Time wastin’ Tuesday - the 7 things meme!

7 things I…

…stopped doing or forgot
1. how to solve Rubik’s cube in under 60 seconds
2. getting stoned or do drugs
3. racing motocross
4. riding horses
5. flipping from my back onto my feet in one manuover
6. driving when I’m drunk
7. sleeping on my back

… learnt how to do
1. run 11km in under 1hour
2. say i love you
3. sell myself
4. land airs
5. smile in photographs
6. eat really, really hot (chilli hot) food
7. sail a catamaran

… never wanted to do
1. acid or speed
2. play cricket
3. learn to fly aircraft
4. find jesus
5. own a MySpace
6. eat a Big Mac
7. go on a cruise ship

… want to do
1. run 12km in under an hour
2. play open chords properly
3. get a real backhand barrel
4. resume and complete the restoration of the rare sports coupe languishing in my shed
5. get published
6. speak french beyond year 10 level
7. save more than $10000

I tag everyone with time to waste!!

an Xmas card from the General…

To the arse slappin’ all night dancin’ dildo weilding vixen with a heart of pure gold, to the racing fuel powered, photogenic funny gal who’s smile could melt me, to the braniac Perth party girl who steals my mp3’s and was the first person ever to comment on my (old) blog, to the party boy preacher from my very own tiny town, to the two gorgeous GRITS, the funny one looking for love in all the wrong places AND the sexay blog party hostest with the mostest, to the comical miscellaneous one from the windy city, to the strong one who has impressed me with her candour and humour through a tough time, to the big dumb guy from Cali with prodigious talent and a dead cert to make me laugh, to the brutally honest, gifted one who sees ghosts, to the quiet, introspective poet who sees the glass half full, to the quiet erotic one who writes for herself and no-one else, and last but not least, to the mysterious one who’s writing has the ability to take me to another place, who lost something small but found something much bigger on the streets of Paris.. and delighted me along the way.

Thankyou so much, to each and everyone of you, for all you’ve written this year. You’ve truly been a constant source of inspiration, and I  look forward to sharing your adventures in 2007.

Merry Xmas, and the very best for 2007.  xx :)
 

this week aboard the death star…

- over the last two weeks I kept catching glimpses of this guy on the other side of the level 15, and I was positive I knew him from somewhere… but where?? I wracked my brains until yesterday when I heard him come up and ask Gwynneth about some software updates. The voice carried me back around 15 years to when I was a struggling student, and he was doing the same subjects. I seem to recall he was a nice guy. I should say hello. If not, he’s bound to think I’m coming on to him… what with all the sneaky sideways glances and all!!

- it seems everyone on the floor won some kind of “achievement award”. For achieving what, I’m not entirely sure…. turning up maybe. It was a bit like that episode of The Simpsons where everyone but Homer gets one. 

- I’ve been poached. I kinda suspected this might happen, and I couldn’t be happier. It means I will have a leader who actually knows how to prioritise and manage… whoohooo!!

- My Barrista gave me his traditional free Xmas coffee on Wednesday, but on Thursday morning forgot and tried to give me another one. I reminded him and handed over the money, but he wouldn’t take it. “Have a good Xmas” he chuckled. What a guy!

- The Stripper is back relieving on reception while the other fluffy is on holiday. Look, she’s not the brightest bulb in the box but hey, sometimes a guy just wants to watch. When she wears that top I don’t care if she can’t work the stapler…

- speaking of me being a shallow prick, they hired another new girl this week. Last week someone told me her last name, and, well, it was kind of a funny one… but it seemed utterly hilarious when I stuck Ivana in front of it. Anyway, I saw Ivana for the first time and quickly ate my words. I just hope she doesn’t have green eyes, because I can honestly say there is not one other area that would require improvement. Now, let me think of another excuse to wander over to the other side of the floor. Hmmm… this biro looks like it’s running out. Better get me another one!

Time wastin’ Tuesday

Well, evil forces conspired to rob me of TWT. The store got hacked yesterday ( along with about 3,000 other websites using the same shopping cart we do ), tying me up for 4 hours while I pulled the site, applied patches, trawled server logs and generally swore a lot. That pushed a whole load of work over into my beloved TWT, and resigning myself to zero chances of scoring the traditional TWT surf, I just put my head down and worked. Yeah… very, very sad indeed.

