Friday, May 18, 2018

I am a Goddamn Giant!

I am no longer accepting my long held belief that I am small, nor am I accepting my long held belief that other people are big - even, and maybe especially, those people who seem quite strongly convinced of the enormity of their existence. However, despite the heading of this blog, I am not proposing that I am now exceptionally large, either objectively or in relation to others. I feel that I am reasonably and appropriately sized for the tasks assigned to me. But I suspect that the wisest and safest mindset, in regard to people size in general, is to understand that we (ie ME and everyone else) are all eminently and immensely minuscule.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

When You Turn 50, Stranger Things Will Happen

Barely a month ago, my chronological age became 50. I was coping with this (somewhat confronting) reality reasonably well, until a series of alarming occurrences occurred:

Puzzling Talk to Text message:
"My name is Jim Taylor and I wanted to inquire about doing some cut and paste work in the Nile River. Thank you. Bye."

Toys on the clothesline:


Government poo collection:
(aka: National Bowel Cancer Screening Program)
First the government wanted to collect our metadata, now they want to collect our poo! (Surely the last vestige of privacy is a person's bodily waste).

Of course, these things could simply be coincidences; co-relation rather than causation (ie turning 50 didn't trigger the weird, the weird just sometimes happens). And, so far, there have been 3 occurrences, and superstitious wisdom dictates that happenings happen in threes. So, it may be that my apparent 50th birthday 'stranger things' has finished and was merely a whimsical randomness of the universe. I guess only time will tell, but in the meantime, I will be keeping myself alert in case there are more oddities.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast

A recent, and mercifully short-lived, bout of existential loneliness seems to have been effectively curtailed. The soothing salves included port, marshmallows, tea, video games (Tomb Raider 3 and Silent Hill), sleep (replete with freaky dreams), and watching Slow TV (The Ghan: Australia's Greatest Train Journey).

Obviously, being afflicted with the malaise known as 'the human condition' - a condition which affects an overwhelming number of people - means that there is always the threat of existential loneliness (aka The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast) brewing somewhere below the nebulous place known as 'the surface'. However, I find that as the years move inextricably by, and the sands of time slowly swallow and digest me (with their gritty grains that frequently get caught in painful and hard to reach places), it becomes easier to subdue (and, possibly, vanquish) The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast.

Not that The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast serves no purpose, and thus needs to be entirely obliterated from the human world. The presence of The Hideous Beast in the human psyche, with its seeping slime and its terrifying tentacles, seems to provide some kind of motivation; though the configurations this motivation takes can be myriad and obscure, and often with a tendency for destruction rather than construction.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

These Are A Few of My Scariest Things (The Handmaid's Tale Edition)

My top 5 scariest things from The Handmaid's Tale:
  1. May the Lord open
  2. Mutilated bodies
  3. Hanging bodies
  4. The Ceremony
  5. Power chandeliers
Special mentions:
  • Aunt Lydia
  • Wing hats (though they actually provide good sun protection)
  • Janine/Ofwarren/Ofdaniel

Monday, May 15, 2017

The Fullness of Living Each Day to the Full

The final line of my high school anthem (aka School Song) was:
Live each day to the full!

We, the students (and probably some of the teachers), didn't really know the rest of the lyrics - something about seeking Christ and seeking wisdom, and possibly seeking wisdom in Christ (yes, it was a Catholic school) - but at school assembly, upon being instructed by our charismatic leader (aka the Principal) to sing the school song, we would mumble our way through until the last line, whereupon we would raise our voices in glorious chorus to proclaim our hive-mind intention to "Live each day to the full!!!". It was quite the invigorating experience. Say what you will about the evils of propaganda and mind control and whipping a crowd into a frenzy with apparently inspiring song lyrics and elevated levels of oxygen in the blood ('cos of having to take a really deep breath before the last line to make sure we 'sang' it as loud as possible), but I always felt kinda good afterwards and had more inclination to do some book learning.

