This is strangely hilarious to me

The best part starts at 4:23. I wish it would last forever.

Guy in Front of me at Kebab Place has Sweet Threads

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Where I Brag About My Music Once Again

Today, FIVE people at work commented on how much they liked my music!

It's funny how happy we get when people confirm our good taste.

The one that really got people going was this:

Eeeeeeeek!

Cool Melbourne Design Studio

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We've Run Out of Internet

My housemates and I have somehow gone through our monthly allowance of internet.

While we still have access to internet, our service provider has slowed the pace of our internet to a crawl.

We go back to full speed in four days. My housemate Tom is hilariously distraught.

It's not enough to be connected. The connection must be fast!

We Forget. If we let ourselves.

If you give anyone enough time, he/she will begin to forget. If you're away from something long enough, it'll all begin to fade away. Especially if you're able to keep yourself consistently distracted.

I think we're like this for good reason. It's wonderful to reminisce, and your history truly does shape who you are, but is it very functional to always be living in the past? What can be gained by rehashing, by regretting, by what-ifs?

If you want to make your life all it can possibly be, you have to be present in the present.

Anyways, all this is to say that I think we should use social media with caution. It's a powerful and wonderful way to stay in touch, and to keep tabs on people around the globe. This is a mixed blessing. Forgetting can be for the best, and prodding old memories will keep them alive for longer than they ought to be.

Driving Game

The different lanes on the highway are marked by both white lines and raised highway markers.

When you switch lanes, you can hear and feel your tires flicking over these raised markers.

I do my best to try and avoid this. I try and angle things so that my tires past just so, and the raised markers pass between rather than directly underneath my tires.

It makes me happy when I can do this. It's like a highway version of avoiding cracks in the sidewalk. Your mom will thank you.

The Main Character

I think we all construct a narrative of our life, with ourselves as the main character. Our little dramas make up the story line. Friends become supporting characters. Policemen issuing parking tickets, rude waitresses et al become our antagonists.

We incorporate fables, myths, folklore into the story to let us know how it should go. Giving a girl a flower should make her swoon. Cause that's just how it's supposed to be! In all the stories we know.

Isn't it amazing that I'm a character in your story, and you're one in mine? Isn't it amazing that the central storyline, the one you must follow, is the one about yourself.. and that EVERYONE is writing a story of their own?

I think secretly, we all want to be living epic, heroic, happy stories. With comedy thrown in for giggles. But it's ok to live a sadder story. At least once in a while. Right?

Cousin Olive Runs to her Parents

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Loquats

There are these trees in my neighbourhood which have thousands of these little yellow fruit on them:



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They're called loquats, and they're delicious. The flesh is white, and there are usually between 2-4 jelly bean sized seeds in them.

It's difficult to describe the taste. Cousin Leo says they taste like a mix between a kiwi and a persimmon. Personally, I wouldn't find that description so helpful. I can tell you they're fantastic though.

Sad Cactus :(

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As High as it'll Go

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Kangaroo!

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I'm (Mostly) Rational

At our last family reunion, the cabins at the resort we were staying at had little safes to keep valuables. I remember Uncle Alex and I had co-incidentally set our numeric combinations to the exact same sequence of lucky Chinese digits.

I don't really consider myself a superstitious person, but I must admit I have quite a strong aversion to the number 4. I don't like choosing the fourth option, I don't bet on horse number 4, I don't like it when I check the time and it's 4:44. Even looking at all those fours sets my teeth on edge!

Anyways, at work today there was only one locker available. Locker 14. I came close to putting my clothes on TOP of the lockers rather than use this locker. That's not reasonable! I put my clothes in the locker, but I do have this sense that I'm tempting fate somehow...

Cactus

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The One Downside of Australia (so far)

I've always been proud of my great sleeping ability. I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime. A good nights sleep is almost always a given.

Something's changed since I've come to Australia. I'm not sleeping as well. I have theories about this.

1. My mattress here in Australia is not nearly as good as the one I had in Vancouver.
I'm actually giving some thought towards buying a better mattress. It's probably worth it.

2. Computer use too close to bedtime.
I can't help myself.

3. Lack of exercise.
I should probably exercise more. I'm thinking of taking up some sort of martial art.

4. Australian pollens giving me allergies.
No helping that I suppose.

5. Irregular sleep schedule.
I think I'll have to accept this as well. Sometimes, the fun stuff really doesn't happen till late.

It seems the best ploy is to buy a new mattress.

I'm glad we had this little talk.

Cousin Leo is a Fancy Chef

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I'm Still Studying

So you know how you come home from work or school or whatever, and you have this nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you ought to be studying? And it's hard to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine, or the glow of the television due to this nagging feeling? It sure is annoying.

I've had this feeling (with short, brief respites) for oh... the past 15 years or so. It probably started sometime in high school. And I'm still trapped in this "should be studying" feeling so many years later.

That does not seem ideal.

I need to do something about this. I feel like this feeling is going to gnaw away at my stomach lining, give me ulcers and take good years off my life.

What to Write, What to Write

There are tons of theme blogs out there. Blogs about music, or blogs about being a Mom etc.

I don't think this blog has a theme. Does it?

In any case, what should I write about? If there are any requests, please let me know.

I wish more of my peeps kept blogs.

