I've Gone MAD with Christmas Festivity!

For so many years, I've steadfastly abhorred Christmas and its requisite, sadistic spirit of celebration. From the beginning of December until Boxing Day, I would be a seething mass of humbug. Christmas Day would often find me blind drunk before breakfast - having gotten up extra early to make sure I imbibed as much "Christmas Cheer" as possible, in order to get me through the Yuletide Terror. So it came as quite a shock to my person (aka me) to discover this in my lounge room:

Someone (aka me) decorated the wall heater in a frenzy of tinsel (turning off the pilot light first, for safety) and put cheerily wrapped presents underneath/in front of it. And look at all those Christmas cards.

Feliz Fucking Navidad!

Willow in Red

Not to be confused with the Lady in Red (the one dancing cheek-to-cheek with the highlights in her hair that catch her eyes...not that the highlights in Willow's fur don't also catch her eyes):

Up close:

Willow prefers to be naked rather than wearing constrictive clothing (of any colour), and she finds dancing to be undignified, especially when it's cheek-to-cheek, which is a little unhygienic.

Special blog post note: Most of this blog entry only makes sense if one has both listened to, and been creeped out by, the song Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh. However, in defence of Chris de Burgh, his other song, Don't Pay the Ferryman (don't even fix a price...until he gets you to the other side!...aaah aaaah, ah aaaaah...), is awesome.

PS: Yes, I know Chris de Burgh has more than 2 songs, but since I don't know any of his other songs, they don't count.

Terms and Conditions

[Sub-Heading: Whatever]

Note: For the purpose of this vague, confused and random blog post, the word "whatever" refers to; interactions between people (verbal, emotional, physical, intellectual), degrees of love (however this is defined), availability of mind (however this is defined), and anything/everything else.

What is the correct amount of whatever in any equal human relationship (so excluding, for example, the parent/child relationship - though, in theory, this relationship becomes more equal over time)? What parameters should be used when framing the measure of whatever - moral, legal, social, cultural, economic? How much commitment to whatever is reasonable or necessary or justifiable? Is it ethical to extract more whatever from another human than is being freely given? Maybe it turns out that the human is happy to give more but hadn't thought to do so. But what if a human isn't wanting or willing or able to give more whatever? And if extraction is allowed, how much is allowable, and what strategies are acceptable? To what extent is the whatever in relationships negotiable? Does one person ever have more say about the whatever than another because of certain circumstances? Or is it the case that the whatever that is offered is all that should be expected?

Things that are usually sought by humans from other humans are companionship, solace, nebulous love, adoration, emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, mental stimulation, intellectual connection - things that, supposedly, stave off existential loneliness and existential sadness, and which make life more worthwhile and enjoyable. Do humans have an obligation to provide these things for other humans? Why not embrace existential loneliness and existential sadness? Most likely there are terribly enlightening truths to be found in these. Does a person have to accept feeling lonely and sad because nobody loves them or wants to interact with them? Are people only allowed to be 'happy' if they are loved by other people? I don't need for other people to love me. I don't even need for me to love me (though, sometimes, I am quite besotted with myself). There are times when I'm not even sure I want people to love me. Don't love me! Or, do love me! Just don't expect me to finish this ill-conceived and increasingly inane blog post with any kind of reasoned conclusion about whatever.

Operation Sneaky Gardening Has Been Successful!

Mission: To get front tenant to park her car fully into her car parking space such that the back of her car doesn't protrude into the driveway and thus reduce or obstruct my ability to get my car into and out of the driveway.

This task needed to be achieved without recourse to speaking to front tenant as front tenant is stark raving bonkers (ProTip: sleeping in is not a sufficient reason for not moving your car when you have parked in behind me). So, not wanting to ever have to interact again with front tenant as long as we both shall live, but needing to get her to move her car approximately half a foot further into her parking space, I was faced with a somewhat dastardly dilemma. One option was to put a note into her mailbox politely explaining the car protrusion issue, but if this note happened to catch her on a bad day, it might provoke her into yelling (again) at me through my door (previous yelling was because I wouldn't let her park behind me in the driveway). Another option was to reverse wildly out of the driveway and bang my car into her car and maybe she'd take the hint - I'm not so concerned about damage to my car, which is 25 years old and starting to rust, whereas she seems to be proud of her much newer, unmarked, car. But, of course, this ran the very high risk of inciting her into a not yet seen manic (and possibly violent) manifestation of her potty person persona.

