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November 06 ChangeDue to public demand I'm migrating to a myspace blog instead of this. As of now this is retired and you can catch my writing at:
http://www.myspace.com/stephenhurn October 25 A lamentI cannot sleep. I was lying in bed thinking of all these great things I wanted to write in my blog. So I got up and presto, I've instantly forgotten everything. So here's some random sentences. The pink porpoises poked Paul's purple platipus, plastering its plain placid poo over the prairy. Seven slippery snakes slithered simply southward, snapping sizable snorkler's shoes. Daft drunken Dave dallied and dordled under dazzling Diane's dance and drama diorama. Alright, enough illiteration overactive underlings. -Stephen October 23 Another Life (Part 8)As she looked in the mirror Rachael could not help but notice the weight that she had put on. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. She hated what she had become. The children had become more and more unmanageable. Her work was stressing her out. She felt bloated. Depressed she slipped on her cardigan and left her bedroom.
Outside a car horn went off. The kids were with Ian for the weekend and so Rachael had no real responsibilities and was planning on going out for the night with Sarah and Janice. Rachael quickly pulled her shoes onto her feet and made her way to the front door. She searched through her handbag to find her keys. After locking the door behind her she carefully picked her way down the overgrown pathway to the parked car. The door was already opened for her, the two girls buckled in and ready to go.
"Hey," said Sarah.
"Hey," Rachael replied.
"Are you ready to have some fun?" Sarah chirped, having turned herself so that she could see Rachael from her seat in the front.
"Yeah I suppose," Rachael replied in a non-committal tone.
"Tonight is your night chicky. We're gonna find you a tall handsome man," Sarah said in an annoyingly upbeat voice.
"Babe, we plan on getting you so drunk that ANY man you find will be tall, dark and handsome," Janice added as she pulled the car around the first corner. A small smile touched the corner of Rachael's lips. The banter kept up until the girls pulled into a side street behind the bar.
After nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk Rachael entered the bar. It was noisy but not quite full. She squeezed through a group of people and stood at the counter.
"Three screwdrivers," Rachael stated having leaned over the counter so that the bartender could hear her over the raucous.
"What?" the young bartender replied.
"Vodka and orange," was Rachael's reply which had a more icey tone than the comment deserved.
"Righto," was the response from the young man.
It took him a few seconds to prepare the drinks, during which time Rachael took the opportunity to scan the crowd. They were mostly young people in their twenties. As she took the glasses she spotted her friends, who had taken the opportunity to find a nice little booth with a small group of single men. They appeared to be getting along famously. Rachael pushed her way through the crowd to get to them.
"I saw the way you looked at her!" a man boomed from Rachael's left.
"I'll look at whoever I want to look at," came the arrogant reply.
Rachael hurried to get to her seat, but as she did one of the men took a swipe at the other, knocking him back into her. Rachael lost her balance, twisted on her right foot and fell, hitting her head on a nearby bench. She was out cold.
**********************
Rachael awoke with a massive headache. Slowly she opened her eyes. The room was bright, almost jarringly so. As her eyes began to focus she noticed some things. A handle dangled from the roof above her. She was lying in bed, surrounded by a curtain. She began to realise that she was in a hospital. She was still groggy though and closed her eyes for a few more moments. When she opened her eyes again she was met with an obviously startled nurse.
"Oh my, I'd better call the doctor," the nurse could be heard mumbling to herself. She was younger than Rachael, but only by a few years though she appeared to keep herself in extremely good physical condition, which was more than Rachael could say about herself.
Surveying the scene closer Rachael found a needle in her arm, which she felt had a tube attached to it. Slowly she realised that she was on a drip. What had happened? Through her headache Rachael forced from herself memories of the night at the bar.
"How long have I been out?" Rachael tried her obviously weak voice.
"The doctor will answer all of your questions," the nurse replied. And so Rachael waited for what seemed like hours.
Finally the doctor arrived. "Good evening Rachael," said the doctor calmly.
"How long?" was all that Rachael could force out.
"Well you hit your head extremely hard and gave yourself a severe concussion. Unfortunately we could not prevent you from lapsing into a coma. I hate to tell you this Rachael, but you've been unconscious for around seven months. The paramedics tell me that you're lucky to be alive. The force which you hit the corner of that table could have killed you had you hit it a couple of centimetres lower. For now you need rest. We will be monitoring you for at least a couple of weeks before you'll be right to go home."
Rachael would have wept, but did not have the energy. She'd lost over half a year. She wondered what her children would look like, or whether they would even recognise her like this. She felt so very weak. All of a sudden she was angry. She was angry with the men who caused this. She was angry at Ian for his infidelity. But most of all she was angry with herself. She had lost so much of her life. It was time for her to take it back. She would have to spend a lot of time recovering, but her resolve was now iron clad. It was time for her to stop being the victim and start being proactive. Her first priority would be to be the best mother she could be, and to do that, she reasoned, she would need to get herself into shape and get her personal life in order. But for now it was time to rest. September 26 Another Life (Part 7)Jonathan let out a giggle. He loved being bounced on Ian's knee. Unaware of Rachael's warm, contented gaze, Ian continued to play with his firstborn. The once brilliant sunset was in its final stages, resisting and not quite relenting to the night which would eventually replace it. Though she would never admit it, Rachael was fulfilling what she saw as a wife's duty - to make dinner for her family. The forth member of the Masters family was currently in her womb, barely two months from her birth.
Rachael brushed the carrot scraps aside and began to chop the broccoli. The monotonous banging of the knife on wood helped Rachael's mind drift. Her thoughts fluttered from one topic to another, caressing but not embracing her worries, concerns, insecurities, dreams and desires. She floated off, rhythmically tapping away at the tangible reality in front of her, while the intangible ideas in her mind tempted, teased and twisted at her daydreams.
Lost in the waking dreamstate, Rachael did not realise that she was, at this moment, the most satisfied that she had ever been in her life. She would be happier, sadder, angrier, but never more content with her reality. Out of the Frying PanIt has been almost one year to the day since my beginning, but now it seems I'm at an ending. What on earth am I talking about? My job of course! One year of three and a half hours a day travel. One year of endless support calls, each more annoying than the next. One year of walking fifteen minutes each way up hills and through bush to get to work. One year of sleepless nights. One year of something as close to hell as one can get outside of a war zone. One year of being underpaid, overworked, and stressed out beyond belief with what amounted to close to 60 hour weeks without more than one week of holidays.
