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Str: 5
Int: 11
Wis: 15
Dex: 10
Con: 11
Chr: 14
Interestingly, my characters are usually weighted the other way: on computer RPGs anyway, I like to play huge thug barbarians who are dumb as a sack full of doorknobs. I've managed to break out of the mould for my newest character in the face-to-face game I started playing on Tuesday, who is a martial arts maestra and therefore good with the dex and the smarts as well.
The party on Saturday was good. I've only been to two engagement parties, but they usually don't involve topless bars and karaoke, do they? Still, a stripper blew me a kiss, so there's one of my life's goals achieved. I sang Mustang Sally at karaoke with several other girls. I probably sounded crap, but I didn't care. I'm a bit fascinated with the techniques at work in both the stripper bar and the karaoke pub to make normally unacceptable or awkward activities - singing and ogling - socially comfortable. The stripper was on a raised stage, with lots of lighting on her while the rest of the barroom was dim/dingy. Also, the music was kept loud but made even louder, to the extent that shouting a friend's ear didn't guarantee reception, when a dance was beginning. Similarly, at karaoke the lights were low, with very little illumination even on those performing. The sound was very loud, with the backing far louder than the singer. Unfortunately, this pub was also incredibly smokey despite the excessive air conditioning - I had left my shawl at Julia's house, and found myself very cold. I developed a sore throat so I elected not to sing Splish Splash for my encore, and found I had a cough and itchy lungs a few days later.
I spent a lovely Sunday with Andrew. And then I fell apart. Now, this is probably why I've been stingy with the updates, because I really should write about this, but it's a bit exhausting. Essentially, I'm very bad at crying. I hate feeling vulnerable and out of control. People talk about 'a good cry' being cleansing somehow, but I find instead that I end up with a puffy red face and itchy eyes, and it's a concerted effort to change the subject, or I wallow. I haven't had a good wallow since early high school, but that's because I'm really not very good at it. I don't enjoy being unhappy, and when I feel as unhappy as I do when I'm wallowing I'm not in a position to do anything about my problems, and there's no end of woe. So when I was crying at Andrew for hours, or so it seemed, bemoaning my lack of a job, the fact that my taxes are months overdue, I have no idea where I'm going with my education and my feeling that I don't have a life when I'm not with him, I was really hoping any moment to be distracted by something, anything. Unfortunately, the point at which the straw broke the camel's back was shortly before Andrew had to leave for a roleplaying game he's involved in, and I ended up making him an hour late. He didn't mind, the lovely boy, and I hope his friends have forgiven him. Once I composed myself enough to leave the house, I went home and drowned my sorrows watching Hornblower and reading Pride and Prejudice fanfic. [A side note: I was surprised to find that if you google 'A more gentleman-like manner', you come up with my late lamented P&P fic. I know, you're either disappointed in me for writing it, or not completing it. Pick one. I am considering picking it up again, if I can summon my energy.]
Monday was also spent reading fanfic and moping. Abby was off school so there was much silliness. She was also really nice to me on Sunday night when I was still a mess. The problem is, I tell everyone everything about my life, so I tell family members that I'm feeling sad and they want to know what happened, what are the circumstances surrounding it, and are scarcely able to contain themselves when I tell them I don't want to talk about it. I don't blame them, I have exactly the same problem. But Abby just hugged me, and we watched TV. She said all sorts of hilarious things on Monday while I was playing Moria, a delightful little game that finds me calling "Here, dragon dragon dragon." I stayed up latelatelate.
On Tuesday, I made myself late by reading yet more fanfic. It's a bit of a habit at the moment, but well in hand I assure you. I met Andrew and we saw Gangs of New York. It's a long film but worth it. I'd advise against eating while watching it - I'm not a squeamish person, but some of the pulpy sounds of heads being smashed were enough to make me queasy. I was very pleased to spot Sean Gilder, who I recognised from his role as Styles in Hornblower (yes, another obsession) in his blink-and-you'll-miss-it role as the Rat Pit Game Master. My frustrations with the film lay only in its length and ickiness, and the apparent difficulty experienced by Diaz and Di Caprio in maintaining their assumed accents. It's a good film. See it.
After the film we went to the uni to try and check e-mail, but there was a major server outage. As a result of this, I was unable to log into my e-mail or do anything else online. Now that the mailboxes are up again, all my mail that was in my inbox has been moved to no fewer than twenty 'Recovered Mail' folders. It's a mess.
