Delicately Poised

Is how to describe the Ashes test - Aussie are about 20 ahead with five second inning wickets in hand, with England down a bowler as Simon Jones seems to be injured or something. 58 runs for 1 wicket in the last session - mmm, real test match pace again for the first time in about fifteen years for the Aussies LOL.

Didn't get to the soccer today, although twenty thousand did, amazing turnout for a soccer match in this country - Queensland beat New Zealand 2 nil. Went to the shopping centre and got a book instead - of course, I like buying stuff, but managed to channel it all into one book, rather than three shirts, two DVDs, a couple of candles - yes, I went into the candle shop again LOL. Will look at unleashing the wallet when V gets up next week. Should be a nice time :)

Got out and saw a movie and the rugby yesterday - Kung Fu Hustle was a lot of fun, ultra violent, but fun LOL. The rugby was even more fun of course, but heart in mouth, and only fun once we got back in the lead with about four minutes to go - geez the Boks have come on in leaps and bounds. Up against the Walking Wounded Wallabies next week, will be interesting to see how that goes.

Later peeps
Pauly

The Weekend Starts Here

Well, actually it started before the last post, but I have had a dearth of witty titles lately, so will use them when I can, even when not strictly true (see also 'Saddam helped out with 9/11', George W Bush - if it's good enough for the most powerful man on the planet, it's good enough for me).

Azaria Chamberlain has been found. Apparently. She was repressing all the time the last twenty five years when her 'mother' was being charged and jailed for her murder, and all sorts of stories were doing the rounds. Let's see what a DNA test brings up - I am sure Woman's Day Weekly New Idea Cleo one of those ones will pay for the ten minutes of fame it brings. Unless, of course, it is Azaria and she was locked away in an NT commune for most of the passing time. Surely they could have waited for her to get a better pic though, surely.

Before going onto the Ashes game, just a quick word about New Zealand's tour of Zimbabwe. Of course we flogged the Zimbabweans in the test series, and we were within reach of a world record total for a one day game (if only it had been the full fifty overs in the match, rather than rained down to 44), flogging the Zimbabweans again, but last night, Oz time, we had a match against the Indians, and Shane Bond had them reeling at 44/8, before recovering well to only lose by fifty runs. Bond ended the match with 6 for 19, wow, good bowling.

But, of course, it is only against the Zimbabweans and Indians, the latter away from home. Can't hold a match to the excitement being generated, at least in the non Australian world, by the Ashes.

Australia got gutted in their first innings - 99 for 5, after the English had compiled 477, Flintoff getting a century. They need 180 odd to avoid the follow on, and though Gilchrist and Katich are still there, the Australian's luck in the last match to avoid the follow on surely has to end sometime soon. Was watching the English innings last night, was rather sedate and err boring, so I headed off to bed early, the Australian's just didn't seem to have any penetration with their bowling. No, not even Warnie.

Dubya is still 'under siege' in Crawford - LOL if he is actually there or in Idaho or where ever he is at the moment. There are pro-war protesters divided by a piece of police tape from the Cindy Sheehan anti-war lot. After Dubya does go back to Washington at the end of his 'holiday', Cindy will be upping roots and doing a bus tour of the country, leading to an anti-war protest in Washington DC on September 24. Surely the Federal Government, aka the Republican Party will close any mass protest down? Unless it is pro war perhaps. interesting times, and still the deaths in Iraq go on.

Have a bit of a weekend lined up - had drinks with JOC and SWA last night, just three jugs to catch up with the ex-workmates, was nice to see them (to see them nice, oh no Bruce Forsythe LOL), not too much news to tell. Today I am going to see Kung Fu Hustle, and then follow it up with the rugby, South Africa v New Zealand from Dunedin, kick off at 5.35 Aussie time. Tomorrow there is a soccer match, Brisbane versus New Zealand, in the new A-League, Australian soccer reshuffling itself to try and be a crowd puller. JOC is off to that so if I go I won't be a Nigel No-Mates about it all. And when do you manage to see top class footy in this neck of the woods, with a round ball I mean?

So yeah, it sounds a busy weekend, if only I had friends to go see movies with and watch rugby on TV with LOL.

Spot ya later
Pauly

Australia's Top Twenty Songs This Week

I was watching Rage this morning - as I do most Saturday mornings - and was thinking what a car crash display of music videos, and thought, wow, I could perhaps write something about how bad most or maybe all of the songs or videos are. Will give it a try at least, hopefully I can remember most of the witty one liners I had in my head earlier (was away from writing material dammit).

20 - Cater 2 U, Destiny's Child - I have thought over the past few weeks of this song being on that Destiny's Child, along with their last song Girl, are trying to break the 'adult contemporary' MOR radio market, maple syrup inoffensive kind of songs. Then I listened to the lyrics, sample of which - 'I'll keep it tight, I'll keep my figure right, I'll keep my hair fixed, keep rocking the hottest outfits...' - yeah, Beyonce, Michelle and the other one, just putting woman's lib back twenty thirty fifty years perhaps. No mention in the song of how the boy ought to behave himself.

19 - Switch, Will Smith - hasn't this song been in the charts for at least six months? Haven't all the people that wanted to buy it bought it yet? How many sales gets you 19 in the charts at the moment? I mean, I like Will Smith, but I prefer him as an actor more than a singer nowadays, and this song, while trying to sound peppy and all, after repeat listens puts me to sleep.

18 - This Is How A Heart Breaks, Rob Thomas - an OK song, but Robbie running all through the video makes it feel like it is a James Bond audition, without the women LOL.

17 - Just A Lil Bit, Fifty Cent - where to start with what is wrong with this video? Apart from the fact that I thought rap stars with gangsta wet dreams were so last decade. Let's see, Fiddy has three girls all happy to be with him and only him on a Caribbean holiday (because all gangsta's can obviously afford a private jet to fly down that way), apart from when they sleep with the opposing drug lords. Drinking champagne, lounging around the easy life, apart from making rivals disappear - wake up Fiddy, join the real world - even if you can afford flights down to Mexico, and have three beautiful girls attend to your every need, don't rub the rest of our faces in it. And the song, let's not even get started about the silliness of singing about a girl undressing. Aargh!

16 - Wake Me Up When September Ends, Green Day - okay, respite time. I have to admit that I do have a soft spot for Green Day and their latest album (best since Dookie), and also have a soft spot for anti-Iraq war rhetoric. Happy that American Idiot seems to be on every comedy movie soundtrack this year. However, the actual song is a bit of a dirge, and relating the song to the images on screen is a bit of a disconnect, apart from I guess the tour of duty being over at the end of September. When first I saw the video, I thought the whole teary stop the song in the middle of the video bit was a typical teen break up (see Jesse McCartney et al), which would have been strange for Green Day, but got me to actually watch the video instead of just listen to it - and then the Iraq scenes came on, and I was err transfixed.

15 - Errtime, Nelly - hmm, back to music video reality. Have a kind of soft spot for Nelly though, whereas Fiddy always seems so gangsta serious in his videos, Nelly comes across as having a bit of a laugh about it all. At least, that is the impression I get. LOL and one of the girls at work likes singing along to Errtime when it is on the radio, so another green tick. But yeah, the normal stupidity of girls lining up for guys to take their pick, as in most male rapper videos. A bit less on the nose then Fiddy though. And Adam Sandler at the end, white guys can't dance, got a smile from me.

14 - Incomplete, Backstreet Boys - what can I write here that hasn't been written in other blogs before? Again, have to admit a soft spot for the Boyz, from their Backstreet's Back days (dancing in a club in Egypt of all places, back in 1998), but yes, this song hits the gaydar on so many different levels. First heard it when Dmitri or whatever his name was, the Ukranian off American Idol sang it solo, and thought that it was perfect Clay Aiken clone material then. Then heard it a few weeks later as a group song, and the video, kicking sand, falling onto your knees with waves, explosions behind you and burning bikes, oh so serious. Oh so intense. Oh so laughable.

13 - We Belong Together, Mariah Carey - when did Mariah start sounding like her voice was dripping with honey? When did Mariah become cool again? When did she start wearing low cut dresses LOL, it sure wasn't at her I am about five ethnic groups at once sincere stage starting out in her career, when she used to actually sing through five octaves rather than slurp syruply through one - broke your eardrums, but it was distinctive, eh all the Beyonce clones. And what's with the video, she leaves rich guy to be with Andrew Flintoff, it was the sneakers wot done it LOL.

12 - Untitled (How Could This Happen To Me), Simple Plan - first off, the stupidity of having an untitled song and then naming it straight after. Secondly, the wonderful stereotypical family at home as the girl is having the accident, Dad fiddling the books for Enron, Mum reading sex tips in Cleo, brother on the playstation and sister sleeping. And then they fly everywhere instead of the car crashing properly - have to admit I wonder how they did those scenes. And Simple Plan, really. Are any of them over fifteen yet? Green Day wannabe clones. And yes, I feel old LOL.

11 - Feel Good Inc, Gorillaz - another group I have a soft spot for (mmm, Clint Eastwood), and really, what more can you say about a video with a prison shaped like a huge cigarette, a floating island powered by a windmill, and the bass player has the animated rock version of gangsta rap stars power of persuasion over women. You can't be more silly than that, even in a review LOL.