But now it will end, and as with all endings, it makes me emotional and sentimental. I've met some great people at my current job, and in all likelihood I'll not see many of them ever again. It has led me to think at the countless numbers of people who have touched our lives, leaving their mark in indelible ink (and I'm not just talking about tattooists). Our individual histories are filled with cameo appearances from friends, enemies and neutrals alike. The grade two teacher. The bus driver. Your best friend from primary school who is all but forgotten. Each have shaped us and grown us in different ways. Some have opened our eyes to new possibilities. Others have led us down paths we have regretted. In all cases their actions are reflected in eternity.
The machinations which drive our world never cease to amaze me. Amid the chaos, violence, pollution and hatred lie individuals. Individuals who define reality as we know it. The world will one day forget the exploits of Shakespeare, Einstein and Galileo. We will one day forget the lessons of the Second World War. The passage of time will remove our remembrance of Picasso. One thing that will not change though is the way in which individuals shape the world. Our actions are writing the future and our thoughts are paving our destiny. With less than a sentence we can destroy a relationship. With a mere word our city can be reduced to dust.
Through it all though, one thing remains, the power of the individual to change others lives. And in the end, is not the most profound moment in human history the beliefs, suffering and redemption of one man. September 24 A night at the operaThe time was 9pm and I was hurrying to get out the door and on my way to see Howling Bells live at the Columbian bar. I got in my car and switched the radio on, Denvir next to me in the passenger seat. We started cruising down Gympie Rd. The car trip, which was not altogether unpleasant, was marred by having to stop every five meters for a new set of traffic lights. I mean, we were stopped at almost every single intersection. It was ridiculous, especially considering how few cars were on the road at that time.
Eventually we finally arrived at Fortitude Valley and park on St Pauls Tce, a few meters down the road from Constance St, which is where we need to be. I'd looked up the address and the place we were going to was number 14-20, which meant we needed to go to one of the ends of the street. Out go Denvir and I and start walking. I had a bit of a think, and since Constance St is a one way street it would seem logical that the lower numbers started at the beginning of the street. Oh how wrong I was. Mr Idiot Road Designer thought that the best way of designing a street was to have the bigger numbers at the beginning of the street and the smaller numbers at the end. Being the Valley, not many places have street numbers on them so it was several minutes until we realised our error. Back we trudged, all the way to the other end.
When we finally arrived at the venue, Denvir and I both realised that we did not have any cash on us. No problem we thought, they'll take cards. I mean any place selling tickets at the door takes credit card these days. Except the Columbian Bar. No, instead we had to cross the road to go to a petrol station to use their non-bank ATM (with ridiculous bank fee charges) to get out the cash we needed to get in the door. Not only that, but to cross the road required us to cross three times, since we could not cross to their directly. After crossing six times to get to and from a place barely twenty meters away we arrived back at the venue and paid our entrance fee.
Inside the venue I was surprised at the size of the place. I'd rung earlier and was told that the bar held 500 people. I don't know how they managed to get that number, but if you tried to fit 500 people into that place you'd have to have the bouncers pushing people in, just like on Japanese trains. Fortunately there wasn't that many people there.
The next thing that I noticed was the poor sound coming from the band on stage. The sound was very high pitched, with little base and poor midrange. Thankfully that was only the support band (yes, there was a support band for a $15 concert - go figure). Another bonus was that they were on their last song. So after an ear piercing four minutes, the band waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Just to complicate matters a little more though, to escape they had to walk through the crowd. Talk about poor design.
Anyway, after paying $6 for my Carlton Mid (yes that's right, $6 for a cheap midstrength beer - talk about a rip off) we stood around patiently awaiting the band we came to see. Half an hour later and the band takes the stage. Well, a band took the stage. I was not told that there would be a second crappy support band at this $15 concert. They too sounded really bad. At that stage Denvir and I were getting bored, so we left the bar and went for a walk down the Brunswick St Mall. It wasn't the first time I'd been down there on a Saturday night, but it was the busiest that I remember it ever being. After walking around for a little bit and hearing a busker who was a lot better than either of the two support bands, I decided I was hungry and thought that some nice home-made pizza would go down well. This vendor was selling pizza at $4 per slice and it looked like something I'd make. I forked over the cash and took two bites of it before giving it to Denvir to devour. It was the worst pizza I'd tasted EVER. I mean this thing was undercooked and contained no less than 90% salt. It probably contained some form of exotic food disease as well.
Eventually we headed back to the Columbian Bar in anticipation of the act we'd paid money to see. The bouncers check our pass out stamp (which was a cheap "COPY" stamp that you can get from any stationary shop for less than $10) and in we went. After hearing Helter Skelter by the Beatles absolutely ruined by the speakers during the changeover between sets, I decided that our best bet to get a decent sound was to get as close to the stage as possible. So Denvir and I made our way down to the front of the pack (who had thinned nicely after the second support band had finished). There we stood for another twenty odd minutes waiting for the band to set up. We were heating up nicely by this time. You see, when the person who designed the bar designed the bar, they decided that a good bar would have a very low roof so that a) all of the tinny high pitched sounds would be reflected around and echo in the most annoying of manners and b) so that the hot air generated by a few hundred people crammed into an area smaller than the average suburban back yard could not find any means to escape. Eventually a fan was turned on, which eased the suffering somewhat.
By the time the band came out to play it was nearly midnight. Doors opened at 8. Some people had been there since 8. And as the support acts had been so crap, those that had been there since 8 had been drinking for several hours. A couple of guys in particular were completely smashed and just so happened to stand near myself and Denvir. When I say stand I mean they pushed their way to be in front of us, and then danced (and I use that term *extremely* loosely) around like maniacs, flailing those close by with their uncontrolled limbs. This was a concert with several hundred people crammed in like sardines, and this one guy had a 2m by 2m zone at the front of the floor to himself because nobody was game to stand any closer to him.