Taaa

Australianisms I enjoy:

Taaa. People say this as a short for for thank you. It's very efficient. It also sounds a bit like you're singing. I think it's slightly less thankful than a formal "Thank you". In fact, it's almost always said in the context of small, task-type favours.

example:

Someone passes you the salt.
"Taa."



Rogered. This is a verb to indicate that you've rogered something. It's when you mess something up.

example:

"I have rogered up my knee."

I think that's how you use it.

Sometimes the cuts that need healing cannot be seen

So the last bunch of photos are from all around Melbourne as I biked along its truly awesome Main Yarra Trail.

As I was coming home, I came across an unfortunate sight.

Right in front of the Exhibition Building (pictured below), there was a person sitting by the sidewalk cutting his(her?) forearm with a razor blade. The cuts weren't too deep, but there was blood, running down his pants and making a puddle on the concrete.

I did a double take as I biked past. I turned around and stopped maybe 3 feet away.

"Hey man, are you ok?"

Eyes are downcast. He doesn't look up.

"Listen, I don't know too much about this sort of thing, but I think maybe you should go to the hospital."

No response. Head down. He takes the razor blade and makes small, shallow cuts higher up on his forearm.

"The hospital is actually just a couple blocks down the road..."

No response. Head down.

At this point, I'm not sure what to do. As I debate this, a roly-poly Australian wanders up and I hear that he is on the phone with the ambulance service. This seems reasonable. I should have thought of that! He next calls the police. He assures them that it's not life-threatening, but that the girl (he has come to the opposite conclusion regarding this unfortunate person's gender) still has the blades. On the phone he expresses concern that he doesn't feel able to take the blades away from this person. I am super concerned that the Australian police would counsel concerned citizens to try and disarm strangers on the street.

"What'd the say?"

"They're coming. They said for us to stay with her."

Seems easy enough. Next thing I know, the roly-poly Australian has taken a seat next to our bleeding, silent friend. He puts a hand on her(his?) shoulder. She shies away. He then reaches over and takes the razor blades out of her hands.

My protestations are halfway out of my mouth, but its too late. The roly-poly fellow takes the razor blades and wraps them in a kleenex. Man. Crazy.

At this point, we all wait around for a few minutes before the police and ambulance arrive. The whole while the unfortunate, androgynous, bleeding person keeps his/her eyes down, keeps silent, keeps seated. Finally they get here. 2 paramedics and 3 police officers to be precise. I wave a half hearted goodbye as they gather around. No one waves back.



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Skatepark Melbourne

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Bouldering Under a Bridge in Melbourne

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On the bike path, there was a cow

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Card From my Sister!

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Just arrived yesterday. Lovely.

What a Fox

I got my hair cut recently in one of those "economical" hair cutter places that can be found in China towns around the globe.

The guy who cut my hair looked to be maybe 5 years younger than me. His name was Fox. Fox was a real pro. He was efficient, he was meticulous and I think he did good.

This is in contrast to many of the recent haircuts I've had at a local hair school here in Melbourne. There is a high-end kind of conceit to this hair school/salon, so the surroundings are more luxurious, which is reflected in their prices.

I can't really complain about the hair cutting students. They're all very pleasant. They generally do a good job. It just takes them a loooong time. And you can tell they're still learning their craft. Movements are clumsy. It takes more steps to do less. Things are forgotten. There are long delays.

As someone with a very hands-on kind of job, I really appreciate when I see an expert craftsman/woman. I appreciate the economy of movement, the swift judgement, the certainty of their purpose. It's something that comes with experience, and many hours of careful thoughtful practice.

I'll be going back to Fox.

Where the Other Half Lives

My Facebook newsfeed is a continuous stream of happy messages regarding the outcome of the American election.

In fact, I can't find a single posting that expresses any concern/sorrow/consternation.

From the polls, I know that about half the country voted for Romney. I wonder where they all hang out? It's like a parallel universe or something? Maybe I'm just really bad at making friends with Republicans.

Obama-rama!

Obama won!

It's interesting to me how invested non-Americans are in the election. Here in Australia, everyone I've talked to has been very pro-Obama.

I wonder why Obama is so much more popular around the world than he is at home.

I think we should all be worried about how polarizing political discourse has become. If nothing else, we need to all remember to be civil.

Things I've Learned About Betting on Horses

1. You will probably lose money.

2. Unless you're me. In which case, you definitely lost money.

3. Betting based on a horses name is not a sound strategy. That being said, the only race I made money on was the one where I bet on Supercool.

4. Betting based on their race history is also not a sound strategy. Those horses are temperamental beasts.

5. All that being said, it's way more fun to watch a horse race when you got money riding on the race.

Final observation: A suit makes everything a little classier. A suit and a fedora? Classier still!

Another Year Goes By

So I just turned 31.

Noooooooooooo!


How did his happen? Where did all my youth go? Surely there must be a mistake?

I'm not gonna be one of those "age gracefully", "every year is better than the last" kind of people. I'm going unwilling. Kicking and screaming!


Maybe I did my math wrong. Surely, I'm not 31. That's just crazy. Was I really born in '81? Perhaps there was a miscalculation. '83 sounds more likely. My parents had 3 kids. Things can get mixed up.


I have a feeling that birthdays are just going to get uglier from here on out...

Derby Day!

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Mariachi band at Mamasita

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