Where everday is 1994 all over again.



Sunday, 25 February 2007

¡SELBBUB!

The universe has conspired against me again this weekend. Not only did it give me the flu right as I had to go on a bridgeclimb with my team from work, but to top it off, it began raining only hours before our bubble party.

Oh noes rain you might say, but in the middle of New South Wales' worst drought in 100 years‽ And influenza in February‽ When will I learn not to look forward to anything?

Anyway, surprisingly enough, people still turned up. I didn't get to enjoy things or talk to people as much as I had hoped because I felt rather shit and the weather made me rather strange. My efforts to make talky-talky with people ended with me being a right dick so I avoided too much interaction and pissed everyone off by taking photos with my HORRIBLY ineffectual digital camera.

I like my photos, because unlike all you arty ponces, mine are badly focused, terribly framed and aren't of interesting or relevant subjects.


Here's Jones and Mikey testing the bubble mix the day before the party. Quite impressive, yes?







The bubble quality held out at the party as well, even though we were forced to have them inside, which had certain consequences...









... such as making food nearby soggy and soapy.


At least the carpet is getting a good wash from it.







Big bubbles amuse small minds.






Here's a bunch of people being

couch monkeys, to capture the atmosphere.




















Yeah, it's a blurry pic, but it's funny to see people's faces when Jones is talking to them.






Hey, you damn kids!! Get out of my kitchen!!!






That's enough Mandreano for one post...






"This is my 'NO' face"
Did I mention I'm sick? Only like 50 times in one evening.








See that yellow thing on the bench? Look closely. That's the bubble machine that inspired this party. You can see some small bubbles floating around it. Many of which stuck to the Palex's toys below.













Hi Alastair!!









Holy crap! How many photos do I have to post here?

Oh, I think I'm done. So yeah, that was the party. Apologies to anyone on dial-up or whose download limit I just completely raped.

P.S: It's still fucking raining!!

Thursday, 15 February 2007

Forky forky forky

I want to be a fork lift driver. This is my new career plan. We went to the warehouse today for a tour and I saw the forklifter drivers zipping around. Such a better job than what I have.

First of all I have to save up for a motorbike to improve my employment options.

Then I'm going to go to the gym to improve my upper body fitness (among other things). Women can more easily develop good lower body strength (ie: thighs and legs) but aren't as naturally strong in the arms, back and chest as men, so I need to do some work to match the fitness of other workers, as forklift drivers may also have other warehouse duties.

Then I'm going to get my forklift license and apply for jobs.

Why? FOR A KAJILLION REASONS:
  1. They get paid better than me. Jones says so.
  2. No customers
  3. They get to drive around all day in a forklift, which looks really fun
  4. No customers
  5. No corporate bullshit
  6. No customers
  7. No more listening to managers bullshit on about Prada or Louis Vuitton or whatever while leaving their kids with other people for most hours out of the week
  8. No customers
  9. A more unionised workplace
  10. No customers
  11. Less stress
  12. No customers, no cusomters, no customers

I want to be a fork lift driver la la la la!

Merry Frummas

Today is the day that John Frum might come back.


The cargo cult of Tannas, New Hebrides, believe that one day a messiah will come back, bearing gifts and prosperity. He will take away all pain and suffering. He'll send all the annoying white people they've had to deal with off the island.

He will come February 15, but no one knows the year.

This cult is clearly influenced by christian missionaries but damn, how it's backfired. John Frum hates the missionaries. He will send them away like Jesus dissing the pharisees. In fact there's a lot in common between John Frum and Jesus, such as the fact that they may or may not have been a real living person, but who knows anymore now that so much bullshit and mythology surrounds their name.

I AM SPARTACUS: will the real messiah please stand up?As pointed out by the Cargo Culters of the New Hebrides, their cult is actually less silly than Christianity, because they've only been waiting a couple of decades - Christians have been waiting a couple of millenia.





Don't believe me? Here's a link bomb to convince you:




Oh noes... was that culturally insensitive?

Wednesday, 14 February 2007

Feb 14 = Invasion Day

No, I know it's not Australia Day. This is a different kind of Invasion Day.

February 14 is St. Valentine's Day: the day we celebrate the invasion of someone else into our life and our reciprocal invasion into theirs, or we spend the day miserable, wishing that we could be annexed.

The US invaded Iraq to "liberate" it. That is, Iraq had many faults - y'know, torture and oppressive dictatorship and so on - so like a meddling girlfriend or controlling boyfriend, they tried to change them for the better.

The result: the place is going to shit. Same thing goes for trying to "save" someone from themself. It only causes problems. Just as a people can only emancipate themselves if they are to be truly free, no one is really changed unless they have some epiphany and change themselves. The US government should hardly complain about the shit it has to deal with as fallout from this disastrous war - they put themselves in that position. See where the analogy is going?