However, I harbour some skepticism towards the popular notion that a person must 'live each day to the full'. It's a notion that seems to ascribe a moral duty to people to 'make the most out of life' - whatever that means, especially given that the fullness of living is subjective. Extrovert fullness would be going to every social function, travelling to every country, having many relationships. Introvert fullness would be avoiding every social function, staying in one place as long as possible, having a minimal number of relationships. Adrenaline junkie fullness would be skydiving, rock climbing, swimming with sharks. Not that I want to generalize or put people into restrictive categories or ignore the nuance and complexity of the human race (as satisfying as that may be), but it is possible to allocate people, to a degree, into different groups based on common behavioural and psychological traits. And these different groups have differing expectations and goals: 'loud' or 'quiet', many or few. Or no expectations and goals at all. Sometimes just getting through the day/week/year/century without too many catastrophes is a life well lived, goddammit!

It often seems as though a 'proper' expectation or goal should be loud - big and showy. And that if a person doesn't achieve, or attempt to achieve, they will be (should be) filled with regret. You'll never know if you don't try...You may never get this opportunity again...you only live once. I think I have enough self-insight, imagination, and wisdom to know that the thing you're berating me to do is something I do not want or need to do and that my life will be quite fulfilled, thankyou, without having 'achieved' this annoying activity. Plus, this (at times, overbearing) insistence seems to be more about the person doing the insisting - maybe they have a domination power fantasy - than about the person being insisted upon. Also, and (possibly) most  pertinently, there are many expectations and goals that are likely driven more by ego-fulfillment than by existential-fulfillment. Much like this blog post.

Monday, October 31, 2016

Nightmare Mode...I Am Your Master

"Victory is mine. Victory is mine. Great day in the morning, people. Victory is mine!"
(Josh Lyman, The West Wing, S1 Ep2)

I have BEATEN the infamous Nightmare Mode of PS1 game, Parasite Eve 2. Yes, I have. Victory is, indeed, mine. I am truly awesome.

For many years - actually, three - it was my strongly held belief that I would never be able to complete this most arduous endeavour. I did not believe that I possessed the required skill and commitment to achieve such glorious excellence. I documented my Nightmare Mode ineptitude in an earlier post, and since that time, I have lived with the vanquished understanding that winning Nightmare Mode was a life experience that would never be mine. Until now, because now it IS my life experience; mine, mine, mine! And so I must, again, quote from fellow glory-seeker, Josh Lyman (S1, Ep2):
"I drink from the keg of glory, Donna. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in the land."

"Someone give me a river to forge, a serpent to slay."

And I did slay. There was much slaying. For the last 3 months, I have devoted myself to unbridled slayage. My mantra has been: slay, slay, slay! I slayed that damn Knight Golem in the Akropolis Tower. I slayed those floppy, marionette Brain Stingers (and their giant master, the Puppet Stinger). I slayed all the lackadaisical Mossbacks (who always seem kind of relieved when they die). I slayed those adorable jelly-blobs. I killed the absolute crap out of those really annoying Black Beetles. I slayed/exploded all the mutant, exploding babies. I kept slaying, up until, and including, my final battle with Eve. And Eve threw everything at me. Yes, she did. All her deadly, and quite noisy, spells; her crazy screen-wobble chant, her full body torpedoes, her multicoloured balls of pain, and finally, her slap-happy clones (pro-tip: kill the clones before they trap you in a 'slap-lock' - this is pretty much checkmate on Nightmare Mode). I faced everything Parasite Eve 2 - Nightmare Mode - could attack me with, and I won!!!

I am now a victorious person. An achiever. I can walk among society with a champion's demeanour. I can regale ordinary citizens with tales of my video game heroism. Nothing can stop me! Though, okay, sure, there is that whole "pride comes before a fall" business to consider, and I am feeling very prideful right now. So, I will enjoy and celebrate my greatness for as long as I can before I am devastatingly conquered by my next challenge and plunged into rabid ungreatness.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Obligatory Snuggly Winter Photo

Ms Willow sleeping in Dad's old jumper: