churls and philistines that walk upon
the barren soil where nothing grows
have scant affection
for a soul that only wants to save them

Yep, back to my favourite complaint with society. To quote a Smiths song⁴ (since when am I ever not quoting Smiths songs?⁵): “This story is old – I KNOW – but it goes on…”

Last random tidbit for the night: out of boredom I once again succumbed to those blasted Blogthings quizzes, and I got a rather interesting result for the “What’s your pizza personality?” quiz:

Your Pizza Says You Are a Food Snob

People may tell you that you have a small appetite… but you aren’t under eating. You just aren’t a pig. You are a very picky pizza eater. Not any pizza will do. You fit in best in the Northeast part of the US. You like food that’s traditional and well crafted. You aren’t impressed with “gourmet” foods. You are dependable, loyal, and conservative with your choices. You are carefree and friendly. You should consider traveling to Hawaii. The stereotype that best fits you is hippie. You knew it was coming.

What Does Your Pizza Say About You?

Work is Hard. Time for Blogthings!

The most interesting thing about it is that each section of the result directly corresponds to the answers I gave in the quiz. So apparently it’s the preference of a thin crust pizza that makes me “picky”, Hawaii is obviously the place to go for my next vacation because I like pineapple (got to love that logic! ) and not eating meat makes me a hippie. Ah, good old Blogthings…they’re full of crap but at least good for a laugh sometimes.

Right…questions. Five this time, just because I’m determined to make this an epic length entry.

1. What sports do you follow (if any)?
2. What’s the weirdest souvenir you’ve ever bought?
3. What do the wise sages at Blogthings have to say about your pizza personality?
4. Are you going to stop reading my blog if I don’t shut up about Morrissey occasionally?
5. What happens if you get half scared to death twice?

Well, time for me to get going then. I have to go to the doctor in half an hour about an assortment of small complaints. I usually don’t bother going to the doctor unless I’m practically on my deathbed (I object to having to sit in a waiting room for up to an hour with snotty children and people who don’t cover their mouths when they sneeze just to hear the doctor say “rest and take an aspirin”), but my mother’s sent me about four e-mails from New Zealand, saying “Have you seen the doctor? Go see the doctor. Why haven’t you seen the doctor yet?!”. Mothers, eh?

Adios amigos. Be excellent to each other.

My lovely commentors: Sandalwood, Lilian, Angelica, Amy, Simply Precious, Caity & Deanna.

You can thank Elbert Hubbard for that ultra-profound quote. It’s just so true though. *sigh*

I have made some incredibly drastic changes to the site, as you may (not) have noticed. Firstly, I changed the main font from Arial to Cambria/Andale Mono/Georgia/generic serif, depending on your OS. Hey, this is a dramatic development, people – show some excitement! I’ve also decided to start using footnotes¹ instead of the acronym tag to make side references. And here you thought I was being lazy and not doing any work on this thing!

My baby!

Anyway, I took my dog to the canine opthamologist on Monday, and it turns out the surgery isn’t an option after all because rather than cataracts, he has a condition called Progressive Retinal Atrophy (PRA), for which there is no treatment. Apparently it’s quite common in older dogs, particularly Labradors. Unfortunately this means that he’s just going to go completely blind (he’s nearly there already these days) and there’s nothing that can be done about it – though thankfully the vet says he should be able to adjust and there’s no reason to worry about having to have him put to sleep. We’ve just got to make a few lifestyle adjustments to help him adapt (like wearing something jangly so he can hear where we are; putting scented oil on the furniture so that he can smell his way around, etc) and the vet gave him a little charm for his collar that says “Please be kind – I’m blind”. Aww. Poor little Harry.

As for me, my vision may be fine, but I’m still not feeling the greatest. My tooth is still giving me trouble, though at least I’m currently distracted from the tooth pain temporarily because of another type of mouth pain, having burned and blistered my tongue and lips on a Quorn² pastie tonight. I swear I’m just not meant to be pain-free at the moment! I’ve also got a bad bout of sinusitis and the beginnings of a cold, but that’s pretty much my usual condition in the winter months. *sigh* I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I end up with bronchitis too – it, head colds and sinusitis are my usual winter trifecta. The prize? Bedrest and an excuse to get out of doing anything I don’t want to.

Like I just said, I’m pretty sick at the moment, so this is going to be a short and boring blog – sorry. I just wanted to update tonight because it’s been nearly a week since my last entry and I haven’t been online much anywhere else (besides the forums at All You Need is Morrissey³, the place I end up when I click my heels together three times and say ‘there’s no place like home’ ) and thought I should probably put in a brief appearance to assure the world that I am indeed still alive.
I like how I assume anyone even notices when I disappear.

