They call it the Silly Season. I call it the Smegging Annoying Season. Christmas is a paradox: It is commonly known to be a time of goodwill and peace, when everybody just wants to be happy. But have you been in a shopping centre full of Christmas Shoppers? Christmas is a time when inoffensive individuals become hagglers from hell. Soccer mums and trophy wives alike elbow their way to the front of queues, raise imperious voices, and demand that jigsaw for Our Young Peter so he can feel loved for another 5 minutes until he opens somebody else's gift. Christmas brings out every person's impatience, exhaustion, rudeness, and selfishness. It is the great equaliser.

Boxing Day, if possible, is worse. We live near a major shopping centre, and yesterday the carpark there was full and cars were blocking streets for about three blocks in all directions. It was madness.

But now it's all over save New Year, and that's just an arbitary date on which to get drunk. Real life returns.

I hate Christmas.

I’m back at work, and starting the training for my new job as Export Assistant... I don’t have much time to blog, or read anybody else’s blog, which sucks! But hopefully once I’m all settled in and a little less under the watchful eye of The Boss I’ll be able to get back into it!!!

It seems like half the country is up in flames right now. Bushfires are the norm in Australia at this time of year, but this year's fires are among the worst. The bushfire season started extremely early, I recall hearing about fires back in October. Our on-going drought only exacerbates the scenario. You know it's bad when experts aren't mentioning controlling or putting out fires; they're going direct to the evacuation plans.

We woke up this morning to find the whole city covered in smoke, we can even smell it inside the house. (Unless Aidan burnt his toast.) Here is the latest news, and that's really only Victorian.

In other news... I have no other news. I have to find something to do, since I'm not due back at work until the 15th. I can't sit around the house being bored.

Oh, we finally got our car!!! Aidan's parents bought us a car roughly a year ago, and we got it a couple of days ago. Now we have to figure out what to do with it... we've been without a car for so long we got used to it and I really think we'd rather not have one at all! Oh well...

The Wedding & Honeymoon Story

I'll start at the start, shall I? And continue on until I reach the end - that sounds rather Alice-In-Wonderland-ish.

Saturday was a typical Melbourne day, overcast but not too cold. I awoke in a hotel room shared with my parents and my bridesmaid. My flowergirl and her mother rocked up late-morning to get organised, do make-up, and so forth. I stressed and paced and worried. For all that, the wedding went off without a hitch. It was small, casual, intimate. Everybody who said they'd be there was there, and everybody was extremely happy for us. The day passed in rather a blur for me, I don't really remember much of it!

The next bit was the "reception" - about twelve of us ended up at the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner, including both sets of parents. Surprisingly, they enjoyed it and didn't get headaches. Or so they said. We all had rather a lot of fun, and I danced with my dad to some old Everly Brothers song that I'd never heard of before, and cared nothing for the mud on the bottom of my dress! (Gotta love a garden wedding.)


Sunday morning dawned upon ill fortune. Sunday was the day of our departure to South Africa, monitoring baboons. But disaster struck! FOOD POISONING!!! I spent all of Sunday in the bathroom, ejecting food from both ends. I struggled bravely on, and got on the plane... we made it as far as Singapore, our first scheduled stop-over, and then I passed out on the plane. That put an end to any hope of reaching South Africa.

I learnt that if you ask a taxi driver to take you to a cheap hotel, you end up in the red light district in a hotel that rents rooms by the hour.

So the up-shot is, we spent a week in Singapore for our honeymoon by accident. I recovered after about three days, at which point Aidan fell ill with what appeared to be the same thing. But by day three or four we were both ok and able to explore! Amazing luck - my brother's girlfriend lives and works in Singapore, so we had our "local guide" and got to see things that most tourists don't find out about.

We had a great time once we were all healthy. The Singapore Zoo, Changi Chapel memorial, Fort Siloso, Fort Canning, Sentosa, Raffles Hotel and general wanderings... I can't be arsed going into the history of Singapore right now, but if you don't know about it, it is certainly worth a read. Interesting stuff, although a lot of what we saw was very emotionally draining. However, on the whole, we had a fantastic time and I guess things kind of worked out for the best!

Well, it’s the final countdown. Drat, I shouldn’t have said that, now I’ve got a Europa song stuck in my head. Anyway, it’s now two days until Aidan and I tie the knot. My feelings fluctuate: excited, nervous, calm, flustered! I probably won’t get another chance to blog until after the honeymoon; even though I’m not working tomorrow it’s still going to be busy with last-minute preparations and seeing my parents and stuff.

I can’t believe the things I didn’t think of which I’m only remembering now. The caterers will have to cook then chill all the food which was meant to be served hot, because if they serve it hot it will cool down slowly and everybody will get sick from it. My friend will have to bring his CD player on public transport for me because he doesn’t drive. I’m waiting for somebody from Parks Victoria or Melbourne Council or whoever to call me back about vehicle access to the gardens. I need to buy shampoo and conditioner because if I use the cheap stuff on the day of the wedding my hair won’t sit right. (I can’t believe I care about that, what’s happened to the real me?)

I’m having after-work drinks tonight, I think I’m wired enough already so I’ll stick with non-alcoholic stuff, maybe one champagne or something.

I JUST WANT IT ALL TO BE OVER!!!

I got my promotion! From December 15 (upon return from honeymoon) I’ll start training as the new Export Assistant! The official word hasn’t gone out yet, but I was advised late last night. Sweet!!! Pay rise, too! Happystace!

Ikea-inspired fiction!

It was the eeriest thing I’d ever seen.

I had been driving home from my cousin’s house, a long drive on winding dirt roads in the rain. It was very much a “Rocky Horror Picture Show” scenario, up to and including the sudden blow-out. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere. With high hopes, I checked my mobile phone – no reception. I had passed a house not long ago, and thought it the best idea to see if I could use the phone there.

I walked up the drive, and through the slanting rain I could see a light shining from a doorway. This seemed promising, until I realised that said doorway was devoid of door. Odd. Nonetheless, I knocked on the doorframe as a polite visitor should. I waited. There was no response. I walked in cautiously, half-expecting somebody to jump out at me like a bad movie.

“Hello?” I called. My voice sounded loud in the quiet of the house, despite the muffled sound of rain on the roof. But still there was no response. I walked further into the house, gaining confidence that nobody was there.

