Friday 25 December 2015

DVD/Video Games Rack as Christmas Tree

(Though, technically, it's actually a Baker's Rack)
(Whatever it is, it's gone a bit Yuletide)

Tuesday 17 November 2015

Gruelling Television Watching Schedule (aka Too Many Shows)

Weekly TV watching:
Sunday night, 7:40; Dr Who
Monday night, 7:30; Dr Who (repeat)
Monday night, 9:30; American Horror Story - Hotel
Wednesday Night, 9:30; Fargo
Ongoing; repeats of Star Wars films (I-VI) - in preparation for Star Wars VII (in December)
Ongoing; News
Ongoing; documentaries of interest (ABC or SBS)
Ongoing; MovieMayhem films of interest (SBS)

Also, I am currently crocheting a blanket, sewing a pair of 'peggings' (pants + leggings), watching a stack of dvds, reading some books, and, in honour of the new release Tomb Raider game (Rise of the Tomb Raider), I'm replaying Tomb Raider 4: The Last Revelation.

These 'activities' require a lot of time sitting on my couch. Ms Willow Pussycat is very happy about my extended couch time, which equates to much lap time for her, however, my circulation and overall fitness is less enthusiastic. Also, American Horror Story and Fargo are really quite batshit crazy/psychotically disturbing - I worry that maybe watching both at the same time isn't the best thing for my delicate psyche. Or maybe it's just what my psyche needs...

Tuesday 13 October 2015

Things I Can Tell Just By Looking at Him

As it turns out, there aren't that many things I can tell just by looking at him. In fact, I can only really observe and then attempt to make conclusions based on my observations (duh!).

Things I have observed and things I know:
  • I know for sure that he works at my local library as I have seen him standing behind the library desk, and I've seen him using the behind-the-library-desk computers, and he checked out a branch transfer for me (and while he did this, I 'checked' him out!...see what I did there)
  •  I know his first name, which I was able to ascertain by reading his name tag while he was checking out my branch transfer
  • I'm guessing his age is somewhere between over 35 and under 50
  • He wears brown shirts at work (I don't know if he's wearing the same brown shirt or if he owns many brown shirts)  [EDIT UPDATE: Since posting this blog post, I have observed him wearing a grey-blue shirt]
  • I've observed him smiling and being polite and helpful when he is approached by library customers - this could be an indication that he is a polite and helpful person, or it could be an indication that, given that Librarians are meant to be polite and helpful at work, he doesn't want to get fired
  • I think I once saw him wearing a cardigan, though this isn't very surprising, given that cardigans are part of a Librarian's armour (but I do like cardigans - in fact, I think the corporate world would be a better world if business people wore cardigans instead of suit jackets)
  • He doesn't appear to wear a wedding ring, at least not at work
  • I have a suspicion he smoked a bit of marijuana in his younger days, and occasionally still imbibes (I have virtually no basis for this suspicion, other than his longish sideburns, which, in my mind, suggests probable weed smoker, or maybe that he's part Wookie)
But these things do not an insight into a person give. These things don't tell me, for example, whether or not he's a psychopath - maybe he's a psychopath with a heart of gold. Where does he sit on the political spectrum (further to the left would be better)? Is he sexist or racist or homophobic (qualities possessed by some of my ex-boyfriends)? Is he thoughtful or compassionate or tolerant (qualities not overly possessed by some of my ex-boyfriends)? Does he know who The Chosen One is (hint: "into every generation is born") (extra hint: It's Buffy The Vampire Slayer!)?

He has an 'aura' that suggests some degree of weird loner, which speaks to me (I think I'm more likely to connect with another weird loner, even if that sounds contradictory - are weird loners at all able to make 'proper' human connections with normal people, let alone with each other?!?). Though, my 'observation' of his apparent weird lonerism might be more about my projecting qualities onto him that I desire. Maybe, at the very least, he's sympathetic to (and attracted to!) weird loners, whilst not necessarily being one himself.