I promise to squander next TWT, Boxing Day, far more comprehensively.

Now, tell me who wasted your time today!

The future is now. Right?

When I was a young boy I had a vivid imagination, and devoted many, many hours to dreams of what life would be like in the future. My best friend Chris and I were technophiles and futurephiles from the time we could talk, and growing up we’d often speculate on what amazing gadgets and technology might benefit humankind in years to come. Although we were really too young to visualise the economic, humanitarian and environmental aspects of life in the future, we still believed in the power of the human race to use cleverness and vision to improve its lot. We just knew the future would be amazing, and it would be better somehow.

We looked upon all the technology that surrounded us at the time, and thought to ourselves “all this will belong in a museum by the time we are 30″. We knew we had the smarts to fly to the moon by the middle of the sixties, and had no doubt NASA had been working on some top secret, amazing technology ever since. We drew inspiration from novelist Arthur C. Clark, believing these quantum leaps in technology came at predictable intervals - and that we would witness several of them in our lifetime. By 2001 we would be sending manned space missions to the moons of Jupiter, we would have a huge space station orbiting the earth, we would have a city on the moon. We never doubted this for a second.

I can remember my first exposure to “grown up” computers - IBM XT clones as they were known, and being singularly unimpressed. Here was this huge dumb box only capable of displaying two colours ( green… or orange… you had a choice of monochrome ), and running really basic text editors and calculator programs. Where was the microphone where I could ask it questions in natural language? Where were the fabulous, colourful 3D images I’d seen in the movies? In fact why have a screen at all? Couldn’t it just talk to me? “Generalboy… the answer to the question, of life, the universe, and everyting, is…”.

Even when VGA came along, delivering the miracle of true colour to computer monitors for the first time ever, I was disappointed. In spite of this, I looked at other pieces of technology that seemed clunky and outdated to me - lead acid car batteries, coal fired power stations, petrol and electric motors, jet aircraft, home appliances - and dreamt that before long they would all be superseded by something far more clever and efficient. But almost three decades on, all I see are evolutionary, incremental improvements in technology. There is nothing truly revolutionalry. Our cars would be absolutely useless without lead-acid batteries - technology that has barely changed since its invention in 1859. Our computers still are based on silicon technology from the late sixties, and even your brand new 64 bit Pentium IV Processor still carries much of the basic instruction set from its great grandaddy, the 8086 microprocessor - from 1978. The cutting edge technology that delivers this web page to you, TCP over copper wire, has hardly changed in 24 years when ARPA first adopted it. Faster, yes. More clever? Hardly.

But it’s not just our spectacular failure to innovate in terms of technology that disappoints me.

I look at cancer that kills so many people in the first world, and disease that kills 100 times more in the third, and wonder why these problems seem no closer to being solved. I look at the conflict in the Middle East that has raged for over 60 years, and watch as new glimmers of hope flicker and fade out, one after the other. I look at the ridiculous, blind, defiant consumption of finite resources on this planet, and anticipate the fall of the economies built upon it in my lifetime.

I look at corporate culture, the distribution of weath, and global conscience, and wonder how it seems to have been in a downward spiral from the time I first started to try and comprehend it. I wonder why, with all this amazing technology and cleverness at our disposal, we seem to have reached a point where we can’t make the whole world better. As I watch another phone tower being erected so that 14 year old kids don’t get dropouts while they are sending trivial SMS messages to each other, I try hard not to think of the technology in all the individual components in that tower being used instead to ensure people in Kenya, Ethiopia and Somalia have fresh water. Any water. I picture the last piece of coal that runs the power station that provides the electricity to run the tower being dug from the ground. It’s technically complicated. It’s expensive. It’s ultimately futile.

When I stand and look out to sea, clear blue sky above me, clean white sand stretched out before me, I can stop thinking about all of this for a while. I can take in something bigger, something meaningful, something that needs no technology to exist. Something that was there before we all got so clever, and will hopefully still be there long after we discover we really aren’t. It’s something I need to do every day to help me forget.