It eventually became clear to me that this problem was going to require an 'outside the box' solution. Firstly, I needed to get into the mindset of front tenant to try to ascertain what was motivating her to not drive HALF A FUCKING FOOT further into her parking spot. And, secondly, if I were able to 'know thy enemy', what tools did I have at my disposal to achieve a solution.

Upon closer inspection of front tenant's parking spot I noticed something pertinent, even shocking; there was quite a bit of vegetation growing wildly into the parking space. Perhaps front tenant was averse to parking her car on top of plant. Perhaps front tenant actually had a sensible reason for (yet another) obstruction of the driveway. Well, this seemed like a demon I could battle (and win) because, as it turns out, I have gardening tools (and the permission of the Landlord - actually the Landlord's wife - to do gardening). I could clear away the vegetation, and maybe this would coax front tenant's car further into the parking space.

And so Operation Sneaky Gardening was conceived. And a frenzy of gardening did ensue. I gardened my heart out (and, naturally, also put my back out) until that parking spot was bereft of plant. Observe the before and after photos:

the before:

and after:

It's like the parking spot has had an extreme makeover!
Here is a photo of the entire parking spot, showing its full splendour:

Here is a photo of my cat in a window ledge, showing her full splendour (possibly not entirely relevant):

So, after much toiling and lower back turmoil, I went inside and waited for front tenant to come home and park her car (my life is quite the adventure). And park her car she did: ALL THE WAY into the parking spot. Hurrah! And what makes this tale of driveway de-obstruction and wayward flora tamed even more wonderful, is that front tenant doesn't know it was me who cleared her parking spot - presumably she thinks it was the actual gardener - hah!

[Note: Due to frequency of blog posts dealing with front tenant induced driveway dramas, I have created a new Label: Driveway Drama (front tenant)].

Hierarchy of Difficulty

The Hierarchy of Difficulty is, in principle, a ratings system in which various everyday tasks and situations are allocated a numerical value reflecting the degree of difficulty experienced by an individual whenst that individual encounters said everyday tasks or situations. Commonly, the rating scale is from 1 to 10, with 1 = super easy ("I am strolling through a well maintained park on a pleasantly warm summer's day whilst eating a delicious non-dripping ice-cream") and 10 = massively fucking hard ("I have reverted to a permanent foetal position, you may as well kill me now").

I have personally found the Hierarchy of Difficulty to be an effective tool in identifying irksome obstacles and assessing their level of irksomeness upon my person. This helps to give me a more concrete picture of the irksome and, thus, the extent of its evil. I am then better prepared to devise an irksome-reduction strategy. Here are some recent examples from my hierarchy, with ratings in brackets:

♣ Spelling 'hierarchy'. (5)
♣ Writing a blog post titled 'Hierarchy of Difficulty'. (4-5)
♣ Reversing out of my driveway with neighbour's bins almost obstructing driveway - with the margin of error being not more than 2 inches. (8-9)
(though closer to (7) now that I've moved bins approximately 4 inches to the north - away from the driveway - and neighbour seems not to have noticed)
(for those of you at home doing the maths, that does indeed mean that my total margin of error is now approximately 6 inches, which is still pretty tight, but I am highly skilled at driving my car in reverse out of my driveway, so I can handle it, unless I've been drinking or am experiencing a severe inner ear condition or I've got my eyes closed)
♣ Reversing out of my driveway with my eyes closed. (9-10)
♣ Talking to neighbour about bin/driveway issue. (10)
(see here for previous driveway issue involving the same neighbour)
♣ Not obsessing about the driveway irritations of neighbour. (8)
♣ Not obsessing in general. (7-8)
♣ Accurately differentiating between healthy and unhealthy obsessing. (4-5)
♣ Using my powers of obsessing for good rather than evil. (5-6)
♣ Not obsessing to the point of freaking myself out. (3-4)
♣ Establishing a personality that is not easily freaked out. (5)
♣ Establishing a personality that is not easily freaked out by other people. (6-7)
♣ Establishing a personality that does not easily freak out other people. (6)
♣ Deciding whether or not to care about people freakage in general. (1-10)
♣ Finding a job commensurate with my ability to hold it down. (7)
♣ Determining my level of ability in the 'job holding down' arena. (7-8)
♣ Focusing on the positives rather than the negatives. (1-10)
♣ Maintaining high enough energy levels - physical, mental, emotional - to cope with everyday obstacles. (1-10)
♣ Not giving in to Asperger type tendencies. (7-8)
♣ Giving in to Asperger type tendencies. (1)
♣ Going to the supermarket. (1-10)
♣ Finishing blog posts. (1-10)

TARDIS as TEAPOT

The TARDIS (as seen in Dr Who) possesses many extraordinary capabilities - time travel, space travel, sentience, telepathy, babel fish like language translation, wacky dimensional manipulations and distortions. But one of its lesser known (though tremendously important) capabilities, is its capacity to manifest as a teapot:

I wonder if the TARDIS teapot brews vastly greater quantities of tea than its exterior size would suggest.

