Hide and Seek

Do you suppose they're looking for the drummer?

Actual New Plan

Okay, this new plan is actually useful, and does not involve a lack of permanent address (or bathing):

I'm going to put off starting the Masters in Applied Linguistics until 2013. I just kept going over the maths and logistics of it all and realised that I'd probably only be shaving a semester off the grand total if I started in 2012, and that hardly seemed worth the effort. In fact, depending on how the subjects fell, there was a good chance I'd be finishing at exactly the same time whether I started in 2013 or 2012.

Given that I really want to spend six weeks in Europe next year (two of them in an Estonian intensive course) and four of those weeks would be cutting into my second trimester anyway (so I'd be studying and travelling at the same time), it made sense to only be juggling one degree and a European adventure, rather than two - especially if I wasn't going to get any real time benefit out of it.

So I won't be the crazy person next year. I'll be the crazy person the year after.

16 Inch Wheels

Well, it looked like it might rain today, so I took my old, normal bike to work.

I'm sure I'll get to the point where I don't care about shielding the Brompton from bad weather and just take it everywhere, but it's still kind of new and shiny and I'm happy for it to be a "fair weather" bike at present.

I have to say, riding my old bike for the first time since I got the Brompton has brought home how thoroughly I've fallen for the Brommie (which I've started to call "Babs" - short for "yeah, baby!". And, yes, I know how sad that is).

I am definitely a convert to the 16 inch, foldable life.

My old bike just seems ridiculously huge. Why would you need such ginormous wheels? Why do they take so long to get rolling? What's the point of that top bar? Why is everything so high off the ground? Why is it so cumbersome to move? And why can't all bikes have an internal gear hub?

It doesn't help that the old bike was a size too small as well. Things are ridiculously large, and yet not quite large enough. Everything is just a little too close and at the wrong angle, so that even though the seat is uncomfortably high off the ground and set far back on the seat post, it's still a little too close to the pedals and the handlebars.

That's my own stupid fault, of course. I didn't have a model of that bike to look at, and I was used to women's step-through bikes previously, so when I ordered it I was working with a mixture of ignorance and nervousness. It's one of the reasons why I was determined to try the Brommie before buying it.

So, I think I can safely say I'm a foldie fan now. Riding my old bike has brought home how much the new bike has changed the game.

Plus, I had to leave it outside, which is boring. I much prefer having my bike under my desk - it's a great conversation starter.

Legs, etc.

So my uncle has hurt his leg. Not the uncle who's converting the bus, but the one who's married to the aunt who managed to break her ankle taking the rubbish bins down her own driveway.

From what I've heard, he bought a block of land on Wednesday and fell off it on Sunday.

I'm still not sure how one goes about falling off a block of land, but he managed to do it with such skill and aplomb they kept him in hospital overnight to make sure he hadn't given himself a serious crush injury.

The uncle who's converting the bus hasn't seriously hurt himself since he dropped a flight of stairs onto his foot. My other uncle has managed to keep both of this thumbs attached for quite a number of years, now, and we're very proud of him. My other aunt has also managed to avoid breaking any limbs recently, although she is still getting regular surgery to help correct the last lot of breakages...

So, for all of you people who still like rubbing in the whole fell-over-hit-her-head-and-knocked-herself-out incident, I'd just like to point out one little fact:

In my family, this sort of thing is perfectly normal.

New Plan

Okay, new plan. I've got a touring tent, a swag, a station wagon and a folding bike. I'm going to turn into a hippy for a year or so.

I'll split my time between free camp sites at places where I can fish for my supper (must remember to learn how to fish), and the fruit picking circuit where I can earn money to pay for fuel and non-fish related food.

I'm going to by cheap second-hand paperbacks from book exchange stores and occasionally be one of those smelly people who sit in a public library for a couple of hours. Between the books and the banjo, I should be able to entertain myself.

Once in a while I'll book into a real caravan park so I can have a proper shower, but by and large I'll be completely unfit for human society - except perhaps other hippies.

Oh, wait, I just remembered. This is an old plan. I find myself wanting to do this roughly every two or so years. This is just the first year when I've had pretty much all the stuff I could want for this plan right at my fingertips...

Tolerance

Due to an undeniably Australian childhood, I'm probably going to end up trying to say this at some point anyway - so I may as well get it over and done with now: "suffer in your jocks!"

Okay, now that that's out of the way, I want to talk about tolerance.

