NaBloPoMo Vs. Me

So the final score was NaBloPoMo 22, Me 8.

A pretty comprehensive victory but to be fair I was probably punching above my weight.

But now that my life has returned to some degree of normalcy (man that's a cool word) I will
hopefully have a little more free time with which to post.

For now, though, I must away.

Dreams, Can Come True

First and foremost, yes, I have drastically dropped the NaBloPoMo ball, but after this weekend I will be taking measures to make up for that. Plus, let's face it, none of, least of all me, really expected me to be able to do it right?

Anyway, last night I had a dream that Phil Collins called me and asked me to play guitar on a new recording he was doing (I think it was a soundtrack). I asked him if he was playing drums on it, and he said not to worry if he was or wasn't, and I hastily replied that the reason I asked was because if he wasn't, I could play drums, or bass for that matter. He (a little begrudgingly) told me he was going to play drums on it, and that he already had a bass player, so he needed me to play guitar.

The funny thing for me about this dream (aside from the obvious), is that in the conversation we had about who was playing drums, he didn't want me to say yes based solely on the fact that it would be because I could say I've played with Phil Collins, and when I asked him if he was playing on it I was desperate to let him know that the reason I asked wasn't so I could say I've played with Phil Collins, but because I didn't think I'd do that good a job playing guitar on it. But we both said all those things without actually mentioning them. That's the kind of dialogue you only get with people you know very well-all that unsaid, underlying stuff. Clearly, me and Phil have that.


Wouldn't you agree, we've got a groovy kind of love?

If A Picture Paints A Thousand Words

Sometimes someone else sums it up 100 times better than I can.

XKCD seem to be able to do that with me on a regular basis.

I Remember

So, Remembrance Day today. I always like to take some time out of the day to pay my personal respects. Not entirely sure what instilled the sense of importance of days like these in me. My great grandfather was Lighthorseman, and I've had other relatives who've fought and died in WW I and WWII, but I don't think that's solely it. Maybe it was watching the Anzacs TV series go to air in 1986. It definitely had an effect on me. But I don't think it was wholly responsible. I can remember as a kid the Anzac legend being taught to us, and Anzac day was always a big deal and is a nationally celebrated event. I guess it's a combination of all those things.

Last year, on a drive from Sydney to Melbourne, I was engaged in a debate/argument with a good friend of mine on the importance of things like Anzac Day and Remembrance Day. He is of the hippy persuasion, and he argued that days like those should be forgotten and absolutely no attention be paid to soldiers and those who gave their life for Australia during and war. Their contribution should simply be erased. I tried to explain that the general consensus is that those (or any) wars were horrific and awful, but the sacrifices made by all those people should never ever be forgotten, and they answered the call when it was asked of them. Something which, in my mind, should garner the highest respect from all walks of life. I wasn't sanctioning war or saying it's a celebration of death, but he couldn't accept any of my points of view and maintained no veterans should be acknowledged or thanked.

Somebody wise once said 'Never argue with a fool or a drunk'. So I gave up and realised that sometimes, you just have to let people think what they want to think, regardless of how infinitely stupid their opinion is.

Why?!

So, continuing on from yesterdays post (by the way, yes you were right sid).

The company I work for is housed in a big building, which in turn houses another company. We're both of a similar medium, but my company is distinctly commercial, whilst the other company is the antithesis of commercial. There's a common canteen area in which we all purchase and eat meals (hence the name, kitchen) but aside from that, there's various doors and locks which require swipe keys to access, etc, etc, you get what I mean.

Anyway, yesterday I was walking back from said canteen area, I had to walk through one of the aforementioned swipe key doors. There was a tradesman behind me (not affiliated with either company) so I thought I'd be nice and hold the door for him. At the same time one of colleagues (a little older than me and around the same age as the tradey) also made his way up to the door, and some sort of light hearted jocularity ensued, in which it was intimated that a guy like me would hold the door open for someone.

The trady then made some comment to my colleague about he thought I was from 'down there' (meaning the other company). As I kept walking and he was told I wasn't, he said to my colleague but with clear intent for me to hear, "he looked like he was down there". It was said with some degree of humour, and I said I'd take it as a compliment, but I couldn't help but think that this guy would probably dislike most of the content my company produces and would fit into the 'other' company's demographic a lot more.

So why give me shit because I don't look how he thinks I should look?

Forgive the teenage notion of my question, but I mean really, what's the fucking point of making statements like the one he made?

I dunno.


I just don't get it.

When The Going Gets Tough

So, seems like posting something every day is more difficult than first anticipated.

I was involved in a little story today, but it's getting close to 9pm and I've been awake since 4am, so you'll have to look the other way on this post and wait for tomorrow's.

Pity that rain has stopped eh?

All Quiet On The Blog-stern Front

Today I won one of the office sweeps for the 'race that stops the nation'.

Not enough to buy a ute, or even a dog to put in it, but it still felt kinda nice to win something.

Is It Any Wonder?

I was watching some regional news on telelvision a couple of weeks ago, and the light hearted story at the end of the bulletin was how girls find guys who drive utes more attractive than guys who drive 'normal' cars. I can't remember exactly, but the number was staggeringly high, like in the 70% range. According the girls surveyed, if said male had a dog in the back of his ute, he was even more appealing.

There could quite literally be, no hope left.

NABLOPOMO

So, thanks to my friend Julaberry, I stumbled across this NABLOPOMO, which, for the uninitiated, is National Blog Posting Month, the crux of which is to post something everything day for the month of November. To quote Ferris, "it's a little childish and stupid", but then again, so is blogging.

It's not like I haven't been indulging in the usual observations or making irreverent ruminations on things I see and do, I just haven't had the time to transfer neurosis to paper. So what better way to make it up than to lay the smack down every day for the next month.

Admittedly I am 4 days late, but hey, I only just found out about it, and you know, every day for the next month is quite an ask, given that November will be the busiest month I've had for many a year, so you'll have to cut me some slack on the first 4 posts. Maybe I'll post twice a day some days-I don't know how it's going to pan out.

In the meantime, here's a link to something that has been warming the cockles of my hardened heart and restoring my faith in the Australian music scene recently.