A strange, feline induced, time-space-teapot-TARDIS paradox occurred:

Contemplative Kitty Lounging on Wooden Chair

Due to the rampant (and entirely justified) popularity of black and white photos of cats (start here, also here), this blog finds it necessary to include such a photo (see below). Note the masterful use of sunlight and shadow and chair (and cat). The unused power socket symbolizes disconnection.

[Model: Ms Willow]

Mountain of Video Tape

As The Age of the Video Tape Cassette is increasingly consigned to the annals of history, I find myself burdened with, well, video tape cassettes. And with the perplexing issue of what to do with my old video tape cassettes, and especially with the ones that I recorded my favourite shows/movies onto as I now, mostly, have these on dvd. They're not readily recyclable, nor are they overly biodegradable. And second hand shops are not so interested in video tapes anymore, particularly ones with shows/movies recorded from the television.

It's a challenge that must be tackled, and one that is ripe for intelligent and innovative problem solving. But as it is me who is in charge, the solving will happen not only in defiance of intelligence or innovation but with some measure of bumbling.

After hardly any consideration, I decided to go with blithely pulling apart the video tape cassettes, discarding the plastic casings into the recycle bin (hopefully they are recyclable), and unwinding the magnetic tape and dumping it onto my coffee table - and thus creating a majestic (and mysterious) video tape mountain.

Behold the mountain (side view):

from above:

closer and more blob-like (using creepifying special effects):

The video tape mountain is really quite awesome and adds a unique ambiance to my flat. At times, I wonder if there is a hidden message contained within the mountain; perhaps someone/something is trying to communicate with me via my subconscious and has guided me to create the mountain (like in that movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind). At other times, I worry that the mountain is actually sentient and possibly mobile (like in that movie The Blob), and then I don't sleep so well. And then there are times when I don't know where to put down my cup of coffee (like in that movie I Don't Know Where to Put Down My Cup of Coffee*).

*I cannot provide a link since this is a made up movie

Evaporative Cooler as Art

Now that the planet is on fire, due to global warming, I've had to obtain a cooling device more powerful than a fan. I've chosen an evaporative cooler:

Unfortunately, the evaporative cooler takes up some degree of space in my modestly sized flat, and it's not the most inspiring entity. Also, it's really only in use for about 2 weeks per year (though this time span may increase as global temperatures increase). So, rather than allowing the evaporative cooler to become an ongoing and intrusive eyesore in my living space, I've decided to turn it into an evocative and aesthetically pleasing art piece (note the chain-link feature, constructed from unused hair pins, which symbolically expresses the eternal existential angst of existence):

Ms Willow is quite moved:

Exclamation Points are Infiltrating this Blog!!!

!!!

Increasingly, as this blog continues to be written, there are recurring manifestations of exclamation points. Frequently, as evidenced in the last two blog posts, both the blog title and the blog entry will contain exclamation points. And, perhaps portentously, these exclamation points have often been appearing in threes.

According to Wikipedia, "the exclamation point or exclamation mark is a punctuation mark usually used after an interjection or exclamation to indicate strong feelings or high volume (shouting)".

The exclamation point, sometimes referred to as the Lion of Punctuation, is certainly the king of the (punctuation) jungle. It is the warrior of the writing world. When a battle cry is needed or a terribly important idea demands to be expressed emphatically, the exclamation point heeds the call. It also has a commanding presence in the other areas in which it is found - eg maths, signage, computing.

So, why do exclamation points keep showing up in this blog? What is their intention? What is it about this blog - at this point in time - that attracts them?