I wandered the house with growing curiosity. Everywhere was evidence of recent human habitation: unmade beds, a radio playing softly, a kitten sleeping peacefully on a chair. But no human was to be seen.

Then I walked into the kitchen. It was the eeriest thing I’d ever seen. The dining table was set for twelve, but eight chairs lay askew on the floor as though thrown. Half-eaten meals were left on plates. A wine-glass lay in pieces on the table, with wine still spreading from the ruins, and candles still were burning on the centrepiece. But no human could be seen.

*** To Be Continued ***

Improving prospects...

I’m trying for a promotion at work... out of the sales centre, and into export. It’s looking very promising, but I won’t get my hopes up too much just yet or go into too much detail.

To the rescue!!!

What would I do without somebody else’s mother to mother me? My flowergirl’s mother has leapt to the rescue, offering flowers, a ring box, make-up, and anything else she can think of. Phew! I was clueless until I got her email. I suppose after 2 weddings of her own she should know what needs doing for mine!

In other news, I may have changed “Le Plan”. We’re considering doing a trip late next year to Russia and the former Eastern Bloc. If this eventuates, I will forgo most of my money-costing plans, and stay with my current job. It’s worth it though, what an awesome trip!!!

Moscow, St Petersburg, Minsk, Kiev, Warsaw, Krakow, Prague, Budapest, Bucharest, Istanbul.

Looks good, huh?

This is how I do less work...

What’s the difference between boogers and broccoli? Kids won’t eat broccoli.

Why did the chicken cross the road? It didn’t, the road simply changed position in relation to the chicken.

What is the difference between a duck? One of it’s legs is both the same.

What’s huge and blue and has seventy-three legs? I don’t know but its sitting on your shoulder.

What’s black and white and red all over? A newspaper. (red/read)

How do you get ten babies in a bowl? With a blender.

How do you get the babies out of the bowl? With Doritos.

Did you hear about the dog who sat down to chew a bone? When it got up it only had three legs.

Why do people insist on stating the obvious? Because if their lips stop moving their brains might start working.

 

A very odd thing happened late last night at work. I got “told off”, sort of, for doing too much work. Weird!?

Ok, with twelve days to go I have reached the “scared” point. Not scared of BEING married, but scared of GETTING married – making sure the ceremony goes ok, hoping it doesn’t rain, trying to figure out what a flowergirl actually does. However, I suppose so long as I’m there, Aidan’s there, and the celebrant is there... one way or another we’ll end up married and that’s the main thing.

Fifteen Days

Yes, that’s right folks. In 15 days I will be a Mrs. A married lady. Grown up, adult, mature... well, that’s the theory. I just feel normal. I’m counting down, I’ve organised the whole darn thing, but I still just feel like me. I can’t quite grasp the reality of the wedding and being married. I’m sure, for Aidan and I, everything will continue pretty much as usual... except for the trivialities of sharing a surname and a bank account. It will, in fact, make things simpler. Not to mention, of course, that it is the ultimate celebration of our undying love for each other. That’s important too.

Fiften Days. Yes, that’s right folks. In 15 days I will be a Mrs. A married lady. Grown up, adult, mature... well, that’s the theory. I just feel normal. I’m counting down, I’ve organised the whole darn thing, but I still just feel like me. I can’t quite grasp the reality of the wedding and being married. I’m sure, for Aidan and I, everything will continue pretty much as usual... except for the trivialities of sharing a surname and a bank account. It will, in fact, make things simpler. Not to mention, of course, that it is the ultimate celebration of our undying love for each other. That’s important too.

Trusting The Senses

All we perceive is subjective. Everything is a matter of perception, perspective, opinion. All we receive from our senses is censored and processed and changed by our brains: previous experience, bias, peer pressure. With all this interference, how can we be sure that what we’re seeing is really there? After all, where I see a monstrosity somebody else sees art. What about sounds? Cows, in my experience, don’t say “moo”, but obviously at some point that’s what somebody has heard and written down. Smells and tastes vary too – I think peanut butter is pretty awful, but someone out there loves it and believes that it tastes wonderful. I think Vegemite is fantastic, but most of the rest of the world would disagree. Touch is an odd one... close your eyes and touch something, you will no doubt identify the object by it’s name or appearance. But what if you touched something you’d never seen? Different people would naturally identify it differently. The most misleading sense is common sense, don’t even get me started on that one.

I conclude that the world only exists by common consensus, and we’re all imagining it as something different. I accept no proof that anything is as it appears or smells or tastes (not that I go around licking windows or anything... much). Nobody is really reading this, because I can’t believe my perception that I’ve just typed it or that any other people exist who could read it if I did.

I might just stop this right here... the logical extension of this concept is that there can be no consequences for actions I’ve only taken in my own perception, and no act I don’t perceive can affect me... that leads to disaster!

It strikes me that I am a rather lucky person. When I question what I have to be depressed about, the only thing that springs to mind is my awful job. I have a man who loves me very much, I have a lovely little apartment to live in with him, I make enough money to afford luxuries when I want them, my immediate family members are all doing ok, I have friends who care for me, I have my enthralled blogaudience, and I have most of my health!

The downers: I have a very boring (and relatively low-paying) job with very long hours, I do not have a dog or a cat (although the goldfish go some way to making up for that), I am susceptible to sinus problems, and I suffer from a dreadful case of wanderlust.

Whenever I start thinking like this, I start wanting to volunteer with somebody like Oxfam... seeing as how I have so much, it seems right to give at least a little time and effort towards those who don’t. Then my thoughts wander to orphanages in Kenya and other overseas volunteering opportunities... What an awesome experience that would be, beneficial to my own development as well as the lonely orphans or starving villages or untaught schoolkids... I wanna go now!!!

My cafe dude left my cafe! The girl there never remembers to put marshmallows in my hot chocolate.

Well, I was convinced today in a moment of excitment to place a bet on the Melbourne Cup. I chose Pop Rock, as suggested by a colleague and a customer. I went with $10 each way, so a total bet of $20 (simply because that was how much cash I had on me). Pop Rock came second, paying $21 for the place. $1 on top, yay! I don't think I'll bother next year.