10 - Ass Like That, Eminem - now, again, what to say about a song where the singer goes off at popular culture, apart from Hilary Duff, who is 'not quite old enough'. Girls I know aren't happy with this song, because it's degrading to women, but for the first time in a few songs, I get the impression that Eminem is just having fun with a song rather than going out of his way to offend people. Or is it a comment on the sexualisation of teens in our culture, no surely not, it's just a puppet on the hand song LOL.

9 - Oh, Ciara - another half decent song, in the sense of top twenty r&b, and the girl is actually saying no when getting hit on by guys. Not much to go on, apart from the fashion sense - a crop top hoodie? With horizontal stripes?

8 - Das Kleine Krokodil, Schnappi - an animated crocodile, in Ancient Egypt, sung in a child's voice, in German. I didn't think there would be a more annoying or stupid song EVER after the Crazy Frog, but I was wrong. This has 'ringtone download from the under 12 crowd has spurred sales' all over it.

7 - Lose Control, Missy Elliot and a cast of millions - well, Ciara and Fatman Scoop as collaborators, but you know what I mean. This endless putting a verse into another artist's song is getting ridiculous, I am sure they all tour around the same circuits, so that when they need each other for one chorus in their songs, the actual guest singer comes out and does it. Oh, you mean it doesn't work that way? And surely there are a maximum of sets you can make for a three minute video - I think there are about five different set ups in the vid, because line dancing is all the rage on the open highway, the Reconstructed south, the local dump, the beach. And what was with the girls being attached to the wall until the guys with the braces holding up the pants came and took them away? Seriously, some videos need an instruction manual to understand...

6 - Voodoo Child, Rogue Traders - can't really take the piss out of this song that much, apart from it is one that heard more than once in a day can make you go insane. Well, can't take the piss apart from the hi tech usage of video manipulation to put the band's pictures on what look like entry visa forms, and the whole mouth nostrils and eyes view of the lead 'singer'. Who apparently is a Neighbours starlet, with visions of punk rock goddess - enough said LOL.

5 - 4 Ever, The Veronicas - hmm, two girls fighting over guys at a pool party, the guys then turn into clones so each girl is happy. Definitely the 11 to 15 female demographic this band is going for, so I can safely ignore anything as complicated as the lyrics or trying to make further sense of this song.

4 - Bad Day, Daniel Powter - one of those nice songs that is so in danger of getting overplayed, see also Bryan Adams Everything I Do. As my sister said though, I obviously listen to the wrong stations. And of course the owners of a billboard would allow it to be defaced over the course of several days - it's in a train station, surely they would CCTV the offenders. Unless it was a public art project - but of course, it's so clear now LOL.

3 - Lonely, Akon - the guy has a hot girlfriend waiting for him to come home to celebrate an anniversary with and he mopes around the ghetto saying how lonely he is? Maybe that whiney voice as backing vocal has a brainwashing capacity or something. Or even if it is flashback vision, what on earth did he do to ditch hot girlfriend? A video that makes no sense, just one of the many...

2 - Axel F, Crazy Frog - rolls eyes. Again, what hasn't been said before about this one that hasn't already been said. Damned mobile ringtones market, and who on earth would admit to downloading this one anyways? The best thing about the video, as I have stated before, is that it admits it's the most annoying thing in the world - well, it was before Schnappi anyways.

1 - Ghetto Gospel, 2 Pac - hmm, the guy has been dead for nine years, surely they have released every scrap of every word he ever 'sang'? But no, out comes another song, spliced with Elton John, obviously Ciara WASN'T BORN when 2 Pac needed a backing singer. I kind of wonder whether 2 Pac has become a logo rather than a name, which would allow other singers to perform under that band name, or maybe they had the guy cloned. Where do they continue to get songs from him?

Honourable mentions, not in the charts yet -

Just Want You To Know, Backstreet Boys - the Boyz homage to hair bands of the eighties. Very very funny to see these boy banders take the mickey out of themselves, and strangely the mullets don't look that out of place. Taken together with Incomplete, I draw parallels with YMCA by the Village People for this new release.

These Boots Are Made For Walking, Jessica Simpson - Nancy Sinatra would be rolling over in her grave, if she were dead yet (she's not, is she?), as Miss Simpson completely ruins the song. Really, blondes in hot pants or bikinis- doing a carwash no less! - draped all over the General Lee should push all the buttons, but maybe it's because I have seen her TV show I have preconceptions about Jessica, that the song plus the video just makes me want to do something destructive LOL. Why oh why did Willie Nelson agree to be in the video clip - ogling cute girls I guess. Wrong wrong wrong on soooo many levels.

C'mon England C'mon

Fourth Test from Trent Bridge on in the background - England 110 for 1 about fifteen minutes before lunch, and the Aussie attack looks pussycattish at the moment. Yes, I did just write that, and it does appear that way, I'm not just making it up.

What a snorter of a ball by Brett Lee just then, to clean Trescothick out - too bad it was a no ball.

Oh dear, Prez Bush is on television again, beating on the same drum as he has been like forever. The only way to stop the terrorists attacking America is to get them to fight our soldiers in Iraq - another two battalions to be sent to Iraq for the referendum, that is going to shred the constitution anyways, three provinces voting no is all it will take, with the Sunnis who have basically been ignored in the negotiations being the majority in four of the eighteen provinces. And the next rotation of forces will be skewed so 138,000 troops becomes 160,000 for a short period. And Shia groups are fighting one another in Najaf and Basra - oh, happy, happy days.

You have to wonder what would have happened with 9/11 and all if we had a President Gore or Powell the last five years. The second Powell doctrine, you broke it you fix it. Oh no, let's play Top Gun two months after an invasion and declare mission accomplished, and make the same speeches two years later when the military is planning for Iraqi operations in 2009 instead of have some semblance of reality. Grr.

Good piece from Maureen Dowd in the NYT yesterday about Bush deciding to holiday in Idaho for a couple of days - because, you know, holidaying in Crawford is so stressful, what with those peace protesters outside the gates.

Bird flu has been found in another region in Russia, bringing the Russian regions affected to seven, the most westerly being just the Asian side of the Urals. Watched on the news last night that the Europeans are fearing that in the northern autumn the flu will hit their shores. The Dutch have taken the quite extraordinary step of ordering all farm poultry to stay inside, so as not to mingle with the wild birds, who will probably be infected. If it gets to Europe, it will probably get to the Americas and Africa - just what the latter continent needs, another disease to worry about... and when will the whole virus cross the species barrier to humans?

Another quiet day at work - well, quiet in a social sense, the work itself came in fits and starts. Bumped into LNE in the lift, and she approved of my funky shirt LOL - hmm, was talking to LDU about it though, is probably better as a casual Friday shirt than with a tie, but to be told it was funky, and that all the guys in the office were dressing funky and all she was wearing was what she had thrown on blind, was nice. LNE is good good value, please transfer me up to her team sometime LOL.

Later peeps
Pauly

Insert Witty Title

V and I are kinda sorta back on track. Had a talk last night, without distractions (usually I have on the TV or computer or both in the background when talking), and she had been told by a friend that she had overreacted about the actual post she went off at - apparently the justification was 'he's a writer, he expresses himself and gets his thoughts out that way' - and secondly, and maybe more importantly, wouldn't send argument emails to work.

Talked to my boss yesterday afternoon to tell her I would be back in today, and I said I could have stayed in the office and not done customer calls, email work instead, she said it's understandable you went home, so that was nice, she got brownie points for yesterday. Of course, forty people can do my job in the office when I am away, so it's not as if I was missed that much workwise I am sure.

Next step is V visiting next month - is in town for just over a week, really need to have a 'discussion' about where we are headed, rather than just keep everything perfect around each other. You can't have 'discussions' by phone or email or messenger - will see what happens.

Pauly

Darren Lockyer Rumour Bali Monkey

The title of this post is in honour of the strangest search phrase I have seen put into a search engine to get to this site, put in a couple of days ago. Darren Lockyer is a football player here in Queensland, in the footy code of rugby league, yeah, I can kind of understand that. Bali is an island in Indonesia, kind of like Cancun is for Americans - foreign, but comfortably so, maybe is the best phrase to class it under. Rumour is one of those nothing words, and monkey is of course a primate, but put all together, you have to wonder what the searcher was looking for - I replicated the search, and surprise surprise I was the only link through Yahoo Search. What on earth was he or she looking for LOL.

Was going to post international news comments and stories and such, but have been sidetracked by funny Australian 'culture' website here. Will post something of worthiness tomorrow no doubt.

Pauly

H-Hour, D-Day

V and I are running on the ragged edge of our relationship. She read the post previous to this, and flipped, as follows -

'AND WHAT WOULD THE MEANING OF ALL THIS BE?????????? I DON'T EVEN WANT TO HEAR YOUR LAME EXCUSES I GIVE UP THIS IS THE FINAL STRAW. DO NOT CONTACT ME EVER AGAIN'

Got that first thing this morning in my work email box, and hit me for six. I quickly ummed and ahhed in shock for a couple of minutes, before asking the boss whether I could take the day off, for personal reasons, and just added a sentence for the personal reason, which I am wondering whether I had to, I hate melodrama in the workplace, but there you go.

I thought about it as I was catching the train home, that I didn't need to take the entire day off, that I could have done some work which didn't involve putting on a fake smile for customers over the phone, but the boss OKed it, and before I could think I was out and walking back to the train station.

And guess what, I contacted V straight away on getting out of the office. She took the call at least, but couldn't stay on the line as she was talking to her boss. She rang back as I was getting off the train at the other end of my journey.

This latest patch of rockiness all stems from me writing about that night out about three weeks ago where I went dancing, which V has consigned to the category 'drunken night out', and it is ancient history. That may be so, but in the tears and heart attacks and emotion of the subsequent two days or so, I promised V that I would be more open and such around her. Even though I kind of thought that doing that would lead to more smaller disappointments in the short term, than the secretive big blow ups that we have had to date.

V then wonders why I mention pretty girls so much in my diary here, when I should just at most give a passing glance rather than remember it for posting however many hours later. They are just passing glances to me, I don't go up and flirt with them or anything, and I only remember them later on because I have a diarist's mind now, what can I put in my blog - and it does add to the honesty thing as well, I believe. V asks why I even have to write it down - I feel that I have a compulsion to write, not the worst compulsion in the world, so that what sticks in my mind comes out here.

I feel that I am just writing down typical guy thoughts when these sort of subjects come up - if we thinking of sex every seven seconds, as the stereotype goes, then girl watching should maybe be an every thirty second activity or something. V's reaction to that was well then she obviously doesn't want a guy then - how can a guy who thinks he is in a relationship think of other girls. Well, I'm sure Freud has some answers there or something - Brad Pitt dumped Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie didn't he? Not that we are anywhere near dumping territory in my own little saga here.

On the actual previous entry which has caused today's issues, V thinks it must be a big thing that I have thought about it for three weeks or so. Well, no, actually I have only felt awkward around this particular workmate for about a week - a good portion of that awkwardness is that being around her caused almost meltdown between V and I a couple of weeks back. Hence, I feel awkward, frown, avert my gaze the last few days. V says she doesn't see it that way, that what happened out dancing was ancient history, and why should I feel awkward having a conversation with this girl. That reaction perplexes me somewhat, a woman who inadvertently almost caused meltdown in a relationship and V is fine with me being friendly with her?

And another issue which has strained us the last few days is me mentioning that I may perhaps someday in the future want to ring K again. V's reaction to that was why do you want to talk to her, I don't want you to. I was thinking the open and honest gambit again, say stuff that I am thinking - it came up again a couple of days later in the context of can I EVER talk to her in the future, and again V said no, and said this topic has been raised several times, what's going on. In V's eyes, exes are always a threat - I have gotten over the whole K thing (still like Canada the country lots though), only friendly thoughts towards her now, nothing more, but if I talk to her then perhaps I will be convinced to go back. Obviously.

V and I do have good times of course. Mostly when we are around each other, and I have spent the last five holidays with her, which I have not had issue with - well, four holidays and a funeral. This long distancing is always hard though, but this time around it is an equal and opposite reaction to the last relationship I had - I didn't organise my debts before going on what turned out to be a ten month holiday last time around, so now I want to pay off my debts, keep a job etc - although of course not as important as a relationship, is an equal and opposite reaction to last time around.

Will probably post more later today.

Paul

Should Do versus Will Do

What I should do to get rid of the awkwardess at work -

'I am feeling awkward around you. I am unsure how to start a conversation, as I easily get tongue tied, and am also unsure about the fine line between too much smiling and eye contact, and a just right ratio, so I am averting my gaze and frowning quite a lot lately. Sitting all the way on the other side of the floor, it is not as if I can fake too much small talk.

I want to get rid of this awkwardness because I did enjoy the other week, and I would like us to work out as friends. In the past, I have suppressed myself so much at work - I was warned on a sexual harrassment thing very early on in my working life, and it has scarred me, mainly for the good, ever since - I have suppressed myself so much at work, it has become second nature to bite my tongue over and over and over again in the actual workplace, waiting for the next social opportunity to come up, usually letting things drift too much while I remain mute.

So, as I try to act all nonchalant, bon vivant, and the last two paragraphs didn't exist at all, when's the next dancing lesson? Insert cocky grin here LOL.'

What I probably will do instead -

'Hope you're having a nice day up your end of the floor. How is [insert name of unrelated to the topic at all workmate/ex workmate here]?'

[Please note - the above does not mean I am out 'looking' for anybody, as partner material. It is merely me needing to open up, to unblock myself to a potential friendship - I have gotten over the whole thought of actually doing anything along THOSE lines, which I had let my guard down to for all of about five MILLIseconds]

Pauly

The Scary White Jacket 

Shopping Expedition

Ah, the excitement of the shopping mall LOL. Went down to one of the Westfield's today to see a movie (Unleashed, Jet Li, Morgan Freeman, Bob Hoskins) and had a couple of thoughts I thought worth putting down - well, worth putting down in this blog, anyways. Whether that's a mark of quality or not, leave up to the readers - at least I'm 100% me at least (lol, sorry feeling a bit maudlin about it all here).

There was a cute woman on the 'ripping tickets' desk, or whatever the technical term is. at the cinemas. Curly black hair, and rectangular shaped glasses, thick black rim, halfway down her nose. Very cute, and that's all that I can allow myself to say on that LOL - yeah, 100% me, yeah right, 100% what I feel I can write without getting into trouble perhaps. But that halfway down the nose glasses look, very nice.

After the movie, which was OK and had a much more emotional, aka girly, plot than I have seen in a kung fu movie before - eh, what can you expect from those crazy Europeans LOL - after the movie, I did a bit of window shopping.

Window shopping in the main because I want to save any real spending to the time that V is up in Brisbane - have something to spend a day on perhaps, as well as all the other bits and bobs. I did buy a DVD though, Garden State, my second fave movie I have seen this year, after Closer. I saw Hotel Rwanda on sale, and thought badly of myself, the whole liberal white guilt thing over the whole 1994 genocide thing - I should buy it, but dammit, I was torn between There's Something About Mary and Con Air LOL. And then saw Nine Songs already on sale as DVD - at HMV. Hmm, shouldn't that be in an adult shop perhaps? The thought of Hotel Rwanda and Nine Songs being one shelf apart, it was surprising they didn't spontaneously combust LOL.

One thing I miss about being in a couple, and no, I'm not on my way back to Canada to rekindle things, is the whole shopping for a household thing. Seeing nice things and being able to make a decision as to where to put it in the house - for instance, candle holders or coloured glass flower pots or dishes. I went into Dusk, a candle shop, at the mall and thought that piece or other would be nice to buy - when you are single, you only go for usefulness with your household, if you are living with people who are not your partner, eg, flatmates, parents and the like, then you don't feel as if you can impose your fashion and furnishing tastes on them.

I want to buy candle holders and good dishes and flower pots and the like, dammit LOL. Any other singles out of relationships ever get that feeling, or am I just too damned domestic?

Avoided the clothes shops like the plague, I knew that if I saw something nice I wouldn't be able to resist buying it. And I must must must buy some pants before buying another shirt LOL.

Apart from that, has been a quiet weekend - was a good playlist on Rage last night, starting with Girls and Boys from Blur and Loser by Beck - I remember when that came out it had one hit wonder written all over it. And now Beck has released about his fifth or sixth album or so.

Apart from movies, shopping and Rage last night, oh, also watched the rugby, first time in 33 years that Australia have lost four matches in a row, apart from all that has been quiet. Been Dungeon and Dragoning computer gaming most of the time when not netting.

Turkish Grand Prix almost about to start - mmm, Istanbul, remembering back to 1998 and visiting there. Vrrm vrrm indeed.

Pauly

Lack Of Focus

Have had the blogger screen on in the background as I read the news (no, I am going to spare you today, no ranting on topics geopolitic), wondering where to start with this tonight.

No, I didn't go out drinking or socialising tonight - SGR was umming and ahhing all day, and really, I should have known she was going to bail, I never was thinking it would be a one on one drink, and she wasn't going around inviting any others for drinks as far as I could see/hear. And then LDU has a way of making you feel so stupid, she asked who I was going to the pub with and was hung out to dry LOL. Wandered over after work, but didn't feel like it, couldn't see anyone, really, going out by yourself hmm how sad is that - apart from the movies where it is dark of course LOL, self justification always fun :)

Also slightly churned up by something I need to resolve at work, non-work related. Otherwise I feel like I will just look like a grinning idiot with no brains, and no err courage. Can I wait for the next socialising event, cos resolving social things at work just seems so unprofessional to me, but sometimes necessary. KWA got a job in another part of town with the company, so she will be leaving our part of the world, NBO mentioned it to me today when I said to her that I may as well wear my nice shirts at work on Fridays on the off chance of ever socialising. I'm just not brave enough to rock boats or anything I think...

Enough for now, I will hopefully get inspired over the weekend
Pauly

A Bit Of World News

Because I know how much everybody misses my comments on the global situation LOL.