The future is now.

chocolate. it’s not just for chicks.




















 

Time wastin’ Tuesday

Well crikey, it’s hard to believe TWT has rolled around so fast. If a picture is worth a thousand words then there’s probably no need for me to explain what I’ve been up to. Suffice to say yes, that picture was taken just a few hours ago, and yes it really was as good as it looks. But I didn’t log on to gloat about what an utterly superb, warm summer day it is, and how I spent almost all of it in or near the water, ooooooooooooh no, I am here to talk about a disturbing new trend in timewasting. I’m here to talk about greeters.

The concept of the greeter, someone who stands in the entrance of a store and greets shoppers as they enter, is reasonably new in Tinytown and indeed, Australia. Stores like Wal*Mart in the US have had greeters for some time, cheerily bidding you “welcome to Wal*Mart” as you walk by them.

For years about the closest we had to greeters were the bag bitches in variety stores like Big W. Bag bitches would occasionally give bagless shoppers a nod, or a laboured “hello” as they strolled by, but in general, unless you had a bag that the bag bitch wanted to see inside, they ignored you. Everyone understood this. The system worked.

About 2 years ago large hardware and home improvement chain Bunnings embarked on a program of aggressive expansion. With large amounts of product walking out the door unpaid for, they employed what initially appeared to be bag bitches on the door… but with a subtle difference. Instead of ignoring bagless folk, or merely seeing them as an evil distraction from their mission to seek out bag carrying folk attempting to enter the store, they attempted to engage them in conversation. This freaked a lot of people out, uncomfortable with the unexpected interest from a complete stranger - regardless of the uniform and name badge. It did get a lot of old people in though, who were really glad for the attention. Even if they did have no money whatsoever.

But people soon became comfortable with the Bunnings Bag Bitches ( and Bag Bastards.. remember, Bunnings is an equal opportunity employer ), and were happy with their dual role of greeter / security. It was sort of a polite way of stopping people rip stuff off. Maybe Bunnings figured you just couldn’t walk past anyone that nice without feeling guilty… who knows. Either way, people’s inherent distrust and suspicion of the greeter were henceforth eroded. These were the advance troops.

It wasn’t long before supermarket chain Woolworths inserted greeters near the trolley turnstyle. Unlike Bummings where you could give them a wide berth, there was no escape in Woollies. You were deliberately funneled within inches of them and forced to accept their cheery, saccharin sweet well wishes. If that wasn’t bad enough, they didn’t seem to have any other purpose: they weren’t interested in looking inside you bag, and they couldn’t tell you which isle the Gluten Free Non GM modified low salt zero cholesterol eco-friendly corn chips were in. They were, in effect, a waste of time.

It got worse though, as other chains jumped on the greeter bandwagon fearing they had missed some important new revolution in shopping. Now every supermarket has a greeter grinning inanely at you as you drift into the cool of the air conditioning, stressed and hot from the shopping center carpark shuffle outside. It’s almost like they want something, like they expect you to do something as you walk by - sort of like a beggar where even if you have change you feel the urge to say “sorry… no change”. Maybe greeters want our love, or some form of validation - but the cynic in me tells me they just want you to spend more money. How this actually works remains a mystery to me.

I really wonder where it will end though.

Will I soon be accosted as I lurch into the door at the BP, wishing only to pay for my fuel and maybe buy some Menthos and get the hell out? Can I expect to be engaged in a riveting discussion about Diodes next time I pop into Tandy ( Radio Shack ) for a Bluetooth adapter? Will I be forced to look at new and exciting offal, by a moderately overweight, middle aged woman wearing a “come get some tongue” bib when I next visit the butcher?

As if there aren’t enough new and fabulous methods we are subjected to in an effort to state the bleeding friggen obvious. It’s a friggen shop for christ sake you turds! You walk in. You buy stuff. You show the bag bitch your bag. You walk out. End of story. Why does some grinning goon feel the need to explain this process to me? Do I really look that bloody stupid? Do I look utterly bankrupt in terms of common sense? Did I ever ask for this nonsense??