So…that’s it for tonight. I’m crashing at my brother’s place tonight to get away from She Who Must Not Be Named⁴, so I should probably go and find blankets and so forth to stop me from freezing to death on the couch (wow, what a cliche I am…sleeping on my brother’s couch, haha). Adios amigos. Be excellent to each other!

My lovely commentors: Charley, Sandalwood, Simply Precious, Caity, Georgina, Vanessa, Mimi, Julie, Angelica, Christine & Catherine.

Feeling: a great deal of pain

Yeah, I know, bad pun and a reference most of you won’t even get, but bear with me here: I’m in pain! After last week’s horrific bout of insomnia (awake for more than 3 days straight, remember?!) plus a week-long headache that still hasn’t gone away, the last I thing I needed was a toothache. And not just a normal toothache: I’m teething. At long last I seem to be getting some wisdom (teeth that is, hardy har har) and I can feel the first one breaking through. I was actually starting to assume I wouldn’t ever get any since I’m 24 now and most people I know got them in their late teens, but hey, that’s me all over: slow on the uptake. Anyway, it turns out my brother and cousins weren’t just wussy after all: it actually hurts! Ouch. Now I understand why infants do nothing but scream and cry when they’re teething.

Aside from complaining about my toothache and (only half-jokingly) asking for Farley’s rusks, I’ve had an unusually eventful weekend, having gone out both Friday and Saturday nights, then Sunday morning too. Within 48 hours that’s more weekend activity than I’d usually have in about three months (yes, I’m pretty much a hermit – how sad!), so I’m a little overstimulated now, not to mention pretty tired. Most of the activity centered around a visit from a friend who lives up the coast and going to the casino. We were able to get into Club Conrad (the high roller’s room) thanks to some connections of my mum’s, and Club Conrad basically equals free cocktails and a much swankier lounge than anywhere else. The public areas at the casino might seem more like a regular bar with scattered slot machines and blackjack tables, but Club Conrad is closer to what you’d expect casinos to be like from watching James Bond movies. Impoverished souls such as myself of course can’t afford to gamble there (the minimum starting bet on the cheapest “high roller” table is $50 per hand – no thanks!), but afterwards I won an overall total of $7.50 playing blackjack on a much cheaper ($15 per hand) table in the public area. I know, what a win! Now to decide what to spend it on…
Actually, come to think of it, I’ve already spent it today on rice crackers and a French pastry. How luxurious!

You don’t mess with the classics, and you definitely don’t mess with James Dean!

Moving on, I must say I’m not usually one for Hollywood gossip and news about upcoming movies, but I couldn’t help but snap to attention when I heard/saw that there are plans to film a remake of East of Eden next year. I won’t go into the storyline because I know I’d invariably say too much and ruin it for someone (you can always read about it on Wikipedia anyway), but just in case anyone isn’t familiar with it, this is one of the three classic James Dean movies, and also the only one released while he was still alive (Rebel without a cause was released about a month after he died, and Giant the following year in 1956). Now, call me old fashioned, but I hate the idea of a remake. As far as I’m concerned, the original was perfect as it was (and to quote a certain someone I’m always borrowing words from, “why meddle with a masterpiece?”). Not only that, but it’s also significant as James Dean’s first starring role…that makes it almost sacrosanct in my mind. Admittedly I’m probably a bit too sentimental about these things, but even so, it doesn’t even seem necessary to keep remaking movies that Hollywood actually got right the first time around (which is more than I can say for the majority of the stuff they’ve been churning out for the past decade or two). I’ll say now though that I feel sorry for whoever gets cast as Cal (Dean’s character). I mean, James Dean was Cal Trask. I imagine standing in such a shadow would be very daunting, because you know already that it’s unlikely they’ll compare favourably.