Working on a public holiday is always a little eerie. It’s like being at school on a Saturday. Nobody was on the train as I came in, and now that I’m here I wonder why I bothered... (money)... nothing’s really going on. A couple of calls, a few faxes, some emails left over from last night... There’s a bit of a festive air: everybody’s in casual clothes, there are lollies and chips on the table for us all, and they’ll be bringing in lunch for us from the pub later on. The only things missing are a barbeque and fireworks.

I can’t help but think of all the women in skimpy dresses and strappy shoes at the races today. They’ve all gone out and spent many many dollars on very little fabric; then Melbourne has shown a typical sense of occasion, and rained. Those women will be slowly turning blue, while I’m tucked up in my office. I am where I’d rather be.

I never quite “got” the hype over the Melbourne Cup. It’s a bunch of four-legged animals with men on their backs running very fast (the animals, not the men). For this event, which takes about five minutes, we get a public holiday.

I no complain, I get paid nicely for working!

I returned late yesterday from a weekend with my parents. It was Euroa’s annual Wool Week festival, which used to be a highly relevant celebration of Euroa’s rich and sheep-based history. Now it’s a parade down the main street on Saturday, and the Bush Market on Sunday. A bit of fun, I suppose, but still just a fairly average small-town festival. Sunday was nice... sitting in fold-up chairs by the creek in the shade, with apple cider and sausages in bread... sailing dad’s remote control sailboat on the creek with Taffy (everyone’s family has a friend with an odd name)... listening to the pupils of my childhood singing teacher, who are all just as abysmal as the group in my day... and a tune-challenged C&W singer. So that was how I spent my weekend. I felt very country again, briefly, before being utterly relieved to get back to the city!

Le Plan

I’m itching. There’s no other way to describe the way I feel. I am stuck in a mundane job I dislike, I haven’t traveled since we got back in January, and I never have time to have a life. There are places I’ve never been, music I’ve never heard, subcultures I’ve never been immersed in, people I’ve never met. There are jobs I know I can do that I’ve never had the chance to, there’s a scooter out there with my name on it which I can’t yet afford to buy. Everything is stagnating until the mythical “after the wedding”, when we dream everything will be accomplished. But we thought the same of “when we get home” while we were overseas... and very little of it has eventuated. There is so much I want to experience! So little time!

Resolutions for After The Wedding:

- I will get my motorbike license

- I will be promoted OR in a new job by March – NOT a call centre

- I will go out to more gigs and other events

- I will save some dosh and travel some more!

It’s days like these that Melbourne becomes a sea of umbrellas. Almost all are of dark and sombre hues, so the occasional rainbow striped ones seem laughably incongruous. In Melbourne, everybody is always prepared for rain: even in the midst of drought we know where the brollies are.

Happy Halloween!

Even though we don’t really “do” Halloween in Australia. Ahhh I remember this time last year, we were in Berlin. All the shopfronts were decked out with pumpkins and spiderwebs, and the kids wandered the streets in costumes... So much more fun than here, where people say “Oh, is it Halloween today?” when you mention it. Grrr.

Aidan asked me for a blog topic, and I suggested he write a biography of Charlie Chaplin... I’ll be interested to see if he takes up the challenge!

No rest for the wicked!

I must be the most wicked person on the planet. My work is never done. Even today, a very quiet day on the phones, I have more than enough on my plate. (So don’t ask me why I’m taking time out to blog... I don’t like my job!!!) I’m going through a massive stack of paper, comparing the papers with stuff on the computer, and emailing sales reps to fix up discrepancies. It’s called “doing the Credit Requests” and it’s a pain in the proverbial. Some of these pieces of paper go back to March! God knows who decided this was a job for the sales centre, instead of the accounts department or the returns area of the warehouse. Either way, nobody has time to do these smegging things – except, apparently, me. Well, I don’t really have time, but today I’m making time to try and get these up to date before I palm them off onto somebody else. Yay for handballing!!!

It’s amazing how a simple word or sentence spoken to a near-stranger can open up new realms of possibility. I notice it with customers. I know our regulars, there are people I speak to almost every day, and I get a bit of friendliness happening with them. But until some chance remark, it’s generally limited to “Nice weather, eh?” and “How’s work been?”

The chance remark was “Thank goodness it’s you, you’re organised!!!” (In contrast to the last person I’d spoken to). I know now that this customer turned 24 yesterday, is not yet engaged to her boyfriend of six years although they bought the rings recently, and that she isn’t as organised in real life as she seems on the phone! She thinks it’s “cool” that Aidan and I are spending our honeymoon monitoring baboons in South Africa. Now we gasbag like old chums.

The same applies to the guy in the cafe where I get my hot chocolate and muffin most mornings. His name is Matthew, as he told me yesterday when we got chatting properly for the first time. Now he’s counting down how many days until my wedding, and reminding me how soon it is as he hands over the hot choccie. He has been married for 7 years, and says it just keeps getting better! His colleague, Cynthia, has been with her partner (unmarried) for 15 years, and they have two dogs called Yang and Chloe.

It’s just wonderful how a little effort (well, it didn’t even take effort, really, just a moment) can find you a new friend. The world is full of great people, if you keep your eye out for them!

Today's Little Pearl of Wisdom

“I’ll have to wait until I need something before I can place an order.”

S at work asked me an interesting question yesterday. Knowing that I have gothic tendencies, she asked me what kind of music a goth listens to. Good question. I don’t know if there is a “typical”, but if there is I’m not it. I listen to some dark music such as Nine Inch Nails, The Tea Party, and Marylin Manson. I also listen to standard rock such as Deep Purple, AC/DC, and Kiss (including rock ballads). I love a bit of punk, too: The Ramones, Bad Religion, and slightly newer stuff like Greenday and NOFX. Then again, I listen to a lot of jazz/blues/soul as well... Grace Knight, Renee Geyer, Van Morrison, Sam and Dave(!!!), and so forth.

I think of a piece of music like a body of water. My little analogy. Some music, such as pop, is like a little puddle... shallow, fun to have a bit of a splash around in, but you can’t really get into it properly. But the music I REALLY love is like the ocean... it has layers and waves, you can immerse yourself in it and be carried by its currents. I don’t know if that makes sense and I don’t know if that’s particularly gothic. But that’s me.

Promises, Promises!