How brainless does the President of the United States of America have to be to not meet a mother bereaved by the loss of her son in Iraq, who is camped outside his Texas ranch until that happens? Instead he goes on a five week holiday - surely the Administration has more public relations nous than that. He is the President, I am sure he could have an hour long meeting away from the media glare? Or perhaps not, apart from the Democrats on Capitol Hill, when was the last time Bush even came close to someone who disagreed with him?

'On Saturday, the current President Bush was pressed about how he could be taking five weeks to ride bikes and nap and fish and clear brush even though his occupation of Iraq had become a fiasco. "I think it's also important for me to go on with my life," W. said, "to keep a balanced life."

Pressed about how he could ride his bike while refusing to see a grieving mom of a dead soldier who's camped outside his ranch, he added: "So I'm mindful of what goes on around me. On the other hand, I'm also mindful that I've got a life to live and will do so."'

Yeah, I am sure the troops in Iraq would also like to get on with their lives away from suicide bombs and IEDs and the like.

The Israeli military is evicting settlers from Gaza. Can't the radical settlers see that even if the Palestinians get all of Gaza back it is still going to be the world's largest ghetto - 1.3 million people at a density of 14,000 people per square mile. It's not going to Shangri La after the withdrawal or anything.

I would love to see the Israeli's pull back to the full 1967 borders, but that is so not going to happen anytime in the next decade, so I am kind of resigned to the whole taking an extra 11% of the West Bank behind the Berlin-type Wall. Just build it, withdraw from the rest of the West Bank, negotiate on some suburbs of Jerusalem to the the Palestinian capital. That is the best I can see happening anytime soon.

Oh, and the op-ed pieces about Bush holidaying while Rome burns - or is that Nero fiddling while Iraq self destructs - go on. And on. Geez, I wonder if Letterman, Leno and O'Brien are getting stuck in as well. I know the Daily Show will be. Would love to slip an LOL into this paragraph, but so not the right moment.

'Another politician -- think Bill Clinton or John McCain -- probably would have met with Sheehan long ago. After all, her request isn't that hard to grant. But for this president, it clearly is. Which is partly how we got into this mess in the first place.'

And even though nuclear proliferation isn't the nicest of topics, you can kind of understand why the Iranians are working on their nuclear program. They see North Korea, with nukes and handled in cotton wool, and they see Iraq, without WMDs and overrun by coalition forces and chaos. And the whole American thing of threatening the Iranians, even if the USAF did bomb the nuclear facilities (and got all those threats out of the way), the Iranians would flood next door Iraq with guerillas or maybe even actual troops, and 'only' 1800 American deaths would be a fond memory. Hmmph.

More later
Paul

I Have To Comment On One News Story Today

You know that guy that was killed at Stockwell tube station on July 22, on suspicion of being a suicide bomber? Of not being one of the prime suspects of the attempted attacks the day before, but of being a person of interest. Or at least, you know the story I am sure.

And then he turned out to be a Brazilian electrician, who had lived in London for three years, who may or may not have had a valid visa, whose death sentence was due to the facts he lived in the same block of flats as a prime suspect, was wearing a bulky jacket, and had jumped the ticket barricades at the station after being warned by the plain clothes police to stop. And that he had taken a bus from Tulse Hill to Stockwell anyway, and obviously bus bombings, which had happened, being a lower priority than tube attacks.

Well, there has been a leak from the commission that is investigating the shooting. It has been reported that Senor de Menezes walked calmly through the train station, did not jump the ticket barriers, picked up a newspaper, only started running down the escalators when he saw a train at the platform. And got shot eight times in his seat, rather than held down on the floor. No mention at all yet of at which stage and how the police IDed themselves.

Oh, and a photo released (no, it isn't gory) show that de Menezes was wearing a denim jacket, rather than a puffy jacket which may or may not have held a bomb. Geez, I'm going to have those 'calmly getting on the train only to get shot in your seat' thoughts when I get on public transport tomorrow, I just know it.

The whole thing is getting scarier and scarier, and they are saying there will be sackings or resignations in the Met over this - Met equals Metropolitan Police Force. Are they serious when they say there were seven other near misses on the shoot to kill policy between July 7 and 22? Fuck.

No more I can say or think of on the subject just at the moment. A completely empty feeling about the whole fiasco currently.

Paul

Another Good, Though Depressing, Book

That's what I was going to write to start off the last entry, I can remember it now. I finished off 'Goshawk Squadron', by Derek Robinson, which was in the pack of war books V got me for my birthday (yes, a while ago now, but I am working my way slowly through them). Is a Booker Prize nominated book, from 1971, about three months in the life of a fighter squadron of the British Royal Flying Corps in 1918.

The book takes it time to get going, from training in the back of the line to reconnaisance over the front, to full scale battles, but it is a great read, reinforcing the futility of the Western Front, whether in the trenches or in the air, and shows the waste of lives during the war. Some characters you get to know, some just arrive and die almost immediately in accidents or in combat, the uselessness of and cynicism towards the mission grows thicker and thicker. Possibly thirty characters come and go through the course of the book, it just makes you want to cry. And then you remember that the British lost 60,000 casualties the first hour of the Somme. Overwhelming to think of the big picture. A great book.

But depressing. And coming almost straight on top of that Incendiary book, which has seared in my head already an Arsenal Chelsea game being bombed, and the aftermath - not so much a work of crime or terrorism fiction as an alternate history, along the lines of Robert Harris' Fatherland (also a first book, if I remember correctly) - coming almost straight on top of me reading that, hmm.

With my faint head and nausea yesterday, can reading of horror and such make you ill? Can't have helped, surely...

Paul

Forty Eight Hours

No, not the Eddie Murphy Nick Nolte mid eighties movie, just the last time I posted (the title alludes to I mean). I am sure I had a great idea for a post, but for some reason I can't bring it out of the cobwebs at the back there - I am sure I will remember it, and it won't seem as exciting as I thought LOL.

I wasn't feeling the best yesterday, partly why I didn't post. It was after morning tea at work when it started hitting me - faint headed, feeling nauseous, a knot in my stomach, my legs losing their sense of feeling. Not as serious as I made it sound, it came and went in waves, not enough to keel over for, but felt ill and was distracting to my actual work, and lacking concentration (although that's not a surprise at work the last wee while).

I stayed until after lunch, just in case it was lack of food or something simple like that. Of course, with my lunch break at 2pm the next couple of weeks, it wasn't until 4.30, after I tried to get some fresh air outside for the afternoon break but it wasn't helping. I always feel bad about leaving work before the scheduled time even if I am feeling ill, but the whole combination of faint head with upset stomach was just distracting me too much.

Could tiredness cause nausea? Was watching the Ashes for the five days beforehand, and the fifth day I was hoping it would be over before I went to bed, but 2am and England still hadn't bowled them out, I had to get some sleep. The funny thing was the next day I didn't actually feel tired, but maybe it had an impact.

Today, even though it was a public holiday in Brisbane (Ekka Day), being a national call centre, all hands were on deck at work. Overtime rates and all of course, but the whole thing of having to turn up, hmm, when are positive things going to happen at the workplace again. And I mean the workplace rather than the periphery - we had a lack of calls, so they let half the staff go at about 2pm, so some OT money, some time off - woke up at quarter past six this morning to check the bus and train timetable, just in case I had to go in extra early. Always fun, early mornings.

Also fun, not, was the news that SGR is leaving. Our team only, and she will still be on the floor, but omg, out of all the people who sit around me, they had to take the person I get on best with. Less shared smiles, grr. She sent out an email today basically saying I've had a great time, and I could hear Wind Beneath My Wings, or Don't You Forget About Me in the background as I was reading them. I was thinking of it as wit, and me knowing too many cheesy eighties movie themes, and trying to avoid the whole serious thought that this change will make work even less fun.

And of course, me being me, am wondering whether SGR asked for this move because she was uncomfortable around me. Only half seriously thinking that, but god, I wish I could get past those whole self doubt thoughts for even a week a year, it would be so nice. I wouldn't know what to do with all the self confidence I am betting - especially when I tie myself into knots about the positive things in my life. Bleah, I am not going to self analyse tonight - well, any more than I already have.

Am trying to convince SGR to socialise on Friday night - she is on her P license, so when she drives the car to the train station, she can't even have one beer. Fingers crossed she will decide to have at least one night out as a team mate. Socialising on Friday would be good.

Could write so much about the world news stories over the last couple of days, but I won't bore you all, at least for now.

Pauly

A Blank Canvas

Of course, as soon as I start writing it will be far less a blank canvas, but you know what I mean. I was thinking of the moments, minutes, hours where I sit here, wondering what to start writing about, before that spark of inspiration.

I sent my 'Depression' series, in full, to V. She asked my permission before showing it to one of her friends at work, and they both said that I should submit something to a competition, publisher or whatever, and that my writing was wasted doing what it does (ie, here LOL). V then spent the next twenty minutes looking for writing competitions I could enter myself in - there is one in the UK offering a hundred and fifty quid (damn not having the pound key LOL) or one with the Australian Women's Weekly offering a top prize of ten grand Aussie, for something between three and five thousand words, from the perspective of a woman.