On a completely unrelated topic, it seems my poor doggy is probably going to have to have cataract surgery. I’m taking him to a specialist clinic tomorrow (well, technically later today) to see a canine opthamologist, but even his regular vet said last week that he thinks that’s what will be needed. Poor Harry! He’s naughty as hell of course (every dog that’s gone through my family has been!), but still very sweet and obviously I adore him. I’m teaching him to appreciate Morrissey’s music now. For years I’ve noticed that he gets in a huff and will actually leave the room and sulk whenever he hears the theme song to Kommissar Rex (an Austrian/German TV show about a police dog who Harry hates!), so I figure he’s capable of responding to musical cues in some way or another. I’m using the good old classical conditioning method that Pavlov used on his dogs to teach Harry to associate the first track of several CDs or my voice saying things like “Do you want to listen to Morrissey? Ooh yes you do! You like Morrissey, don’t you? That’s a good boy!” with a treat. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but it’s actually starting to work because now when he sees me turn on the stereo and Alsatian Cousin starts playing (I chose that one as a bit of a joke because the TV police dog he hates is an Alsatian ) he wags his tail and waits for the treat. Nifty, huh? Once he’s learned to appreciate Morrissey (always my first priority, and of course with humans too!) we’ll start on fetching drinks and turning the lights on and off.

So, I think I’ve rambled enough now. At least since I started writing this my toothache seems to have gone away again (it’s very fickle!), though sleep is still out of the question because I’m now listening to Breakfast with The Smiths (that radio show that everyone thinks I’m insane for getting up to stream at 2am on Monday mornings, lol). Seriously, it’s pretty much the only good thing I can rely on to actually happen on a weekly basis! And of course it’s always a bit of a thrill when the song I request gets played (because I’m relentless and request something every week, haha) or the DJ says hello to me. (Fame!) Okay, clearly I’m overtired now…

Oh, nearly forgot: questions for you to answer because I’m just so nosy.

1. Do you currently have any of your wisdom teeth?
2. Who do you think they should cast in the lead roles for the East of Eden remake? (If you say Robert Pattinson I will be forced to smack you with a soggy newspaper!)
3. If dogs or cats could train humans to perform a specific trick or task, what do you think they’d make us do?

Anyway, adios amigos. Be excellent to each other!

My lovely commentors: Simply Precious, Sandalwood, Jess, Georgina, Angelica, Ash & Shiri.

Feeling: conscious

Crazy (true!) law of the day: In Washington State, it is illegal to carry a concealed weapon that is over six feet in length. (I don’t think they have anything to worry about, do you? )

You can put down the equine tranquilizers and recordings of The Ramones’ I wanna be sedated – I got some sleep. I finally managed to crash in the early hours this morning and although I’m still feeling pretty beat, it’s a definite improvement over Wednesday’s exhaustion, delirium and fatigue-induced paranoia (which only intensified in the hours to follow, but we’ll let sleeping dogs lie, eh? ) Amazingly, what seemed to actually lull me off to sleep was a DVD of Morrissey music videos. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d fall asleep halfway through November spawned a monster (one of my favourites and also the most outrageous) and it seems almost sacrilege to admit it, but hey, whatever works! Maybe it was just the comfort of something familiar. Or considering the video, mental collapse due to sensory overload.

After waking up feeling surprisingly well-rested despite not sleeping for nearly long enough to compensate for going three and a half days without, I ended up going to the South Brisbane Cemetery, which might seem weird and creepy, but it’s right up there with the local shopping centre and the Irish Club as one of my favourite hang-outs. I find it an inspiring place, and definitely peaceful. Think about it: all the people around me are dead; they’re not going to bug me! Hehe. It’s also free from almost all imaginable distractions (the fickle elements excluded), so it’s a good place to read, study (pfft!) or write, which is what I ended up doing today. Usually all I write from my hiding place behind someone’s grave is (crappy) poetry, but today I was feeling a little cranky and frustrated, so instead I drafted a short piece (an article? An essay? I don’t know) about one of my favourite old gripes with society, inspired by one of the dozens of quotes I’ve scrawled in the back pages of my writing notebook. And since I’m sure you’re all just dying to read it… (as Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory would point out, that was sarcasm )

We need to talk: conversation as a dead art

“Conversation is almost dead, and soon so too will be those who knew how to speak.”
- Guy Debord, ‘Comments on the Society of the Spectacle’

Such was Debord’s prediction in his 1988 theoretical tome, and 22 years later, the corpse long buried, I am in mourning.

In all fairness, it was easy to overlook the art of conversation’s final gasping breaths: as society embraced the digital age, the booming popularity of instant messaging and social networking sites not only lessened the need for face-to-face dialogue, but also made it more convenient. Text messaging relieved many of the trouble and cost of regular phone conversations; a convenience that far outweighed its butchering of the English language thanks to “textspeak”. With cable television and console gaming becoming not only increasingly popular, but increasingly addictive, having a friend over to simply chat rather than watch a movie or battle it out on the Wii seems an increasingly unappealing way to spend a Sunday afternoon. To make a pithy observation, these days we simply have better things to do than talk.