So, what if he is someone for me (and I'm someone for him). Is it really a good idea to start something which could go horribly wrong? (That last sentence just seethes with optimism). And if things do go wrong, I'll probably have to go to a different library. I enjoy being a weird loner; do I really want to give up my solitude? Maybe it's possible to be a weird loner AND have a thing with someone - I'd still have to work on my interacting with other people skills, though.

And how would things get started in the first place? If something is going to be done, it's likely going to have to be me that does it. I'll have to 'make the first move', because I would assume that a library staffer isn't allowed to hit on a library customer - workplace sexual harassment protocols would frown upon such behaviour. I'd have to approach him; I could go up to him when he's behind the library desk and ask him some library based questions (and bat my eyelashes and give him my phone number!). But flirting isn't my one of my strengths. I'm not very positive about this strategy. I think I need to sleep on it. I think I will need many sleeps.

Saturday 3 October 2015

The Happy Hermit

Once upon a time, there was a happy hermit. Though, given that there was not total isolation from other human beings, a happy part-hermit might be more correct. She (yes, hermits can be female) was not a sociopath, as some might believe of a hermit, though she would be lying if she claimed to never have experienced anti-social thoughts (but, I suspect, this would also apply to many non-hermits). Her social skills, however, were frequently in need of a makeover.

Her hermit lifestyle was a self-created one (ie not imposed by external circumstances, such as being marooned on a desert island or being in solitary confinement). It was a existence that fit her like a glove, or perhaps, like the shell of a hermit crab (see what I did there - a little hermit humour).

But why was she a happy hermit? It's important to make the point that despite being a hermit, and thus being cast with an expectation of experiencing sadness, likely induced by loneliness, she was generally quite content. And she did not feel particularly lonely - other than the usual, pervasive, all embracing, existential lonely experienced by all sentient lifeforms.

So how did she achieve a state of 'happy'? What she did was to have an active imaginary life. She existed entwined in a joyous, fantasy world. An invented society. One that frequently provided her with connection and solace. Sure, it was all fake, but it still made her feel good.

And what could be wrong with that? Should this be considered insanity? Or could it be considered a sensible, and even clever, coping strategy? I mean, in Real Life World, people obtain connection and solace from all kinds of multitudinous interactions, many that are wildly insincere, and some that are actually completely fabricated. And sometimes, Real Life People either aren't aware, or won't admit, that these interactions are not genuine. They immerse into their delusion, believing in its veracity, while ignoring its facade of happiness. (Or am I being too cynical? Or not cynical enough?!? I mean, love is a human construct, right? Not that a person should have to be unhappy just because nobody loves them - which is kind of the theme of this post). At least the happy hermit was quite lucid in regard to her delusional life. She was vividly cognizant that the world in her head only existed in her head. And she maintained an otherwise healthy lifestyle. She ate a (mostly) balanced diet, she exercised (mostly), and she made use of companion animals, like cats and fuzzy microbes, as well as imbibing a lot of tea - tea being an essential facet of both a hermit life and a happy life. And, on the rare occasion, she would emerge from her seclusion and interact in Real Life World, which was (mostly) not too traumatizing.

Saturday 12 September 2015

The Path to Serenity is Paved With Rectangular Vessels

There are few things that bring me as much existential joy as having my tights/leggings/stockings drawer completely full:


Meanwhile, Ms Willow finds inner peace sleeping in my documents container (who knew envelopes could be so comfy):

Monday 31 August 2015

Willow vs The Computer

"How does this infernal contraption work? Perhaps if I just keep staring at it, the cat videos will appear."

Thursday 6 August 2015

The Driveway is Mine!

