Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Oh, right. Hello, blog...

So, V's birthday went by and wasn't blogged. I guess we're made of fail. The cake was made of awesome, though. And bananas.

Thoughts for today: girls still young enough to be referred to as 'little' are too young to be perved on. I'm talking to you, bowling-shirt bus guy.

Also, Roman Polanski was arrested. And somehow most of the media has forgotten that he only fled the US after pleading guilty... go figure.

On the more cheerful side, James Blunt's All the lost souls album has a song which starts: 'I won't laugh at you / when you boo hoo hoo', which has made me laugh more than just about anything else this week (I know, it's only Wednesday. But a day spent staring at dewey numbers and an antique card catalogue is a very long one. I don't wanna be a librarian no more.)

Combatting boredom

So here's the thing. Boredom hits us all, once in a while, right? I mean, I've heard it said that if you own a book you can't be bored, but I disagree, what if you own a book but you've read it a million times and could probably recite it off by heart? Though I suppose you could then stage the book's dialogues for your own delights, or with a partner, if you were both combatting boredom. It's still somewhat odd though.

Of course there's the other school of thought that encourages people to 'go jogging' or 'go walking' or something of that variety when you are bored. If you're into that kinda thing then whoo! for you, but what if you're not? What if leaving the house to go for a walk or a run then translates merely into moving boredom from one place to another (unless of course you really like thinking, or listening to music, while idly walking in a particuarly direction, it's always possible).

Alternatively you could do what I'm trying to do, i.e. discuss the ridiculousnessity of combatting boredom. But then, it becomes necessary to differentiate between boredom and procrastination...

Clear Skies~V

Sunday, September 20, 2009

When television exceeds its interest limit...

The thing about being sick is that after a while you run out of things that are interesting, you go through five books that you've read before but because you haven't had anything to do you just reread the ones you finished last week. Stage two is rewatching every other movie you own, moving into all those tv series you have the DVD sets of. But after week one, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Supernatural and Angel and even Firefly (not to mention Witchblade) start to sort of run together with Pirates of the Carribean and Lord of the Rings. And there's never anything on tv anyway, especially not day television, except for those reruns of CSI that you've already seen like seven times. By the end of the second week, thankfully, you're feeling a little better, so you try your hand at playing a few games you haven't played in a while, only to discover that Heavenly Sword and even Dynasty Warriors takes too much attention and coordination and wears you out too much, so you give in and watch that season of Buffy that you haven't watched yet because it's older than the rest of it and doesn't have enough Spike in it. A day or so later you're so sick of being sick that you decide it's been enough and you try getting dressed and walking around a bit; lucky for you it works, so you sit up and poke at some of the homework that was due the week before. conclusion I can only advise that you do not, under any circumstances, try to build Dewey numbers when you're ill.

It's good to be alive again.

Clear Skies~V

Thursday, September 17, 2009


I have a lazy, a headache, a dizzy and a general meh. So here's a picture of my favourite pot plant (and the phone cord).

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

When all else fails

Today is not made of win. In the absence of something even remotely worth saying, here is a picture of my favourite teapot.

Monday, September 14, 2009

People we want in our hallway

So, our hallway has a corner where we stash things. It's quite convenient (well, that's what I assume, since I never have to walk past it), and it doesn't count as mess if it stacks. We also have a list of people we'd like to keep there:

Bruce Dickinson. For the sheer, ebil awesomeness of the dude who can fly a plane AND be rock guy;

Jorn Lande, because there's some seriously inviting vocal frequency going on there;

Emmy Rossum, because she's ridiculously pretty AND sings, and because it would be hilarious to have someone so tiny & fragile-lookin' next to the guy best described as the 'Norwegian Meatloaf';

Tobias Sammet, 'cause he tries so hard, and there isn't enough hilarious German powermetal in the world (or our hallway);

Johnny Depp. Needs no explanation.

Grace Jones, because a day just isn't complete without a little terror.

Gerard Butler doesn't make the hallway list, 'cause we'd like to keep him someplace else.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Advertising: Made of Fail

Some excerpts from the booklet promoting events at Floriade (local flower festival thingy) and my reactions to them:

'Catch the fallen angels in action as these mischievous chareacters try to regain their lost place in Nirvana. Their absurd attempts are beautifully innocent and tragically funny.'

...maybe it's just me, but 'fallen angel' isn't a phrase that conjures images of beautifully innocent, mischievous characters... it's more a bloody great pissed off being riding a wave of (un)righteous fury who will rip your face off with a SWORD. Bring a picnic basket, the kids'll love the show!

'Imagine peeling off your skin to reveal the body's inner workings individually walking, dancing and interacting with each other. Be delighted in the workings of your own body in all its marvellous splendour.'