My uncle has decided to name his mobile home "Tolerance" as it is the symbol of his retirement, which came much earlier than he originally intended due to his lack of tolerance.

My uncle has never been one to suffer fools gladly, but after a serious illness and a few successive economic downturns he came to realise he was no longer suffering them willingly. In fact, he was barely suffering them at all. He decided that putting up with morons for little or no pay wasn't the way he wanted to spend the next five years of his life, so he called it quits earlier than he planned in order to get to work on his dream retirement: converting a second-hand school bus into a mobile home.

His fervent hope is that, after a few years of not dealing with people who are variously morons or selfish gits trying to get things for free, he might regrow some of his tolerance for humanity.

Personally, we're not sure how becoming a nomadic hermit with only dogs for company is going to help him like humanity more, but he seems to think it's a good plan.

The other day I was flicking through my diary when I noticed some-day-or-other was set aside as the International Day of Tolerance. I didn't actually take much note of the date (I can't even remember if it's in the past or the future), but I do remember thinking: "What's the point of that? Am I supposed to find someone I usually avoid and put up with them for a while?"

It wasn't until today that I remembered the word "tolerance" is used as one of those New-Agey, P.C. buzzwords trying to encourage us to be more beige in our attitudes to the people around us. It's to do with things like "religious tolerance" and "cultural tolerance" and things like that. Somewhere along the line I'm sure it also has something to do with gay people getting married and adopting children from other races. Or something like that.

It's a strange thing, when you think about it: "tolerance". It's not acceptance, but people seem to forget that. There seems to be this strange sense that, when you show tolerance to your fellow human, you are somehow accepting them for what they are.

It's not true, of course. To tolerate something is to "put up with" it. You don't have to like it, you don't have to accept it - heck, you could still passionately hate it, if you wanted to. But you tolerate it. You let it be. You "suffer" it.

I used the phrase "suffer fools gladly" above. It uses an older meaning of the word "suffer" that really only exists in set phrases these days - like the famous Biblical quote "suffer the little children to come unto me". It means "put up with it". Sure, you would rather this thing that upsets you didn't exist or happen or be in your space, but put it up with it. Tolerating this thing may cause you to suffer from annoyance or other unpleasant emotions, but that's something you'll just have to deal with.

Tolerance is the indifference you show when you're not feeling love, but can't permit obvious hatred.

If you actually said that to someone: "I tolerate you", they would probably be highly offended. Deep down, we don't want to be tolerated, we want to be accepted and loved.

But tolerance is surprisingly useful for creating one of those things we charmingly refer to as "civilisations". By tolerating each other even if we don't like each other - by being civil even if we can't be friendly - we build and maintain societies.

Imagine how quickly our society would fall apart if we started treating "us" with the same intolerance we treat "others". It's actually not that hard to imagine - we're doing it a lot more now than we did before. It's become fashionable to blatantly hate the people who are supposed to be on the same team (and I'm going to try to avoid blaming 'reality' TV for this, but it's very hard).

Now, imagine how much stronger, better and richer we would all be if we starting treating "others" with the same tolerance we treat "us". Or if, (radical thought, I know) we treated other people the way we would like to be treated...

Tolerance is not as nice as love and acceptance, but the world is much better with it than without it.

So three cheers for tolerance! Here's to a bright and shining future where we put up with each other in a reasonably civil manner.

Moving forward

So, it's that time of year when fledgling adults are being released from their scholarly internment (at least, it is here in Australia).

After what basically amounts to twelve years of incarceration, our young folk are given a pat on the back, a piece of paper and a friendly wave as they go off to encounter the "real world".

I've long been of the opinion that school should only be compulsory up until that phase in the teens when a child ceases to be a child and becomes a poorly trained monkey. You know what I'm talking about - the age level we usually stick in Year 8 or 9. At that point I think we need to send them off to work on a farm somewhere, then when they come back from a year of physical labour we give them the option of going back to school or taking up a trade.

Anyway, putting that to one side, we have a whole cohort of ex-students who are setting off on the greatest adventure of their life (loosely translated as: "what do I do now?"), and a whole pile of people giving them advice for the future.

Thinking about what advice I might give to someone today, having almost fifteen years between my own release into the wild and my current state, I keep coming back to two songs that have lyrics that really resonate with the twists and turns I've observed in my own life over the past decade and a bit.