[Sub Heading: Driveway Party]

Mine, mine, ALL MINE!! In fact, I am officially declaring my driveway to be a 'driveway' rather than a 'shared driveway'. And I can do this because the annoying people who live next door, and with whom I have to share the driveway, will not be annoying me as I have killed them. Yeah! Actually, they have gone away on holiday (probably 'cos they were worried I was gonna kill them, hah!). And they haven't just gone away for a little bit, they've gone away for a month (assuming I overheard her correctly). So I will be having a driveway party every day for the next 4 weeks. And by 'driveway party' I mean that I will be enjoying not being yelled at in the driveway, being able to drive my car up and down the driveway without hindrance from her car, not having to avoid windows breaking onto the driveway (or possibly onto me), and not having to avoid stepping on broken glass left in the driveway from the broken window. I also won't have to listen to slamming doors or to them yelling at each other (though sometimes this can be entertaining), and I won't have to smell her stinky cigarette smoke or hear her whiny voice. For a whole month. Bliss.

Wednesday 15 July 2015

The Fevered Creativity of Phone Scammers

A couple of days ago, my answering machine recorded this:
Message from the ATO. My name is Jason O’Connell calling you from the Australian Taxation Office, and the nature and the purpose of this call is just to inform you that there has been a lawsuit filed against your name concerning tax evasion, and this case is about to get executed into the common delt(?) code house(?) of your territory. So, before things go wrong against you but before the police officer from the local police department will approach you at your doorstep and issue a warrant for your arrest, kindly call me back on the call back number, which is (02) 61528629. I repeat my number again, which is (02) 61528629. Again, this is Jason O’Connell from the Australian Taxation Office, the ATO. Thank you and ….” (call abruptly cuts off)
I think what I love most about this message from the "Australian Taxation Office" is that while they seem quite confident filing a lawsuit against me, they don't appear to know who I am - at no stage does "Jason" state my actual name. And, since my income has been below the tax-free threshold for the last few years - meaning that I haven't had to pay any tax in the last few years - I suspect it would be highly unlikely, if not impossible, for me to have committed tax evasion on tax which I didn't have to pay. Also, the phone number given by Mr O'Connell (which I didn't ring) bears no resemblance at all to the phone numbers of the actual Australian Taxation Office. So I have concluded, in my infinite wisdom, that this phone message is actually an enormous pile of horsecrap.

Still, a part of me hopes that I am wrong and that the police officer from my local police department does 'approach [me] at [my] doorstep' (actually, doorsteps - there are 3 steps to my door) with a warrant for my arrest (because arresting someone is the very first thing the Tax Office does when trying to recoup unpaid taxes) as being arrested is an exciting experience I've never tried and, as a bonus, my arrest might freak out my annoying neighbour.

Note: I did check the ATO website and, surprise surprise, this is actually a scam - if I had rung the phone number, the scammers would've instructed me to send them a money order for some amount of money (which would presumably pay off my "tax debt") and if I didn't send them this money, the POLICE OFFICER would come and arrest me, straight away, right on my doorstep!

Thursday 18 June 2015

Fake Blog Post for June

Blogging doesn't seem to be happening this month, as witnessed by the absence of June blog posts. So I'm posting this fake blog post instead. Sure, I may be calling this too early, given that there is still another week and a half of June to go, but I sense a definite inability of my ability to finish a blog post (I have, in fact, been able to start blog posts, as evidenced by the plethora (two) of partially written blog posts sitting in my drafts folder, but completion of these posts remains wanting). I will also be needing to direct my energies - mental, physical, spiritual, gravitational - to attending to the upcoming Winter Solstice and its requisite celebrations; ie alcohol drinking, sugar/lard consumption, dvd-a-thon. (Winter Solstice celebrating necessarily takes place indoors as it's too cold and too dark to be going outside - naked pagan dancing beneath the moonlight is for Summer Solstice, and Stonehenge, and somewhere away from where anyone can see me). So, it does seem, on balance, that a PROPER June blog post is unlikely to occur. However, that this is a FAKE blog post doesn't mean that there can't be a photo of Ms Willow Pussycat (sitting on her car):


Friday 22 May 2015

"I'm an Asshole...