I suspect the answer lies in what I would describe as my current requirement for 'high volume' as a means to motivate myself. And I don't mean listening to Metallica turned up to 11 or shouting at the stars; though these approaches are not without merit. I think my natural inclination to inertia may be holding me back from things I would maybe like to be doing. At the very least, I think I'm spending a little too much time alone in my flat (actually Ms Willow Pussycat's flat - maybe she would like to have the flat to herself for a change!). It may be the case that some extra energy is needed to activate some action, and blogging with exclamation points may assist with this 'energy creation'.

Or else the end of the world is nigh, and the exclamation points - particularly when they appear in threes - serve to warn of this impending doom!

!!!

Move Your Car!!!

[Subtitle: I'm using this blog post to snark indirectly at my neighbour instead of snarking directly at her as that may be too confrontational and possibly lead to violence and I really would (mostly) prefer to solve this issue in a peaceful manner]


Dear Annoying Neighbour (front flat),

The problem with your firm belief in your 'entitlement' to park behind me in the driveway such that I cannot get my car out, is that you actually have NO entitlement to do this. And, more importantly, I actually have a legal right to move my car in and out of my parking space whenever the hell I like. I also have a legal right to get both you and your car booted off the property if you keep blocking my car (which I'm currently in the process of doing). So, you might want to start parking in your allocated parking space - to the side of the driveway - if you don't want to get evicted (surely not being able to park in the driveway is a somewhat minor inconvenience compared to being evicted).

You seem to think that it's perfectly reasonably for me to have to knock on your door every time I want to take my car out and that I'm being mean by not agreeing to such an arrangement. Would you agree to it, if you lived in the back flat?

Your strategies to try to get me to swap parking spaces with you have not been without some measure of creativity. Your appeal to my 'compassionate' side ('my life is harder than your life, so I deserve to park in the driveway/under the carport', or something like that) whilst not being original (or true) was executed with some flair. Your attempts to passively-aggressively bully me by being slow to come to the door when I knocked and then being hostile about moving your car (in effect, trying to make it so difficult for me to get my car out that I give up and start parking in your spot) were unexpected and initially unsettled me, but now I'm battle ready and prepared for the onslaught. Your self appointed role of being gate-keeper to my life is making my angry and defiant, not submissive (your understanding of human nature seems a little misguided here). But you really are wasting your energy because there ain't no way I'm giving up my (allocated) parking space (which I've grown quite fond of over the years).

I accept that my parking space is a little nicer than yours. I park under a carport (though I do have to park right in front of my doorway, which some people might not like), whereas you park under a tree (but the area in front of your flat is clear). But your argument that you have a right to a carport is pretty wild. You, as a human being, have a right to shelter, your car does not. Unfortunately (for you), when I moved in (many years ago), the flat with the carport was vacant so I took it (not because of the carport, that was just a bonus). Maybe one day I'll die an untimely death and you can move into my flat and park under the carport. (Warning: if I am murdered, I will be exercising my right as a spirit-in-limbo to haunt the hell out of my flat). But, for the present, you'll have to park in the side spot or find somewhere else with a carport and move there.

You are being immature and illogical and a bully, and something you need to realise is that the tactics you are using on me to try to get your way may have worked when you were in high school or living at home, but in the real world they are likely to get you evicted from a tenancy or fired from a job. But I think the most important thing you need to realise, the thing that you are foolishly failing to appreciate, is that I'm just as big a cotton candy ass as you!

Bite me,

Effulgent13 (back flat)


[UPDATE/EDIT (6/8/2014): The driveway/parking situation is now under control! The front neighbour is now parking in the spot to the side of the driveway (and has gotten the tree cut down, making that spot a much better parking space). All is now (seemingly) calm in our driveway.]

The 49 cents is OURS!!!

"Unfortunately your electricity account has been undercharged due to an incorrect Meter Reading."

Look, I probably would have just spent the 49 cents that my electricity company undercharged me on alcohol and drugs and psychics. So, really, it's a good thing that they followed up on collecting this missing money. And, sure, the 49 cents probably won't even cover the cost of postage, paper, ink and personnel required to mail out the amended electricity bill, but this is a minor drawback compared to the ecstatic anal retentiveness of making damn sure that every single kilowatt of power is PAID FOR. No freebies. Good day, Sir!

"CALLING ALL FUN FUNKY PEOPLE"

If by "funky" you mean questionable hygiene standards, then I'm your gal! And if by "fun" you mean weird loner, then call me now!

Why do job ads never call for "languid morose socially inept underachievers"?