The first is "The Lucky One", by Robert Lee Castleman. While most of the song is just an enjoyable country number, I've always loved the following phrase:

The next best thing to playing and winning is playing and losing.

My first piece of advice to the high school graduate: Don't be afraid of falling. Don't be afraid of failing. Just try something, and if it doesn't work then at least you've had the experience of playing the game. You only lose if you let it stop you. Keep moving forward.

The second song is "Watershed" by Emily Saliers. The whole song is about the way life is full of choices, and we don't always know what choices we should be making. But:

When you're learning to face your path at your pace, every choice is worth your while

Life doesn't travel in a straight line. We often find ourselves in places we didn't expect, and sometimes we find ourselves back where we started. That's not necessarily a bad thing. The important thing is to grow as a person along the way. If you come back to the same place as a different person, then it really is a "new" step along the way, and we can grow from there and move onto something else.

Just don't let something unexpected or undesired stop you from moving forward.

You need to have a star to sail by, but should you be blown off course (or the world should tilt on it's axis), just get your bearings and pick a new star.

Whatever happens, "trust in God and do the right". You'll find yourself on stable ground sooner or later - just keep moving forward.

When life becomes a jigsaw puzzle

So, I have two degrees I want to work on over the course of the next three years (one of which I've already started).

Each gives me four "core" subjects that I kind of have to do (unless I can show a good reason to suggest otherwise) and offers a number of options for the other four subjects I need to do for the degree.

This gives me a grand total of eight free spaces to fill... sadly there are 12 subjects I'd like to do. They fall into a mix of "subjects I probably should do because they would be advantageous in the future, should I go with Future A", "subjects I should probably do because they would be useful for the future, should I go with Future B", and "subjects I just want to do because they sound really interesting."

I also have to balance this out with the fact that certain subjects are only available in certain trimesters on even or odd years. So, while it would be nice to leave the decision about whether or not I take Subject X until the year after next, Subject X isn't offered in that year. Theoretically I could could it the year after that, but the year after that I was hoping to be finished with Degree Y and be focusing on a project for Degree Z...

For the German degree: I read the description for the language subjects and thought they all sounded useful for different reasons, and I think you are meant to be able to take them all, so it's not a case of taking 3A and 3B OR 3C and 3D, but one could do either or both. All I know is that you can't take 3B unless you've done 3A, and you can't take 3D unless you've done 3C - so you can't try to mix and match - if you pick one, you have to pick the partner that goes with it.

I also want to do literature subjects, though. Literature is kind of my thing. Or, at least, it used to be and I miss it terribly. I love reading things that people have selected for me. I never pick some of this stuff for myself, and it's good to have someone say "Hey, you know that book you would just ignore if you saw it on a library shelf? Well you have to read it now because there's going to be a test."

There are two literature subjects that I would like to do (well, one that I would really like to do, and one that looks okay-I-guess), but they are not offered in the same year. One is offered this coming year, and if I don't take it in semester one, I lose the chance to see it again until 2014. Fortunately the one I really want to do is available in 2013, which is perfect. Unfortunately, there's no poetry, otherwise my mind would already be made up.

I could try doing only one literature subject and see what I can do about taking three of the language subjects, but seeing as I still want to veer towards further studies in comparative literature, it would be good for me to take both the literature subjects. Which means I have to pick which language stream I want to go with: the one that seems to focus more evenly on speaking and writing, or the one that goes into writing in more depth.

For the Linguistics degree: I want to gear this degree towards producing learning materials, which would indicate that three of my electives are kind of already taken, and then there's a subject on Phonetics, which I would love to do. Sounds like I've got my four electives sorted, right?

Except that there are two TESOL subjects that would be exceptionally handy if I decide I want to go overseas and teach English as a Foreign Language for a living - which seems like a logical career option for someone who has a Bachelor of Education and used to teach English to native speakers.

Writing books and making learning packages is the dream, TESOL is highly likely and hard to turn down.

It's like being offered either a spoon or a fork, and trying to predict what meals you intend to eat for the foreseeable future so you can make an appropriate choice.

I could always do a Graduate Certificate in Education for the TESOL qualifications, but even I think that's starting to get ridiculous. Then again, I'll have two Bachelors and two Masters, so why not have two GradCerts in Education?

Anyway, just coming back to focus on the current degrees in front of me, the main reason why this jigsaw puzzle is annoying the Dickens out of me at present is because I have to work out what I want to do for the next three years in order to figure out which single subject I'm going to enrol in next trimester.