...(he's a real fucking asshole)". I'm An Asshole, Denis Leary.

(Just to clarify, I'm not saying that Denis Leary is an asshole, though he may well be, I'm referring to the title of his catchy and inspiring 1994 song).

"I'm an Asshole" is the song that 'plays' in my head whenever I think about my neighbour (my neighbour being the asshole of the song title) with whom I have to share a driveway. (See here for other blog posts relating to this asshole-neighbour phenomena). I've codenamed my neighbour, Cruella, or Planet Cruella (as she seems to believe she is inhabiting her very own planet).

However, the intention of this blog post is not to snark vitriolically about Cruella - as much as I would derive much pleasure from such a task ('cos maybe there's a bit of asshole in me, too). In fact, and conversely, living next door to Cruella has forced me to consider the implications and tribulations of the expectation to "love thy neighbour". Gah!

[Obviously, I can try to avoid and ignore Cruella, which I am mostly able to do, but as we live in the same driveway (it's just our two flats) and our front doors are 4.5 meters apart (I measured), and she and her partner are VERY LOUD people, complete avoidance/ignoring isn't always possible.]

So, given that she is in my 'sphere', and at times, has aggressively protruded herself into my sphere, I feel compelled to form a judgement about her. But what judgement? Is it really necessary (morally, practically) to try to see the good in people? How much latitude is reasonable when focusing on a person's positives and overlooking their negatives, before giving in and screaming: Asshole!?

Planet C has certainly presented me with a challenge. I want to be someone who is sympathetic and empathic, who sees the beauty in others, but I also want to smack Planet C in the head (not always, but often enough).

I feel some degree of 'motherly' concern for her - I don't know why, possibly because I'm somewhat older than her and I don't have children of my own to worry about - and I can see that her attitudes and actions are more likely to get her into trouble than to get her what she wants (or thinks she wants). But, equally, she's not a (petulant) teenager anymore, despite behaving like one (she's actually in her early thirties).

I know some things about her (which I know because she talks VERY LOUDLY on her phone while she's having a cigarette in the driveway, right next to my flat). I know she grew up in a large family - maybe her siblings were boisterous and competitive, and she always felt overlooked, so she developed a toxically self-centered and hostile persona as a way to cope. I know she very much wants to get married and have children but, so far, her partner seems to be resisting these commitments, which is making her even more volatile. But plenty of people want children and marriage (or some kind of romantic security) who don't get these things; there's no guarantee, there's no human right. And, realistically, I worry how Planet C would cope if she did have a baby; it could make or break her. She can't be having one of her tantrums when it's 3am and her baby is hungry and sick (and probably covered in sick) and its diaper seriously needs to be changed, and this is the 5th night in a row of this; she'll need to harden up and deal with it. I think someone as entitled and immature as Planet C might struggle with the challenges of motherhood.

I accept that there are myriad life circumstances, unknown to others, that may explain some asshole behaviour - though not necessarily justify it. And I try to believe that everyone has a likable side - not only because society says I should. But I don't think, for the foreseeable future, Planet Cruella is someone that I'll be able to like; if she has redeeming qualities, she keeps them very well hidden. I don't wish ill upon her; if she were having a medical emergency, I would call an ambulance - though I probably wouldn't inquire afterwards as to how she was doing. And while I can't bring myself to wish that she has happiness in her life - Planet C doesn't seem to give a flying damn about other people's happiness - I don't wish that she doesn't have happiness. She's not evil, but she is frequently annoying, sometimes obnoxious, and it doesn't help in the quest to like her that she has a (VERY LOUD) laugh that possesses the essence of a cackle.