Also, the job ad from which I got the title of this blogpost wants "fun funky people" for retail (ok), sales (ok), bar (ok), hospitality (ok) AND CONSTRUCTION (wtf!). Since when does construction require funky. Not that "funky" and "construction" are mutually exclusive (just ask The Village People). But, perhaps, other qualities - fitness, endurance, manual dexterity, familiarity with operating a crane - might be more important. Still, the ability to wear a hard-hat and steel-capped boots with pizazz can't be underestimated.

Clash of the Titans (aka Home Appliances)

The history of White Goods is, of course, also the history of epic battles. Since the dawn of the first refrigerators and stoves, there have been long and bloody mechanized white plastic conflicts. The Great War of the Washing Machines, which lasted nearly a decade, saw massive destruction both to the machines themselves and to the households that had become so reliant on these extraordinary creatures.

In recent times, some modicum of civility has infiltrated the ongoing frays, and White Goods interactions have witnessed less violence and more diplomatic methods of negotiation.

But vestiges of the brutal old ways still remain in the polymeric cross-linking (ie "DNA") of the appliances, and flare-ups, though increasingly rare, continue to be a feature of these modern conveniences. Recently, I was privy to such an altercation between two kettles in my kitchen:

The new kettle (on the right) was brought into the kitchen to replace the old kettle (on the left) which had been experiencing difficulties with its water-boiling functions. Foolishly, I placed the new kettle onto the bench without first removing the old kettle. I wandered off for a brief interlude and when I returned I encountered a savage display. Lids were raised in fierce rage, pouring spouts glowered with fiery fury, water boiled angrily from inside the kettles despite neither kettle being connected to an electricity outlet (nor having been filled with water). It was a bestial scene.

The teapot and the coffee-maker, kitchenware known for their enduring pacifism, huddled together in apprehensive anticipation of the outcome. The toaster (to the far right) sat in the corner with Zen-like stoicism, not giving a damn.

Denouement: There wasn't a true victor for this battle, mainly because I broke up the fight before it got too gory (not that I abhor violence, it's just that I prefer for it not to occur in my kitchen). The new kettle is now my everyday kettle, a position it has earned by its consistency in both heating water to boiling point and switching itself off when reaching this point. The old kettle received a thorough soaking in diluted vinegar, which removed all the gunk from its element, thus allowing it to regain its ability to boil water, but it is unable to switch itself off and so it is now relegated to being my emergency kettle. The old kettle now lives in the cupboard under the sink, an arrangement which should hopefully deter it from interacting with the new kettle and thus prevent any more kitchen brawls.

Furry Bum

Sometimes Willow likes to face the wall (it's a cat-thing) (not that this 'explanation' makes it any less weird), which allows for a magnificently close-up view of her wondrously beautiful, and quite fluffy, posterior.

She seems a little displeased.

"Excuse me! Desist NOW from photographing my bottom, infantile human, or you will experience the full force of my feline fury."

Cat alliteration is the best alliteration.

Mystical Dome of Impenetrability

It is not understood, either by Scientists or Engineers or, indeed, Mystics, how the Mystical Dome's scaffolding is constructed or from what materials it is made. What is known, however, is that in order for such a contraption to assemble and to function, an urgent and rampant need for isolation from danger, real or perceived, is required.

When activated, the dome (or, in some cases, capsule) (or bubble) will completely surround a person (or, in some cases, an animal) (not that humans aren't also animals) (you know what I mean) (clarification: we are ALL animals!). The dome (I'm just gonna call it a 'dome' cos I like the word) (though its shape is probably quite indefinable, even abstract) (also, it's transparent) (so who the hell knows what its freaking shape is anyway)...The dome seems to act as a shield or barrier to proximate unpleasantness. Its capabilities appear to be almost exhaustive; it can prevent sunburn on high-UV days or keep out lightening and rain during a storm, it can block a speeding vehicle and prevent squishing or deflect a meteorite shower from performing a skull re-sculpture. Furthermore, the dome allows the 'wearer' to continue breathing unaided for extended periods; this may be due to either the dome being able to produce oxygen via some unexplained mechanism or that the dome's substance is selectively permeable (making the dome not entirely impenetrable).