I want to do three subjects next Trimester while I should definitely have the extra day off work (more on that another day), and the way the schedule works out there are only two required subjects that I can do during that time. So I have to pick an elective.

The only German subject I can do as the elective for that trimester just happens to be the literature subject I'm not entirely sure about. If I take it, I'm pretty much definitely going to lose two language subjects, because if I'm doing literature then I'm definitely doing the Short Stories unit in 2013. If I don't do it this trimester, I might not do it at all - which may or may not be a tragedy.

However, if I take one of the Linguistics subjects, I can actually fit four subjects for that degree into the one year, which would be a big bonus in terms of Not Taking Forever to finish the two degrees - but that also means I'd have to make up my mind concerning the TESOL-now-or-later question...

Or maybe I wouldn't need to make up my mind because I could, in theory, take the two TESOL subjects and two of the three learning materials subjects and balance out both possible futures - but that would mean I couldn't take the phonetics subject and I love phonetics - and why am I doing these degrees anyway, if not for my own personal amusement, considering I'm perfectly happy being a librarian - so shouldn't I just chose subjects base on my personal interests? - but, then again, I am interested in having degrees that are useful for teaching overseas because that's why I'm doing this stupid GradCert in tertiary teaching anyway...

...and that's right, I'm also still doing the last subject for the GradCert in that same Trimester because I just want to get it over with.

And why is only one of my subjects available in the Third Trimester? What's the point of having three trimesters if you have to make everything fit into two anyway? It would be much easier to do three degrees at the same time if people would just be a little more flexible with when they offer the darn subjects.

It feels like I have to map out exactly where I want to be in five years' time simply to figure out where I'm going for the next three months.

I knew trying to do multiple degrees at the same time wouldn't be easy, but I didn't realise how hard it would be to "simply" pick my subjects for next trimester.

As Charlie Brown might say: "Good grief!"

Scoot

There is an extent to which Peter-from-NYCewheels can sell me anything, but I can't help but feel I'll be comparing all kick-scooters to this one:



And no, the scooter thing isn't a new obsession now that I've got the folding bike thing and need a new toy over which to drool. I'm still drooling over my own bike - it's unbelievably cool, although I'm still trying to find the sweet spot for the saddle. At the moment I can get my knees happy or my shoulders happy. Why they can't just agree is beyond me.

I've been looking at scooters ever since I saw this a couple of years back:


The way you propel this thing (carving) both intrigues me and makes me reluctant to commit. Sure, the fact that you would build mad levels of core strength propelling yourself with only the sinuous movements of your body sound great, but it looks like you need a fair amount of space for that. I am rather fond of being able to move in a straight line when desired...

Anyway, back to scooters. When I was in Sydney last year I found myself really wanting a scooter. I just wasn't there long enough to be motivated to seek out one that was suitable for adults but not ridiculously cumbersome (as the only adult scooters I've seen in shops always seem to be). The NYCewheels one looks pretty cool. I think the board could be a little more spacious and it doesn't look like you can adjust the handlebar height, which may be problematic if you were using it for more than ten or so minutes at a time...

But, hey, Peter-from-NYCewheels does make it look good, and we all need a benchmark to start with.

Further to the last (8 syllables)

What do you mean, you don't get it? It's so obviously a spoof of the first few stanzas of the Song of Hiawatha! Heck, that poem has been ripped off so often even Lewis Carroll complained that it was too easy and decidedly derivative (it didn't stop him from doing it, though). Sheesh, doesn't anyone read Longfellow anymore?

