Tomorrow is day off. Hurray. It’s wonderful when Thursday is actually a Friday and Friday becomes a Saturday. And Saturday becomes some kind of siamese-Saturday.
Ben and Andrew are playing Army of Two. I’ve given up – it’s a patently ridiculous and thoroughly unsatisfying game. Karen is watching, slightly shaking her head I think at the fact the father of her soon to be Baby McAwesome Allan is yelling things like ‘Get more aggro!’ ‘No, not in the face!’ and ‘Oh god, why!’
They’ve given up. Now it’s time for co-op Rainbow 6 Vegas 2. Which sounds more like some kind of football score. Not that Rainbow is a town. It’s either a hippy commune or possibly some form of drug induced hallucination. That’d be a pretty awesome football game, if you think about it.
I’m not surewhat people did before computer games. Talked possibly. Interacted. Discussed things that didn’t involve lines like ‘you got the guy on the right, or the left?’. People probably didn’t say ‘I’m going to be Dennis Glover… or a girl’ very often. Which was actually a line I heard a couple of minutes ago.
I’m pretty sure it killed stamp collecting and spyrographs as hobbies.
The whole concept of updating the blog has gone out the window lately. So… recent news includes realising that the top of my head had a differnt skin-hair ratio than the sides of my head. Traditionally it’s called ‘balding’. I prefer to think of it as ‘testosteroning’. Irrespective I’ve gone for the shave. More corporate chic than skinhead fascist I hope. Although amusing comments have included:
‘Ah, Uncle Fester’ (Damn you, Allan)
”Buddah!’
And my personal favourite:
‘Hello, I’m trying to track down a villain from a James Bond movie… oh there you are!’
But I’m not growing a mo for movember this year. Instead I’m supporting the big man in Melbourne as he struggles without chin hair. Props.
Right… sorry – I have to go shoot some terrorists. The future of your… tomorrow may depend on it. Rainbow: 6. Vegas: 2. Dave: ?
I know. it’s like I’ve stepped back in time and I’m doing my thesis. Which, fortunately enough, I’m not doing. Cos that’d be crazy.
Speaking of Crazy, Charlie his finished his Phd. And Tim ran a half-marathon. I cheered. After the event which does limit it’s effectiveness. But it was a cheer nonetheless.
Politics: interesting.
Insurance: Work.
Writing: I got award.
This is terrible procrastination. i’m not even sounding like I’ve got anything to procrastinate over. Which I do. But normally when you’re procrastinating you’ve got something more urgent and awesome to do. Like… I don’t know – coffee. Or planning coffee. Or at least thinking about coffee.
My nan died early Monday morning. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. It is a bad thing because I miss her. It is a good thing because she had dementia and Alzheimer’s and wasn’t the nan I knew and loved.
She died with my Mum and My Dad in the room. I’m very happy she did not die alone. Apparently it was a very moving and dignified scene. She would have been proud. Mum was moved at its class. I’m very proud of both Nan and Mum.
Funerals are weird things. I’ve given up on those for people who are my age. there are too many of them. But for people who are old enough they can be wonderful celebrations. I’m certainly enjoying this one. Good way to catch up with family I don’t ordinarily see. And it’s a chance to celebrate a life. It’s a pity we only do that when they’re dead.
I went to say goodbye to Nan this morning. She has lost a lot of wait due to her refusal to eat or drink. In effect she starved herself to death. She was sick of her disease. I admire her courage. And while I didn’t recognise her physically, and her body had an overwhelming sense of strength and relaxation – I was convinced it was her. Even though she didn’t look like her… but at the same time it did. Needless to say at that exact point in time the dust from the room entered my eyes and fluid somehow leaked from them.
I bawled like a baby.
She was my Nan. I loved her beyond words. She’s been gone a long time but now I know she’s gone for good.
If I ever get dementia put me out of your misery. (NB – only medical definitions of dementia can be used… I know your tricks, Mr Street).
I wondered where I’d left this. Turns out it was down the side of the couch with a 50 cent coin and a used tissue.