Finally the band began to play. They were fantastic. I mean really top notch. And at the front of the crowd the sound was even passable. But after a few songs the drunkards really started annoying me to the point where I wasn't enjoying the show. So I moved to the back of the crowd. Big mistake. From the back, near the sound desk, the sound was appalling. Ok so it wasn't as bad as the sound for the support acts, but it was worse than my worst efforts at mixing the church sound desk - and that's saying a lot.
Then after a really good 45 minute set which the venue did their best to ruin, the concert was over. The band was done and weren't coming back for an encore.
I'm glad it only cost me $15. March 07 Ponderings over a toasted sandwichToday at lunch I did something that I have done at lunch for the last few days now. I ate some food, although this is not the particularly interesting part of my story. While I was eating my lunch I was reading the newspaper, which in itself is also not particularly worthy of an online anecdote. Fortunately however, the newspaper that I was reading was not the Courier Mail, nor was it the Sunday Mail (which, is a doubly important point as today was not Sunday and the Sunday Mail is generally not worth reading even when it is Sunday). Instead I was reading The Australian. Normally the Australian is a right-wing Howard-centric newspaper. Today The Australian was a right-wing Howard-centric newspaper, which, given the nature of The Australian and it's Howard-centric right-wingedness was not a particularly Earth-shattering occurrence. Thankfully though, I managed to find an article which did not mention Howard by name, but instead merely referred to "the federal government" as a general entity. Considering the aforementioned disposition of The Australian newspaper, this abstraction was a breath of fresh air in the stuffy Howard-filled cupboard that is the rest of the Australian.
So now we are nearing the interesting part of my post. And by interesting, I mean the part which is slightly less boring than the rest of my blog, which in itself is not a great achievement. The really interesting part of this tale is the part where I make mention of the actual contents of the article which only had one abstract reference to John Howard. The article in question centres around the question - "Should we place gifted children in classes which are not ludicrously below their levels of intelligence?" Now when phrased like this, the question seems quite easy to answer, however, most parents are afraid that their children will finish school a year early and they will be stuck with a leeching uni student who is still two years from adulthood. So the parents in the article phrase the question like this - "My poor baby child will be emotionally scarred for life because they will be younger than all the other children in their grade", which you will note, is not actually a question, but merely an emotional whimper which really belies their own insecurity that their child will grow up to be someone who is not like them. This "someone who is not like them" is also commonly known as a "success".
The article goes on to mention that studies have been performed which followed the actual results of sixty students with an IQ around 160. Here is the results of the study, in the exact wording of the author (who is anonymous - presumably made so by my poor attempts at photocopying):
For the past 20 years she has been conducting a longitudinal study of 60 students with IQs of 160, about half of whom were advanced in school. All of the children who skipped years in school are at university, in relationships, some with children, and have not fallen into any of the traps of mixing with older children predicted for them when younger.
But of the 33 students who were made to progress through school year by year, six have had or are having treatment for depression.
Hold it right there. Six out of 33 (or 18% for those of you who would not have been eligible for advancement at school and cannot work out percentages yourselves) are having treatment for depression. That is nearly 1 in 5 people. This will be extremely good news to all the parents who resisted advancing their child through school, as it means that they will have become successful at the Ultimate Parental Responsibility, which is to see that your child becomes more neurotic and deranged than you are.
For those of us who are not parents, the results of this little study could not be clearer. I mean, we keep people down a grade because they are stupid, so shouldn't we elevate people up a grade if they are smart. You don't say to a swimmer "I'm sorry, you've broken the world record but because you are only 16 we don't think that you are Olympics material". I have always been one to harp on about the inadequacies of the educational system, and a big part of what makes the system inadequet is their inability to teach me how to spell inadequite correctly. Another large part of what makes the system such a poor way of teaching students is that there is no competition. School is not a race. If we made students race each other through school, to see who could be out of that hellhole in the least amount of time, we'd have less stoners and more intelligent, gifted students come through. After all, you don't train athletes by not challenging them. So why do we not bother challenging our brightest students?
-Stephen the cynic February 21 The best show currently on TVI do not watch much tv. The reason for this is that most tv is a complete waste of time. Stories are uninspired, concepts are overdone and in general tv has a whole lot of stuff on it which appeals to people with the intelligence of a brainless mule. This is because generally tv shows are approved by television executives, who would in fact lose a battle of wits with the aforementioned mule. Nevertheless, somehow, sometimes, true gems shine through. I don't know how it happens, but amid all the endless repetitive incarnations of Big Brother and Days of Our Lives, a television show emerges which actually requires an IQ of 100 to follow. Usually these shows developed what are termed "cult followings", which really means that these shows actually have had some quality to them in at least one incarnation somewhere along the line.
The original Star Trek was a cult show, and for good reason. The original Star Trek pushed the boundaries of what was allowable on tv at the time. Surely you can't have Russians on an American spaceship! A white man kissing a black woman, what a crazy notion. We laugh at this now, but in the late sixties these were real issues and Star Trek dealt with them with grace. It was rough around the edges, but it spawned four sequel shows (three of which were only successful because they carried the Star Trek tag, which was made popular by the original show and the Next Generation).
More recently we have seen other "cults" show up. Babylon 5 lead the renaissance with its epic sweeping story which spanned five years and led a revival in science fiction. The X-files was the other modern classic, and although it carried an overly convoluted storyline which never seemed to provide the viewer with too much payoff, it had moments of brilliance which elevated it to the status of "cult". Even more recently there have been other shows which have earned the same praise, some deservedly (Firefly) and some probably not so deservedly (Buffy/Angel - although by my own admission I didn't see more than a handful of episodes of these shows).