Why you shouldn't leave me alone with eight syllables

Screaming Hairy Armadillos

     Should you ask me "whence this screaming?
Whence this noise and such kerfuffle?
With the sense of senseless shrieking,
With the odd unearthly grunting,
With the sound of pain and torture
And a tone of great displeasure,
With its ceaseless high-pitched keening
And its awful oscillations
Just like children playing chasey?"
     I should answer, I should tell you:
"Over there by yonder burrow
Where the grass and dirt seem farrowed,
Where the shade and sun are dappled,
There doth live the armadillos,
Live the hairy armadillos,
Screaming hairy armadillos.
Those called 'screaming' for they scream much,
Those called 'hairy' for they have hair,
Hair in all their nooks and crannies,
More than normal armadillos”
     Should you ask why they are screaming
Why they raise a noise so horrid
Why they sound like bloody murder
I should answer, I should tell you,
“They do scream at all discomfort,
Scream and scream at such a volume,
With a sound like broken banshees
Or a hedgehog in a foul mood.
     “Though their skin is hard and hairy
Still they have so few defences
That they scream to ward off strangers,
Scream to save themselves from danger,
Scream like children fond of screaming,
Scream like raptors in a movie,
Or a baby feeling cranky.”
     If still further you should ask me,
Saying, “Why, though, are they screaming?
Tell us what has happened to them,”
I should answer your inquiries
Straightway in such words as follow:
     “In the zoo are vets and keepers
People dressed in green and khaki,
People paid to care for critters,
And they often need to touch them,
Need to touch the beast they care for,
Need to pick them up and hold them,
Need to poke them with a needle,
Need to look in ears and noses.
They do poke and prod the critters
Just to check if they are healthy.
     “And the hairy armadillos,
Screaming hairy armadillos,
Do not like the pokes and prodding
Do not like to be collected
By a man with khaki trousers
Who would pick them up and hold them
And inspect their nooks and crannies
And administer the needles
To their soft and squishy bellies.
     “So they scream, the armadillos,
Scream like hairy armadillos
Scream because a man in trousers –
Khaki trousers with green trimming –
Has picked up an armadillo
And is looking at its soft-bits,
And it really does not like that.”

ASECS and PLMA

Okay, someone needs to apply for the job of Editor for the Journal of the American Society for Eighteenth Century Studies.

No, seriously, one of you people out there go and do it. I'd do it myself, but I'm not qualified and I haven't subscribed to that journal for years (I'm just a ghost in their mailing list).

I have a tendency to hang around libraries, and in doing so I have a tendency to notice journals that look interesting. One of the strange occupational hazards of being a librarian, though, is the fact that you rarely ever read anything in a library.

Other people come into libraries to read stuff, librarians don't. If we can't take it out of the library to read it at home, we tend to not read it at all. Or, if we do, it will be a quick skimming whenever we can remember the thing exists.

So, as a result, if a journal catches my eye on more than one occasion, and I think I want to have a good look at the articles in that journal, I will often consider subscribing to it for a year, just to see if I want to keep subscribing to it.

It has to be said, the answer is usually "no". Turns out having things to read come to your house on a regular basis is actually a bit of a burden. The new issue turns up just in time to remind you that you haven't yet read more than a few paragraphs of the old one...

Anyway, the ASECS journal was one of the ones I subscribed to for one year. The situational irony of it all is that I was always more interested in the articles in ASECS than I am in the articles in the PMLA (which I've been getting for a few years) - which are oddly boring for a journal covering comparative literature.

My membership in the MLA is up for renewal, and I don't know whether I should keep up my membership because it sounds good ("I'm a member of the Modern Languages Association"), or if I should let it lapse because the journal is something I've come to dread.

"Oh, the next issue of the PMLA is here. It appears to have articles about the use of dogs as a metaphor in Marlow's early plays. And then there's this article about how the colour red seems to be of significance to some Spanish author who wrote depressing novels only lecturers in Spanish Literature have ever read. Oh, and someone is once again talking about Beowulf - because there is no other text."

And, you know, the dog thing might be interesting if the dude wasn't harping on about it for almost 4000 words - or if any of these people could write a decent essay. It's like they've forgotten the primary point of an essay is convey ideas to an audience (rather than to sound incredibly well-read and highly educated), so a reader can easily find herself three pages in and still have no idea what the deuce the blighter is talking about.

And (and I mean this in the nicest possible way) SHUT UP ABOUT BEOWULF.

Every time I think I might actually be interested in reading Beowulf, I remember that it seems to turn people into fusty old academics who can't read a good story for the sake of it and need to write reams and reams of papers about whether or not the incestuous characters are more significant to the deeper interpretation of the text than the sexually repressed baby-eaters - keeping in mind that the evidence that any given character might be either sexually repressed or a baby-eater hinges entirely on four words spoken by a serving wench in a bar scene that only appears in one copy of the source texts.

And those words are usually something along the lines of: "like a sweet babe".

So, I look at the PMLA and think "Oh, good grief, it's another one. Do I need to pretend I actually want to read this thing, or can I just throw it directly into the bin? I suppose I should take the plastic wrapping off it first so that I can stick it in the recycling section..." Which does seem like a bit of a waste of money.