(Keep reading…)

Of course technology hasn’t changed humanity’s basic social urges. We still feel compelled to communicate and connect with others, and for the most part we still want our voices to be heard. It is not the idea that has changed – it is the execution of it. Outside of the often insular worlds of literature, journalism and academia, there is little market for the written word when it is presented in a thoughtful, intelligent manner. In casual company it is rare to find a group of people willing to enter into a civilized exchange of ideas without wanting to turn it into a debate over who is right and who is wrong. (Of course, the latter is never they.) In a world dominated by reality TV, Hollywood gossip and Lady GaGa music videos, it’s no surprise that the most common topics of conversation have less depth than a toddler’s wading pool and are about as intellectual as a second-rate tabloid newspaper. Even the old favourite topics – current affairs, the economy and the weather – have dwindled in popularity, and discussing matters such as politics and religion has become akin to locking two angry children in a room together to “work out their differences”. To base a conversation around art or science is almost unheard of for those not connected to either industry, and the mere mention of philosophy is greeted with bewilderment, ridicule or accusations of ostentation. Gossip and popular entertainment therefore remain the safest, most accessible topics to connect to others via, and when in many cases the primary desire is just to make that social contact in the first place, it’s logical to stick with the topics that yield the most satisfying results.

What then becomes of those who yearn for conversation based on something more substantial than the latest Twilight movie: the repressed, under-stimulated neo-philosophers? The voiceless campaigners for the resurgence of human intellect; the bedroom recluses who can only watch helplessly at the evolvement of a society whose priorities are all amiss? Those who are in a minority are always at a disadvantage, and this is the unfortunate fate of anyone who is discontent with the world as it is now. For all of modern life’s practical advancements, when it comes to the basic underlying components of human life we are moving backwards as fast as we are moving forwards.

Though the art of conversation is long dead, there may still be a sliver of hope for its rebirth worth holding on to. For the Byronic conservators of a style of interaction seemingly abandoned in a bygone era, there is perhaps a slim chance that society’s opinion will regress once the final boundary has been breached: the idea that we can only go so far before acknowledging what has been lost and trying to reclaim it. When reality TV shows lose their “charm” and Internet entrepreneurs run out of ideas for new social networking sites, perhaps conversation could be in vogue again. Like a phoenix rising from the flames; like Lazarus on his fourth day – improbable, but not impossible. In the words of the Roman philosopher Cicero, “While there’s life, I hope.”

Yes, one of my favourite complaints, as I may have mentioned before in passing. I could write forever about all the things I believe are wrong with the world, but I fear I’d become like a perpetual motion machine and I’d die of old age with still much unsaid. As my mother keeps telling me, it would probably be in my best interests to just “build a bridge and get over it!”, but that’s not a very appealing analogy when I don’t like what’s on the other side. Admittedly, I’d be willing to build the bridge – but I’d want the rest of the world to travel across it to my side!

In ground-breaking national news (if you happen to live in Australia, that is), there’s a new prime minister Down Under, and historically, also our first female one. She was only elected overnight/this morning, but already I’ve heard as much as I want to hear about the matter. I’m far too cynical to believe that the change in leadership is going to make much of an improvement (if any), and the added fervor caused by the fact that she’s a woman seems unnecessary to me. I really don’t have much of an interest in the current politics here anyway, especially considering the political party I support (The Australian Greens) is in such a minority that they don’t even have a single seat in the House of Representatives and no one I know besides myself even votes for them (my dad in particular can’t stand them, denouncing them as anything from communists to “a bunch of stupid hippies”). Of course I hope for everyone’s sake that Gillard proves to be a competent leader, but I’m really not holding my breath. And I’m still voting green in the next election.

Ironically, all the talk today about the new PM granted me my wish of an ebb to the flow of media coverage regarding the World Cup (at least locally), causing me to actually have to look up the match results online. I’m still not actually interested much in the games themselves, but I’ve been having the odd bet here and there, hehe. I won on Denmark earlier in the week, but then I lost most of it back on Mexico. Oh well – you win some, you lose some, though in my case it’s far more often the latter!

Anyway, I still have a lot of sleep to catch up on and it’s after midnight now, so good night folks! Be excellent to each other.

My lovely commentors: Caity, Simply Precious, Sandalwood, Angelica, Rena & Julie.

