Why?

You know, with all this talk about the environment, I've never really been convinced why the environment needs to be saved. We've polluted just about everything there is to pollute and you know what they say about birds who shit in their own nest, they don't survive.

Half the world is starving and the other half of the world is eating itself to death. A huge per centage of the poor half are that way deliberately so the other half can live well. And the wealthy half, essentially, don't care.

And now, the clever wealth creation of the Western World has failed. Greed has destroyed it.

Half the world hates the other half. Religion is running rampant in the hate stakes, ironically.

Why not just give it up and let the giant cockroaches or eels or crocodiles take over and see how they run the planet.

We haven't done a really great job, let's face it.

The bottom line is, call it what you want, food shortage, water shortage, shortage of land, there are just too many of us on this planet. We need a good nuclear war, or asteroid accident to clear out the superfluous human beings.

Actually, too messy, too much collateral damage. We need a good pandemic to even the balance.

 

Heat and Distraction

How hot was it? Ah!

I woke at 9am, with the beginnings of a migraine, got to work at 9.30, where every thing promptly fell apart. I had to pull down all the work I'd been doing and recalculate it, with new parameters, thanks to HR, yet again, not communicating with me properly. I got it all done by 2.30pm, when my migraine had kicked in big time. It was my second last day, I can't go home sick, I thought. But, then I did. Fuck 'em, I thought. I'm heading to a dark room and my doona.

I smoked a joint and was heading to bed, when Mark, Luke and Julien arrived. Jules is in transit from Darwin to Auckland to start a new life with some bloke named Jason. Good for him, even if he does have a habit of traipsing across the country after a bit of cock. Now he's gone international.

It was amazing how a little distraction, something to take my mind of my, um, er, mind made me forget altogether that my head was aching. Of course, I'd taken drugs for it, they just took that long to kick in.

We ate Vietnamese in the balmy night air.

 

Come Saturday

Mitchell and I are going to do boy's things and play cars on the weekend. I'm going to teach him how to handle a gear stick, as the big girl has just bought himself an automatic car and he wants to keep up his manual car skills. I think we are finally going other boy's things too. (Big smile) Let's see how good he is at handling that gear stick. It's time to put him through his paces. I mean, how seriously can you take a prospective boyfriend, if you haven't... you know. It's a big part of liking someone. All my boyfriends I've started out knowing them from having sex as a way of introduction. If I don't like him physically, it's all over. What's the point?

I miss having a boyfriend... even if I am getting a little ahead of myself.

22.45

It's funny when some likes you and you like them, you can't help but walk taller. It gives me energy and gives me a certain joy with the world.

Shane and David have headed out to Sircuit, they are both single.

I'm rolling a joint and heading to bed.

It is sweltering here, 35 degrees today. It still feels like it is 35 degrees now.

What a Beautiful Morning

What a beautiful morning. The sky is blue, there is a gentle breeze, the birds are twittering in the trees. (When will that fucking gum tree ever stop seeding)

4 days of work to go!

Remembrance Day.

My only question is why? So we don't forget the horror of war so we won't make the mistake of having another one? Yeah, like that's working.

I say forget the past and look towards the future.

Leah's father died on this day. Once, I used to ring, every year, for the first few years, just to say I was thinking about her. Now, I don't mention it, even though I speak to her often.

Young and fun and full of...

That Boy

Dirty texts from Mitchell, again. Backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards. Texting. Texting. Where is this leading to? I told him it's about time he used his dick as much as he uses his fingers. That got him really horny... but still by text... I guess if we had smell-o-vision (hair scent) or taste-o-vision (wet lips) mobile phones, it would be okay.

I told him I'm not taking him seriously until I have pulled his jocks down.

He's nice. He's just come back from living in London, so his accent has a slight lilt to it. He's smart and funny and really very chilled. He's solid and handsome, with a buzz cut.

He wears a good pair of jeans.

 

 

Random Sunday

In an on-line poll, the question was, Should the Bali bombers be allowed to see their families?

Two thirds of Australians said no.

What sort of sad, hard-arsed, nasty, conservative country is Australia turning into?

A married guy, at the function I was barman at last night, said to me, when we were conducting the auction to raise money, "There's a couple of blokes in there who'd have my babies if I took them beer?"

I looked up and said, without thinking, "But, do you really want that?"