Where am I going with this editorial? Well, I've sung it's praises before (in D# I believe...) but I cannot speak too highly of the 4400. Yes, Lost is really addictive and I really enjoy it. Desperate Housewives has a humour so subtle and so black that it tickles me pink, but neither of these shows (nor any others on tv at the moment) are quite as good as the 4400. Ok, so the acting is a bit substandard in places, the first season (i.e. the miniseries) was not particularly special, but the writing is to die for. Forget the seemingly endless slow drag of the Lost storyline, the 4400 is fast paced, action packed and has twists that are so esoteric, and yet so plausible (within the universe of course) that the show is an absolute delight. If you haven't seen it yet, hire the DVDs and watch them starting from the start. You will not be disappointed. February 12 Valentines DayWell Tuesday is Valentines Day. A day of mourning for men. For single men there is lots to be mournful for. Namely the lack of female company. For men in relationships there is even more to be mournful for. Namely the lack of money that the day induces. For women this day carries mixed emotions. Some get taken to restaurants, enjoy fancy dinners and the flattery of men who really don't want to screw up. But lets face it, if you are a woman and reading this blog then you're probably in the next category of women, the broken hearted. Whether its because your boyfriend forgot the date or because your only secret admirer is that weird pimply guy who is probably a psychopath in the making, Valentines day is a cruel reminder that you did not win the genetic lottery. There are lots of girls out there who are prettier than you, and lets face it, there are probably some who would have been more ugly if not for the sizable silicone in their chests and the deadly collagen in their lips. Either way, you're not getting a valentines card, or at least not one from the guy you want to get one from.
So I have taken it upon myself to try and help out all the desperate, lonely losers out there who are dreading the halfway point in February by providing you with some ideas for how to cheer yourselves up on this day of horrible, bitter, empty loneliness.
The real key to doing this is to find someone happier than you and make them pay for your misery. To find the perfect target you have to understand how to spot the right type of person. There are several different types of celebrants on this day of dread.
Type one is the relationshippies. These are the people who are in long term relationships. They make great targets, because usually at this time of the year they are at their happiest. Any children have just gone back to school. Relationships are usually better after the break that Christmas provided, before they settle back into the dull, passionless grind of their relationship (even in this state though, they're happier than you, and as such are still to be tormented and loathed for their blissful unhappy relationship). These are much more of a tempting target if the partner of the opposite sex to you is quite attractive.
Type two are the desperate lonelies who have hooked up to alleviate their desperate loneliness at this time of the year. These people should not be targeted as they are generally the same as you - lonely, desperate and bored. These types of people make satisfying victims the rest of the year around and so should be left alone for this occasion. It's possible that around this time they may find a mate and actually breed, ensuring future generations of desperate lonelies that your own children and grandchildren can use as year-round tormentees.
Type three are by far the worst of the bunch. These are the ones that make you sick to the core. They are so noxious that they should be quarantined. They are the newly infatuated. These people are generally people who used to be like you, which makes the betrayal that much worse. They probably cried at home every night for the last five years, but somehow, they have found somebody that they actually find attractive (well at least after a couple of martinis) and most grotesquely, that person actually feels the same way about them. The technical term for these people are the Infatuates. So enraptured with the blissful state of their hormonal imbalances that they actually find their partners compelling and interesting, these people generally switch off to the rest of the world, making them that much more difficult to torment. The cloud of emotion fogs their every move as they are lost in the sickening belief that the other person "completes" them, as if they were a jigsaw puzzle.
Type four are your allies in this struggle against relational bliss. These are what is affectionately known as "singles". Under no circumstances are you to ever target other singles in your valentines revenge campaign. In fact you may wish to make a temporary truce with one of them to inflict pain to a set of infatuates who "should" have gone out with them instead. Be warned, these people may end up falling for you, and unless you are strong willed you may become an infatuate yourself, which is both the most hated and desired state for singles. Usually the singles will follow the downward love spiral. They start as singles, occasionally becoming desperate lonelies until they meet someone that turns them into *shudder* an infatuate. Finally when the infatuate disease has worn off they become another set of relationshippies.
Now that we have identified who your friends and enemies are in this battle against the valentines blues are, we have to work out where to find the true targets (the relationshippies and the infatuates). The true targets are the infatuates, because for them, this is as good as it gets. For you however, this is as disgusting as it gets. How dare they be in such a state of emotional ecstasy while you sit in the doldrums of singleness? Unfortunately for you, infatuates are the hardest to find, since there is so few of them (it doesn't take long for infatuates to become relationshippies).
Most infatuates like doing something somewhere extremely romantic in their quest to make your life a misery. You can translate "romantic" into "poorly lit" (this is generally to hide the inherent ugliness of both partners). You can also assume that the infatuates will not care if they are meeting in a public place, after all for some sick reason infatuates believe that they need to whole world to know that they are infatuates. It is as if they enjoy showing off. Infatuates are also generally young and poor (which is quite a good thing for you, because if they were rich then you wouldn't have anything to make you feel superior). So based on this information we can deduce that infatuates spend a lot of time in parks or on piers or going for walks at the beach.
Now that we have determined where to find our particular targets, we need to find appropriate punishments for their perpetual bliss. Probably the primary method of attack is the trusty stinkbomb. Nothing shuts down the heightened emotional state of romance more than a really, really smelly, rotten stinkbomb. This is especially good if you can somehow manage to make each of the infatuates think that it was their newfound partner. Remember, your goal is to share the misery of your singleness with them.
Another popular and effective assault is the "half eaten chocolate" attack. You need to find the chocolates that the male is going to give to the female at least an hour before the gift is given. Then the chocolates need to be carefully unwrapped. You may then either eat the chocolates (which is good for comforting yourself in your current miserable state) or throw them in the bin. You then need to replace the chocolates with something not very pleasant. The best things for this are items such as these: prawn heads (nice and aromatic!), snails, dead cockroaches and pieces of uncooked liver from your dogs dinner. Nothing says "I love you" like a box of chocolates and nothing says "I'm going to puch you in the face" like a gift of day old Pal. Just be careful to rewrap the gift and place it in exactly the place you found it before the date takes place, otherwise the present may be forgotten and your joy ruined.
So I hope that you have learned something from my explanation of how to get the most enjoyment out of your misery this Valentines day. This guide is only intended to be a start and there is a lot of flexibility to the plans. Remember, you're single and as such have plenty of time to plot your evil schemes while the infatuates and relationshippies are out there planning which floral bouquet to give or which resturaunt provides exactly the right amount of lack of light to perfectly hide their ugliness in a vale of shadow.
- Stephen Long time no blogWell it's been a while. I have done some writing though, entering into a cricket writing comp. Unfortunately I did not win. Here are my efforts (I had 3 entries, all had to be 200 words or less)...
Entry 1
Australia’s first match of World Cup 2003 in Johannesburg was the setting for one of the most memorable one-day innings ever played. With Warne freshly banned from cricket for a year and Ricky Ponting only a very new captain, many were questioning the chances of the Australian team. The Pakistani team looked to have a mighty bowling attack with Wasim Akram, Shoaib Akhtar and Waqar Younis. Australia batted first and quickly lost wickets. First Gilchrist, followed uncharacteristically early by Hayden. Martyn and Maher followed in short order-leaving Australia reeling at 4/86. Out to the center strode Andrew Symonds, who was very much an unproven commodity, averaging in the mid-twenties after over 50 matches. The media were calling for his scalp, and he was on his last legs with the selectors. Seemingly undisturbed by this, Symonds walked to the center and played one of the finest one-day international innings ever played. That one innings, 143* came to symbolize that world cup. In every innings henceforth, one Australian player would step up and deliver a match-winning performance. The tone of Australia’s World Cup 2003 campaign began with that gritty, unwavering determination of Andrew Symonds in his devastatingly brilliant, career saving century.
Entry 2
The Ashes 2005 was one of the most thrilling contests in sporting history. From the heart-pounding last wicket stand at Edgebaston to the epic captains knock by Ricky Ponting at Old Trafford both English and Australian audiences were treated to one of the greatest soap operas the world has ever witnessed. If the Ashes could be likened to a gladiatorial struggle, two players were certainly the champions for their countries. Andrew Flintoff and Shane Warne. Flintoff devastated with the bat and humiliated with the ball while Warne in many ways exceeded him by taking forty wickets in five matches and making almost two hundred and fifty runs. No one in the history of world cricket has done more for his country than Warne did during the ashes, and yet the true deciding moment in the series was also Warne’s only failure. For barely an instant in time, Warne ceased being a living deity and revealed that he was in fact, merely human – dropping Kevin Peterson on the last day of the final test. The final result to the most nerve-shredding sporting contest in history was decided in that split second, with England sealing their series victory a few hours later.
Entry 3
From the rebel tour of South Africa, to their most recent test series here in Australia, battles between South Africa and Australia have captured the imaginations of cricket fans around the world. The pinnacle of this fierce cricketing rivalry occurred in the semi-final of the 1999 World Cup. Australia decided to bat first and scored a solid, though not spectacular 213. South Africa’s innings proved intense, with momentum swinging from one side to another. Partnerships were made and broken, until finally South Africa struggled their way to 9/213. Tension built as Waugh brought in the field. The crowd was deafening. What had been a thrilling contest then climaxed, as the final ball was bowled. Klusener began to run. Donald did not. Living rooms around Australia exploded with exclamations of excitement and joy, while in South Africa the only sound that could be heard was the breaking of hearts as the bails were removed. The tie saw Australia into the final, and South Africa wondering what could have been. This was one of the finest moments in sporting history, and one that will not soon be forgotten. December 19 RBCiv Epic 1In case anyone is interested, I have written a report on a Civ 4 game that I recently played (my player alias is Smegged). I have been meaning to update this site a bit more often but life kinda gets in the way sometimes :).
-Stephen November 13 Pink FloydWhat a difference thirty years makes. I am currently listening to "A Saucerful of Secrets" by Pink Floyd. The album is a mind-trip, to put it mildly. Pink Floyd and other bands of their time were heavily into LSD, and it really shows in their music. Their songs are eclectic and very different from pretty much anything else out there. Random sounds phase in and out as the music swirls in the air, generating images of unreality, feelings of colour and a general sense that everything isn't quite as it should be. The music is different, surreal and unique.
Fast forward thirty years to today's music scene. Each year, a few good albums come out. This year it's been QotSA with Lullabies to Paralyse and The White Stripes with Get Behind Me Satan. But even these albums seem derivative and cliched when compared to the majesty of albums released in the late sixties and seventies. The time before overcommercialisation that has been the signature of bands from the eighties onwards (with few exceptions). What is more amusing is that Punk (and emo) fans think that Punk (and emo) is cool not because the music is any good, but because they think that it makes them different and therefore somehow cooler. The sad and funny thing is that Punk and Emo is the most cliched genre of rock that has ever existed. The chords are the same, the guitar tones are the same and the rhythms are the same. Even the singers sound the same these days. I have a tough time telling the difference between one whiney American punk singer and another. They all have that same, nasally "can't sing but I'll pretend I can" sound to them.
Ironically for the music industry, the records that have sold the most in the past were always the experimental albums, the albums which broke the boundaries of what could be done. Look at the top five best selling albums of all time. In it is the Eagles Greatest Hits, Thriller, The Wall and Led Zeppelin's 4th album. All of these were groundbreaking, experimental albums (except for the Eagles, which was actually a compilation of all their groundbreaking singles). In today's market, being inoffensive and bland is rewarded (I'm looking at you Alex Lloyd). Being "cool" sells more records than being talented *caugh*50cent*caugh*. The classical rock star is dead. Why do you think that Ozzy Ozborne and Gene Symmons are still all over the news? It's because the modern day rock star is just a musical nerd who seeks to imitate those who have come before him (death glare being sent your way Chad Kroeger).
Anyway the point of this post is to tell everyone how cool Pink Floyd actually are. Groundbreaking. Experimental. Talented. All words that describe Pink Floyd's music. All words which describe what's lacking in modern music.
-Stephen November 12 Christian City ChurchFor around five to six months between the end of 2004 and the start of 2005 I was a member of CCC. Well, I'm not sure if I was technically a "member" of the church, but I attended every Sunday night service, and went to the young adults service every week that I could. And yet, I retain none of my contacts within the church. Almost nobody that I know currently has any idea what happened during my time there. The reasons for my departure have remained a mystery, only explained in the vague "God did not want me there anymore" response, which although true, does not explain very much.
When I left Rivers I was in a rut. Going to church felt like a chore, and I needed change. I knew it was time to leave the church. The only time in which I would even show up for church was on the Sunday nights that I was on sound. I felt old in a church of mostly teenagers. Too old to be a part of the young crowd and too young to belong to the older crowd. I was in no mans land and desperately needed to connect to other people my own age. I toyed with the idea of going to the Warner church, but it was very clear to me that I was most certainly not meant to go there. I had many reasons not to go which I've told nobody (or very few), but the primary reason was that I needed a change that Warner could not provide. So I left Rivers. Very quietly, without much ado. I did not feel that I needed to make a grand exit from the church, nor delay my exit until after the Warner plant was announced to the whole congregation. I told my homegroup, all of which are now either at Warner or overseas, and I told a select few others.