There is a lot to dislike about the lead-up to a State Election. Election Promises are my pet peeve this year. Opposition leader Ted Bailieau has promised that children and full-time students will have free public transport if he gets into power. He has pledged $285 million over four years to achieve this. I have several problems with this. The first is that $285 million could go so far to actually improving the public transport system itself. God knows it needs it. Failing that, it could be used to subsidise fairs overall – lets face it, we’re all over-charged and it would only irritate me to go on paying full fare while some brat is getting the service for free. The Libs claim it’s part of their on-going commitment to education, helping students, and so forth... but as far as I can see, Mr Bailieau is blatantly vote-buying, gaining support from parents and students (the ones old enough to vote anyway) without the application of common sense. The current Labor government have said flat-out that they’re not going to try and match this offer, at least they know it’ll drive state budget into deficit.

The Liberals have consistently targeted the public transport system as one of their major election issues. They hand out flyers detailing all the problems on the train lines, without ever stating that they will do anything about or what they would do if they did. And now they’re blowing that money on giving students free transport.

Uh-oh...

My colleagues just found out I’m not having a “hens night”. I am now, thanks to them. Fortunately I’m leaving it in M’s hands, not K’s, so it will be a nice quiet night and nobody will embarrass themselves too much! K’s idea of a hens night is drinking till we all puke and going to a strip joint or three. Frankly I think that sort of thing is a bit juvenile. I might have been up for it three years ago, but these days I’m rather over all that stuff! I’m a bit of an old maid, at 23... My idea of a good night out is wandering around aimlessly quoting Monty Python!

 

A sailor went to sea sea sea, to see what he could see see see. But all that he could see see see was the bottom of the deep blue sea sea sea.

This, to me, is a poignant story of a man sadly lacking in vision and ambition. He leaves his family and friends, goes to sea in search of he knows not what... and finds nothing. Where’s his motivation, where’s his drive? If, for instance, he had gone to sea in search of the giant sea-serpent that had eaten his brother, I feel certain he would have found that serpent, harpooned it, and returned home in triumph, a hero! Instead, he has no strong goal, nothing to work towards; therefore how could he possibly expect to achieve more than just to see the sea? It is a story which brings home the importance of having goals to work towards in life, lest you see nothing more than what’s in front of your eyes.

New-Style Customer Service

I believe the whole concept of customer service should be turned on it’s head. The customer is NOT always right, the customer is RARELY deserving of respect, the customer should be corrected and set on the right path, the customer should be told the WHOLE TRUTH. This would mean that if somebody started telling their life story, I could ask them to simply get to the point. If somebody complains at something unworthy of complaint, I could tell them I don’t care. If somebody is rude I could point that out to them, or be rude back at them.

As things stand, customers have all the rights and customer service staff have none. Customer service staff are the important ones: without us how would you communicate with your bank, your phone provider, your electricity services? How would you do your grocery shopping or buy clothes? Yet customers seem to feel that they can speak rudely to us, insult us, and irritate us – and get off scot-free! They regard us as dispensable, and themselves as invincible. They think they are speaking to a nameless, faceless, automated representative of a company; in fact they are talking to a person with a personality and feelings and thoughts, a person who could, if properly treated, go above and beyond the call of duty for their customer. Customer service staff have power, contacts, knowledge – but will only utilise these if spoken to with the respect due to them.

Situation A: Customer calls, introduces herself by name and business, asks how I am. Listens to my response, has a quick laugh, then states that she’d like to place an order. Tells me what she wants, confirms it’s all in stock, thanks me, and hangs up. Both she and I have just had an enjoyable experience, with minimum trouble or inconvenience.

Situation B: Customer calls, is carrying on another conversation in the background, keeps me waiting, then mumbles that she wants X metres of such-and-such fabric, and almost hangs up without telling me who she actually is. She has taken longer than necessary due to her poor organisation and communication, and she obviously regarded the call as a necessary nuisance rather than a chance to communicate with an individual for mutual benefit.

Now, Situation B is not a customer who is overtly or deliberately rude, but it is a situation I come across on a daily (or even half-hourly) basis. There are customers worse than Situation B, by far. WHY?!?!

Freaky Friday!

Happy Friday 13th! Also: Happy National Herpes Day! I know how to handle Freaky Friday – dress in black and act weird. (Although that’s fairly usual for me.) But what the heck do you do with National Herpes Day? Give it to somebody? Most days with titles entail gift-giving of some description – Easter, Christmas, Birthday, International Women’s Day (what do you give the man who has everything? A woman to show him how to use it)...

 

We got pens. We got paper. We had each other. And so we commenced to write our vows. That was the theory, anyway. It didn’t exactly happen as planned. I never guessed how hard it could be! I love the man, I know that, what more is there to say without resorting to clichés and drivel? All the things I want to say are highly inappropriate, such as “I promise to snore and kick you in my sleep every night”, and “I will happily let you play computer games so long as I have a good supply of cryptic crosswords”. I couldn’t possibly promise to “love, honour, and obey”, because I’ll only break my promise about obeying. Where’s the in-between? Not too traditional, but not so personalised as to sound silly. We should have something ready by Thursday, when we are again seeing our celebrant to go through it all, but I don’t like our chances of having them done...

It has been an insanely busy few days, and I’ve had very little time for blogging. Now that I do have a moment I’ve forgotten all the things I wanted to blog about.

One of them was definitely the burning-down of the pedophile’s house, but that’s old news now. I will take a moment to express my opinion that it was a very low act, and another step taken by humanity towards barbarism. Civilisation as I understand it is rapidly becoming a thing of the past, spurred by the Herald Sun.

My other gripe is an on-going one that I always mention. People are so rude! I just spoke to a guy who called in, told me what he wanted to order, then nearly hung up WITHOUT TELLING ME WHO HE WAS! Then when I asked him his account name, he acted like I was being the rude one for having to interrupt him and ask that. Bah!

Well, I didn’t get the PA position. Apparently I’m “too good” for it, and “doing extremely well” where I am in the call centre. That’s a fob-off if ever I heard one! Still, at least it was a fob-off from the Managing Director himself.

 

I bit the bullet and bought tickets for Renee Geyer and Vika & Linda. Well, they were only $27, it hardly broke the bank (more than it’s already broke!)

 

I’m bored.

Oh, the Agony!