Sunday 26 April 2015

And The Mark of The Library Catalogue Code Shall Be Upon Her Forehead

The librarians from my local library have been very cunning in their placement of the item catalogue code on this dvd:


And it's very fitting, given that the markings are on the forehead of the governess from Henry James' The Turn of The Screw; a character who is either subject to an evil haunting or is suffering from evil insanity (there are probably other interpretations but these are the two most common/obvious ones).

NB: Of course, there aren't many other options for placing the item code, as most of the dvd is dark. Perhaps across the children (who are wearing light coloured clothing) or across the governess' face (though this seems a little disrespectful, even if she may be a bit of a psychopath).

Wednesday 15 April 2015

The Unknown Unknown Unknowns

[Special Note: Whilst the title of this post was likely inspired by the 'logic' of Donald Rumsfeld, the post itself is not about him or his tautologies]

It is unknown to me what I was thinking, 2 weeks ago, when I wrote the title of this blog post. I know I had something in mind, but then I failed to actually write the blog post, and now I haven't got a frickin' clue what it was going to be about. I'm not making this up! It really is unknown to me what great substance was forming in my brain when I audaciously titled my unwritten blog post the unknown unknown unknowns. If Hermione Granger were here she would say, "What an idiot!". If Donald Rumsfeld were here his brain would melt and leak out of his ears.

Still, I'm feeling a hankering to write a blog post. And I have an intriguing title already in existence; a title that could mean virtually anything. And it's wildly random. A virtually random wild title. A wild title of virtually random unknowns. Okay, that last sentence doesn't entirely make any sense. Nevertheless...

random...

I suspect the average human being requires closer to 9 hours sleep per night, rather than 8 hours. That there are 24 hours in a day isn't scientific justification for dividing up the day into 3 lots of 8 hours, it's just convenient maths.

I also have suspicions about the 8 hour work day.

The longer I'm single, the more I enjoy it. I do have the occasional 'relationship', though. For example, I have an on/off thing going with the 12th doctor, so I always set aside time on the Saturday/Sunday nights when Dr Who is screening so I can spend this time with him. But when Dr Who isn't screening, I forget all about him.

(And following on from the joys of being single...the pitfalls of lurv...)
The shouty, volatile, obnoxious couple living in the flat next door need to break up (and definitely not procreate - which she is keen to do, he maybe not so much). Their semi-regular and very loud fights seem to be intensifying; last week's fight culminated in a shattered window and broken glass all over the driveway. It started with a disagreement about driving the car and to whom the car belongs:
she said, "you never drive"
he said, "it's your car"
she said, "it's our car"
and repeat. Add hysterical yelling. And feet stomping. And door slamming. And window breaking.
(Incidentally, the car is actually hers, and he catches the train to/from work, he also rides his bike and walks).
My keen observational and psychoanalytic skills lead me to conclude that the conflict about driving and ownership of the car (a Holden Astra - a notoriously divisive car) is symbolic of incompatibility in their desired levels of relationship commitment: He wants to remain a passenger (just along for the ride), she wants him to 'drive her around when she's 8 months pregnant' (presumably pregnant with their baby). I foresee more and escalating tumultuous times ahead.

Last night Alexander Skarsgård appeared in my dream. It would be okay with me if this were to happen more often.

I should try to write something meaningful about unknown unknown unknowns.

An unknown may not always be unknown, and an unknown unknown may eventually become a known that is known, but the unknown unknowns which are unknown will always remain as unknown unknown unknowns...

Wednesday 18 March 2015

Along Came a Spider..

..and sat down beside the computer, almost.

Playing Spider Solitaire whilst being watched by actual spider (very meta):


This Very Important Blog Post was inspired by many, many hours spent playing Spider Solitaire, as well as by many, many hours spent not doing anything of 'substance'. It also owes a deep and enduring gratitude to the countless Daddy-Long-Legs spiders currently residing in my home who have worked - and continue to work - tirelessly crawling all over the place, into every nook and cranny, and not (so far) ending up in adverse locations, such as my cup of tea or my pyjamas.