I mainly joined the MLA as part of the grand plan of eventually doing a PhD in Comparative Literature, thinking that I'd try to get a few articles published in the journal to go towards my "portfolio". But quite frankly I'm not sure I could actually write for the PLMA. You can't write what you never read, and I struggle to read most articles in the thing.

Someone needs to create a PMLA for the MTV Generation - something where the articles a shorter, sweeter, clearer and sound less like you've been trapped in a lift with a 60 year old academic.

And where articles on Beowulf are rationed to one really good one per year. It can be like a competition - "My article on Beowulf was so good it managed to make it into the 2012 PMLA-X spot!"

A spot of homework

I'm just doing this for the practice. If you translate it into English, you will be bored. Feel free to offer corrections, if it amuses you.


Ich habe um 7 Uhr aufgestanden. Ich habe um 7.15 Uhr Frühstück gegessen. Um 8.20 Uhr ist ich nach Arbeit gefahren. Ich habe bis 5 Uhr gearbeitet. Jetzt bin ich meine Hausaufgaben machen. Gestern, habe ich meine Hausaufgaben nicht gemacht.

Na, wirklich, das stimmt nicht. Ich habe meine Hausaufgaben gestern auch gemacht.

Ich habe lange studiert, aber nicht gut. Ich weißt nicht viel. Ich mache viel Fehler. Ich habe das Perfekt nicht gut erinnert, und meine Sätze sind schrecklich.

Heute, habe ich der Study Plan endlich gefunden. Zu spät, natürlich. Ich sollte er seit drei Monate gefunden (das ist sehr schrecklich, Entschuldigung).

Ich bin müde, und habe diese Sätze nicht gut geschrieben. Das ist Leben.

Bursting Into Song

I always wanted to get a T-Shirt made which said:

"Life is a musical. Please excuse me while I burst into song." *

I'm mildly convinced I must have suffered some sort of acquired brain injury at some point, as it's the most obvious reason for the funny accent, my difficulty with recognising faces, the problem I have with linear time and the fact that I often don't notice I'm singing.

People seem to think the constant whistling, humming, tapping and singing is something I do on purpose because I'm annoying (which is partially true - I am actually quite annoying), but the fact of the matter is it just happens. One minute the tune is safely locked in my head, the next thing I know it's spilling out of my mouth. Usually it takes me a moment or so to realise it's now on the outside of my brain.

Often it's a word association thing, as well. Someone will say something, which will lead to me thinking about something else, which will lead to a song...

My cell mate recently made the observation that I'll have to stop singing so much when we move to the new office and share space with the 'downstairs people'. The 'downstairs people' are a notoriously dour lot who seem to enjoy working in a quiet environment.

Sadly, the terms "quiet environment" and "Sharon works here" are mutually exclusive. Even if I'm not singing, I'm probably talking. I talk to myself when there's no one around. When people are around, I'll talk to them (whether they like it or not).

I've worked out over the years that the only way I can shut myself up is to listen to music. I still sing along (even when I don't speak the language or there are no words), but I do it at a reduced volume - and sometimes I even managed to get through entire songs without joining in. It depends on the music and my mood.

I have a feeling I may be working my way through the entire library CD collection when we move downstairs...



*Other things I'd like to put on T-Shirts: "Kas keegi siin raagib inglise keelt?" and "peut contenir des traces de noix"

Oh, yes - the *third* option...

One of the problems with growing up in a evangelical Pentecostal denomination with tickets on itself (then again, don't all denominations have tickets on themselves?) is that, when you get over that and want a break from the "crazy intense" side of Christianity, you tend to ignore everything that even smells like superspirituality...

Which can lead to ignoring spirituality it general. Not a good move. One's health is, after all, based on three points: physical, mental/emotional and spiritual.

I've been thinking my antsiness must be based on a physical or emotional thing that I'm not addressing properly, but what I haven't been addressing properly is the third part of the triangle.

Once I noticed that last night I started feeling a bit more settled, so I think I'm onto something.

Time to start paying a bit more attention to things I've been dismissing of late, methinks.

Heebie Jeebies

I've been having a case of the heebie jeebies lately.

I don't know why, I can't pin-point a real reason for it, but I've just been expecting to be frightened lately.

I've been expecting to have bad dreams and see scary things in shadows. I've been expecting to turn corners and bump into strangers in unexpected places.