Well then. Hello!
Things are going. Pretty much sums it up.
Othello was cool. Lots of work and tended to get a bit tired after doing lots of work at work before the lots of work at Othello. Production was awesome. Apparently we made money. Performances were great. Ben crashed the afterparty. Generally held that it is not an afterparty unless Ben wears a box on his head.
Ah. Yes. Also. important. And there will be general rejoicing in some quarters and a fair bit of sniggering sarcastically in corners where they don’t know any better (damn you Pavlov!). But I’ve stopped smoking.
I know.
It’s certainly not easy. And there are times when I do get a little frustrated and want to kill people. But yeah. Non-smoking now. For a number of days. Not that I’m celebrating yet. Wait until it’s three months and then I’ll celebrate. Just not with alcohol cos I’ve had to give that up too (tends to lead toward smoking). And not with coffee (see above) or anything other than salad or my awesome sandwhiches (see above).
It’s the dedavestation of Dave.
Writing lots at the moment. have lots of nervous energy (see above) and angst (see above) which means that I want to keep occupied.
So yeah.
For those of you that want to complain about absence of Blog, suggest you first complain to Ben. Who may fail at blogging, but has not failed at getting his missus pregnant.
The 48 Hour Final has been and gone and I feel a little… whelmed. I don’t think the best film one – and I don’t know what Lens Flare are doing but they seem to get good marks and came in a surprise 2nd.
Could just be jealous. But you know. I’m helping direct Othello so it’s all good.
Anyway – our team was up for an award and the announcer came to say Team TBALC on television (pre-recorded).
Ben turned to me and grinned: How do you think they’ll pronounce this.
Like this – as it turns out: Team Tee Eh Bee EL See.
So it wasn’t really a pronunciation. It was more like a spelling.
We didn’t get the award. But I enjoyed the night.
And now: to bed. Then work. Repeat. *add alcohol and stir*
I used to watch Skins last year on C4. I deemed it good. Then it finished.
Now it’s back on. This is good for 4 reasons:
1) Good cast.
2) Good script.
3) Harry Enfield
4) Bill Bailey.
Watch it. See Harry Enfield play a straight, grumpy father very well. (I half expected him to tell a dirty joke but it never happened. Instead his wife did and he looked furious). And Bill Bailey! Coming here! Soon.
In other news watch C4 on Thursday night a 8.30pm. We’re in the running for a prize and there is an outside slither of a chance we might be a wildcard. But even if we’re not Scott was used on the ad for the finals and I deem that super.
Summary: Awesome. We’ve come a long way from the film we did last year – which was still pretty cool I think. I just hope that a) Everything worked proper like. And b) We’ve improved faster than everyone else.
Auditions today for Othello. I think it’s safe to say that there were some absolutely incredible auditions that made my spine tingle. It’s going to be a hard job choosing who is in the show and who is not; and who is a lead and who is chorus. The cast will be awesomely talented and that’s a great place to be. More auditions tomorrow. This will lead to more headaches. But they’re the headaches you want to have. As opposed to the ones caused by alcohol. Which I also had today.
Today be Anzac Day which is traditionally a day of early mornings in remembrance of what our forebears sacrificed to preserve our freedoms/British heritage. It seems like a reasonable deal. So today I got up at 5.30 with the folks and headed down to the square with a couple of family friends for Dawn Parade. It was interesting to go to. The mood this year seemed to be much more celebratory than previously – traditionally I go to smaller ones and this was my first big square one (although the last two years I’ve miserably failed to attend). Not sure if it was due to the size or the… I don’t know. Tired. It’s an observation. Anyway – it was without doubt the Worst ceremony I’ve come across at an Anzac day parade. The Catholic minister envoked Revelations - that the Kingdom of Jerusalem shall falls from the sky like a wife to a husband. And this thing shall come to pass. And yea this thing has already passed. 1) – Whoa. I’m not marrying Jerusalem. She’s a bit old for me and I’m not a fan of pseudo ethnic-cleansing in my womenfolk. It just isn’t pretty.2) Why was there such a heavy emphasis on religion? The ones I’ve been to in the past have had mention of religion and God – and that’s fine. In fact that’s appropriate. I don’t think I’d particularly enjoy a strictly secular Anzac Day. But the emphasis was too strong and went on too long. Also – Lest we forget. One of the best poems ever. At the going down of the sun etc. Brilliant. Except when it’s read by an elderly white rapper who doesn’t want to do it, edits the poem, and finishes it in about 15 seconds. Poor. But the volley was cool – an Apache flew overhead and the Last Post was brilliant. But overall I deem this to be a poor service. Waiting for Two Hours for breakfast at a restaurant I’d booked us in for didn’t help my mood either. Grrr.