We went to the usual Flodge dinner, where I had a lovely pizza with onions, mushrooms and capsicum before we left to go to a friend's family's cafe (closed) for gaming. Now, I've been involved in several games recently, all of which have been put on hiatus of one sort or another. My most recent game, in which I play a sexy blacksmith girl, has been held off since last year because of work schedules of players, as well as general upheaval. One of the players from that game has taken up the gauntlet and is running a game at the time when the other would have been. It's a very cool game, and rather a hybrid format: the only way I can think to describe it is as being what would result if Sliders was set in space, and all the characters had Psi powers. That sounds lame, but the description does it no justice. My character is the ship's security officer, but that should probably not come as a surprise as I always like to kick arse. I have a much clearer concept of my character in this game than I have had previously, so it wasn't nearly so stressful starting out as I find some games to be. I often find myself being rather quiet and shy in games, but in this first session I was thrust into diplomatic discussions. The group is almost exactly the same as the group for the fantasy game with the addition of one player whose characters, it seems to me, are always whining bitches. This is most frustrating. Interestingly, I am the only female player in the group, yet all but one of the characters are female. That said, my character is Biokinetic, so I can change my mind about sex and appearance later.
It was lovely to sit in a booth while we played, drinking a pot of tea and dipping gingernuts rather than having Coke and chips on someone's floor. Indeed, it was not until I irritated my family telling them repeatedly what a lovely time I had that I realised that a quiet evening with friends was exactly what I needed. Furthermore, I have a notion of what I would like to write on for my thesis, the lack of a concept for which had been bothering me considerably depite there being at least a year before I begin my Honours. Further details about this plan may be forthcoming, but the notion of a thesis concept of which I could do a great job is a bit fragile in my mind, and I wish to do some reading on the subject to see what the current academic position is. I believe it is a relatively new field, and so I'm excited. I feel like a pioneer. Better still, I feel like someone with a future that is a delicious secret. And I believe this brings us up to date. Should I find myself with enjoyable activities or unspeakable depression, you will no doubt once again hear about it only in a post so long as to test your dedication to curiosity, and well after you would expect to read of such.
I started to get a bit twitchy, and then the rigteous indignation kicked in, and then I knew it was time to get out of crowds. I think I also had low blood sugar - I haven't been eating much lately, and what I have eaten has been of a far healthier nature than what I would normally eat. I just had plain toast for breakfast, so by lunchtime my system was empty and that's always a bad thing. I had lunch in the park with Andrew, partially because there was just nowhere to sit in the food courts, as well as that they're strange places to begin with. The park was beautiful after the rain, everything seemed revitalised and there were puddles. I love puddles. Ibises, however, are truly evil.
A week or two ago, I was awakened from the freewheeling images that presage sleep proper by what sounded like a loud and vicious misunderstanding between a feral cat and a duck in the mango tree outside my bedroom window. Now, what with the drought, this year hasn't been a great one for mangoes. It seems that all the tree is good for is shaking down unripe fruit to be eaten by an itinerant rat - one who is particularly bad at stealth, being rather fond of sleeping on top of the roll of the rollerdoor, such that when one opens the damn thing to enter the rat is launched at the garage floor. It is most fortunate that this ratapult has never occurred when we were opening the door from the inside, to leave.
I didn't give this nocturnal disturbance too much thought. It happened a few more times, but at a lower level, and I began to guiltily, gleefully, wonder if next door's yapping dog had been the casualty. But last night it was clearer than ever. There were at least four participants, and it wasn't till I heard a distinctive fwoop-fwoop-fwoop right next to my window that I realised that bats were the culprits. It now seems that it was the bats are the ones who have been eating the mangoes and knocking them down to the rat, who was apparently happy to take the blame and eat the fruits of their labour. If he'd wanted to keep a low profile, he wouldn't have done the garage-door log-rolling challenge.
I think my difficulty in identifying the bats as bats sprang from the fact that I hadn't seen them, hadn't heard their wing beatings and, apparently unlike every other member of my family, wasn't aware of the presence of other creatures in our back yard. There was also the problem of my limited exposure to bats. There was a grove of date palms in the street where I spent my childhood, just a block away and although I saw them feeding some days, they didn't seem to make noise. In fact, I don't remember ever hearing bats until a few weeks ago. The fig trees between the library and the bus stop were crawling with bats as I made my way out after closing time. They flapped enough to make me slightly nervous, but kept away, apparently happy just to drop stray figs in my path as if to mock my disquiet. These bats were exceedingly vocal, and sounded remarkably like Gremlins. The bats in my backyard instead sound like Piglets Of Pure Evil.