I’m running on empty. It’s after 6am here and there are no words in the English language to adequately describe how exhausted I am. I haven’t slept in three days – and when I say that, I don’t mean I’ve been restless or just sleeping badly; I mean I literally haven’t slept at all in three days. For those of you who know me, insomnia is not an uncommon complaint for me, but this is seriously bad even by my standards. Even Temazepam is doing jack-all at the moment, though with me it usually only has about a 50% success rate anyway unless I piggyback it with Valium, which I’m very loathe to do because I’m already on so many other things – I tend to avoid the “as needed” meds as often as possible. Of course, as you can imagine, three days without sleep can mess a person up a bit, so basically I’m sitting here in the pre-dawn dark, losing my mind, but I’m sure no one’s going to notice because I’m already thought to be mad. I probably look like one of those clichéd paranoid psychotics in the movies and on TV, twitching and bug-eyed and making repetitive fidgety movements as a nervous reflex. Might sound amusing in the context of a sci-fi thriller, but in real life it’s not. My legs won’t stay still, the inside of my bottom lip is bleeding from biting it and my hands are covered in some sort of residue that I can’t see and won’t come off no matter how many times I wash my hands. It’s really not funny when you think of it that way.

Since Morpheus is being an arse and sleep seems to be off the cards yet again, I’ve been busying myself with personality quizzes to pass the time (and hopefully make myself tired enough to actually sleep, though no such luck yet). After getting annoyed by how wrong Blogthings seems to be about every aspect of my personality, I took the sampler test at The Enneagram Institue. I already knew I was a type 4 (with a 5-wing) from being tested years ago (in a “professional setting”, no less ), but nonetheless it was interesting to see what the Enneagram Institute had to say about my type:

Type Four in Brief

Fours are self-aware, sensitive, and reserved. They are emotionally honest, creative, and personal, but can also be moody and self-conscious. Withholding themselves from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective, they can also feel disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living. They typically have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity. At their Best: inspired and highly creative, they are able to renew themselves and transform their experiences.

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance
Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an
identity)
Enneagram Four with a Three-Wing: “The Aristocrat”
Enneagram Four with a Five-Wing: “The Bohemian”

Key Motivations: Want to express themselves and their individuality, to create and surround themselves with beauty, to maintain certain moods and feelings, to withdraw to protect their self-image, to take care of emotional needs before attending to anything else, to attract a “rescuer.”

We have named this type The Individualist because Fours maintain their identity by seeing themselves as fundamentally different from others. Fours feel that they are unlike other human beings, and consequently, that no one can understand them or love them adequately. They often see themselves as uniquely talented, possessing special, one-of-a-kind gifts, but also as uniquely disadvantaged or flawed. More than any other type, Fours are acutely aware of and focused on their personal differences and deficiencies.

While it is true that Fours often feel different from others, they do not really want to be alone. They may feel socially awkward or self-conscious, but they deeply wish to connect with people who understand them and their feelings. The “romantics” of the Enneagram, they long for someone to come into their lives and appreciate the secret self that they have privately nurtured and hidden from the world. If, over time, such validation remains out of reach, Fours begin to build their identity around how unlike everyone else they are. The outsider therefore comforts herself by becoming an insistent individualist: everything must be done on her own, in her own way, on her own terms. Fours’ mantra becomes “I am myself. Nobody understands me. I am different and special,” while they secretly wish they could enjoy the easiness and confidence that others seem to enjoy.

There’s a tonne more at the site, but I’m sure the above is more than enough as an overview. Interestingly, they listed Bob Dylan as one of the celebrity examples of Type Four, which I thought was fantastic because I’m a huge Bob Dylan fan. They also listed Edgar Allen Poe, Marcel Proust, Johnny Depp and Virginia Woolf as Type Four examples, though I’m not sure poor Virginia is someone whose life I want to emulate (though I’m scarily closer to that than any of the others – how bloody depressing!).

The funny thing is that although I very much agree with the Type Four description as an accurate insight into my own personal life, looking at myself objectively, I’m not sure anyone else would think it’s so spot-on. Though I firmly maintain that nothing you see/hear/read here is in any way a facade, the beauty of the internet is that you can pick and choose which aspects of your personality to display – you can discriminately choose what to project and what should be shoved into a box on top of the wardrobe; still there but somewhat hidden and gathering dust. I’m sure this isn’t unusual in the slightest; I daresay everybody does it to some extent, though perhaps not all to the same degree I do. It always amuses me when people tell me they think I’m cheerful or friendly or heaven forbid, even entertaining, because the 2-3 hours per week I spend writing in this blog are usually the only times I actually am like that! I think if anyone who reads this blog ever got to know me well in real life, they would be quite shocked because I’m actually quite the opposite for the most part. I mean, I’ve been compared to Marvin from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series! Alternate universe? Nope, just the real world.