"Um... er... no," he said. He was really focused on me giving him the beers that any thing I said, I thought.

Late in the night, when every thing was winding up, he asked me, "Any chance of one last beer?"

"Sure," I said.

He looked me directly in the eye - he'd had many beers by this stage - and said, "I love you."

Ah, straight boys, you gotta luv 'em.

I don't get Mitchell at all. After a flurry of dirty to explicit texts, Friday night, now nothing. Not a peep? I don't get him. He was at work, after all, when he first text me Friday, so there was no chance of drunken bravado.

It leave me thinking, Who needs it? Who needs him? I'm not up for games, like, maybe once, I was. Life's too short.

Of course, he may be waiting for me to text him... 

End of the Week

Well, one week to go... then I'm back to my 9.30 coffee and the choice of what to do with my morning.

I've bluffed my way through everything, at work, gave everybody what they wanted. Set up some new company initiatives. Fixed problems - had them coming at me from all directions, at one stage. Wrote a piece every morning from 9 to 9.30, something about the day. Even had time to remedy a few staffing issues. Still didn't work late. Still didn't have to kick it above 80%. Piece of piss, really.

Beck always says how busy she is! What does she do? I think it's the catch cry of the 00's - Oh, so busy. No time! Too busy! I think a lot of people get by doing much less by using that guaranteed out... sorry, TOO busy! (exasperated look)

However... I'm sailing along, 5 days to go. Easy! It's funny, when I start to think I can do anything, but I can, nothing is too hard. It's the enthusiasm factor that's always let me down. A cynical existentialist. What's the point?

I'm off to the country.

Oh... and Mitchell didn't turn up. Grrr!

The First Time?

I got sick of the texting relationship I seemed to be having with Mitchell, so I hadn't text him all week. Then this afternoon, about 3, he started texting me filthy messages. The problem was that I was in the middle of training. It's hard to concentrate on training, with a girl, when you have a hard-on. It's just weird. The boy's getting horny, I could read between the lines.

Now, he's off visiting some ex, (one of his ex's is born on the same day as me) who's staying at some ex's, (Too many ex's) then he's gonna call. Come over.

You know, it's funny that usually I'd have ditched a guy I'd known for this long, with who I hadn't had sex with. You know, if it hasn't happened in the first few weeks, let alone the first few days, it probably, just, wasn't going to happen.

We'll see? He's got a few hours left in which to redeem himself.

I hope he's good. Put him through his paces.

Woo-Hoo!... was it as good for you?

Hump Day

Middle of the week. Not much to say. Not much to do.

I've got used to the fact that I am working 5 weeks instead of 4. This was going to be my last week. I was free. Done and dusted. But not to be.

I'm finally going to the optometrist tomorrow, my recurring eye problem is, well, um, still recurring. I'm so sick of having this watering eye.

 

The Big Day

I had to sit like a girl to piss this morning. Oh, my aching back. Oh, my aching head. OMG! I thought, as I rest my head in my hands as my urine tinkled on the water surface. That Nicholas and his orange juice container fashioned into a bong. "Oh yes, classy," he says in a voice not unreminiscent of Kathleen Turner. (circa 2005) Oh, I don't feel good.

"Do you want a bong before you go?" were Nicholas' parting words.

Just say no Christian. Just say no.

Of course, I did. And the long walk up George Street, practically crossing Fitzroy, seemed longer than ever.

My eyes look watery, as I gaze at myself in the mirror. Hideous! I think.

I feel like crap. Actually, I feel like less than crap. I feel like that turd that has gone white and flaky on the nature strip. That's how much beyond crap I feel.

If I dare cough, both lungs will be on my desk flapping like a fish just out of water.

Got to Luv a Day Off

A day off tomorrow, yay, yippee. Good old stupid horse race. Stops the nation! They should race those nags to death for another public holiday.

Too harsh?

We should all be granted another day off for the continuing good health of the world.

Because of the leave I approved, my whole team, I had to work today. Doh! Who's the slow one?

Do you like that? Tracey being my only staff member, by definition she is my whole team.

Beck's overseas.

The streets were quiet. Public transport empty, well, seats could be procured. There was a certain hush over the CBD, like a cloud overhead on a sunny day. A gentleness. An easy. Like that was how it should be every day.

