I bought some white bread because it will comfort me when I eat it with cheese. I’ll do that now.

It’s my birthday tomorrow.

• I’ve been keeping a pretty vigilant paper journal.
• I can’t really write about my work on the internet. I’m reasonably sure it would break some rule in my code of ethics.
• I feel similarly awkward about writing about my friends on the internet, and I spend so much time with them.. I mean, when I’m not at work I’m doing some social thing. If I write neither about my work nor my friends, there ain’t much left.
• There are a few people who read this whom I would really prefer didn’t. I don’t know quite what I can do about that except not write.

It makes me a bit regretful, a bit sad, because I recently ordered another copy of the published version of this dazelie and reading over it delights me so. but whatevs. I am writing today because I forgot to bring my journal to work, and I just found a quote I would really like to note down:

…stretching the truth so far that it curved nearly into the shape of a lie.

and another, from a blog article:

I’ve found that I can learn simply by trying to understand why someone disagrees with me. By that, I mean what reasoning they use to reach their conclusions.

Being wrong feels just like being right.

Ugh. Ugh. What is necessary? Measuring potential hurt to potential gain?

“Look, I’ve been thinking something, and have been unsure whether to tell you, because it affects you, and the way I look at you, and, well… I’m wondering if I should say anything. Do you want to know? Because it will change everything.”
“Are you bonkers? If it affects me of course I want to know. Even if it changes everything, how could I not want to know? We are otherwise living a lie. A LIE. This I cannot stand.”
“Okay, fine. Here it goes. I really fucking hate those green shorts of yours and want you to never wear them again.”
“Fuck. What? Are you kidding me? I fucking LOVE those shorts. I can’t not wear them, even for the brief periods of my life I spend with you.”
“Then I guess this friendship is over. Shit. I’m sorry. I really wish I’d never said anything.”
“Fuck you.”

But there it is.. I know, deep inside me (…), that my mundanities are the most thrilling things anyone will ever read. I can’t just take that away from them. I’m not that cruel.

Anyway I just made unpuppet.com live. So now someone could really read this. I’m not sure what I’ll do. I’m cool with people reading it.. although I am a bit wary about the stuff I wrote 2003-2005.. I would read over it to ensure it isn’t too weird or personal but there’s just so much of it!

So, whatever. Maybe I’ll just make it not the very front page or something. Eventually. Till then, hi world.

My few days home have been so nice. Felon has been good, so long as she is separated from Guppy and Munchy. I do not expect they will ever get along, though, and so I will have to find her a home. I do love her, so it will be sad. I’ll wait until having a bedroom cat +two rest-of-house-cats becomes untenable.

I’ve now exchanged gifts with everyone. Went to see Tron Legacy with Chelle and Jeremy, which was more entertaining than I was expecting but still disappointing.. so many ideas that could have been, well, actually followed up on, rather than mentioned in passing then never expanded, like name dropping is enough. Then went to an anime-projecting Japanese restaurant for Ramen which needed chili.

Went to visit Nanna & Poppa at Currumbin. Driving two hours without airconditioning mid-day mid-summer sucked a lot. Ate tuna patties and pavlova, fixed their various computer issues, went for coffee with Nanna & her mumm, Nanna, who is 97 or 98 now. I think I was not yet recovered from NYE, so was tired and not quite happy. Owell.

Storm came back from Woodford and visited us that afternoon. We all then went to visit another friend in a nearby apartment she was housesitting. I snooped it thoroughly. I so love being able to snoop other peoples’ homes.. their knicknacks and fridge magnets and books and beauty products and furniture arrangements. People are great.

Have no clients at work today, am way down the back of the office, cool and isolated, catching up on my 1000++ Google Reader items. I’m here till 8pm tonight, when maybe Storm will pick me up, if I remember to text her.

It is really everso thrilling and I am so grateful I am so lucky to know such people. A drawback, however, is that I often feel dull by comparison. Stunningly simple and boorishly boring. It is something I’ve struggled with for a while…

My New Year’s Eve was fabulous. I arrived home from Cairns, Felon in tow, and installed her in the bedroom where she seems happier than she ever has. She miows, she purrs, she kneads. I am so pleased she is so settled, after all the stress and anger (Sarah had not wanted me to take her, citing feline anxiety disorders, human selfishness, blatant animal cruelty, threatening everlasting hatred, etc).

We invited several friends over to celebrate, ate ‘nacho lasagne’ went to another friend’s party for a while, watched fireworks, came home, walked to the river… then the remaining four of us sat about chatting till the sun was up. So very lovely. I slept till 3pm and am recovering still…

Oh, and it took place in a world in which there are no women, except the constantly heavily made up main character. All police officers, all spies, all mobsters, all of their associates, even, all waiters and servers and receptionists and every other person in society that need speak words… all men. Except Angelina Jolie, whose space (unlike that of her male colleagues) gets creepily invaded by her superior. Ew.

Rarely do I blame myself for much.

It is Christmas Eve, and all have gone to bed. It is raining, monsoonal, all over the state, highways cut off and earth hopelessly saturated.. suckingly marshy, pouring and drowning, there is nowhere for anymore water to go. The rain sounds like the static of life, the frogs are croaking in a rhythmic chorus that would be terrifying if I thought it were not but frogs.

When I go to bed it takes me a long time to get to sleep because I am afraid there are snakes and spiders in my room. The spiders I am sure of; I periodically switch my lamp to see if they’ve moved position on the walls. Last night, the fan blasting above me, I felt something move on my head. Panicked! I switched on the light and in the mirror opposite my bed blearily-eyed spied spindly-limbed movement amongst my hair. I batted it terrifiedly away before I realised it was my hair, blown by the fan.

The death adders and taipans I have only heard tales of: curled in my closet, lying in wait outside my door.. two in recent weeks. Lila, the behemoth dog, often noses my sliding door open and lazily fails to shut it behind her. my door opens straight onto gardens I imagine are teeming with snakes… surely any of them would prefer my cozywarm bed to the gushing pouring flooding..

On that note, goodnight.

I just watched Pandaemonium with mumm; I’d burned & sent it to her ages ago when she was studying the Romantic poets and she still hadn’t seen it. I love it because I love Kubla Khan… (and hate Wordsworth). Watching it this time the drug-taking stood out much more to me. That there is no doubt.. STC wouldn’t have written his most fantastical works without opium. I feel uneasy about this.

I’m not sure why… the writing isn’t any less real, or his. He was clearly already genius. Envy? Surely not… The damage was clearly shown, moreso than the rewards. But I’ve never been able to create anything while under the influence of anything. I’ve written one poem whilst on mushrooms, and it was just silly and hilarious more than anything.

Words come together while the mind comes apart. I don’t need drugs for that.

Having a stable job means only really getting 2-4 weeks of leave per year, which isn’t much. Since I live so far away from my family, I really need to spend that leave in Cairns. So my time in Cairns is generally the only time I have to catch up on projects I have outside of work… except I come to Cairns to be with my family, so constantly feel torn, er, like I’m not spending enough time with them.

The time here also seems to go by so fast! Or maybe it’s just that there isn’t much of it. I’m only up for ten days or so this time.

In about an hour Sarah and I are going on a roadtrip to look at a miniature poodle she wants in Herberton (~2 hours away). Miniature poodles are the ugliest, most annoying dogs in the world. I’m pretty sure she’ll regret getting it.

Whippets, on the other hand…