As far as I’m concerned, this means war… and it begins with you people. You have to start ignoring greeters. Don’t be distracted by their tinsel hats and glitter sprinkled hair. Don’t think they are nice people with hungry families just trying to make ends meet. Don’t give in to the fact that they are more strangely agreeable than bicycle riding Mormon missionaries.

Don’t greet the greeters. Just ignore them and maybe they’ll go away.

Don’t let them waste any more of our precious time.

mutual exclusion

I can remember my (supposedly) good old schooldays, especially Monday mornings - which I used to dread.

Apart from the seemingly endless and seemingly pointless over analysis of the weekend’s football ( it was a country town… so we got local AND state… yipee ), there was often another topic I dreaded hearing about.

You see, not being one of the uber cool kids ( geez, you just didn’t see that one coming, did you?? ) or football jocks, I never heard about all the cliquey partays before the fact. Like some secret society, details about such events were distributed quietly and subtlety via a network accessible only to the beautiful people. But on Monday mornings, after the fact, everyone was talking about it. Every fine detail was dissected and put out on display, seemingly to hammer home the exclusivity to those who weren’t there. Who got drunk on half glass of stolen cask moselle, who tongue pashed Nikki Baker and was on the way to third base before Wayno’s mum walked in on them, or who cracked the funniest jokes and got up to the most outrageous hijinks. On Monday morning the in- jokes and sniggers hinted at a world of coolness and fun spectacularly average guys like me could only dream of.

In later years I’d infiltrate those circles, only to discover that the parties weren’t as mad, the women weren’t as loose, and the people not as cool as I’d been led to believe. That led me to seek out other circles of friends who’s ideas and tastes were much more closely aligned with my own, and over a few years we established our own network. At the height of our empire the parties became huge - over 150 people at one stage - and they were genuinely insane and hugely fun. I looked back at those Monday morning school party post mortems with a sense of smugness and quiet superiority. I’d found a great bunch of mates who didn’t judge anyone, who thought interesting thoughts and did interesting things. Real people.

Last week Dee pulls me up on IM. “hey have you RSVP’s to N ( fearless leader )’s party yet?”.

I pause for a moment and start to feel that same quiet sense of superiority. I knew about two weeks ago he was planning a huge bash, but hoped to christ he wouldn’t invite me. You see, on a professional level, although technically he is my superior, I am acutely aware of his spectacular inadequacy, laziness, and lack of talent. Despite having never said anything to that effect, I suspect he knows my opinion. I tend to give off a bit of a vibe regarding such things. And it’s not entirely unintentional.

“Nup” I reply, and then add “…never heard about it”.

Even though Dee is two floors below me, I can almost see her jaw drop through via ether. N has also invited Katie, my cubical buddy, who sits not 5m from me, but not said a word of it in my presence. The details have been distributed via the secret network… just like at school. This fact alone pushes the needle on my smug-o-meter into the yellow. There’s a delay in Dee’s reply.

“*clang*” she types, and then a moment later adds, “ooops… sorry… I just assumed… well…”

In Dee’s world you invite your staff to your parties, and everyone is nice to everyone, and you avoid the awkwardness of excluding certain people. In my world, you like the people you like, and you spend as little time dealing with those you don’t as you possibly can. In my world, you accept that not everyone will like you and that you won’t like everyone. You’ll be polite and civil, and deal with them in a work context - but outside that, they simply don’t exist. In my world friendships are about quality… not quantity.

“hehe” I reply, “actually… it just makes it easier”

I leave the cryptic remark hanging… and picture the Monday morning post mortem when people might ask why I wasn’t there. The only person from his group not invited. My thoughts flash back to “event x”, and how I kept it a complete and utter secret from the people I work with. Because they just don’t matter.

My smug-o-meter needle moves into the red…

i heart regina!

Time wastin’ Tuesday

Nuthin’ doin’ at home :(



Only option is to travel today…



Hmmm… nice morning… tiny surf though



Well… it could be worse I guess…



Yeah baby yeah! You’re a Llama baby!!



Tourist brochure view



 summer is here…



Self portrait… channeling a fellow blogger!!!



That was time wastin’ Tuesday.
How was yours?