- Aside from the grammatical issues that wonderful snippet subjects us to, what the hell? I dunno 'bout you, but I can't say I'm up for a day out at the gardens, a peek at some tulips and HAVING MY SKIN PEELED OFF so my heart can ask my liver to dance.

I'm also not enticed by the prospect of joining Cessil and Sandy Pitt for an event bringing together comedy acrobatics, juggling, contortion and a reminder of the benefits of marrying strangers OR going in search of love with Shirlee Sunflower. Sorry. And I have to say that I'm finding the suggestion of a full sensory experience involving dinosaur puppets a little terrifying. I haven't even managed to read the blurb for the kung fu classes; I'm stuck giggling about the title, Kung Fu with Dr. Wilson Lo of Moon Bear Kung Fu. I don't even want to google 'moon bear Kung Fu', because I'm sure the payoff wouldn't be anywhere near as fun as what my imagination's coming up with.

What really frustrates me about the whole thing is that somehow, the major piece of information-delivery advertising about a fairly large event in the nation's capital, something which is supposed to attract tourists and what have you, is such an absolute failure at actually telling me what the hell is going on at this thing. I mean, I've been to this event every year since 2004, I get the basics - beds of tulips making pictures, that sort of thing - and I can't tell what half of the 'major attractions' of this year's show actually ARE.

'Take a break and experience a mind, body, soul experience at the brand new Lotus Lounge which combines the serenity of natural therapies such as Reiki, massage and luxurious hand treatments with the brilliance of colourful garden beds in full bloom.'

Well that's great, but what I really want to know is whether there's a place where I can sit down and buy a cup of tea without being pontificated at about the oneness of being, or how homeopathy will solve all my problems. I mean, did anyone with basic literacy skills think to do a proof-read of this thing before it went to print and found its way to my mailbox?

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Dating: you're doing it...fight? o.O

Same restaurant, same table, different people. Is that table cursed?

Scenario runs like this: two girls and a guy are sitting at the table (where Mr. I'm always talking on the phone and his Miss God I'm so bored I'm texting my friends now get me out of here were sitting the other night). We will refer to these three as: The Girl in Black, the Girl in White, and The Boy, because this amuses me and is more or less accurate.

So our story begins at around 7pm in the evening, on a Friday night in Sydney. The Girl in White has arranged to have dinner with her two friends, the Boy, and the Girl in Black. Option A is of course that The Boy and the Girl in Black are dating, and the Girl in White is simply the third wheel who is friends with both of them. Option B is that the Boy and the Girl in Black are siblings, or just close friends, and the Girl in White is the Boy's ex, potential, or current...or sibling. It's really hard to tell what's what when everything's in Chinese.

Anyways, the story continues..

So they're sitting at the table, apparently enjoying a large dinner. The girls start to bicker and escalation strikes. Soon car keys go flying across the restaurant to land on another table. The Girl in White gets up and apologises mutlitple times to the other patrons, collecting the keys. The dinner goes on.

Fifteen minutes later the escalation brews up a storm, the Girl in Black gets to her feet, arguing loudly with the Boy, who gets up and attempts to physically restrain her and get her to sit back down. My first reaction is, she's drunk and wants to drive and he doesn't want her to. But the argument is so heated by this stage that there's no question of her sitting back down again. She starts to shout at him - and I do mean shout - in the middle of a packed restaurant! If you've ever been to Fuyija (and I do advise that if you're in Sydney and you like Japanese cuisine you pay it a visit) you'll realise what I mean when I say 'packed'.

The Girl in Black storms off and the Boy follows her, she flees to the bathroom and he, being the gentleman (apparently) doesn't follow her in, but instead returns to his seat. The Girl in White talked to him, quietly. I hope she's apologising to him. Several times during the rest of their silent dinner she gets up to go to the bathroom, presumeably to check on the Girl in Black.

The Boy sits silent, every now and then, when he thinks no one's looking he looked pained. I feel kind of sorry for him, I seriously hope he isn't - or wasn't - dating either of them, cos that would've made for a crappy night, well, even more crappy than it had been up till then...they were still there when I left.

Clear Skies~V

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Get thee to the maternity ward.

So, it turns out my school-free Monday will be taken up with attending a rally at Parliament House.
I've been keeping half an eye on news related to the Medicare legislation which will be before Parliament when the new session begins on the 7th of September, and I'm partly amused (but mostly disgusted) that a two-year bandaid is the best solution the government could come up with to avoid effectively outlawing private home-birth. (I have to admit, I'm particularly dissappointed that a female Health Minister is apparently so incapable of understanding the issues here.)