Despite this, Australia's Prime Minister John Howard refuses to believe that this reflects public sentiment. Indeed, he has been quoted as saying "I don't know that you can measure public opinion just by the number of people who turn up to demonstrations." Perhaps he is living in blissful ignorance of the many polls which back up this reflection of public opinion? He also claims that "Public opinion has not finally settled because the public doesn't know the full options that are available." This, too, seems empty rhetoric: if there are more options to be considered, why have troops already been sent? And the Australian government has hardly been overwhelming the citizens with thoughtful analyses of the current global political climate: apart from the infamous fridge magnet pack designed to scare the populace into putting up with stupid foreign policy, we've had newspaper headlines screaming the PM's callous conviction that a war in Iraq will result in fatalities for women and children, contrasted oddly with General Peter Cosgrove's assurance to Australian troops that they are free to ignore American orders if they involve killing innocents, and Blair's emotive statements about the number of Iraqi innocents killed under Hussein's reign. It's a strange time to be alive.
Such is the nature of Australian summers that hot, humid days frequently end in thunderstorms. By the time Abby and I had gathered our belongings, taken a trip to the nearest shop to buy sunscreen (we could only find one tube in the house, and it was three years out of date) and then made it to the pool, it was 4:30pm and exceedingly overcast. Now, I'm not much of a swimmer, and haven't been swimming in a few years. Causes include, but are not limited to: hatred of swimsuits, hatred of sunburn, lack of ability at swimming. However, once I'd decided that I wanted to swim and dug out boardies and a singlet, a bit of cloud cover was not going to put me off. We paid our way, slathered on the sunscreen and jumped in.
Twenty minutes passed. The clouds became darker, menacing, and there was a breeze that would have been rather refreshing, had we not been immersed in water. Thunder rolled in the distance. I discovered that I was still able to turn somersaults underwater, but found pinching my nose less comfortable with a piercing. Lightning became visible. Abby counted seconds between lightning and thunder, as did the lifeguards. People swam. It began to rain. About another ten minutes passed, and Abby and I began making our way to the ladders as the lightning seemed to be getting closer. When we were safely undercover, the pool management finally sent a message over the PA asking people to leave the water, but advising it that it was a temporary measure, until the storm passed. They also took the opportunity to offer half-price hot food in the kiosk. A toddler cocooned in a towel tipped over and grazed her chin. Abby and I considered leaving several times, but every time we were about to leave the rain got either heavier, in which case we didn't want to leave shelter to walk through the rain, or lighter, so we held out our hopes of the pools being re-opened as the storm passed.
We made a break for it. The rain was that incredibly heavy, deluge of water that you remember from a select few occasions in your childhood. I remember similar rain while I waited in the car with my mother for my big sister's piano lesson to end. I was four. The gutters were full and I sailed leaf boats. Similarly, Abby and I jumped in puddles, our sodden towels wrapped around our sodden shoulders, and delighted in the spray sent by passing cars. I shivered into a bath, washed the chlorine from my skin and hair, and put on my comforty blue flannelette pyjama pants. All this weather will be worth it, if the temperature stays under 25º tomorrow.
The dinosaurs were incredible. It's odd, I don't think I've ever really encountered an animal bigger than I am, or able to kick my arse. That excludes the frightening mecha-cows at the Easter Show, mind you, but most of them have such large udders they're scarcely able to move. I have seen things like kangaroos and elephants that were taller than me, but the elephants were fenced in and the kangaroos were ridiculously tame. All the humbling, huge, threatening animals are gone. This makes me sad. While we were at the museum, we also saw the BG Wildlife Photographer of the Year Award 2002. Had I known how great this exhibition would be, I would have gone just for it. Had I known that they had a comprehensive website, I might have decided not to go again. All the photographs were amazing. The depressing part was the Junior Awards section, which proved to me that many 10 year olds have more talent than I'll ever have, at anything.
I'm not sure about the brains part, but for some reason when I click on the links that say my lovely readers have left me comments, no window pops up. That said, I still love receiving comments, even if I feel like I'm waiting for Christmas when I can't read them now. So keep leaving comments, and I'll love you all the more when it starts working again. I'm off to see Chinese Dinosaurs with Andrew. Back tomorrow.
UPDATE: Naturally, I tried to fix this problem and screwed things up worse. Apologies if the page isn't showing up, or if it suddenly contains profanity of a remarkable degree. I want my non-working comments link back.
What's your favorite cereal?
I hold a special place in my heart for all those sugar-encrusted cereals I wasn't allowed when I was a kid, especially if they come in a tiny single-serve box. This is particularly so for Nutri-Grain and Coco Pops. I don't particularly like eating these on a regular basis, though; I prefer Good Start, which are like Weet Bix but with tasty muesli bits, and occasionally Special K. More often, I eat fruit, toast or leftovers for breakfast rather than cereal.
How often do you eat out? Do you want that to change?
