Drinking Tea

As I sit at my computer drinking tea, I wonder how it can possibly be New Year's Eve already. I'm not usually a tea drinker, and prefer a good strong cup of coffee to any other hot beverage, so right now I'm very aware that I'm in a strange mood. My mood is rather reflective, however, so I'll subject you to some of my reflections.

I set myself some NYResolutions this time last year, and for the first time ever I've achieved the majority. There were 3, and I can tick off 2 of them. They were something like:

1) Go to the gym at least once a week
2) Get on with my writing
3) Be nicer to people

Guess which one I didn't get. For all those who answered (3) you win a prize: It's in the post.

So, I will attempt to be nicer in 2008, but I'm not gonna beat myself up about it because, quite frankly, I've done bloody well with the others!

In short, it's been my best year ever and I'm going to be really sad to see it go. I've lost 20kg, I've become a brunette, and I've done all sorts of other stuff that I'm super proud of but don't really want to go into on a public domain such as this. There is one person who knows exactly what I've done this year, and without your help I wouldn't have done it so I owe you big time. It's been the single most important thing I've ever done and I thank you. Your prize will be delivered shortly.

Wow - how inclusive of me.

So, I'm going to spend the rest of the day in my pj's, drinking tea and eating fruit and vegetables, because I'm sick. This has been hanging around for about a week now, and it's made my skin go bad, my hair go lank and my nose is running like a tap. Along with my hayfever induced red itchy eyes, I'm a sight to be seen, let me assure you. With this in mind, and with the whole 'being nicer to people', I feel I should stay inside and away from the general public and their small children.

Hmmm, I believe at exactly this time last year I was sick as well; vomiting sick and had to come home from Sydney early... while the sicknesses are entirely dissimilar, I like the idea that my body is somehow purging itself for the new year to come. I expect to wake up tomorrow feeling super.

Feline Induced Insanity

My cat, Colin, is an acrobat. I feel that I may be stifling his natural talents by keeping him locked up in a house with 10 foot ceilings. You see, last night he was chasing a fly, and he did a jump, from a standing position, and reached a height of 6 foot. He achieved this stunt with no great difficulty, which leads me to believe that he could in fact reach higher heights.

Perhaps I can make some money out of this...? I wonder how many people would pay to see a small, hypoallergenic cat jump extreme heights in the air. Is there an Animal Extreme Sports Olympics I could enter him into? Would that mean that he'd have to wear some kind of aerodynamic sports suit? Could I make it a pink one with diamante's studded on the back to spell out his initials? I can see it now... CFB in sparkly diamonds, glittering as he jumps up to retrieve the gold medal that he so rightly deserves...

So I would be the leader of his fan club, being his mother and all. And I could recruit people to be part of the fan club and I'd teach them the team song which I made up yesterday. It's to the tune of "Don't ya wish your girlfriend was hot like me..." by the Pussycat Dolls. Not that I like that song in particular, it's just that Colin likes it. Here are the words for you to learn; if you'd like to be part of the fan club you can start memorising them now, and I'll teach you the dance moves at a later date:

Don't ya wish your kitty was hot like me,
Don't ya wish your kitty was cute like me,
Don't ya.... Don't ya....

My mummy loves me,
It's easy to see,
And when I shake my tail she plants kisses all over me.
Sometimes I like to,
Wipe my bum on her bed,
But she still loves me cos I'm a cutey so she pats my head.

Don't ya wish your kitty was hot like me,
Don't ya wish your kitty was cute like me,
Don't ya... Don't ya...

Visual Deception

I've recently been made aware of one of the [many] perils of online dating. Or should I say, one of the perils of making contact with someone via an online dating website.

You see, I entered the online dating stadium with an open mind, and portrayed myself very honestly so as to make sure I attracted people who are fully aware of my 'quirks'. What I didn't know was that the majority of men don't read a woman's profile at all. They just look at the picture. I can only assume that this is because the majority of men on this website can't read, and therefore rely on pictures to judge whether or not they will get on with the woman in question.

So, they make contact and move on to the next level of communication; emails. This is where both parties can assess their suitability to the other by asking questions and having pleasant conversations about the weather and such like, until they feel they're comfortable enough to make a decision on their compatibility. (Obviously, the men will have someone reading the emails for them, and most probably writing their replies for them too.) Once mutual appreciation of some degree is decided upon, a meeting, or date, is set up.