My next decision was where to go next. I toyed with the idea of going to a few different churches, but eventually decided that I would try CCC. As soon as I began there I felt refreshed, like I was being renewed. My enthusiasm for church was coming back. A strong young adults group attracted me also. I instantly put my name down to join a connect group. CCC was a church that I really really liked, and felt that I could be a part of. The sermons were excellent on Sunday nights. The young adults services were really quite good. I would recommend the church wholeheartedly to those wishing to find a good church on the northside.
So what went wrong? Well that is a good question. And I sincerely wish that I did not have to answer that. I wish that I was still a part of the church. Not because I dislike where I am now, but because my time there could have been so much more than it was. The most major problem that I had in the church was that of responsibility. In all my time there, I offered to help out with the young adults services on no less than three occasions (I think it was around five times that I asked), to people in leadership positions. Every single time I was told that there was plenty of stuff that needed doing, and that they were particularly looking for guys to help out. And yet I was not given the opportunity to do something as simple as greet people on Friday nights, or help out with making the videos that were shown every week. Perhaps that is a problem with all large churches, but it is really disappointing not to be able to contribute when you want to.
The next major problem that I had was with my peers in the church. Not with anybody in particular, but with the way in which social ties formed in the young adults of the church. I wanted to get involved with a connect group (fortnightly social group) to get to know people better. This would have been great, except that of the seven or so people in the connect group, only one person showed up for the Friday night young adults services - and she was the leader. Everybody else showed up no more than once to the services in the whole time that I was there. To compound factors further, many of the people who showed up on Friday nights did not show up on Sunday nights (and practically nobody from my connect group showed up on Sunday nights either). So the situation was that there would be two or three different sets of people that I would see. This does not give a very strong sense of community!
Finally, the problem that eventually drove me away was a decision to move young adults services to Wednesday nights. This caused some major headaches. The idea was to move it away from Friday nights because people often complained that they could not attend because of youth group (which was run at the same time as young ads). The format of the nights was also changed, to reflect the rock concert atmosphere of the youth services. So what once were laid back affairs that would happen at the end of the week, were now high energy mid-week parties. While this may appeal to some, I found that as a young adult I was tied up during the week with work and unable to attend more often than not. I'm sure that others were in the same boat. Eventually I stopped going to the young adults services (one of the major drawcards for me) and then I stopped going to Sunday nights. I soon realised that I had to change churches once again.
So from this experience I have learned a few things. The first is to let everybody play a part (if they want to). If not they will never feel quite at home. The second thing is that people need some kind of regularity with their social group within the church. If people get put into a homegroup of people they don't see at church it can lead to feelings of disconnection. Finally, I've learned that if something is not broken then don't try to fix it! Friday night young adults services were always full. Somehow I just don't see that happening on Wednesday nights (although it could be, I haven't been to CCC for over six months now).
After all of this at CCC I went and tried out another church, but that's a story for another insomnia-inspired late night.
-Stephen November 09 Sickness, breasts and the RiftwarUggh, I hate being unwell. My body has finally given up on me after all that insomnia that I've been experiencing. I crashed and burned and today I wound up so exhausted that I slept for half the day, taking a sick day off work. I knew it was coming sometime soon, with my body being unwilling to give me more than seven hours sleep in a night, and often less than five. I would go to bed at 9 and my body would wake me at 3:30. This morning I was so tired that it took all my energy to write an email to my boss saying I was not going to be in today. At this stage I don't even know if I'll make it in tomorrow :(.
On a different note, what I find quite intersting is that from all the hits that my space gets, a small percentage are from people not on my msn list. I get a reasonable amount of hits from search engines (particularly blogger.com). You know what key word is most often used in those searches? Breasts. Yep, breasts. A while back I wrote a post entitled "Giant Breasts Woman", which seems to have drawn the attention of many horny guys out there trying to find sexually explicit posts. Well I hope they get a shock when they follow the link to my page :).
Changing tack once more, I finished the final book in the Riftwar Saga by Raymond E Feist earlier this week. I recommend the books (Magician, Silverthorn and A Darkness At Sethanon) to any fiction lovers. These books created a vast universe, rich in history and lore, simultaneously fleshing out a cast of some twenty or thirty-odd characters in a convincing way. My only complaint is that a few of the plot twists are very predictable, and the story itself is reasonably contrived. This however is a small complaint when compared to the immense world (actually it is two worlds!) that Feist creates. Many people seek to compare the books to the Lord of the Rings, but that is a futile comparison, as both have different good points and bad points. I found the first half of the Fellowship of the Ring quite boring, and only after that did the story get interesting, whereas the whole Riftwar Saga kept me engrossed throughout. And yet I felt that the Riftwar Saga lacked in other areas that Lord of the Rings excelled in. Middle Earth is a smaller canvas than Midkemia, and yet Tolkien painted it so richly that no other books can compare. Having said all that, both series are interesting and are well worth reading.
-Stephen November 07 Little BirdyWell it's now very late at night, and I know that in a mere four and a half hours I must awake for a week of work. Tomorrow's shirt currently spins in the washing machine, awaiting my attention before I may finally rest. I am up this late because I am in love. In love with a girl with a voice from the heavens, and a band who's talent matches it. You see tonight, for the first time, I saw Little Birdy play live at the Tivoli.
I got to the Tivoli at about 8 and met up with the other guys who had volunteered to come along. We got inside the theatre soon after, and went to wait for the bands to start up. After a while a support act came on the stage. He had a sense of humour, referring to himself as "the first guy", knowing that 99% of people would not remember him in an hours time. Baz, Bean and myself started to get bored, so we decided to skip the second support act and head out to one of the pubs in the Valley.
Upon arriving back at the Tivoli we promptly found Sam, Paul and Lauren and stood awaiting the band that we'd all come to see. Then, after twenty minutes of smalltalk, we all shut up as the band walked onto stage. "I'm exci-i-ited", came ringing through the overdriven speakers as Little Birdy launched the concert with their most obvious opener. If you have listened to the Little Birdy album you may wonder if Katy Steele (yes that is how you spell her name!) can really sing that well in real life. And the answer is yes, her voice really is that good. To have heard it live is truly one of the most beautiful sonic experiences one will have. The sonic bliss of her voice was wonderfully juxtaposed to the powerful and destructive electronic guitars and mighty booming drum sounds that pumped through the speakers.