Maybe I do need that push or something, because otherwise I would wait to be 'discovered' in my little corner of the web here (which is very unlikely to happen, let's face it) or hide behind the fact that every blogger is a writer waiting to be discovered, so I shouldn't jump my place in queue, especially since most of those who are seemingly discovered do stuff like sex blogs, which is so not my subject matter.

I need a good opening line, a good plot, good characterisation, and a good genre to write about, if I even think about starting a short story competition piece. V sent me through a winner in the tertiary category of some competition last year, and said surely you can do better than that. We will see - I would love to do all that sort of stuff though, and be good at it. I just need a push I think, in some other aspects of my life as well perhaps.

Or sometimes I think I could possibly write stand up routine instead, Seinfeldesque LOL. Of course, Seinfeld itself, the show about nothing, is so 90s, and I don't think would have made it in the post 9/11 landscape, but it made it when it did and was damned good.

For instance, I had a haircut today. Now today I was wearing glasses, so had to take them off while my hair was being cut. I always sort of worry when I can't see what the hairdresser is doing, but today especially she was shearing me like a sheep, being very thorough about it, but still, a feeling of being shorn. And then, the thought crossed my mind that despite all the dummy runs they have in hairdresser school, surely there is a time when hairdressers have to cut a paying customer's hair for the first time. This girl looked about sixteen or so, and it may have been my own worry, but I thought that her hands on the scissors were shaking.

I thought about it further, and it was earlyish on a Monday, and if she had been hired straight from hairdressing college the Friday before, maybe she had been shown the ropes the first couple of hours she was there before being let loose on my hair. If she had even been to hairdresser school in the first place, maybe her certificate was a dodgy internet scam. She had seemed tentative on the clippers as well.

How does that length feel she said, and I, being blind, said it felt good - what else could I say that would not lead to me needing a skinhead? I got out of there as quickly as possible, and have kept rubbing my hair all day since, is there too much off or not - I can't see the back of my head, and she didn't even do the usual 'mirror how does that look at the back' routine. Hopefully my friends at work aren't too cruel about it all.

Eh, eh? Seinfeld anyone? Or is it just me LOL. It was supposed to be a quick minute stand up piece, but the length of it would be a monologue by George I think, and it would be a running joke for at least two or three more episodes LOL.

Comments, as always, most welcome.
Paul

Incendiary

Have just read the above book, by Chris Cleave. Had heard about it and the somewhat awful luck it had to come out the day of the real London bombings on July 7, and saw it in the bookshop, read a couple of pages, and decided to buy it, even though I had no real book budget this week.

I started reading it fully, rather than skimming, at the bus station, even before getting home. I could not physically put it down, and finished it off less than three hours later. A truly gripping read. There are weak points, of course, but the core of the story, the grief of a mother for her son, the believability of a football match being targetted by terrorists, and the believability of the immediate aftermath of the attacks sears into the back of your mind.

There is a howl of loss and horror throughout the book. It is hard to describe beyond how I have already. And an amazing job for a first book - there are weak points, but it can only get better from here, surely.

Two good reviews, a shorter one here, a longer, Guardian based one, here. There are other reviews around, less than complimentary, but if you need to find bad ones, after me raving about the whole thing, google's always available LOL.

Pauly

The Weekend Thus Far

Only in New Zealand would a story about the death of a former Prime Minister contain the following sentence -

'He died in Middlemore Hospital last night, just before the kickoff of the rugby test against Australia.'

RIP David Lange. The first Prime Minister I can remember clearly - the Muldoon years are such a pre-schoolish blur. Even though he was a lefty, and he destroyed ANZUS, I cannot imagine what New Zealand would have been like without the economic wrenches he and the Third Labour Government pushed through (had a high school history teacher who, when talking about Labour administrations, you could hear the Capitals In The Way He Spoke LOL - less so when talking national party governments).

Hmm, am live streaming from Newstalk ZB from back home - all the finny ekksents. And saw a preview for King Kong, made by Peter Jackson in Wellington. And was working on my diary from 1994 - transferring it to here, thinking about home. Just a phase, I am sure I will get over it - 99% of the time it doesn't feel like I am in a different country at all, but sometimes I get homesick. My parents are back home for a long weekend, to see the rellies, they must be having fun, not only is there an election going on, but now with Lange dying hmm, they will want to come back here as soon as possible LOL.

It's far too late at night to get maudlin, lol, am looking at the Wellington community noticeboard on the radio station site - snap out of it Pauly!

Finally, Paula Radcliffe has won a medal in a championship, rather than just the winner's cheque for all those professional events. She got the IAAF World Champs marathon a couple of hours ago - remember at the Athens Olympics she was Britain's dead cert gold and didn't even complete the race? Well, the world champs are the next best thing to an Olympics medal I guess - but in my mind she will always be crying at the side of the road rather than the British flag around her (long overdue) as she is at the moment.

The Ashes are intriguingly placed at the moment - for the first time all series I am actually watching deep into the night with wide awake interest, rather than sleepy might as well watch nothing better to do attitude. England are trying to set a target quickly, but they aren't yet at one day freneticism about it all (although they have eight wickets left, they could, let's get Flintoff and Pietersen in).

The most intriguing thing about the whole affair is how ordinary the Australians are looking this game, they have not set the agenda or pace of the game at all - I don't think I have ever seen the Aussies do that for any two day in a row stretch before this series - even when they have been in losing situations, they have never looked as ordinary as this series and this test match in particular.

Personally this weekend, haven't done too much. Went out and saw The Jacket at the movies today - quite good, entertaining, seeing Keira Knightley's breasts LOL. Although the plot was a bit of a mishmash between One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Twelve Monkeys, with a dash of Back to the Future and perhaps a nod to Total Recall - one of those movies that look good, but half an hour after leaving you think, now surely there are holes in the plot there, there, there AND there LOL. But a nice little movie, especially being third choice of the weekend (keeping the top two choices up my sleeve for V visiting, of course). And Keira Knightley played white trash quite well, Adrian Brody played the nice guy nutter quite well.

And of course, the opening sequence, the whole thing about how easily perceptions can be molded - what with the video game sense of war Iraq in 1991 gave us, and the media kept well away from the actual fighting, Schwarzkopf and Bush the Elder and their neutered briefings. And then going down to the actual grittiness of the fighting, and the fact that blood is spilt and lives are lost or shattered.

No Iraq 2005 links tonight, I promise. No promises for tomorrow though.

Pauly

Seriously... Depression Pt 5 From The Ashes

Muddled memories from the rest of that day. Coming in and out of consciousness, but only barely above a dream. Being wheelchaired around the hospital, moving around on the bed - or was it all part of that dream? It is all so fuzzy.

I remember waking up the next morning, in darkness, with my mother reading the paper beside me. I had taken the best attempt doing the worst thing I could do to myself, and seemed to have come through. All the tension of the past few months just drained out of me, no doubt flowing into those around me a hundred fold. But it was out of me - I was in no mood to try again. At least that day.

I was asked by the shrinks whether I wanted to admit myself into the psych ward in the region, for a week or two of observations - one of those moments where your life could go in one of two directions. I thought long and hard about it, consulted with my parents, and decided not to go into institutional care. I would of course see the shrink regularly again, for an unspecified time, but I was discharged that day.

I felt broken, completely torn apart, and needing to rebuild myself completely. And this time I was receptive to help, whereas in the interval between the first and second attempts I continued to be secretive. I still loathed the world and myself, but wanted to improve rather than destroy myself this time around.

I dropped out of trying at school again, which I feel was one of the best things for me. I should never have agreed to sign up for trying there again. Unsurprisingly, I had another two weeks off before the next set of school holidays. For the final term, I just turned up to attempt to start socialising again, although I felt a huge space around me, from staff, classmates and friends - I never wanted to confirm what the gossip was about me though. Our school was on the news while I was away from class as being hit by a suicide epidemic - there had been about four 'successful' suicides in a period of two years, with an unspecified number of attempts. Now I feel sympathy for what the staff were going through, but back then, I couldn't care less.

The next four months are basically a blur. My self confidence and self esteem were in the cellar, I was NOT taking medication - it had done so well for me last time around, obviously - and was attending the psych clinic twice a week those first few months. My social life was going to school. What I had feared was about to come to pass - the end of school, the end of my social life, and feeling broken and useless for the impending workforce.

I got a job the next year through my mother's work - another section, I wasn't working with her thank goodness. My social life improved, and alcohol was finally included at parties I attended - I discovered the wonders of beer and spirits. The teenage stereotype is that this happens during high school, as part of a funny story which would make a brainless but entertaining movie, but as stated before I was so not part of the A-league there.

My self confidence improved, if not my self esteem. Is that understandable? My confidence in myself grew in incremental steps, bunnylike hops in their smallness, yet my confidence in how others saw me remained at rock bottom, and has remained that way most of the rest of my life thus far.