My wallet hurts! So does my credit card! BUT – Renee Geyer and Vika & Linda are at the Prince Bandroom next month!!! Ohhh I wanna go! How often does a chance like that come along? Not very often, that’s how often! I will deliberate...

Well, I don't often post on Stace Writes, my other blog, but I just did. Perhaps I should put more on there. I can write, I think...

Just another reason to dislike Connex...

Connex is the company who run the trains throughout metropolitan Melbourne. Yes, our “public” transport is “privatised”. Unfortunately. Trains are cancelled and delayed on a regular basis, and even if the existing timetable were adhered to it would still be insufficient. Melbournians are well-used to griping at Connex.

But last night, for approximately two hours, no trains at all were running through the City Loop. AT PEAK TIME, no less. I found out the hard way that there is no bus to my suburb from the city, and had to wait for the trains to start again.

Oh well, it was a little adventure in my otherwise tedious workday!

Drastic steps are being taken. Wish me luck.

A PA position has opened up within the company... I’ve never been a PA before, but it can’t be any worse than being on the phones! So I’m going to apply for it. With any luck, it should be a more enjoyable job which pays considerably better than my current position. Depending how you look at it, it could be a step away from my REAL ambitions... but in a way it could also end up being beneficial. It is another sphere of experience and knowledge to be gained. It will certainly pay for more travel. I suppose when you get right down to it, my ambition is to do anything which allows me to travel – eg, lots of money and 4 weeks of annual leave every year!

 

This is a random selection of photos from our travels. Don't ask me why.


Twas a freezing cold night in Paris, as were they all... A slightly cliched, touristy shot, no doubt, but I rather like it.


The Coloseum by night - also cliched. Not quite so cold, though.


Gay Pari, also at night. I like night photography, can you tell?


A real sunset in Budapest. It's so red because of the thick smog.


More tourist shots. Brandenburg Gate.


A funky photo of a beer in Barcelona. I drank that beer. I enjoyed it.


A beautiful beach in Barcelona, where I got scratched by a stray cat. I'd go back there, if I knew the cat was gone.

I have just come from the dentist. I had a filling. I haven’t been to a dentist since I was about 16, and that was only for braces. Never had a filling or an extraction or anything else. I feel like somebody has hit me in the jaw – the right side of my mouth is numb and I just know when it stops being numb it will be very sore. And I’m at work right now. Fortunately they’ve let me just do faxes for the day, no phone calls.

http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/age-of-terror-scaring-australian-children/2006/09/25/1159036473049.html

Read that.

To me, that simply reflects the susceptibility of people to the media. We fear what we’re told to fear, regardless of logic or immediate relevance. Logically speaking, how likely is a child to encounter a bomb, or by affected by one? Why should they fear this above more immediate concerns like being sent to the principal’s office? I know I’ve never seen a bomb, nor have I ever known anybody who was injured or killed by one. Terrorists do not target primary schools (unless it’s the one where the politicians’ children go), particularly here in geographically isolated, politically stable Australia. Any child’s fear of a bomb must therefore be a result of media saturation, and snippets of overheard and misunderstood conversations.

I am Australian!

More and more, in recent times, politicians and news articles have caused me to wonder exactly what this means. After all, I’m just me and I just happened to have been born here – it’s not a matter I’ve ever given a lot of thought.

I was brought up in the bush, that’s pretty Australian I suppose. I’ve got a bit of a clue about deadly snakes and spiders, I can climb trees and ride horses and I know one end of a sheep from the other. I’ve mustered cattle, I’ve slashed bracken, and I’ve helped butcher calves. But that only makes me a minority, despite the inherent Australian-ness of those things.

I’ve got a sense of humour which encompasses Monty Python, Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, and the Grant/Naylor combo. But even though many Australians share that humour, all of those people are in fact British.

I love my friends and family – but doesn’t everybody?

I appreciate my freedom and my rights... but even those who don’t have those things strive for them, I believe that to be a human trait rather than an Australian one.

I’m a hard-worker, but based on observation I wouldn’t say that’s typically Australian these days.

As for any other “Australian values” – see http://www.convictcreations.com/history/convictleg1.htm – most of these concepts seem to me to be 50 years out of date. Culture, like everything else, changes and evolves. I cannot deny that Australian culture still very strongly reflects our convict heritage, Irish immigrants, and so forth... but these are just layers in a deep and varied history. Every layer, every period of time, will have it’s impact on the country and the culture and I think that trying to adhere to values which were extremely relevant last century is only going to result in stagnation.

Wake up Australia! The world is getting smaller and we’re too busy guarding our borders against it all to notice! What are we afraid of? The country our grandfathers fought and died for is already gone in favour of Coca Cola, McDonalds, and reality television. What more can a few Muslims do? What are a few half-drowned asylum seekers going to do to this country that’s any worse than what we do to it ourselves?

We’re a young country, that’s for sure, and we’ve got a lot of growing up to do.

Tragedy has struck.

Yet another person is leaving the sales centre where I work – and it’s the only other remaining weirdo. As of next Monday, I will be alone in insanity. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can take this job without somebody to bounce off. I mean, everybody here is really nice and I like all my colleagues, but but but... you know. There’s always somebody you really click with. Sigh.

As the end of my long week approaches, I cannot help but wonder exactly how many times during the week I have answered the same question. No question in particular; there are two or three I’m asked many times each day. I have reached the point where I do not need the customer to finish phrasing their question; I am already in the right program and screen long before they stop talking, and have the answer ready for them. It’s no wonder I’m bored. Going part-time is looking increasingly attractive; either that or quitting. After the wedding. The reckless alternative would be to quit BEFORE the wedding, thus receiving my annual leave payout – but then I’d have no job to come back to, that’s a bit dicey. Tempting though.

We’re going to a play tonight. The Bible – Just The Good Bits. Should be quite funny. It has Andrew in it, so it kind of has to be!

Nooooo!!!!

Our fish died!!! Three of the four sadly passed away yesterday. Haley, There’s, and Beware are greatly missed. Please join me in a moment’s silence...

Thank you.

Pointless post

I like wind.

I like rock music.

I like confusing people.

I like 6pm.

I like our apartment.

I like the taste of my blood.

I like trees.

I like animals.

I like putting pointless posts on this blog.

"Why has it taken so long for me to receive my order?"

Lineal time is a construct of the human mind to assist in dealing with the enormity of the universe and to explain the movement of the sun, changing of the seasons, and why people get tired. Time is merely another dimension through which we move inexorably. We may even be moving through time backwards, which would explain why we can see what’s behind us but not what’s in front of us. Time may even be cyclical; after all, history does always repeat itself. Any time which may pass does so only because we as a race subscribe to the belief that it does. As such, your question cannot possibly be answered in any meaningful sense and if I believed in lineal time this would be a waste of it.

Groan. It’s hit me. I’m so tired right now. I still have just over 3 hours to go here at work. I wish I didn’t work such long hours. Nine hours a day. Yuck. Still, pays the bills. More importantly, pays for the honeymoon to South Africa. I have to keep thinking of that today to keep myself going! Not too long now, only just over nine weeks until we leave. Oh my god, that means nine weeks until we’re married. That’s weird and cool.

I just spoke to a very rude lady. So many people are rude. It’s hardly called for. I just don’t have the patience to take it nicely today, although I’m trying.

If you want people to be nice to you, never work in customer service.

Need to get out more

We went to see an accordionist last night! I assume that’s the right word for one who plays the accordion. The support acts were unfortunate at best, but the headliner was so cool! It was like this little novelty/cult thing, just a crowd of people who kinda went “Hey, an accordionist, weird, I’ll go along!” Mostly people who’d seen him at the Dresden Dolls the previous night. Anyway, that was surprisingly lots of fun, and we had yet another late night. That’s three in a row now, and I’m feeling young again because I’m only slightly tired!

The taxi driver on the way home was studying something related to religion, I forget because I was tired and out of it at the time. Anyway, he and Aidan had a good old gasbag about stuff. It was quite funny, the taxi driver kept glancing over at me on the back seat as if waiting for me to join the religious debate, but I just stared out the window.

We have reached an informal decision that we need to go out to more things like that last night. We’re becoming old homebodies at the age of 23, it ain’t good. Even just pub bands or novel little gigs, anything to get us out there in the world!

Reminiscing (or, Why I Miss Travel)

If you can’t see any rubbish bins, you’re not in Budapest.

If you can see any Beatles memorabilia, you’re definitely not in Abbey Road.

If you feel like you’re living in LegoLand, you’re in Luxembourg.

If every street sign is in two equally incomprehensible languages, you’re in Belgium.

If you can understand anybody speaking, you’re certainly not in Scotland.

If waiters go into shock at the prospect of tea without milk, it’s gotta be England.

If the locals are rugged up in the mildest weather, you’re somewhere in Spain.

If the tall towers remain standing straight, you can’t be in Italy.

If somebody starts telling you about the first president of the third republic, you’re in France. (Nowhere else has had that many revolutions!!!)

If you can’t see any Goths, you’re not in Germany.

If there aren’t any drunken Poms, you’re not in Amsterdam.

If nobody has broken any of your electronic equipment, you’re not in Austria.

 

The Day draws ever closer...

I tried on my entire load of crap last night while Aidan was out – wedding gown, shoes, veil, make-up, jewellery. I somehow expected to look like a bride out of a magazine, but I just looked like me only more strangely dressed than usual. How did I think that putting on a dress on make-up would make me look like somebody else? Perhaps it was more of a hope than a real expectation! Clothes do not maketh the woman.

Today’s newspaper headlines (this is not a joke, it’s really true):

1 – Man attacked on tram. Victim suffers head injuries in assault with butcher’s sharpening iron on city tram.

2 – Police accused of brutality. A culture of unacceptable and unlawful behaviour exists in Victoria Polic.

Ok... a man is attacked by a psychopath civilian on a tram, but the POLICE are brutal.

Explain something to me...

Australia is a big country. A young country, developing, half empty! So our government is insistent upon tightening immigration laws, effectively limiting growth potential and the “multiculturalism” the politicians claim to value so highly.

Sadly I’m at work and have little time to blog. But the above is food for thought anyway. Mmmm food...

People amaze me...

I keep getting faxes from people with their credit card details! This isn’t a secure building, anybody could pick those faxes up, we’re not technically trained in privacy, faxes can be copied or taken home... Do people have no concept of basic security? Common sense? Anything? Ok, End Rant.

I’m wearing a red shirt today. Very red. Bright red. It’s very odd, since I generally wear only black. I thought it would make me feel bohemian and funky, but it just makes me uncomfortable. Breaking the comfort barrier. Dark purple I can handle, blue I wear a bit, but bright red is just odd. Weird, because I would have no problem dying my hair bright red – in fact it’s reddish at the moment, kind of auburn.

What do my clothes/hair/accessories/etc say about me? I never give it much thought. But I judge people by their appearance all the time, of course, everybody does. So what do people think of me? Wearing black, but not particularly sinister black, hair colour changing every few weeks, geeky glasses... Most people probably don’t look twice at me. I guess that’s good!

Oddly quiet at work today... It’s a bit like working on a public holiday. I kind of hope it picks up, I’d rather be busy than bored.

Contemplating going part-time here after the wedding... take a little bit of a break, then find another job. I’ve never worked part-time in my life. Always full-time and sometimes over-time, but never part-time. I think I would like it. I have no problem with long days or hard work, but doing this menial job for nine hours a day kind of gets to me. If I could be doing something else for half the day, even just another menial job which is different from this menial job, that would give some relief.

You are Agnostic

You're not sure if God exists, and you don't care. For you, there's no true way to figure out the divine. You rather focus on what you can control - your own life. And you tend to resent when others "sell" religion to you.

What's Your Religious Philosophy?

People are batty today! Poor Mel had a guy start a phone call with “I’m p*ssed off because I haven’t got my fabric!” – not exactly a positive start to the day! I’ve had a hag on the phone blaming me for somebody else giving her the wrong information and intimating that the information I was giving may also be wrong.

Yet, it’s sunny and shiny and happy out there! I think I’ve had an epiphany. Or I might have taken a knock to the head. I feel as though I’ve figured it out. Life. Just to enjoy it! The best thing about any event/day/phone call is that once it’s done I’ll never have to do it again! When this day at work is over, I will never ever be obliged to go through this day at work again. On the other hand, I’ll never be ABLE to go through it again, which means I’d better enjoy it while it’s here! I’m feeling hyperactive and abnormally happy. Even the batty customers can’t seem to get me down! I wonder if it’s anything to do with the Satanic Bible which I started reading this morning? That would make a certain limited amount of sense. Perhaps I shouldn’t over-analyse but just accept the joy.

It’s a lovely sunny day and I went for a stroll on my lunchbreak. How I regret that blissful wander now! For what should I chance upon but a dress! Such a dress! Full length, black “vegan” leather, laced-up at the front... I’m drooling even now. In that dress, even the frumpiest woman would look hot (not that I am frumpy). And the reason for the regret? It’s $200. I don’t have $200.

Goth clothing and accessories are once again becoming highly desirable in my eyes. They never really stopped being desirable, but more so with my increasing desire to differ. It’s as though the more bored and frustrated I am, the more appealing becomes the idea of myself as goth. I suppose that’s not entirely unexpected. It’s a form of rebellion, visible and easily interpreted, accepted but not embraced by the general public. It is even something which, in a moderate form, can be brought to the workplace. The only obstacle is the cash.

I awake,

Reluctant, recalcitrant

Discordant sounds irritate

The day looms

like approaching stormclouds

Refuge is found:

The snooze button

for temporary relief of symptoms

(if symptoms persist

see your psychologist)

Here I am

In a life too ordinary

Acting crazy

Lest I go mad

Anger rears its head

Unreasoned hate surges

Destined, though, for stifling

By conformation

By necessity

By unwritten rules

There’s a longing within

For rebellion, senseless and violent

Common sense prevails

And here I remain

In my life too ordinary

Ok, my turn. I don’t usually do Lists and stuff, but since I’m hyperactive and bored (even though I’m busy busy busy...) This is going to be difficult...

1 – The Book That Changed My Life: “Last Chance To See”, by Douglas Adams. It really brought home the plight of the natural world. Actually it made me cry, despite it’s humourous style.

2 – The Books I’ve Read More Than Once: Almost every book I own. Particularly Terry Pratchett’s “Discworld” series, anything by PG Wodehouse, ditto Douglas Adams (RIP).

3 – Books I Would Want On A Desert Island: Victor Hugo’s “Les Miserables” – firstly because it would keep me going for at least a day, and secondly to remind me that there is both misery and happiness greater than my own. Well, greater than my happiness WOULD be if I were stuck on a desert island.

4 – Books That Made Me Excited: “The Dark Is Rising” sequence by Susan Cooper. I know it’s silly, they’re childrens’ books, but they get me all psyched up and excited every time I re-read them! Perhaps I just wish for a life less ordinary! Also “Anna Karenina” by Tolstoy – how can he write 6 pages about a guy mowing grass and make it interesting?!

5 – Books That Made Me Cry: There are too many... “Elli” comes to mind, but the author’s name doesn’t. A holocaust story, need I say more? A real one, autobiographical.

6 – Books I Wish Had Never Been Written: Pass. Too many. But Homo Escapeons has a point with the censorship thing.

7 – Book I Am Currently Reading: Dostoyevsky’s “House Of The Dead”.

8 – Books I Am Meaning To Read: Everything ever written, particularly more in the following areas: Classic novels (Dickens, Austin, Wilde, etc), philosophy, history.

 

Psyyychos!!!! People ordering things that don’t exist, chasing up orders that haven’t been placed, blaming me for their disorganisation... In short, everybody is acting perfectly normal and human.

We went to Andrew’s birthday dinner last night, that was fun – lots of people we didn’t know, but they didn’t bite so we’re ok! Tired though – very very tired. So now I’m hyperactive and strange at work.

Busy busy busy tea tea tea busy tea talk drink busy tea.

Now Peter Brock is dead too! Pseudo-celebrities are dropping like flies this week.

I can just see the TAC (Traffic Accident Commission) having fun with this one... “Speed kills!”

What I have found most interesting is watching the story unfold, so to speak. We hear news on the radio, then jump onto The Age website (http://www.theage.com.au). At first there’s just a mention of a rumour, a few lines, then we hit “reload” every few minutes and a few more lines have been added – more detail, quotes, reports, it all builds up into a full article before long.

Another aspect which interests me is my own reaction to the articles on the deaths of Steve Irwin and Peter Brock. I am so accustomed to news only being true until another news article contradicts it, that somehow I do not believe these people are permanently dead. Surely next week they’ll be back? Every other news item seems to revert to a non-event in about week, so why shouldn’t these ones? It’s a distressing side effect of the over-saturation of media.

<b>Today’s Twit Of The Day</b>

I work for a fabric wholesaler. That means we sell fabric to retailers, manufacturers, and the like. I just got a call from a lady asking me for a retail price on a fabric (she never gave her name or said if she was calling from a business). I said I could give her an estimate, but it would depend where she bought it from. She seemed to have no concept of the fact that a wholesaler couldn’t give her a definite retail price. Then she started asking if she could buy directly from us – without having said who she was. I said we only sell wholesale to businesses of the above-mentioned type. She said she had such a business. (So why was she originally wanting only the retail price?) I said as soon as we sighted her business credentials we could provide wholesale prices. She was silent. She had done this a few times – just didn’t say anything, as if she didn’t understand what I was saying and was waiting for more. There was no more. What more could she want?

Now tell me – am I being unreasonable? Do I expect too much? Why did she not simply state who she was and where she was calling from, and asked how to obtain a wholesale price? Instead she gave me nothing and expected everything.

Actually the rudeness and stupidity of many people I deal with bothers me a great deal. Rarely does somebody start a phone call with “Hi, it’s Bob calling from My Business, how’s it going? Can I order...” etc. More usual is “I wanna order...” and I’m left wondering who the heck I’m actually talking to, and if they’re rude to everybody or if I did something to offend them!

I don’t think I think enough. Sometimes I am full of cynicism and judgement which seems to indicate some kind of analytic process happening, but then I wonder how much of what I say has been taken from some other thinker, and how much is original, and if maybe I’m really just automatically gainsaying every position taken by the popular media and people I don’t like. Perhaps all my opinions and feelings are just as manufactured as anybody else’s, but in the opposite direction. How can I tell how my own subconscious mind is working? I think I’m independent and different, but so does everybody else, right?

 

On a lighter note, I heard a dreadful joke this morning, in very bad taste but I will reproduce it here. Any who find it offensive, well, that’s fine. To each his own.

 

Steve Irwin should have been wearing SPF 30+ sunscreen – for protection against harmful rays.    

As I’m sure the whole world knows now, Steve Irwin is dead. At various times in his life he was, according to popular media, a “drongo” and a “dill”. He was out of the spotlight for a while (as far as I know), then he died and became a “hero” and a “superstar”.  How did this transition occur? I am obviously among the unenlightened, for few others seem to have any problem with this. I’m sure he was a nice enough bloke, he did a lot of work for conservation and tourism which I respect. Somebody explain how dying made him a hero?

I’m sick of my life. I spend 12 hours, five days a week, at work or in transit between work and home. That’s 60 hours a week I cannot call my own. Even when I do get home in the evenings I’m too tired to really do anything, so that knocks out those few hours between getting home and going to sleep as well. Of course, the mornings are taken up by just getting ready for work... My life is dictated by a workplace, which I suppose is marginally better than “lives dictated by tradition, superstition, false religion” because at least a workplace pays me money.

 

The Plan:

Quit in February next year, having worked here for one full year. Find work in the hotel/hostel industry. Save lots of money. Travel. Travel some more. Possibly work while traveling. Come home, or possibly move to Brisbane or Canada (don’t ask the logic behind those two choices, there may not be any), and start a backpackers hostel and/or cafe and/or bookshop.

Possibly the silliest thing I’ve ever been excited about:

 

We’re seeing Jeff Martin tonight (The Tea Party frontman). That is very exciting. However what I am actually more excited about is the opportunity/excuse to “goth up” – the black silk shirt, the black velvet skirt, the collar, black lipstick, etc. I’ve felt so normal for so long, conforming to corporate clone standards (wearing only black, but respectable professional black), it’s GREAT to be odd again. I dyed my hair last night, it’s an awesome kind of auburn, dark red-brown, loving it. Aidan did his blue-black, which is extremely funky. Tonight is going to be fun fun fun.

The latest news article I’m annoyed at:

http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/mps-block-online-howtodie-speech/2006/09/01/1156817070917.html

Essentially, an MP stood up and detailed ways of committing suicide, and they’ve suppressed online publication of that speech. The premier said “...if just one person follows the methods she outlined in the Parliament, she will have a death on her conscience” which I think is ridiculous. Let’s face it: if somebody wants to commit suicide, they’ll do it one way or another. Inspiration from an MP might suggest the method, but certainly not the urge.

Note to self Re: Recent trend with airlines

 

I keep reading articles in the newspaper about terrorism scares or other problems with aircraft, and one thing seems to reoccur – passengers are not being told what is going on. They may be asked to disembark, or told there’s a delay, but nobody says why. My first thought is that the lack of information may only scare people more, or lead them to jump to unreasonable conclusions. Having worked in customer service, I’m fully in favour of not telling customers everything, but you should always tell them SOMETHING.

The Wedding Transcript (first draft)

 

*** Introduction ***

Space is big. You just wouldn’t believe how vastly, hugely, mind- bogglingly big it is. You may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space.

The chances of finding a soulmate in all that infinite space are close to zero, yet here we stand today to witness the union of Aidan and Stacy, who found each other with astonishing ease.

Aidan and Stacy have long believed in celebrating the small things; today they welcome you as their dearest friends to help them celebrate the larger things in life.

They will be joined in matrimony here today with the assistance of Katie, our young flowergirl. Stacy will be supported by her very good friend and the instigator of this relationship, bridesmaid Chantell. Aidan’s support is in his best friend Andrew as his best man.

 

I now invite Andrew Scarborough, a wonderful friend of both partners, to perform an introductory reading for us.

 

*** Andrew’s Reading ***

"To My Bride" by Victor Frankenstein
To my bride, I give you my heart
Sharing love each day, from the very start

To my bride, I give you my heart
Fry it up right, from the very start!

To my bride, I give you my kiss
Filling each day with joy and bliss

To my bride, I give you my kiss
Honey, you ain't seen nothing like this!

To my bride, I give you my being
To love, to play, to work and to sing

To my bride, I give you my bean
Please my dear, do nothing obscene.

To my bride, I give you my mind
Learning each day to be more kind

To my bride, I give you my mentality
Learning each day the art of venality!

To my bride, I give you my soul
Growing together to be more whole

To my bride, I give you my soul
Rock ‘n’ Roll, baby will make us whole!

To my bride, I give you my life
Rejoicing each day that you are my wife

To my bride, I give you my life
Credit cards, ear wax and marital strife

 

*** Giving Away ***

Rodney, as Stacy’s father, are you willing to support and strengthen this marriage by upholding Aidan and Stacy with your love, now and always?

Dad – With love, I will

 

*** Deb ***

Now I, Deb Stallard, a civil celebrant

Am duly authorised by the law to solemnise this,

your marriage, according to the laws of Australia.

Before you, AIDAN, and you, STACY are joined together in marriage

In my presence, and in the presence here of your friends,

I am bound as you know, to remind you publicly of the solemn, 

serious and binding nature

of the relationship into which you are about to enter.

Marriage, as most of us understand it,

Is the voluntary and full commitment of a man to a woman    

And a woman to a man.

It is made in the deepest sense to the exclusion of all others,

and is entered into with the desire, hope,

and firm intention that it will last for life.

 

*** Reading ***

Extract from Victor Hugo’s “Les Miserables”, read by ...(undecided)

 

*** The Asking ***

Aidan and Stacy, marriage is the clasping of hands, the blending of hearts, the union of two lives as one. Are you ready now to make pledges of commitment together?

Answer (in unison) – I will

 

*** Vows ***

Yet to be written

 

*** Ring Exchange ***

Wherever you are, there I shall be.

 

*** Declaration ***

May the sun bring you new energy by day,

May the moon softly restore you by night.

May the rain wash away your worries,

And may  you live the days of your lives in peace, love and happiness.

 

Friends, Aidan and Stacy have declared before all of us their special promises to each other, spoken vows, and exchanged rings. Now it is my pleasure to introduce Aidan and Stacy Irving as husband and wife.

 

You may kiss the bride.