Possibly even more astonishing than the dome's physical abilities, are its so-called 'psychological' abilities. As well as possessing a faculty for material shelter, the dome also displays a kind of ethereal empathy. The Obscure-Translucent-Shelter-Psyche-Phenomenon, as it is known in academic circles, manifests as a capacity for the dome to latch onto, and sync with, the mental state of the sentient being (or, in some cases, bean) which the dome has enshrouded. This serves both to provide a generalized solace for the sentient being (SB), as well as to isolate the SB from any volatile emotional vagaries (VEV) to which the SB may be subjected (unless the SB has willingly chosen to be under the thrall of VEV). Experimental data has shown that an SB experiencing the influence of a mystical dome will display a biochemistry profile consistent with a state of tranquillity.

Until the discovery of the mystical dome, conventional wisdom had generally dictated that a suit of armour and a heart of stone were necessary to protect an SB from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, but now it seems that this is not strictly the case. Certainly it is true that "armour and stonehearts" (as the saying goes) have proven to be very effective protection, but this method has been associated with some negative side effects: limited mobility, chaffing, and elevated levels of social disconnection. Moreover, anecdotal evidence indicates that this method may have a tendency to attract more slings and arrows than would normally be expected from ordinary outrageous fortune (perhaps the slings and arrows are attracted to the shiny of the metal armour).

So, if a requirement for shelter becomes apparent, and a mystical dome is potentially manifestable, then evidence suggests that the mystical dome method, with its many advantages, is the way to go.

I REFUSE TO GO OUTSIDE!

Willow is taking a foetal position against going outside (not that anyone was forcing her go outside - cat logic is a unique logic). She will be blocking the door until cats everywhere are free to stay inside! (Even if they want to go outside). Also, doormats will be folded at one corner to symbolize feline oppression. (I'm assuming either Willow or the house-poltergeist folded the mat, as it wasn't me).

Planet Earth! You Rock! (as well as being MADE of rock)

An observation (mine) has been made that the previous 3 posts of this blog have contained Planet Earth; as in, some kind of mention of or reference to, Planet Earth. Obviously (or not), it would be ludicrous to suggest that Planet Earth itself has existed within these blog posts, for that would be quite an extraordinary manipulation of the physics of the physical realm - I suspect even the most nimble Time Lord would experience some difficulty with such a space-time continuum defying manoeuvre.

However, it's not entirely illogical/crazy to say that some of the Earth resides in the blog posts. The screens upon which the blog posts appear contain material ripped from the Earth's body. Ouch! The server that stores the blog posts is made from Earth. The brains of people that see the blog posts (and hence, the blog posts are then contained within their brains) are made from, as Joni Mitchell says, "billion year old carbon" - though, actually from "stardust", but by the time the carbon gets to being brain, it's been 'Earth-carbon' for quite awhile. So, really, blog posts and Earth are an intricately intertwined, cross-linked, woveny basket (case) tapestry.

As is often the case with my blog posts, I have no idea what the point is, and this post is a prime example of this phenomenon. All I can really deduce is that Planet Earth is a part of all of us, and of this blog, and as such, at times, it will seep into our sub-concious and make itself heard. Also, the Earth kindly allows us to ride upon its 'back' as it travels through space, which is great for us because, without the Earth, we would most likely spiral wildly out of control and die.

So, in honour of the awesomeness of Planet Earth, and as a way to fill up more blog space, here are some pictures of Earth:

Normal Earth:

Rorschach Earth:

Post Modern Earth:

Maniacal Laughing Earth:

The Bathroom as Feline Sanctuary

The bathroom is, of course, sanctuary for many human beings. But, during this asshole heatwave (planet earth is trying to kill us, and fair enough! - cos we're assholes), Ms Willow has also discovered the serenity, and coolness, of this tiled and porcelain temple.

However, it's a little disconcerting when I have to heed the call of nature.

New Year's Day Message From Effulgent13

Goodbye, 2013. Hello, 2014.

This Blog is not affiliated with, nor does it play favourites with, any calender year. It endeavours to appreciate each year as each year happens, and to assess each year on its own merits. It tries not to judge years. It gives each year equal opportunity to reach its highest potential, or to sink to its lowest, most disgusting, depravity. It embraces the (so called) positives and negatives of every year. Climbing the biggest mountain or plunging head first into the deepest, darkest chasm; it's all the same, really.

2013 has now passed and 2014 is upon us; whatever will be, will be, or not.

[P.S. However, my experience of 2014 would be greatly enhanced - in a "positive" way - if dvd distributors of planet earth would release Bates Motel, season 1, on region 4 (Australia/New Zealand/South & Central America). Also, Mr Show with Bob and David (all seasons, though any season will do at this point!).]