The cutover point where the crisis ended and the rest of my life began happened approximately two years after my two suicide attempts. The trigger point where my 'hamster spinning in the wheel, merely waiting to drink on the weekend' stage ended and where things could move forward again was the travel bug hitting, and starting to organise a European trip twelve months out from the actual trip. My self confidence and esteem were still very low, but for the first time since I had started attacking my wrists, and probably a lot longer before that actually, for the first time in a long time, things were steadily and consistently moving up.

I was not cured, but I was on my way.

Seriously... Depression Pt 4 Relapse

[Continuation from this post last weekend...]

The school ball was a disaster. Well, it wasn't a disaster, but I had held it aloft for months as an answer to all my issues, that I would suddenly become popular, part of the alpha male group, that I would have the most fun of my life there. I had built up expectations to an unrealistic level.

When, on the night, I danced, I socialised, I wasn't invited to any pre or post ball parties - it just didn't seem enough. Also around this time, my year group deans convinced me to at least register for the end of year tests again, if I didn't feel like doing it I could back out closer to the end of the year - that put extra pressure on me, as if I had to start trying to do something at school again, other than just float.

Although I didn't fall as blackly as before, there was another touch of insanity about the subsequent decision to not take the anti-depressants, to stockpile them, in case of a 'rainy day'. Yes, I did think in terms of that rainy day wording, as if I was not depressed or suicidal yet, but just in case it happened later, I would be able to put the correct plan in action.

Stockpiling the pills was harder than it may sound. I was rationed two pills a day, the actual full bottle was under the watchful eye of my parents, and they watched while I took the pills and water. However, I put the pills in my mouth, under my tongue, drank the water down, went to my room and took the pills out of my mouth. I continued to do this for just under a month.

I was still angry at the world. At the school ball not meeting my expectations. At my psychiatrist, whom I thought obviously could never understand me, signing me off as cured. At my teachers for twisting my arm to enrol back into the end of year tests. At myself even, for only trying to slit my wrists a few months earlier, that if I had really wanted to kill myself I would have done something 'better'.

I convinced myself that taking pills would be a 'real' attempt, worthy of the whole suicide thought. That although scars on my wrist were nice and all, surviving that was easy - if I had a real attempt and I made it through I would have done my 'best' in the whole destructive process way. However, partly to raise my chances of survival, partly to show how much I was hating school, I decided to take the pills just before going to school and still wander in, see what happened.

After about three and a half weeks I think, I finally summoned up the courage to go through with the idea. And yes, even though it is the most destructive act one can do, it is still a matter of courage to go through with it - it is not a coward's way out, in the sense that so many people think. It is not the most courageous decision one can make, but there is at least a sense of courage about it. That thought and belief has stuck with me even when all the other suicidal thoughts have been lost or discredited.

It was a Tuesday I believe. I soaked in the minutae of the morning, was it porridge or weetbix I had for breakfast, or perhaps toast. Drinking in the sights of my family, determined to crash and burn later on that day, saying goodbye to my mother as she headed to work. I went into my room, looked at the pills, got a big glass of water. And proceeded to take about thirty of them. For some reason, that was only about half, the others kept in case of another 'rainy day'. Yes, I was insane at this stage.

Tears streaming down my face, listening to REM's Losing My Religion, again, and again, and again. It was on tape, so play, rewind, play, rewind repeat. My favourite song of all time, and the lyrics meant so much. The mandolin solo at the end.

I put myself together as much as I could, wondering how this would all turn out, and walked to school. First period was Biology, and although I felt faint when I arrived at school, I was still OKish. About ten minutes into the period, which I was not taking any notice of at all, my heart beat quickened, and the teacher came over and asked what is wrong. I said I had overdosed.

Two classmates were quickly assigned to take me to the sick room. My body went limp under me as I was carried into the sunlight, one of the boys asking what I had taken. I remember slurring out the name of the drug, and I passed out - fade to black.

Work And Pleasure

It's getting so that I can't even walk down the corridor at work without nerves shooting through me. No, no, don't be like that, nothing at work is ever going to go anywhere at all, but take this for an example. Girl I am friendly with says 'hi Paul', and me, trying to be nonchalant about it, as if it happens all the time, nothing to stop for - plus would get me into trouble with parts of my non-work life - don't stop, dart my eyes over quickly, say 'hey' back.

And my voice breaks, in the worst possible way, like a young adolescent. On just a one syllable semi answer - DEFINITELY not going to stop for a chat now, and flee from the vicinity LOL. No, it's not that the non-work part of me is cramping my style at all, it is just my long held position of not starting anything with a workmate, the policy making a strong comeback from almost being shredded two weeks ago. Was it only two weeks? I look at the calendar, and confirm that this has been the longest two weeks in months.

Another workplace girl, whom I feel I am good friends with, has a revealing top on. Has a diamond like panel cut out of the front, from her neck down, a piece of clothing given to her by a friend, that is lower cut than she was expecting. I feel she is somewhat embarrassed by it all. I am wearing one of my better shirts, and comment that we are both overdressed for the work day. We share a smile, and get back to the phone calls.

I think on it later, and realise we do share a lot of smiles. I wonder how she thinks of me. In a completely friend way, as she has a potential 'jealous nutter boyfriend' thing going on at home - if I even drift my fingers over that particular fire, I think that the reaction would give me a broken hand, arm, face perhaps. But we do share a lot of smiles.

With the week I have had at work, it is getting to the point where I am not wanting to talk to the customers at all. Which is a Very Bad Thing, being in a call centre. I need a break, I need to unwind. I have a three day weekend now, but still not sure whether that will be enough. I try to repeat the mantras in my head that there is such a thing as good stress, but surely being hit with different amounts of stress from four seemingly different directions is not a rosy positive?

After my work day ends, I head to the nearest bar. I need to take the edge off, and stating it that way makes me sound like an alcoholic. Less than the beer though, I need companionship, of friends around me, of a sense that I have not been alone in my head this week, disliking customers. The nearest bar I scan, no one there. I could go to the regular railway station, there is a bar downstairs there, but it is a refuge of last resort, I need something better.

I head in the opposite direction, towards the Valley. I remember walking in those same footsteps two weeks ago, and try to banish those thoughts from my mind - that was then, this is now, and after then, completely different scenario. It could also have helped if I had reached out to friends and advised them that I was thinking of heading out, but that is part of my shyness perhaps, not wanting to put people out merely because I need a boost. Also the thought of how strong friendships based at work are currently. I only seem to be invited to extravaganza leaving dinners and drinks, not the run of the mill it's Friday let's go out.

My self esteem, low as it is, makes an appearance, and I grin in the most self deprecating way I know how. I try to remember when I wasn't worried about this type of thing (when sober), it must have been at primary school perhaps.

I find myself at a bar, one regularly attended by workmates, and scan the tables. I buy a beer, bottled, I don't want to drink an entire pint, having flirted with the idea of a bourbon. I flag that idea away as I know I will want more of that taste later if it passes my lips now. Like a blinding light, I realise I am not in the mood for socialising, even if I do come across friends or workmates, if I drink tonight it will be to get drunk - it has been that bad a week.

I take a seat, by myself, on the edge of the outside tables. To possibly scan in towards the bar, or to people watch along the mall. I end up doing more of the former than the latter, though not much of either. I try to see that I am not the only one alone, but not at this bar. A young couple sits beside me, talking loudly - too loudly for them to be a couple in all senses of the word, maybe this is a first or second date, still testing each other's boundaries out. Even if they are merely workmates, the fact that no one else is with them indicates the meeting is somewhat date inclined.

More than people watching though, either around the tables or on the street, I sip my beer and take my mobile phone out of my jacket pocket every two minutes or so, glaring as I do so. This will not be an eventful night I quickly realise, and I really should have told someone, anyone, that I felt like going out. Plus, me looking at my mobile gives me the appearance of possibly waiting for someone, instead of being the sad lonely pathetic person I am quickly shrivelling up inside to be. I remember similar strategies when I was in London. Self esteem 2, Pauly 0.

I realise that I do have a few, precious few, contacts on the mobile that are actually in Brisbane. I text one, an ex workmate that I haven't seen in two months at least, an English girl, swallowing the lump of embarrassment in my throat about meaning to text her about the London bombings but not quite getting around to it. I text her now, and make a promise to myself that if she texts back, and says she is out and about, that I will stay in town, if not by the time I have finished my beer and had a 'meal', it is time to go home.

I finish my beer, leave the pub, and head over to the fast food outlet. I am feeling completely exhausted, as I take a seat to people watch in the mall again. As I eat my burgers (yes, I did need a second one) Crowded House come on as music, with 'It's Only Natural'. I love the band, but I am so not in the mood for this particular song. The busker a couple of doors down, seemingly inspired, starts 'You Better Be Home Soon' - I can't see him now, but I remember passing him, sitting on a blanket, with a guitar. He could be one of the homeless, and he sings out of tune. It is as cold a night as it ever gets in Queensland, and prejudicially I think that all 'real' buskers would be home by now.

A young family comes into view, mother, father and young child, perhaps four or five. I wonder what the child thinks of the shabbiness around her, and try to think back to when I was a child visiting the city with my parents. I remember that unless it was pointed out to me, I didn't notice it - the young girl tonight is probably having a whale of a time. I then think of how the city, or at least the street, would appear if I did have friends around me and perhaps a couple more beers inside me - soberness and company can make a huge difference in perceptions.