This is frustrating. Not to be put-off however, this leads to a nice new opportunities. If you find them please let me know what they are. Work continues apace. I should find out about my qualifications this coming week which is a little nerve-wracking. Qualifications are good. Prove I know stuff. Not quite as epic as Nic’s second Masters – but adequate. Two masters, man! Come on. I know everyone needs a hobby – but surely there’s something out there that is better for you. Like guitars. Anyway – my excitement over the potential job in London appears to have thoroughly and utterly cursed it and I doubt I’ll be hearing from them again. The ‘don’t call us – we’ll call you’ routine is depressing. It’s like being introduced to someone with the line ‘Here’s Dave. He’s got great personality.’ Because it’s a lie. They won’t call me. Just as anyone introduced as having a great personality will invariably be a dull (and unattractive) leech. The upshot is that my work is quite enthusiastic about my going. This is a positive sign. I don’t believe they’ve ordered the celebratory champagne and the little horn that goes ‘wuuuurrrr’ and has a piece of paper unfold in a comic yet inherently tragic fashion. It’s more a ‘gee – what a great idea. Just come back’ type of thing. One thing that’s really irritating me at the moment though is as I think of and prepare for my OE is the politicalisation of the OE. The Nats are complaining about the ‘brain drain’ etc, yet at the same time championing the fact that their leader got his experience… err, overseas. So it’s ok to do it if you’re John Key, but if you’re anyone else you’re a Bad Person. Stuff that. That kind of talk makes me more keen to go. I believe it’s my ’stubbornly irrational’ trait coming through. We celebrated Nic’s thesis submission in style last night. Ended up with everyone being quite drunk (tequila – is that ever a Good Idea?) and playing pool/observing hilarious argument between Ben and Sara at an excellent little Brasillian bar in town. Stumbling home. Came across police tape. Ben’s eyes lit up. As did little armourguard nazi’s when he saw Ben. Violent pushing ensued (Ben was quite the gentleman). Sadly, the armourguard warden chose poorly and was subsequently lecture-questioned. All I wanted was food. Anyway – turns out a group of tourists had been set upon by knife weilding maniacs. Explains the pool of blood later discovered when Ben decided to go back to the scene to lecture the armourguard folk some more. So yeah – if it hadn’t been for tequila, I could have been in the vicinity at the time. That is all for now.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!
Dave = man.
Plus Dave wins at casino when far to drunk to gamble responsibly.
I have not been offered a new job. However should everything go well and I arrive in the correct place and Not Stuff Up then I should have a kick ass job. Which would also be new.
The correct place would actually be London.
This is entirely unexpected as I am working for a very good company and like it (and the people there) immensely. But it would be very good for my career.
As usual, I turn to Wikipedia to furnish me with facts.
London is big. It has an average temperature of 14.8 degrees centigrade and Radiohead live near there. Old stuff has been built there a long time ago – or stolen from other places and displayed there. Piccadilly Circus is not a Circus, but Leicester Square is a square. It is generally agreed that you can drive jam down a frog – although careless use of jam near frog will result in brown bread.
English appears to be the national language and occasional hobby.
So. Finally. In conclusion. To sum up. With all the facts allotted in their fact… places:
Eeek.
Operative London7 has done exceedingly well and will be rewarded in due course.
*I am now going to play Kid A very very quietly so as not to wake the others and think on this a little.*