IQ

I have an IQ of 140, (whatever that means, is what I have always thought) which used to cause great joy and great consternation at the private grammar school that I attended, as I, more often than not, chose to smoke cigarettes down the back of the oval and side with the troublesome boys in class, giving as much class disturbing cheek as any of them. 

Tom said that he used to watch me use my intellect as a weapon, when the need arose. Funny Tom. I went on to fail year 12 at that particular school, which always seemed to cement the prediction they held for me.

"Christian is a smart boy, it is just one of the great tragedies that he chooses, so often, not to use it constructively" – I think that was an actual report, in its entirety, I got from one of my year 12 teachers.

It would be fair to say that I was a disappointment to my exclusive private boy's school.

I don't usually mention this to anyone, as so many people love to challenge me on it, so I learnt early it was not something that would bring me joy, if I mentioned it. You mean 104. You can't have. You'd be in some special program it that was true. (that one always sounded the most appealing, don't you think?) You are wrong! No, you don't! You couldn't have. That would put you in the top whatever percentage of the population. Blah... dy blah, blah.

The only time it, actually, bought me joy was a number of years after I left school, when I had one of those hate/love friendships with an opinionated, arrogant, know all, who was married to a friend of mine, at the time. Let's call him Boring. Truthfully, he's a very smart individual. He was in Mya Briggs or some such area and he challenged me by saying prove it. He could test me. So, nervously, I sat down and did all of his tests, kind of nervous that perhaps I had got it wrong all these years. He just looked at me, in the end, dropping the scoring notes, whatever he had in his hand, onto the table.

"Well?" I said.

He just stared at me like he didn't want to say. And then he said, "One hundred and forty."

Booya! I didn't usually care, I never really thought it meant anything any way, but I did on that occasion.

The only reason that I think of this today, is that I've been doing Beck's job for five weeks, a job I've never done before, a job I got 5 minutes handover on, as we both had to concentrate on Tracey, who, I have since found out, knows nothing of my job. Beck was too pissed off and too tired and too cranky to tell me anything, other than what Tracey doesn't know. So, I've been doing Beck's role, often being asked for things I did even know what they were when asked, and I've been training Tracey in my job. Clearly Beck has just been doing it while I've been away. It's been easy. I haven't broken a sweat. I don't feel like I have worked any harder than usual. Where usually, even Beck works back late, complains she has no time, says she is snowed under. I don't get it. What does she do normally?

Anyway… 

Both our jobs, Beck and I have done, but in our present company, that job is split in two. So, strictly speaking, I have done Beck's job before, but not for seven years, the time I've been working with Beck. The company gets the advantage of having two experienced managers, while I chose to work in the lesser position, wanting to do other things – write and not deal with the excs with their endless wants, which Beck does. But the thing is, that I've always suspected that I could do both roles and now that I've done them, I know I can. Beck gets paid 40K more than me, even if I do get paid pretty well, but 40K is 40K.

But, I'm not going back anyway, now am I? No, I'm not!

Is it just that I am smarter? That's what Tom used to say whenever I looked blankly at him, not understanding people.

I guess my point here is I should stop settling for less when the truth is I can easily demand more. Maybe, that's a theme to write a story on?

My mother always said to me, "The only problem you have Christian is that you are naturally inclined to take a step back when in doubt. All you've got to learn is to try and take the step forward. Step towards your problems, meet the challenge, don't step away because that so often leads me/you to procrastination..." my worst of all trait... which, apparently, lead to boredom and little Christian coming home with bad reports cards as a child... and has often led to perceptions of indifference in work situations. Bluntness viewed as rudeness...

... oh, I think I am just talking shit now. The truth is that I don't want to work anyway.

Away for the Weekend

Heading to the country for the weekend, to put my feet up and do nothing, amongst the gum trees. Pat the kangas. Play with the Rainbow Lorikeets. Gaze at my reflection in the lake. Watch the swans perform their mating ballet. Fall asleep on the couch.

A new niece was born. Half the family turned up, all the cousins from interstate. The pizza oven was fired up. Pretty soon Luke was throwing pizza dough in the air. Red wine was poured for all, but me, as I had to drive home. They were all staying. It was a beautiful night, everyone were sitting outside drinking into the dusk. It was nice to see them all.

Mark, Luke and I slipped inside for Idol. Go Teal!

I left as soon as it finished.