Still no text from the ex workmate when I get to the train station. Opposite the station is a strip bar, and I see the bouncer talking to kids outside. They obviously crave the excitement the place throws out to their male teenage hormones, but they are also so obviously underage. It looks like it has been a long conversation between the teens and the bouncer already, and if they were puppy dogs their tails would still be wagging. Persistence seems the name of the game, but it won't get them anywhere. Maybe they would have better luck at the adult store next door - or perhaps they have been there first, their hormones racing now, and are trying to make the next step up.

I see a sub sandwich chain that I remember from Canada in the food court at the station, and silently curse myself for the burgers I have had already. Perhaps will have the subs next time, if I can remember they are there. The quick burst of memory takes me back to eating out in Ottawa, a faint burst of warmth in my brain only, as I now just want to go home and curl up.

I sit at the platform as three trains go past, a lot for this time of night, but the Exhibition is on in town. I flirt tiredly with the idea of attending tonight, but it is late, the show will only be open a couple more hours at most, not worth a full admission cost. And how different can it really be since the last time I was there, five years ago.

I think of that whole concept of five years ago - before any of my major relationships, before September 11 and Ground Zero. I want to analyse it further, to roll it around in my head as if it was a smooth stone in my fingertips, but my eyes droop further. I silently curse that the most entertaining thing I have with me is my mobile, with it's very basic games. I should have picked up a magazine to read on the way home.

When there is nothing to do on a train, the only thing I can seem to do is count down the stations to home. Even though it is only about a half hour train ride north of the city, it seems to take a lifetime. I make it home, eventually. I switch the TV on, and immerse myself in the Ashes. Not quite a second wind for the day, but as occupied as my mind wishes to be. Channel flicking, I see Grease on another channel, I have never watched that movie and decide not to break my duck tonight. I channel flick from the cricket occasionally, very occasionally - now to Rage, but their playlist tonight isn't up to much.

It is a late night, or early morning, by the time I get to bed.

Pauly

Siberia Is Melting

An ancient peat bog in western Siberia, the size of France and Germany combined, is thawing. For the first time since the last ice age, eleven thousand years ago. Billions of tonnes of methane, twenty times more potent a greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide, could be released if/when the place melts fully. Even if it leaks over the course of a hundred years, it will still do as much damage as an annual dose of CO2 from 'wetlands and agriculture'. Eek.

Thought of the day time - 'Invisible threads are the strongest ties' - Friedrich Nietzsche...

Third Test, Nine Songs

First two thoughts in my head as I sit down for tonight's blog. The day itself I have tried to obliterate from my mind LOL yes that bad. Only work related bothers, but still, that bad.

Third test is England v Australia in the Ashes of course. 93 for 1 at lunch on the first day, the English are. Good start, a long way to go though - good to see Vaughan finally get some runs, he is 41 not out currently.

Nine Songs, of course, is the movie I saw last weekend - yes, I know, I know, taking my own sweet time to talk about last weekend, but it has been an exhausting week. Anyways, Nine Songs charts a relationship from start to finish with explicit sex spliced in between nine concert songs. Yes, there was EVERYTHING showing at different parts of the movie, and apart from one scene there was nothing porn like about the whole thing. But really, it was horrid in a teeth grinding and barely able to keep myself from checking my watch to see when to go type way. If they had had a better plot, and got rid of the Antarctica scenes, and not show as much as they did sex wise, it could have been a GOOD movie, instead of a boring, excruciating to watch one.

That movie viewing of course being part of my 'there aren't any good new releases, let's see what the fuss is about and after this we will no longer talk or think about this whole sorry wreck of a movie' film festival lol. Maybe the reaction to it was kind of like how the viewing public found A Clockwork Orange first time around - my parents went to see it, it was rated R-21 in New Zealand, and couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

This weekend we have Wedding Crashers, dumb fun looking, in a Something About Mary kind of way, Look Both Ways, Aussie movie which looked good in a quiet drama kind of way on the ABC Movie Show last night, The Jacket, which has Adrien Brody and sounds good, Kung Fu Hustle, which looks an enjoyable mess of a movie - the Matrix fight scenes without a plot. No, not the Matrix sequels LOL. Might save the first two choices for when V comes up next month. Oh, and for the completists out there, I know it can't only be me, somehow I managed to miss mentioning that I had seen Fantastic Four a few weeks ago... don't ask how I discovered that I had missed mentioning it please LOL.

Well, at least there is the inkling of a smile on my mouth and in my eyes. Has been a long day.

Got to the train station this morning, with the announcement that my train would be ten minutes late, bloody Ekka special trains LOL, which then knocked on and made me five minutes late for work. Which I had a bloody late shift for anyways. So the prologue wasn't good for starters.

And then, as soon as I got into work, noted emails saying that a job that I had tried to push through for a customer the previous evening couldn't be done because it would muck up the processes. Grr. And then a later email said that the customer was trying to be put through to me (with a late shift, it's like I lose half the day even before coming in). Grr. Talked to a team leader to see how to resolve the issue, who would have a look at it, and told me not to talk to the customer until we had some resolution.

Customer rang back again, wanting to speak to me, for some reason it wasn't transferred, but I was feeling edgy already. When the team leader sorted out what I should do, I had to give the work to another section, whose phone number as on the contact list WAS NOT WORKING, so I had to send the work to our investigations area with one minute to go until a meeting. Was quite a quick, curt email to advise to keep an eye out for my work coming through, and then into the meeting. By the time my mind slowed down from the stress beforehand the meeting was fifteen minutes over LOL.

And the customer had rung through AGAIN while I was in the meeting, was put through to the correct section, but there was a huge stress point in my back for most of the rest of the day. And the beginnings of a great headache. LDU was getting even more stressed than I was, and probably made herself dizzy and sick, she left after only a couple of hours. She wasn't happy from the moment she came in.

After the week I have had at work, I so want to go out for a beer tomorrow night. Dancing would be good as well, but beer is the first port of call. Wonder who will be at the pub by the time I have finished off my second beer tomorrow night and am thinking home or socialising LOL.

Bumped into LNE on the way to the train station tonight. Was going home in the same direction on the same train as ADE, and they were doing a survey, Kiwis apparently like beer over bourbon, but bourbon is our spirit, whereas private school people like rugby union and rum. She always seems so happy and smiley, and I was thinking of chatting the extra fifteen minutes on their side of the railway platform, but thought I might make a silly person out of myself, again, with the discretion and valour thing. Sent LNE an email today, saying that I'm still interested in going upstairs if a general shift around is ordered. Would be nice.

England 151 for 1 at drinks in the afternoon session. Doing well, both Vaughan and Trescothick have centuries. Boy is it good to see these Aussies finally in a real dog fight, after about five years at least.

Will sleep well tonight, exhausting day.

Pauly

Three Down, Two To Go

Days of the week I am meaning. These late shifts aren't getting any easier, and will be so up for a beer on Friday - of course, if anyone else decides to come. If I get over my shyness and ask, instead of doing the quiet thing and then just seeing what workmates are actually at the pub without a nudge from myself.

Might as well catch up on the week that has been so far, since I have been only half in and out of things on here the last couple of days. England won the second Ashes test, by two runs. Two measly runs, and the last two wickets almost got it for the Aussies. As exciting a final session as I think I can remember. Was very tense, and at one all in the series, everything for both teams to play for. FINALLY, a team is standing up to the Australians, in a series against the Ockers. Usually teams can wallop everyone else in the two years before an Australian test series, and then just wilt like nothing when it comes to the crunch. And the celebration once England won the match, sounded more like a top league footy match than test cricket. Twenty20, who needs it LOL.

Peter Jennings died. Now for those of you who don't know US network news, that won't mean much. But for those who do take an interest, Jennings was always my favourite out of the top three, him, Brokaw and Rather. There has been talk of the passing of network news over the past year or so, what with the three retirements, but with this death, well, it really is an exclamation point to the whole discussion. Jennings was only on TV in early April, and died of lung cancer on Sunday.

More again soon
Paul

Very Tiring Days

Grr. That's how I feel at the moment. Am on late shifts at work, with the timezones and all, and being a national call centre, my shifts end at 7pm, and am on them all week (a new timetabling thing, just started this week - it used to be a couple of late shifts a month, but now it could be a full week of lates once every two or three months). Sure, I get in at 10.30 or so, but that's not important, I have never been a morning person, so an early morning or late morning, it is all the same to me.

Is very tiring. And is very annoying, getting in every single day to fifteen emails that either have nothing to do specifically with me, or otherwise are a general harangue about how to do our jobs better - across the call centre our stats are very good the last few weeks, but I guess they have to find something to bug us about.

So it is mid afternoon before us late starters are up to speed fully (what is more important, customers or internal emails LOL), and are usually fully stuck into difficult issues at the same time. LDU is on the same shift as me this week, and after everyone else had left from our side of the floor, we were bitching big time about the way the whole thing is run.

It doesn't help that my head is somewhat spinning on the whole V issue thing. Wasn't as much on my mind today as it was yesterday, but it is swirling in the background.