Guilt Trip.

Anyway, before I go, I just wanted to mention that tomorrow (Thursday the 24th) is Remember an Elephant Day. I know a lot of people aren’t too crazy about PETA and I can respect that, but this is just a simple, peaceful protest against the abuse of elephants in circuses and zoos – it’s hardly “Let’s boycott McDonalds then burn down a fur coat factory”! (the latter I wouldn’t even condone – though admittedly only because it’s illegal ). Basically all you have to do is wear a piece of string on your finger. Not too hard, surely? Think of Dumbo…Babar…me…

The sun’s starting to come up now as I write this. Guess I should take my dog out and get the paper if my dad hasn’t already run off with it. Adios amigos. Be excellent to each other!

My lovely commentors: Vanessa, Sandalwood, Simply Precious, Julie, Coryl, Georgina & Charley.

[EDIT - 8:09PM Wed 23rd] I’m still awake (arghhhhh!), but at least that means I’m still alive. I just read over this and had to correct 6 typos/spelling mistakes/grammatical errors. The shame! It’s not my fault though, my brain has turned to mush from fatigue! Well, let’s go with that explanation anyway.

Feeling: Mozzerable

The Picture of Dorian the Fish.
(Not a book by Oscar Wilde).

I am in mourning. Why, you might ask? Dorian, my beloved sea kitten, died earlier this week. Naturally I was devastated, and I say this with absolute seriousness. You might say, “he was just a bloody fish!”, but he was so much more! (He was also a nice decoration for my bedroom). Honestly though, I did have a great deal of affection for him, and I’m not ashamed to admit a shed a tear or two (or 253). Poor Lord Henry is depressed now too, since he’s never been alone in the tank and misses his tank-mate/boyfriend. It’s actually odd how close they were because apparently putting two male gouramis in a tank together usually results in a fight to the death (in my defense, I only learned this fairly recently, so definitely no ill-intent!), but they got along (dare I say? Oh, I must)…swimmingly. To be honest though, I’m quite amazed that Dorian even survived this long…I’d had him for almost 17 months, and even though I have no idea how long gouramis are supposed to live for, compared to my track record with non-canine/non-feline pets, it seems like quite a while. But unfortunately eternal youth was not to be this particular Dorian’s fate in the end either.

Moving on from the distressing (to me) and utterly tiring (presumably to everyone else) topic of poor dead Dorian, let me channel my grief into something that’s been giving me grief…The World Cup. Now, I don’t particularly dislike football(soccer). Occasionally I will even watch a game here and there, though admittedly usually only if I’ve got a bet on it with my brother. I also have nothing against a bit of team spirit and patriotism, and if you’re all pumped for the games and get excited about it, that’s fine – I have no beef with you (well, I don’t have a beef with anyone, but saying you’ve got a textured soy protein with someone just doesn’t sound right, does it? ). What does irk me though, is the way the World Cup seems to have completely dominated not just the media, but even casual conversation at the moment. Yes, I know the World Cup is on! You don’t have to remind me every three seconds, and believe it or not, life is not standing still so the world can watch football! Obviously people are going to talk about it and the media is going to cover it, but I think there needs to be a balance between the World Cup and…well, everything else going on in the world. Most things are better in moderation, don’t you agree? (Chocolate and Morrissey songs are exceptions, obviously). Though I can’t say I’m completely boycotting the event…I’ve got a bet riding on Denmark in their match against Cameroon, and a couple of weeks ago I got some free “lucky” World Cup undies with the purchase of some Schweppes Solo. No joke! My local supermarket was giving away underwear. It’s a crazy world we live in!

In other news, I’ve temporarily/possibly permanently shut down Sillius Soddus (my photo blog). I hadn’t updated it in weeks and the whole look and content suddenly seemed very silly (well, that should probably be a given, considering the name!) and childish. I’ll either be doing a major revamp soon or replacing it with a new photo blog altogether, but I don’t know when I’ll get around to that since this is a busy time for me at the moment offline. I also would like to do a bit of work on this site at some stage, but again, I don’t know when I’ll get around to it. Stay tuned though, there’ll be some sort of updates eventually!