I won't harp on anymore about it, but the mantra for the day that I meditated upon was this:
MONOGAMY IS DICTATORSHIP

MARRIAGE IS SLAVERY


sorry... i just haven't used marquee in such a long time and felt like adding that little spice of annoyingness

Sunday, 11 February 2007

Jones. On the interweb. No, really.

My boo, whatever the fuck that is, now has a fagspace profile and a flickr account. Of course, knowing how slow he types and how illiterate he is - both with technology and just in general - I had to set it all up for him.

myspace.com/fidertown - username is Joe King, because that's the stupid name he wants to one day change his to, legally
RSS feed: http://blog.myspace.com/blog/rss.cfm?friendID=154309238

flickr.com/photos/fidertown - mostly for his art only, rather than baby photos, which I usually horde. Not much on their now, just some of his minor works which rely heavily on appropriation of other artists, but soon we'll scan some of his original works and take photos of some figurines he's working on now
RSS feed: http://api.flickr.com/services/feeds/photos_public.gne?id=85218317@N00&format=rss_200

However, I refrained from taking over completely and faithfully typed up whatever content he dictated to me, only using my brain for the hax0ring of the layout. That's why the CSS is so pro (ha!) but colour scheme is so unbelievably gross (true). I recommend reading his FagSpace profile for some mild hilarity, especially the section where he lists his heroes. His background for his FagSpace profile is a pic he made himself, by the way.

Yeah, so go to his flickr and myspace to encourage him or pass on the urls to other people who are interested in art so that he can make some good contacts and converse with people with a similar brain mutation to him.

Monday, 5 February 2007

Whaaaaat? Say Something!

You know those talking smileys that invade your browser via stupid banners on sites like Fagspace? "Whaaaat?" "Say something!" "Whaaat?" "Say something!"

DIE ALREADY

you may well say.

BUT! perhaps they are already dead.

Stay with me on this: maybe when tortured souls pass on to the next world, they become MSN animated smileys. They are trapped in cyberspace, unable to communicate in any other way than their programmed "Whaaaaaat?". Every "Oh my god! No waaaaay" has the voice of a tortured net-bound soul behind it, just screaming to get out. Think about how much torment that would be - the hatred spewed forth from people who forgot to mute their computer at work, and had it made bleedingly obvious to the whole floor that they were procrastinating, with their unwelcome catch phrases of eternal doom.



Alas, the more they try to break out, the stronger they are held in by shitty coding - the kind that turns MySpace into a quagmire of 404s.

That's right, you heard me. The interweb is Hell, and Microsoft is the devil. It's all so obvious.

Working Woman for Satan

I was reading this other random blog called "College Girl for Christ". It was, obviously, by a college student who is a born-again Christian. She's pretty much my opposite and her positive attitude kind of makes my cynical, sarcastic, constantly-bitching-about-everything personality look pretty sucky. A couple of her posts have been a bit more negative, but then in her last one, her college room mate has moved out. Her room-mate sounds like she could be me:

She was messy, I was neat. She was a night person, I wasn't. I'm a Christian, she's an 'everything'. And we basically crashed. She let her boyfriend and friends use my stuff and left me with nothing to drink during finals week. And so I let her know in no uncertain terms that you just don't do that. I agree that we are roommates and things are shared...but she never let me know. She never said, "Hey, Steph. I let Taylor have a Cherry Coke." No. She tried to hide it.
A lot of the time when I read the thoughts of Christians like this girl their delusion becomes attractive to me. It seems like if I gave in and somehow believed in what they do, I could have a sunshine-lollipops-and-rainbow sort of life, where moral decisions are simple & dichromatic and where I'm expected to strive everyday for the powers of goodness and morality. So ... like.. everything I'm not. The earlier posts of hers talks about some people she'd just met in Bible study and how much she "loves" them already. I hate everyone, including myself. I don't hate the Palex, but if the only person I don't hate is a 2 year-old, I don't know if that counts.

I think that the christian belief would bring somewhat of a comfort to me, in that I could believe in Divine Justice even when there is seemingly little on earth. It's frustrating and depressing to think that shit happens to good people for no reason, and arseholes have awesome lives with no accountability. They talk about the changes Jesus makes in their lives. Well I'm dying for some change. If talking to an imaginary friend can do that, I'm tempted to sign up.

Could it be that I'm being called to Christ? Bah. There's a fantastic article[1] on the psychology of this on exChristian.net by John Blatt that hits on the head exactly why I feel this way:
Evangelization, generally speaking, is psychological warfare of the mind. It is designed to confuse your current non-belief with a powerful, authoritative message of tremendous weight - eternity. Those who are in a weakened emotional or psychological state (from some inner turmoil, external stress, or even being lonely or homesick) are much easier prey to this psychological bombardment, and when it is masked with the guise of spirituality it becomes a serious burden to the Self.