Monday 23 February 2015

Manizer (fictional)

Manizer is, of course, the accepted term for the female version of womanizer. Yes? No. Obviously, having 'manizer' as part of everyday vocabulary would give too much moral elevation to the concept. Instead, the accepted iniquity and malignancy of a woman slutting from man to man is encapsulated in terms such as harlot, floozy, strumpet - all of which are kinda cute words, despite the massive double standard they embody (emwordy?).

But I digress.

I think I may be a manizer. At least of imaginary men. A fictional manizer. I just can't settle on one (made up) man. I usually last a few months in love (lust) with one of my figments of my imagination, but then another one forms in my mind and I forget all about the previous one. It's like I have ADHD of the invented love (lust).

I worry about the trail of imaginary broken hearts left in my wake. I struggle with the notion that I've transformed into some kind of Dr Frankenstein of the mind, creating thought-lovers to satisfy my own nefarious desires, then tossing them aside when I've finished with them, leaving them to roam - alone and untethered, innocent and childlike - in the brain fiction realm. It's terribly immoral, but as I'm evil - being a woman and all - it's inherent in my nature to do naughty things. So don't ask me to stop, because I can't (won't).

Unfortunately though, brain creating is potentially quite dangerous, given that, under the right circumstances, brain creations have been known to take corporeal form. It's possible one of my creations may become flesh, hunt me down and seek vengeance upon me for my transgressions. Though, it's also possible one of my creations may become flesh, hunt me down and seek to explore new transgressions with me. Or previous transgressions. Or both previous and new transgressions. Or no transgressions, and instead we'll have a cup of tea and a chat. Maybe some cake. (All my brain creations like cake).

Tuesday 13 January 2015

Haunted Rocking Chair

After a lifetime (so far) of viewing horror movies and reading horror stories, I have come to believe that rocking chairs have an inherent metaphysical tendency. As such, rocking chairs are extremely susceptible to being both possessed, and sat upon, by ghostly entities and other spectral beings.

I think there are 3 main reasons rocking chairs lend themselves to such eerie paranormality:
1. They have a propensity to rock unaided
2. They have a ye olde aura
3. They were invented by demons (not verified)

Given all this, it would seem a reasonable thing for a person who didn't want to be haunted to not keep a rocking chair in her home. Not me! Behold my rocking chair (with spooky apparition sitting upon it):


Mostly my rocking chair is quite dormant and will only rock when an obvious force is acting upon it, e.g. my sitting on it. But lately, and after having watched quite a few spooky movies and TV shows in the last couple of months, it appears to me that my rocking chair may, in fact, be sentient. Sometimes, when my back is turned, I can sense that the chair is rocking - or even creeping towards me - but when I look over my shoulder, it is still and in its original position. So I cannot be positive that my rocking chair is actually haunted, unless the chair does something overtly supernatural or I get a psychic to come over and evaluate the chair.

In situations as dire as this, I feel it is best to err on the side of caution. Hence, I have decided to assume that my rocking chair is, indeed, haunted, and so I have taken necessary action to prevent the occurrence of any otherworldly rocking chair shenanigans:

Monday 5 January 2015

Filler New Year Blog Post

As is mandatory for 21st Century blogging, I am writing a blog post to usher in the New Year. However, as I cannot be arsed to think about anything, let alone write about anything, I am forced, instead, to submit this filler blog post. It will have to suffice, despite not containing any of the regular references to hopes/dreams/goals etc. for the upcoming year, nor deconstruction of hopes/dreams/goals etc. from the previous year. Nope. Nada. Nein.
In fact, this blog post refuses not only to not reference anything, but to not say anything at all - except for what has already been written, which wasn't very much or very meaningful or very interesting - and it does not take issue with any overuse of the word 'not', even when too much 'not' not only does not contribute to furthering the comprehension of a sentence, but actually increases the convolution of an already convoluted sentence (or, as is now the case, paragraph).