I must admit, I’m rather gutted that no one seems to have noticed the weird little hidden messages I’ve been sneaking into each of my entries lately. They’ve been in the past three entries (four if you count this one), but I can only assume they’ve gone undetected since no said “WTF was that about?!” in the comments. Here’s a hint: the grey lines are not what they seem!

Anyway, question time again since I’ve been forgetting about them again lately.

1. Where do you receive your news from? (Eg. newspapers, TV news, internet, word of mouth, tarot cards, etc.)
2. Who are you rooting for in the World Cup? (You knew I’d have to ask!)
3. Random question: In a game of truth or dare, which do you usually choose?
4. You didn’t notice the hidden messages before, did you?
5. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

It’s cold, my bed is warm, I’m tired and I have a headache. I think you know where this is heading. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehn, adieu! Be excellent to each other.

My lovely commentors: Julie, Vanessa, Simply Precious, Angelica, Georgina, Jessica & Lilian.

I admit, the title is misleading – I actually love Mondays. Seriously, it’s my favourite day of the week! Especially now that I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn for 8am lectures anymore, and given that it follows Sunday, my least favourite day of the week (again, I’m being completely serious – I don’t like Sundays at all!). I’ve had a particularly good Monday today too (though admittedly, for rather trivial reasons), hence why I’m in such unusually high spirits. I found $20 rolled up inside a Pez dispenser (don’t ask what it was doing there – all I can think of is that I tried to hide it from myself and did a bloody job of it! lol) and this afternoon I had a very successful encounter with the can opener. Don’t laugh, can openers hate me (and the feeling is mutual)! I’ve had some odd struggles with certain things over the years, mostly involving the use of fine motor skills, and using a can opener is something that has always been an immense struggle for me. But (decamping the humiliating topic of my ineptitude regarding can openers), probably the real highlight of my day came hours before the sun even rose, with a shout-out from Jose Maldonado and April Richardson (the DJ and his co-host) on Indie 103.1FM during Breakfast with The Smiths: the world of Morrissey. Yep, worldwide recognition (ha!) for being crazy and obsessive enough to forgo sleep at 2am on a Monday morning to stream the show online from Los Angeles. Hey, it’s nice to feel appreciated! And it’s a bloody good show.

I’ve had an odd desire today to conduct some sort of experiment. Yeah, I know you’re probably imagining some maniacal mad scientist cackle and a scenario that wouldn’t have been out of place in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, but rest assured that wasn’t what I had in mind (not least because the government here seems surprisingly reluctant to give me grant money to engineer a new type of chocolate that destroys fat cells upon consumption, haha). I’ve been reading up on some psychology stuff lately (never a good sign for me), and even though psychology is a field I could never be happy studying in great detail, or heaven forbid working in, some aspects of social psychology in particular are of endless fascination to me. My social skills may be rather abysmal when it comes to my own interactions, but I’m a keen observer and always curious about why other people do, think and say the things they do. Basically, I’m only interested in the human race from a scholarly perspective, preferrably from behind a safety barrier or thick glass.

You would probably agree though that I’m far better off just observing than actually getting involved in anything. My ideas for social experiments are a little…impractical, not to mention unethical and definitely not to be taken seriously.

Some considerations…

Do we live in an honest society?
Premise: Leave my wallet on a table in the food court at the mall and see if anyone returns it.
Conclusion: Too risky, too stupid.

The search for a good Samaritan:
Premise: Allow myself to get hit by a car and see if anyone comes to my aid.
Conclusion: Too dangerous, too stupid.

Crime and impressionability on today’s youth:
Premise: Charm some delinquent thirteen year old boys into stealing a car for me.
Conclusion: Too illegal, too immoral.*

Drink spiking and the power of suggestion:
Premise: Find two single girls at a bar, spike one’s drink then claim both were spiked after they’ve finished drinking them. Observe increase in promiscuity and compare.
Conclusion: Same as above.

Can money buy friends?
Premise: Buy a yacht and throw a party on it for everybody I’ve ever met. See how many new people friend me on Facebook afterwards.
Conclusion: Too expensive, too pathetic.

Could anybody stay sane amongst my family?
Premise: Find convincing look-alike and swap places a la The Parent Trap. Observe all newly manifested neuroses and psychoses.
Conclusion: Too unethical, too likely to get me disinherited.

*That, and I doubt I could even charm a drunken nymphomaniac who’s just been released from prison into giving me money for bus fare.