I get this every now and then - usually with years between "episodes", and it's usually shortly after I've seen something that creeps me out... which in this case would probably be some stills from the John Carpenter version of The Thing.

But I can't really blame it on the stimuli, because I'll go for years being able to occasionally look at things like that while having no reaction, and then one day a single photograph will have me so out-of-sorts that I'll be wanting a night light.

When I get into this sort of zone I usually can't even glance in the direction of the horror section at the video store, because any given picture may have my skin crawling for the next few days. It's clearly not the picture itself, but just the theme of the picture - the promise of something unpleasant.

The weird thing is - I don't usually have the bad dreams. I don't usually see the scary shapes in the shadows. I'm expecting them, I'm dreading them - I try to avoid looking at shadows in case I see them... But the shadows are perfectly tame, and my sleep seems devoid of nightmares. When I do bump into strangers in unexpected places, I'm mildly startled, but not frightened.

I'm afraid that I'll be frightened - I'm not actually frightened. I'm afraid I'll see something that will scare me - I'm not actually scared of the things I see.

It's a very odd sensation, this lurking dread that comes from expecting to be scared. And I don't know if it's because the creepy thing I see is the origin of it, or if it's because there's something else going on in the back of my head that's making me feel vulnerable, and the creepy thing is just a trigger.

It doesn't always get me when I'm stressed, so I don't know if I can blame it on stress. I suspect there's something out-of-place that I'm not seeing, and instead of processing it properly I'm just feeling a general sense of "something is not right", which translates on trigger into this phobophobia.

I've been trying to see if I can pick what it is - because then I might be able to address it, but the way I usually tell that something is bothering me (I'm actively avoiding thinking about it), isn't helping. I can't figure out what I'm avoiding.

All I know is that something is amiss - and as a result I'm feeling antsy and skittish. I just wish I knew what it was.

"Wait a minute, did you say 'Robin'?"

"Oh, no, sire. 'Robert', sire. 'Robert the Incredible Chicken'."

I've just been informed I should be getting my complete Maid Marian and Her Merry Men disc set sometime next week.

So you can all expect me to be making even more comments along the lines of:

"Guard it with your life? What a ridiculous thing to say. Guard it with your big stick!"

"Would you mind not bursting into song every time I talk to you? This is the Worksop highway, not Sesame Street."

"I will cut you into a rather easy two-piece jigsaw"

"You're about as useful as a cheeseburger to a drowning elephant"

"Oh, don't ask me - I'm just a girlie. Has anyone seen my blusher?"

And the like.

All About Sting...

Lessons to be learned

Last semester my German subject came with a study plan, which I followed reasonably well, and I did reasonably well.

The lesson plan gave five "lessons" a week which combined a few pages each of the textbook, workbook and lab book. I would often complete these out of sinc and do a few more pages of one on one day, and a few more pages of the other on the next, or do two or three lessons on the same night... but I did them.

This semester they didn't give us one of those plans, and I haven't summoned the discipline to make my own. I've fallen quite behind on the workbook and lab book in particular, and I haven't been keeping up with the audio exercises in the text book.

As a result, I'm not doing so well.

For some reason, I could keep up with what I had to do when I was checking things of a list, but without the list I'm not doing much at all.

Here's hoping I actually learn from this and try to do up a proper "Learnplan" for next semester.

Robin

There are some people who, when you say "Robin Hood", think, "Robin Hood."

Then there are some who might think "Robin of Sherwood", and some who might think "Robin of Locksley".

Then there are those of us who think "Robin of Kensington" and then have to resist the urge to shout "See - I set fire to your underpants!" and giggle uncontrollably.

The complete series of Maid Marian and her Merry Men is available as a boxed set - and it includes the Christmas special.

I bought the first season when it looked like that was all we were ever going to get, but now I want the whole thing. It's not yet available in this region coding, but I know I can watch the UK version quite easily on my cheap DVD player...

Does the phrase "heck yeah!" mean anything to anyone?

Time travelling

On the list of things people probably shouldn't do when they have assignments due and an exam coming up, I expect this item should be written:

Spend entire afternoon as an extra on a movie.

If you manage to see a telemovie on the life of Eddie Koiki Mabo next year (in June in Australia, and most likely available on DVD after that), there is a brief moment where a handful of librarians from the year 2011 are visiting a conference in 1981.

We're all in the last two or three rows of the conference, so you'll probably only get to see an ear or something, but we're still there. That's one life-experience we can now tick off the bucket list.