As the night went on the music got better, sweeter and more intense. Most of the songs from "Big Big Love" were played, and about three or four new songs were thrown in for good measure. And if the new songs that were played tonight were any indication of the rest of the up-and-coming album then it will be a blockbuster of epic proportions. Eventually the final chords were played and the band walked off stage, leaving nothing but sweet memories of a Sunday night that should never be forgotten. And now it is fifteen minutes later and I still have not made it to bed.
-Stephen October 26 UpdateI've been busy busy busy recently. But since JB were having a sale, I picked up Grace by Jeff Buckley and There is Nothing Left To Lose by the Foo Fighters. They've replaced a couple of slightly older albums on my car CD list. Experience Hendrix has also joined the list.
2 CDs for $20 is the sale and I'm looking to go back when I get some more cash and pick up a couple of Pink Floyd albums that I've wanted for a while.
-Stephen October 14 Quick noteIf anyone is wondering what kind of music I like, I have posted my current car mp3 cd's contents. This is the CD that I listen to when I am driving anywhere. All the albums are complete and are found in our house somewhere. The CD changes every once in a while (usually when I get a new album or get bored of the previous cd). I'll update it as it changes. For now you can laugh, cry, ghasp or be thoroughly unimpressed by my current selection. (It's on the right hand side of my page for those who can't find it). The scare of my lifeWell tonight I received the scare of my life. I just did my first budget on my first pay packet. All of a sudden I know why people who are on good wages can be broke. I allocated 10% of my income for these 3 areas - God, myself and my future, in the form of tythes, spendings and savings. Then I took the rest, and allocated petrol, car upkeep, mobile phone bills, loan repayments and board and all of a sudden I didn't have anything left! If I had not done this I can imagine that it would be quite simple to spend every penny very quickly, particularly when getting paid by the month.
Like pretty much everything else in life, I view monetary things in terms of numbers and systems. If you find reading about money or statistics boring, you can tune out for a few paragraphs right now. Take Jim - a professional frog lawyer who specialises in representing purple polka dotted frogs with six legs - who has an income of $5000 per month after tax and HECS.
The person currently has these monthly expenses:
Mortgage (around $435 000 over 30 years) - $3000
Food - $400
Electricity - $100
Phones (inc. mob) - $75
Petrol - $250
Misc. - $175
Self/recreation/medical - $150
Total - $4350
Jim decides that he is earning enough to afford a $45000 MR2 instead of the $35000 Falcon. Jim has saved up $5000 for a deposit on the car. The loan repayments for the Falcon come in at just under $500 per month for a 7 year loan. The MR2 only costs an extra $150 per month. Great! he thinks. I can afford it. After all the current surplus in the budget is $800, which will drop to $150 when s/he buys the car.
Unfortunately this budget it going to royally screw Jim if he buys the MR2. Why? Because in 3 months time interest rates rise by a meagre .5% for home loans and 1% for personal loans. All of a sudden the home loan costs an extra $150 per month. The car loan also increases, but only by $20 per month. However this poses a problem. You see now, Jim's surplus has dropped from $150 into a defecit of -$20. This is VERY bad news for Jim, and he'll have to work very hard at protecting those frogs from getting sued by irate flies who have lost family members to greedy frogs, just to make ends meet. In reality Jim would have to take the extra $20 out of his personal spending money.
If instead, Jim had bought the Ford Falcon, he would still be out the extra $170 per month, but he would still have a $130 surplus. He would also have $900 in savings, compared to his MR2-reduced $450, and in 9 months time would have grown his savings into $2070, whereas he would have eaten his savings down to $270 if he had have gone with the MR2.
So small an economic factor just cost Jim $1800. The thing is that this is not just limited to big purchases. Buying lunch instead of making it at home probably costs an extra $5 per day. That's $35 per week, or $1800 per year. Imagine what you could do with $1800. So if Jim spent an extra 10 minutes in the morning and drove a new Ford Falcon instead of an MR2 he has save $3600 in one year. That is enough to buy a new MR2 in cash in about 15 years time! That sounds like a long way away, but money is a time-game. Good habbits may seem tough to get used to in the short term, but in the long term they show up as being exponentially useful. Which is why I believe in the 10/10/10 or bust rule (I know it's an imaginative name). 10% for tythes, 10% for me and 10% for savings - if I can't afford that I'm busted financially. All my other expenses must be covered by the remaining 70%. When you know youre limit it's much easier to stay under it.
So why did I get a fright when I did my budget? Because I came damn close to breaking that 10/10/10 or bust rule without actually spending anything. An extra CD per week would bust me and that would be very very bad.
-Stephen October 13 New Zealand psuedo journalI'm going to write up some stuff about New Zealand before I completely forget all about it.
We left on the Sunday at about 6pm from Brisbane airport. The plane was a mid-sized plane which seated 6 across. I got the window seat, which was great (I love planes and windows and views out of windows on planes). The flight was long and a bit boring though since it was nighttime almost as soon as we left. All I could see from my window was the wings and blackness :(. Nevertheless, just like every other flight that I've been on I really enjoyed it.
We got into Christchurch at midnight New Zealand time, which was about 10pm our time. We went outside into the cold and made our way to the hotel that we were staying at, which we caught a shuttle to, even though it was like 2 minutes walk away. At the hotel we all went inside and tried to sleep. By this time it was about 1.30 local time. We had to catch a flight at about 7.30 local time to get into Queenstown. So there wasn't much time for sleep. I think that we got about 4 hours at the most.
Anyway the flight into Queenstown was absolutely breathtaking. From the other side of the plane you could see mountains covered in snow, whereas from my window I could see the east coast, interspersed with all the valleys, hills and mountains that pepper the South Island. When I could not see land it was due to the blanket of light cloud that stood between us and the ground. It too was a sight to behold. The descent into Queenstown was unlike anything else I have ever experienced. We were flying down through the clouds, and then further down, below the line of mountains that surrounded the town, and further down until we landed on the single airstrip that services the city.