Would love to finish the whole Depression writing cycle, but as I said earlier today, it needs a clear head and concentration, and will probably have those circumstances on the weekend again.

Pauly

Quickly

Haven't really been in the mood to post the last couple of days - or even really to come online. Which is bizarre for netboy me LOL. What with getting home late all week this week, needing to finish the Depression series, but without enough spare quiet time to do so (will probably be next weekend when I get back to it again), and the whole thing of having long overdue Deep and Meaningful's with V, the net has taken a bit of a back seat.

I am sure it will all realign itself 'correctly' over the next couple of days though.

Pauly

A Mini Break

Hey all - well, the previous three posts really took it out of me today, I even had to take a break from the computer and lie down for a while. It is not as if writing about my teenage depression will make me depressed all over again, but just it is kinda sorta exhausting trying to think like a seventeen year old again, especially the way that I was seventeen years old.

Am doing a bit of BlogExplosioning tonight, the cricket isn't the most inspiring and still half an hour to go until Total Recall, let alone the rugby, New Zealand versus South Africa on in about two hours time, so instead of going full on into my depression, thought I would give new readers at least a respite from the harrowing nature of the last three postings.

Just a quick one peeps
Pauly

Seriously... Depression Pt 3 Interregnum

The next day, Monday, my mother took me to see our GP. Who made an appointment with a psychiatrist at the hospital. After the initial psychiatric scan - no I am not gay is the only answer I can remember giving - I was enrolled into the children and young person’s programme, to see a psychiatrist once a week for the foreseeable future. I believe I was also prescribed anti-depressants at that stage.

The next couple of months are a blur. The first few weeks my mother took time off from work to keep an eye on me – when I had opened up about what was going on, and had seen the GP and psychiatrist initially, there was a week to go before the next round of school holidays. So obviously, I took that week off.

In my appointments with the shrink, I seethed. I can’t remember what I was so angry about now, but all I know is that I was very angry at the world. I had bottled my emotions so long that they all flowed out of me in a torrent. I remember the shrink saying that my note to the parents was almost poetic, but that is about the only positive thing I can remember being said in those sessions.

In the family group appointments - yes, they do happen, and yes, I know they are a cliché – I remember a sense of my parents and siblings recoiling from my flood of emotions, self-hatred, and anger. I can’t remember if they actually did recoil, but I can remember that sense. At home, knowing that I was under an uneasy combination of eagle eyed surveillance and the others walking gingerly, as if on glass, around me.

Of all the things that I regret about this time, one in particular is my sister hearing my parents talking about the note that I had left that Sunday. She was only eleven at the time, and yet to know how devastated and hopeless I was - yes, one of the many regrets.

Slowly, glacially it seemed to me at the time, the appointments got better, I was keeping my emotions better leashed, and school had removed itself from my list of worries. I had dropped out of the end of year exams, and I believe was bragging about it. Very fucked up way of thinking, yes I know.

And the School Ball was coming up. And I had asked a girl to go with, and amazingly she had said yes. Things were as positive as they could be, it seemed. My shrink said I was OK enough to go from weekly appointments to three monthly check ups, and I continued to take the meds.

Seriously... Depression Pt 2 Tipping Point

On my seventeenth birthday I got a phone call from out of the clear blue sky. My birth family had found my family’s phone number in the directory.

I had known I was adopted for as long as I can remember, my parents never believed in hiding that away. My first memory is of a wishing well cake, with chocolate frogs and jelly for water, for my adoption party, when I was three and a half – I had been fostered since four or five months by the same couple, which led to my long held belief that all foster children should stay with the same family and is a natural progression to adoption. I am too cynical these days to believe that, and I was and have been very lucky with the family I found myself with.

My parents had kept all the correspondence from my birth family, waiting for me to be old enough to digest the information. I believe I was thirteen when I read it all. I then contacted my birth family, writing letters, sending photos perhaps every four to six months or so.

Being rung by my ‘brothers’ to be wished a happy birthday and to be told that I should visit them by the time I turned twenty one was not part of the overall contact plan. As the conversation progressed on the phone, I turned gray in complexion, and felt sick to the stomach. When I got off the phone I brushed the incident off, though told my parents as much as I could remember.

Less than a week after my seventeenth birthday, my self worth plunged precipitously.

I personally believe it was due to me suffering burn out towards my schoolwork. Ergo, I would not go to university. Ergo, I would not get an interesting and fulfilling job. Ergo, my life would be a waste. Ergo, why bother, and let’s just give up.

I had concentrated for four years on my high school grades, and had been getting more and more frustrated by the combination of my procrastination and the last minute efforts I had to put in to do projects and such like. Combined with a sense that even my best effort would not get me into university, a civil war broke out inside me.

This was fought with the sense of responsibility I have had throughout my life, opposing the desperation of helplessness that even my best would not be good enough to get me through. My helplessness was ably abetted by the chasm of the unknown that would be my life without grades, homework and the like. I just snapped and wanted OUT.

The silly, very silly thing is, I could have left high school the year before my breakdown, gone to a polytechnic institute and learnt a trade that I had a great degree of interest in. But I insisted that I could put it off for a year, join the herd mentality of final year of high school and THEN going separate ways after that. Boy, do I regret that decision every single time I think about it. And yes, my parents were right in that argument.

It was a Tuesday, maybe a week or two after my birthday, when things came to a head. I stayed home, with the intention of killing myself. Somehow, I can’t remember how, I managed to psych myself up to the point of cutting my wrists. The pain, bearable. The blood, beautiful, in its destructive way. But although I felt faint, I didn’t feel particularly close to death.

I cut deeper. The pain got more intense, yet still somehow bearable. This wasn’t going anywhere fast. I had lunch, and then worked at my wounds, almost like a craftsman, whittling a bit here, another bit there, deeper, always deeper. But the blood wasn’t flowing as I felt it should, and it started clotting as well.

Evening came. My family came home. Being winter, I put on a long sleeved woolen jersey, to hide my wounds, flirting desperately close to insanity with that decision. I was quieter than usual in my interactions, but still managed to make the effort to appear normal. My family not having an inkling of what was going on in my head, they took the acting at face value.

The above three paragraphs repeated over the next three days as well, Wednesday to Friday. I felt trapped. I couldn’t tell my family what was going on, I couldn’t just go back to school without a sick note and go cheerily on, all I felt I could do was cut deeper, even though by now I knew I wasn’t going to die because of this, and treat my wounds as if they were works of art, making them as ‘perfect’ as they could be.

Saturday was ordinary enough as well. Sunday, I went to a friend’s place, to play wargames - yes, I was in the geek section of the whole high school experience. Before I left, I penned a quick note about what was going on, and put it on my parents’ bed. And left it to fate, if they read it then it was meant to be, if not then I would battle on myself for a time yet.

I came home, and went to my room. Everything seemed normal. Five or ten minutes later, my mother knocked on the door, red rimmed eyes as she looked in and said we need to talk. We went into the lounge, where my father was also, and showed my wounds, everyone bursting into tears. The conversation after that is a blur.

Seriously... Depression Pt 1 Before The Fall

I don’t know when I first felt depressed.

I can, however, remember the circumstances where I was picked on as a kid enough for it to sear into my brain, as good a starting point for this essay as any. My family had moved to Australia, and I was short and funny accented. Easy pickings.

I had fought in school once, when I was eight years old, against six year olds, if I can remember correctly. I was defending my friends, or something, but the shame I felt when the teacher gave us a dressing down has stayed with me for the rest of my life.

So when I was teased at high school - I can’t remember being teased as much in the last two years of primary school, even though that was also in Australia – when I was teased at high school, I couldn’t lash out, even if I wasn’t the smallest boy in the year group. Instead, I took it, laughed at myself, made a joke of myself and thus pre-empted any verbal attacks.

Which was fine in high school, kids can be so cruel, but the more time passed, the harsher I became on myself, even when I had gotten beyond the pettiness of teenage years. When you are harsh on yourself it so easily leads to self-loathing.

As I said, I can’t remember when I first got depressed, but I can remember when I first thought of suicide. I was fifteen, and I took a knife into my room. For a week I flirted with the thought of using it, late at night, to plunge through my ribcage and pierce my heart. I don’t know what brought that thought process on, I was doing OK enough at school – by this time we had moved back to New Zealand, no more funny accent teasing.

I stopped flirting with the idea after my paternal grandfather died. I thought it would be unfair on my family to give a double blow in so short a time, but don’t ask me why I thought they could handle the possible single blow of me dying. The knife slipped back into the kitchen, unnoticed.

When I was sixteen, I missed a chemistry project at school. Completely. I hadn’t started it two days before it was due, and had a huge crisis of confidence. The day it was due in, I skipped school. The first time that I can remember doing that without being validly sick. I believe it was Melbourne Cup Day 1992, as I watched horse racing that day, and that is the only race that I watch ever.

I didn't complete the project. I 'convinced' the teacher that I had handed it in, but it must have gotten lost. There was a practical part to the proect where you gave a three-minute speech, but I refused to do it. I believe the teacher thought it better not to push me on the matter. The whole matter was the first major blow to my long-held belief that school grades were actually important in any sense.