When one undergoes the "born-again" experience and feels like a different person (and psychologically is) this is the mind succumbing to the psychological warfare and tremendous emotions of relief are felt and "renewal of soul" are felt because that burden, in a sense, falls through the mind of the person and is now free from it by being taken over by it.
When I read this it all made sense. I really do feel like there's a battle in my mind between logic and the desire to be released from guilt and fear. To give in would be a great relief, and my brain feels battle fatigue quite often. Unlike Catholicism, Born-Agains use guilt and fear in a way that makes their belief look like a refuge. Catholicism, or at least, the catholicism I knew, felt more like having a gun to my head, where as this newer kind of Christianity is more like the chance to win a holiday or 1 of 50 Myers vouchers.

The Amish are the Christians I'd most want to join. I don't know if they count as born-again, though they are Anabaptists (baptism is a choice for them made after teenagers experience freedom in the outside world, and are given the option of leaving the fold to live out there). Their simple way of life is arranged around keeping the family together - they farm so that fathers will still be at home too, even as they work. I do yearn for a life less complicated than this where my direction and purpose are easily mapped out before me. I don't aspire to fame or success, because I don't see how those things would make me happy. I don't care if I'm remembered when I die because I won't be around then anyway.

Although, I wonder if I wouldn't yearn for adventure. I do wish I could go off adventuring tomorrow, but I always thought that was to do with my dissatisfaction with life how it is.

However, I am well aware that no one is a Christian in deed but in belief. While the same old thought processes from days of being a Hell-fearing Catholic still go on in my brain, there's still some territory in my brain that hasn't been annexed yet, a part that sees Christianity as nice idea (except for all the OT smiting and the firey vengeance of the Last Days) but not a reality or a truth in itself.

Maybe it's just a long time since I've had an adventure or done something new. Maybe I need to go travelling to remind me that the world isn't as small as it feels right now.

Interesting reading:
  1. The full article that I quoted, called "Why Atheistic Arguments Cannot Work Against Christian Fundamentalism": Why Atheistic Arguments Cannot Work Against Christian Fundamentalism - ExChristian.Net - Articles

That article was posted on the web by this guy: myspace.com/psychicevolution whose myspace blog is full of interesting articles on similar subject matter, that is worth having a look through.
If you want to discuss this article, I suggest going to the Why Won't God Heal Amputees.com forum topic on it

Sunday, 4 February 2007

I miss her

One of my best mates ever, Alex, went overseas about a year and a half ago. We've been mates since Year 8. We've spent entire weeks in the summer holidays just going around doing our usual summer holiday stuff together. We'd spend months apart. Either way, nothing much changed.

Anyway, she has a FagSpace (fuck, I just realised how many times FagSpace gets mentioned and linked to in my blog... I'm supporting the whore), and recently she put some of her songs up. See, she went to Canada, then Europe and is currently in Ireland for her singing career. Hearing her voice is weird... it still sounds so familiar but it's made me remember a lot. It's made me feel really sad about the fact I'll probably never see her again.

No, I don't give a shit at all about how soppy this crap sounds. I really don't. Maybe sometimes I'm allowed to stop ranting about the fucking bourgeois, or making lame jokes about petty petty things. Maybe sometimes I am a person and not a caricature of myself. Oh fuck, now I'm just another emo blogging cunt. So much for the caricature thing. Shit.

I don't think I have any of the same level of friendship as I used to have with people like Alex. It wasn't just her. It was a few people. And this is just making me remember the past and realise what I've fucked up. So many people have moved on to bigger and better adventures, or just don't know me anymore. When I say "I miss her", it's really a whole collection of random people I miss, male and female.

In fact, it's more the old me and my old life that I miss. Not that other people don't matter to me, but if I'm to be honest about what it is that makes me miss them, it's not really their voice, or their jokes or whatever, but the things I did with them and the person I was with them. Having people who are important to you and to whom you are equally important. Knowing that people would notice in less than a day if you'd died in your attic. When losing your phone for 3 days leaves you with more than 2 missed calls and 1 SMS.
Free drugs.

OK just kidding about the drugs. But that is a perk too.

I think that's why I'm a really fucking nasty bitter misanthropic shithead now. I'm not that close to people anymore. I don't speak to people for weeks. A couple of people I would say I was as close to as with Alex these days make me feel sort of annoyed when they talk about trivial things and I get pissed off if they ask questions about my private life. Some people I stopped talking to when I was at Ryde in my little year-long drughole - boy do I know now how much happens in just one year. To their credit, a few of them made a fair effort to keep me as a friend, but it's pretty frustrating to do so when the other person is oblivious and completely unappreciative. They all might still be in the country, but they're worlds away from me nonetheless.

It's supposed to be some shame to admit you have regrets. Fuck that. I have regrets. If I could go back 5 years, change everything that's happened but have no memory of my alternate future, I'd do it in a heart beat.



Well, this is awkward.

Um... ah... I hate... traffic lights... or something...