Up until this point, both parties would have exchanged pictures in order to make sure that there is some attraction there. Unfortunately for me, my chosen correspondee "only had one picture" and this picture was of him wearing a hat and sunglasses. I was a little dubious, but thought that he still looked attractive and had a good looking body. I showed the photo to others and they agreed that it was safe to say that he was an attractive man.

The date was arranged, and I turned up looking my casual best and waited for his arrival. In walked a man. My stomach dropped to the seat of my pants as I realised that this was him, and I cursed the inventor of hats and sunglasses. Additionally, I cursed him - he had deceived me on such a level that I felt positively cheated. Like I'd been told to expect Freddy Ljunberg and I was presented with Peewee Herman. It turns out that the sunglasses were in fact hiding a pair of eyes that I never did determine the colour of, as they were so small and squished it was impossible to ascertain. The cause of this squishing can safely be attributed to his oversized and deformed head, which was previously hidden by the hat. This head was large beyond reason and coupled with a furrowed, Neanderthal forehead and brow (cause of the squishing) was positively unsightly.

There was no going back, so I sat and talked to him (about anything but his elephant-man like appearance, though this was all I could think about) for 3 hours. Now I am faced with the question: Do I just ignore his 'follow-up' emails, or do I tell him that he's a bad person for hiding his visual appearance and he should really think about being up front about his ugliness in order to be matched with a suitable elephant-woman?

Shells

I've written the shell of my current literary project. However, a visit to my nan's this morning has made me realise that the format that I've been writing in is not necessarily 'available' to all of my intended readers. She mentioned that she finds some authors difficult to read, because her style of reading means that she reads only the words down the center of the page. So a book where full comprehension only comes from reading every word, something of a higher literary content, and something which requires deeper thought and more time, is lost on a speed reader. Do I need to stick to my format, to my style, and disregard the speed reading population that have a wholly different reading style, or do I adapt my style so that my writing is 'available' to everybody? I'm thinking I just write, and see how it turns out. Too much planning can be a curse, so I shall use my shell as a guideline only, and my musings of the finished article will be ignored, and certainly not adhered to.

Philip Pullman seems to be ok with his finished article, Northern Lights, not being adhered to, and I have just witnessed what I can only call his shell on the big screen. The Golden Compass is the first of 3 movies planned, and while Chappers and I gave it a 9 out of 10, we were both a little disappointed that the book had little bearing on the movie - save for the general plot and the character and place names. Would I be happy to create a finished article that had little bearing on the original shell?

Speaking of shells, my physical shell seems to be dilapidated somewhat. I've got a temperature of 38.5, and I don't feel the best. My mind, however, is still active. At least I know that if my body collapses into a pool of sickness, my brain will still be there to keep me awake at night and annoy the shit out of me.

Merry Secret Christmas

Consider this post a gift; from me, to you.

As some of you would be aware, this blog has been started as a result of my previous blog causing too much trouble. Not wanting to be one of those bloggers who gets sacked from their workplace and spends the consequent years of dole-bludging blogging away like a mad man in a vague attempt to stand by their blogging morals, I thought I should just ditch the last one and start afresh.

This blog is therefore restricted. Nobody in my workplace (unless you're Roy or Chappers) will be able to view this blog, and nobody in my workplace will even know about this blog. I've had it with self-censorship, and I've had it with ignorant fuckwits.

The purpose of this blog will be different to the last; this blog is more about expressing myself in a non-judgmental atmosphere. I don't expect comments, and I don't expect opinions from others - that isn't to say that I don't want these things, I just won't be sitting and waiting for your ohsoimportant point of view. This blog will be less structured, and it might not be updated as often as my last. I intend to write on it if I have something to ask of the cosmos, or if I feel particularly strongly about something. But most importantly, I will be writing on this blog about my other writing adventures. You've probably heard me going on about writing my book...? Well, it's on its way now; the structure is down for my first experiment, and I'm spending the present enforced holiday period writing it. So, from time to time I may feel the need to refer loosely to my book. Be prepared for that.

So, I've prepared you for the content, I've given you no high expectations. You can read this is if you want to, you can comment if you like, but be aware that this is not going to be an attempt to entertain; this is about me. It's about my opinion. And like it or not, I'm giving it.