According to the National Perinatal Statistics Unit, 4% of mothers in 2003 intended to give birth outside of a conventional labour ward, and 2.8% actually did. Denying midwives practising outside of a maternity ward indemnity insurance, refusing to cover their services under Medicare... apparently its ok to deny basic choice to women who prefer to give birth in a place not condoned and controlled by the edifice that is 'official' medicine. It's no secret that the rate of medical intervention in the birth process is rising, particularly the rate of elective caesarean sections, and particularly in private hospitals. I don't condemn anyone's choice to opt for an elective caesarean, but I think it's important that we don't over-intervene in the process, especially for low-risk pregnancies.

I'm not suggesting here that because childbirth is a natural process that there's no risk involved; modern medicine has improved mortality rates for mothers and children. But there is NO good reason to shunt women into a hospital, to cut off various avenues of choice in what should be an intensely personal process for her and her partner. What right does a democratically elected government have to deny a basic choice like this? Especially when data is available to back up the claim that, in a low-risk situation, women and babies are at no more risk during a home-birth than in hospital.

In still more news: once again, The Age has proven its journalistic worth with what is possibly the smarmiest article I've read in a long time. It's not new for the news media here to drift down the path of 'oooh, an academic!' to vent scorn at the Prime Minister, but this piece of reporting is the worst example of it I've seen in a while. I've no problem heaping scorn on politicians - let's face it, they often deserve it. But really - it says a lot about this country that it's perfectly acceptable to lambast someone for an academic endeavour.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Saturated with soup

So. Way back in the first semester V & I started attending (ahem... mostly attending. Well, attending sometimes) librarian school, there was a class we couldn't take, 'cause it ran til something ridiculous like 9pm, and the buses home (we live at the END of the WORLD) were a more or less impossible. At the time, nobody bothered to tell us that this class was mostly run via WebCT, and the liklihood of us not actually having to attend was... well, it was pretty much a given. So we dropped that class, except to actually graduate with our diplomas, we do have to complete this course (Search Databases).

Apart from the course with Idiotic Teacher (a wonderful man who's pretty much the opposite of ALT1 & 2) which had assignments requiring us to provide page after page of screen caps to prove we could do basic reference work (find a newspaper article, for example), this course has the most ridiculously easy assignments, bar none. 'Perform a search on whatever database. Document search strategy. If strategy was unsuccessful, explain why.' Ye gods, I think I might EAT someone.

I made pumpkin soup, and I really should stop eating it... but it's very, very tasty. Also, I was cold (actually, that part's quite unusual). Soup was good.

Notable names from gaming today: King Herod (a healer), Arsenik Pi, Ton Tour Viendra (Your turn will come) and Ward Against Idiocy.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Dating: you're doing it wrong

We've made a habit, whenever we're in Sydney, to eat at Fujiya (not so sure about the spelling because I never really pay attention to the name cos I'm always paying attention to the food), a Japanese restaurant. I love Japanese cuisine (ever strike you as odd that we call all food types 'cuisine', as though the French have the final say in cooking), even though I'm not really a fan of sushi (don't all scream at once). Anyways, so we ended up at this restaurant, as always, and we're sitting in the booth we always sit in - after having tried out a seat by the window for all of five minutes before the two seated in front of the window decided that it was too cold.

There are two people sitting in the booth across the aisle, presumably a couple. They were there when we got there, and they left only a couple of minutes before us. At first glance they're just a couple, and he's talking about something that is obviously important - or at least interesting enough to him to warrant him talking about for several minutes. The trouble is, Romeo doesn't shut up. In fact, he keeps talking (in Chinese, and let's make it public: my Chinese is non-existent) and drifts - I'm supposing - into the topic of World of Warcraft, which I am told is a bad move in any dating situation. Makes me think, but then, I don't mind talk about games at any time.

Issue number 2 comes from the fact that every ten minutes Romeo's phone rings - loudly - and, believe it or not, the guy actually answers it each time (which makes me wonder if they're not actually business partners, though the dynamic feels off for that). Every time when he's on the phone, she's texting someone under the table so he can't see (wonder what she's saying: 'I'm so damn booored!'). D caught her in the act, and she flashed a smile in his direction. Making it more and more amusing.

I guess I kind of felt sorry for her, because she really didn't look like she was enjoying herself, simply sitting there, pretty in her silver and black outfit, looking like a porcelain doll.

Still, maybe the situation wasn't anything like what I was reading into it. People are randomly interesting sometimes.

Clear Skies~V

Tuesday, September 1, 2009


There are days when the news makes me very, very angry.

This doesn't count as news, but does count as a major WTF -
Because it's FAR too much to just expect people to treat each other like... people?