Good thing I don’t have a psychology degree, eh? I wasn’t being serious of course, but in reality I don’t think I would be terribly effective in a psychology-related profession. I have too many hang-ups of my own to be able to give sound advice to anyone else! Besides, the moment I have to study anything properly I tend to lose my enthusiasm for it. I’m much happier just scrounging the internet for interesting journals and websites. In particular lately I’ve been reading about the Milgram experiment (Wikipedia page here if you don’t know what I’m talking about, but there’s more info on other sites too – just search!) and the Jonestown community (again, Wikipedia article) – it’s incredible how the human mind can be so easily influenced, and especially in the case of the latter, with such tragic consequences. It really makes you wonder to just what extent we’re actually in control of ourselves, and perhaps what I find the most interesting of all is the variation in which different people are affected by that sort of external control. Fascinating stuff.

Anyway, I might finish up here because I’m starting to ramble and I’m also losing my concentration because I’ve got a Monty Python featurette on in the background (How to use your coconuts: an educational film, bwahaha). I was watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail earlier this evening, hence the “Pythonesque insult of the day” at the start of the entry. Great film, and also the source of one of my most-used quotes in daily life: “Help, help, I’m being repressed!”. Indeed.

For the record, since it’s the Queen’s Birthday holiday in Australia, the official soundtrack of the day is The Queen is Dead by The Smiths. All in the worst possible taste, believe me. Adios amigos. Be excellent to each other!

My lovely commentors: Sandalwood, Simply Precious, Karyn, Monkee, Julie, Ash & Georgina.

After putting it off for several months, I finally upgraded to Windows 7 today. I had a free upgrade CD because I’d bought my current laptop not too long before the new OS was released, but I’d been a bit reluctant to install it – firstly because I was worried about compatibility with my much-loved Sims 2 games (which I haven’t played for a while now anyway), and then just because I was really lazy. In hindsight, if I’d known how long the upgrade would take, I may not even have done it today – it took 11 bloody hours, even though the Toshiba upgrade website had estimated a maximum of about 3. Sheesh! I must say that it’s an improvement over Vista though. The new format of having just icons instead of program names on the taskbar makes things less cluttered (though as I said on Twitter earlier, it’s weird only seeing icons!), and the pinning feature for frequently used files is also very handy. I’m a bit disappointed that the My Pictures screensaver no longer has any of the nice transition effects that the Vista version did, but overall the new look is definitely more aesthetically appealing. I’m also quite intrigued by the new Windows Journal and Math Input Panel, even though I don’t really have any use for them. I spent a good 20 minutes tonight just writing things in the math input panel with my mouse, which I am fully aware is a very lame way to spend my time!

Pity it doesn’t actually solve the problems for you. I would like to see what it would make of that!

So while my computer was rendered hors de combat during the 11-hour Win7 upgrade, I had to try to find a way to amuse myself for a whole day at home *gasp!* without my computer. Rest assured I was fine – I may spend a lot of time online, but I’m not obsessed to the point that I can’t last one single day without logging in to Twitter or checking my e-mail! I watched a bit of TV (an episode of Two and a half men and three-quarters of a Dutch movie that I couldn’t really follow on account of being distracted and missing half the subtitles!); wrote a couple of letters to Julie and Deanna (the reason why I missed half the subtitles for the movie, lol – I was writing in front of the TV); read some quality literature (Morrissey: Scandal and Passion by David Bret, tee hee), and eventually decided to start cleaning out my dressing room. Every inch of floor is now covered with boxes and bags of crap and looks like a bomb hit it, but on the plus side, I discovered why my dog’s been sniffing around there lately. There was a biscuit wedged behind the door.

Since I don’t really have anything much to say tonight, I thought I’d post this amusing little video from The Unemployed Philosopher’s Guild. They’re the company that made some of my favourite geeky novelties, like my Freudian slippers and my Oscar Wilde and Albert Einstein plushies.

And questions! I’ve been forgetting about them lately. All random ones tonight.

1. Which “retro decade” (1980s and backwards) do you think had the best music?
2. If your only career choice was to become a college professor, what subject area would you choose to teach?
3. Do you write in cursive or block letters?
4. Which do you think you could go without longest: chocolate, caffeine or sex?
5. If something is always in the last place where you look, why don’t we all just look in the last place first?

For the record, the weather has dropped to 10°C tonight, which is uncharacteristically cold for Brisbane this early into winter. Off to find some warm clothes now. Or just crawl under the duvet and stay there until spring (a mighty tempting idea!). Adios amigos. Be excellent to each other.

My lovely commentors: Simply Precious, Julie, Georgina, Coryl, Ash, Vanessa, Sandalwood & Deanna.