When we got off the plane we were confronted by some of the most breathtaking scenery that you will ever see. Until you have seen it in person you cannot know truly how gorgeous that it is. Anyway when I got onto the tarmac I turned on my digital camera and started taking photos (how touristy of me :P). Then from nowhere, the meanest and probably ugliest flight attendant I've ever seen went nuts at me for taking photos. She literally told me to stop taking photos "because we spilled some fuel on the runway and you might blow us all up". I had to laugh at her naivity (or maybe it was merely stupidity?).
We met up with the shuttle that took us from the airport to the lodge that we were staying at. We all quickly decided that although we had had no sleep at all we would go sleeping that day, and rushed to make the 9.30 shuttle to the Remarkables (Coronet Peak had closed for the season and Mt Hutt was much much further away). So we all pretty much grabbed what we needed and then left.
Our first day of skiing was a bit funny. I had never skied before, and neither had Bean. So we stayed on the magic carpet for much of the day. I ended up going to the basic green run (the easiest run that wasn't the magic carpet) by the end of the day. Total number of falls on day 1: 497.
After a long day on the slopes we went back to Queenstown, and looked for a place to eat. The first couple of places we went to were already full and so we ended up going to the Lone Star that was in town. I can't remember exactly what was ordered (other than my own meal), but it was all BIG. I mean like Supersize-me big. For starters, Sam and I shared some specially made scallops in garlic sauce. Then I got a lamb dinner which was basically a mountain of mashed potato, with three lamb shanks on top, covered in a really really nice dressing, with a side of Salad. By the time I had finished this meal I was full. So full that I couldn't fit any more in. Then came time for desert (which only two people ordered from memory). We were all joking about them bringing out Joel a whole cheesecake for his desert. Then they um, did. Well it was close enough to being a whole cheesecake. His slice was huge.
Anyway that night we all slept well, except me and Paul who had somehow managed to end up getting the double bed to share. The next day I got them to make up another bed for the rest of our time there.
The next couple of days were mainly spent skiing and shopping and doing other domestic type stuff that needed to be done so that we could enjoy the rest of our holiday. Total number of falls on day 2: 359. By day 3 my total number of falls was down to about 278. Days 4 and 5 saw that number reduced to about 134 and 78 respectively. Most mornings we were all getting up for the 7.30 shuttle, except for Baz and Joel who were both out of action by the 4th day. Anyway the first 4 days were spent skiing mostly. I do remember that one afternoon I had to do some stuff in Queenstown so I came back in the 1.30 shuttle. That afternoon after I'd finished getting the stuff I needed, I decided to take a bit of a walk. I walked in the general direction of our lodge, but not down the same roads that it was on. I managed to find this walking trail, which I think that maybe two people have ever walked up. About ten minutes down this walk through the forest, I met a sign which told me that I was on my way to the gondola area or I could go a different way and I would be at an old waterworks place. Well if you've ever been to Queenstown you would know that there is no way in hell anyone in their right mind would be stupid enough to walk up to the gondolas. The top of that is so high that when you are walking through the town at night, the lights from the restaurant can be seen above the top of the buildings that you're walking past. It literally looks like a UFO due to the blackness of night masking the mountain lying under it. So I went somewhat further and encountered a tiny waterfall, and some old dead corroded piping that once, long ago, must have served someone. Eventually I got bored, and went back to the lodge.
On the 5th and 7th days there, pretty much everyone didn't go skiing. On the first of the two days I remember doing some cool stuff, like going up in the gondolas and going luging, hiring scooters with Sam and Denvir and riding out to arrowtown and blowing $40 at the casino on blackjack (which happened to be pretty uncool actually - the dealer had blackjack literally every second hand that day). The scooters were really fun to take around the place, and on the way back from arrowtown we went past some pretty cool houses, some of which I took photos of. I also played minigolf with Bean somewhere in there in probably the coolest minigolf place I've been to. There were so many cool holes which I managed to get on camera (which are now sitting on Baz's computer.
The other day off that we had was a bit of a different day. It was Denvir, Sam, Bean and I who did stuff together that day. Which incidentally is the four people who used to hang around each other every lunchtime at school in year 12. Anyway the plan was to hire some scooters and ride out to arrowtown again. So we got to the scooter place and found that they only had 3 scooters. Fair enough, we thought, there was another place in town which hired out scooters. So we went to the other place. The scooters were similarly priced to the other ones, but the guy was telling us that if we damage them at all the excess is $1000. We felt that this was a little excessive, and wanted to clarify what he meant by damage (the other place had a $500 excess, which pretty much only came into play if you wrote the scooters off). So we started reading the contract and asking a couple of sensible questions (like why we should pay $1000 if a car drives past, kicks up a stone and smashes a mirror or something like that). As we were partway through reading the contract, the guy then snatched the contracts from us and said "That's it, I'm going to pull out now, you're obviously going to be doing stuff you're not meant to be doing with the bikes" and then sent us on our way. It was actually pretty funny how stupid the guy actually was, but it wasn't funny how it left us without transport. So we decided to hire a car, and after much searching eventually settled on the most expensive of the dealers. Stupid, I know, but we were tired by that stage. Anyway we spent the whole afternoon from then on going to the cheese and wine places that sprinkle the area. We met some journalists at one of the places and had a chat to them about their visit which was pretty cool. Then we drove on for a bit and went to a lookout that wasn't really a lookout, it was just a spot where some water went past. Then I tried driving a car filled with 20 year old guys up a gravel road on a steep incline, with potholes about 20 cm deep to get out. That didn't work so all the other guys got out and I got up ok. After that we went back to the lodge and had some dinner.
The final two days of skiing saw much improvement for myself. I managed to do all the blue runs by the second last day skiing and then on the last day I managed to do them all without falling over. Total falls for the two days: 54 and 10. When it was finally time to stop skiing I was a little sad, but happy at the same time. I was looking forward to my own bed, and perhaps some privacy at home.
The flights home were relatively unremarkable, although it was a little annoying to have a 27h day and then have to work the next day. I managed to get a foo fighters cd and a white stripes cd for $15 and $25 NZ respectively at the duty free places at the airport.
All in all it was a great holiday, spoiled only slightly by the sleeping arrangements.
-Stephen. |
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