Once a week I have dinner at a pub with friends. I like that, it's lowbrow enough that I can afford it and don't feel like I have to get dressed up. From time to time, Andrew and I go out for dinner, but I'm happy to keep that occasional. I have several reasons for this. For one, I'm an antisocial homebody and I'd much rather be cooking at home. For another, I'm exceedingly poor and I really don't like making him spend endless money on me. He'd maintain that likes to eat out and enjoys my sparkling company, but I am unmoved. Or perhaps stubborn would be a better word.
What do you plan on having for dinner tonight? Got a recipe for that?
Dinner tonight was half a baguette with peanut butter on it. I wasn't very hungry. And if you need a recipe for that, my friend, do I have a used car for you!
What's your favorite restaurant? Why?
My favourite would easily be Govinda's because it's vegetarian, it's cheap, the food's great and they have a wonderful futon-filled movie room upstairs. I miss Bodhi Restaurant to bits, and the little café thing they have now is not the same. I may have to investigate Mother Chu's Vegetarian Kitchen as a replacement for all my Yum Cha needs. I desperately miss sticky rice with mushrooms.
Huzzah for the FridayFive!
The subject matter was interesting enough, and as someone who has pondered the social semiotic of customer service, her insights were interesting. However, the writer's narrative technique frustrated me no end. In exploring a topic, she tended to give examples and then in conclusion, introduce the topic again in a way that gave the narrative a waffley, circumlocutory feel whilst managing to seem patronisingly convinced that one explanation would not suffice to make the doltish reader understand. In addition, I was hoping for a book full of entertaining anecdotes of the stupidity of customers - I've been out of service for long enough to be running low - but the latter part of the book was instead concerned with her departure from food service, and her subsequent return as she found that the career of which she had dreamed took too much time and offered not enough money. Like virtually every parent, she is unable to avoid singing the praises of her misunderstood child, and once again, this is not what I bought the book for.
So great was my irritation with this book that I was not able to bring myself to read the final paragraph of the book. Yes, this is Heather, who can't handle surprises because they involve other people withholding information she desperately wants to know, and only recently weaned herself off her occasional childhood habit of reading the ends of books first, just so that she'd know where things were going. And it was without an ounce of remorse that I went in and traded in that book today, ending still unread, and used my $5.65 trade-in credit towards Sharpe's Battle, which then cost me only $3.35. Had I bought it firsthand, it would have cost me $18 or thereabouts. Even considering the fact that Waiting cost me around $10, I'm doing well.
My deepest sympathies are with the families and friends of the victims of the Columbia shuttle disaster. Should you need more information, this blog has thorough coverage. [link schñarfed from Boing Boing]
A few weeks ago, I noticed small itchy bumps on the aforementioned toes. I thought they were insect bites, and treated with calamine lotion accordingly. This did nothing. I then thought it might be tinea, so I tried an anti-fungal cream. This served only to make the ailment itchier. I then tried a tea tree oil ointment, which did nothing. By this stage, the toes had taken on a slightly leprous appearance, with patches of irritated skin that looked rather like cooked bacon. I then soaked my foot in salty water, which is good for what ails yer and actually provided some relief from the itching that had, by this stage, been constant for three weeks. By the time I went to the doctor yesterday, the skin on my toe had more of the look of some kind of blight you'd see on a potato. The doctor did her best to conceal her revulsion, and painfully scraped pieces of pestiferous skin off my toes to be sent off for testing. Ointment is almost as magical as its name implies.
What was one thing you always wanted as a child but never got?
A pony. Also, a Keyper, preferably the horse one, with a key. For so many years I wanted a computer, but my dad was opposed. Eventually, we got an Apricot computer, but then Dad got a half-decent computer at work and became addicted to Freecell, whereupon we fairly quickly got a new machine with which we could play games. (Evidence of this obsession can still be seen at his house, where Post-It notes with game numbers scrawled on them appear in piles of other stuff, testament to his ongoing ambition to work his way through all available games. The noted numbers are frighteningly high, I can tell you.)
What's the furthest from home you've been?
The furthest I've been is Coffs Harbour, which is 550km from Sydney, where I live. I've been there twice, and I like it enough to consider living there in future.
What's one thing you've always wanted to learn but haven't yet?
I live in awe of multilingual people. I'd love to have a few more languages under my belt, but I find learning them quite difficult. Currently I'm just picking up phrases here and there. I'd like to learn to cook more impressive things, and to learn some more martial arts and self-defence, and possibly start my SCA sword training again next year.
What are your plans for the weekend?
Saturday I shall spend at home, reading the paper and hunting for a job in the classifieds. I may also make my delighful Banana Bread. On Sunday I'm meeting up with Andrew to see Bowling for Columbine. There shall be much snuggling, as I haven't seen him in several days.
Huzzah for the FridayFive