What Shu said

Recently I had the opportunity to peruse my entire blog and I liked how it didn't take me long. Spare. That's how I like it.

I came to a moment of realisation that my relationship with blogging is like a relationship with a girl that you always go back to. You can still hang out because things never got serious; because things never got disgusting enough to make it okay to kiss every few seconds on public transport or flake on your friends to spend more time canoodling. No; if there was any chance of it happening, the agents responsible were stoned by the haze of carefree youth. Freedom to drift, run, climb or cruise through life as you choose but you find yourself back with her; sharing, laughing, learning.

Spare. When things don't have to be more than they have to.

Shu On Ice

When I walked out onto the iced-over front porch floating in the middle of the ocean, I should've been suspicious... but I wasn't. That's because I knew that my house was built on an iceberg. And icebergs float out at sea. These things make sense in dreams.

My sister followed me out onto the front porch. We were going to do something when she somehow teleported herself to another iceberg a few hundred meters away from the front of the house. The waters were pretty rough but I could tell from what she was yelling that she wasn't the least concerned. Not even when the killer whale appeared. It launched itself out of the water and sent beads of color into the air and waves crashing against the ice as it re-entered the sea. The colors would change with every launch. I was fascinated.

Suddenly, the killer whale swam over to the porch. It threw itself onto it and slid across towards me (in much the same way they do in documentaries when they hunt for seals). I jumped out of the way and ran into the house. I wasn't scared (but)... I was going to get my camera.

The whale was still doing the same thing when I came back out. I tried to get a few good shots, but couldn't. The camera was on Auto-Portrait mode. It was stuck in a loop; focusing and refocusing on the whale while it was moving and in poor light. Why did I put it on that mode in the first place? Would've been better in Manual or at least Tv... Such a n00b.

It wasn't long until the killer whale's buddy arrived. It was also around this time that the house got an electrical short and started zapping them in the ocean. The killer whale's buddy signaled that it was "time to bail". So they swam over to the Jeep Wrangler (that happened to be parked nearby) and piled in, all the while being zapped by the house.

I hope that answers questions about my evening.

(More) Office A-musements

Last week's network issues still had not been resolved giving an odd feeling of urgency behind every crawling minute. It was like passionately cheering paint drying.

Fortunately, life wasn't too tough on us and introduced some new characters to keep the mind and eye distracted. I watched with mild interest as the super keen interviewee left, stepping through the glass door and into the elevator. She was young, smartly dressed in black office skirt and jacket, with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She was also an hour early and was politely advised to amuse herself as schedules were hectically rearranged over the shuffling network.

"... What do you think? Is it nice? Good quality?"

"Hmm? What?" The questions took me by surprise. My attention refocused on my senior colleague.

"The thumbdrive. Is it any good?"

"Oh", I said, quickly realising our different preoccupations with some amusement, "I thought you were referring to something else..."

The Morning After

The Colonel is a bad man.

His marriage of original recipe chicken with the words "family" and "feast"  and the consummation thereof in and orgy of mashed potato and gravy is outrightly scandalous. I'm pretty sure there are videos.

Most of his patrons are unashamed about their lust for the Colonel's greasy offerings. But it is the ungodly hours of the night that brings his more seedy clientele. They are hulks of human flesh, shaking the very foundations of the earth with their unnervingly sloppy tonnage. They hunger for the Colonel's best and settle for nothing smaller than super-sized. With their bellies folded over the edge of a table, they ravenously tuck into the salty chips, wheezing excitedly with each mouthful. Their secret pleasure continues for a few more minutes in the drunken quiet of the night and soon becomes yet another regret in a regrettable evening.

The Countdown

When I first started working in Parramatta, I had my reservations. To me, Parramatta was synonymous with rat tails (ratties), loud cars and people who spoke like how they write text messages. The move to the city couldn't come sooner. Now it's just over a week away.

The one thing I've appreciated while in Parramatta apart from $8 Portuguese chicken burger combos; artisan breads and cheap dry-cleaning, is the difference between crazies in the West and the Inner City. The crazies in the West are mostly preoccupied with their split personalities and imaginary friends to even notice your presence. On the other hand, the crazies in the City are eager to share their split personalities as well as other unpleasantries. West crazies are more entertaining; they don't break the fourth wall... apart from maybe that bomb threat guy (he broke a window). 

Shu on Safari 2

In the wild, the weak and vulnerable are prey. This forms the basis of the male society; letting down your guard is an invitation to be reminded of where you stand. Though this may be true in some male social circles, it is most applicable in an environment with some sort of hierarchy, such as an office.

For the most part, exchanges are short and sharp. A naive young buck takes a jab at his older counterpart who snaps back with a snarling return. The young buck usually surrenders; head down and tail between his legs. His inexperience outweighing his eagerness to engage in further bouts.

As the young buck gains experience, he engages in more matches with his seniors until eventually, both have mutual respect for one another. Of course, the senior male will let it be known to the young buck that though he has respect; he is not an equal. The usual method includes the use of surprise insults and practical jokes. The latter is usually tailored to exploit every morsel of vulnerability foolishly admitted by the young buck.

If carried out successfully, a prank has the ability to restore total dominance to the senior male. His freedom to mate with whomever he chooses; to have cold beer served to him at 1630 every Friday and; to eat meat though he claims to be vegetarian have been restored to him... until the young buck is strong enough to contest for his dignity once again.

Bombs & Flowers

It wasn't long after people noticed that George St was cordoned off by the police and the fire department that people started cracking jokes about who was in trouble and what for. Though it was such an unusual event, everyone lost interest after a minute and quickly resumed checking their emails for something new. 

20 mins later we had evacuated the office. News began to circulate of a potential bomb threat. A man had entered the building next to us with his daughter "held hostage" and claimed that he had a bomb in his backpack. The news generated another minute of intense interest before people got bored and started wondering when the ordeal was going to end. 

One colleague told me that the cafe we were in was within the explosion radius of the bomb. I noted it as an interesting fact and then promptly forgot about it. We stayed in that same cafe for about an hour while police continued their negotiations.

I remember being amused last Sunday while walking to the supermarket. A couple had a bulldog on a leash and were crossing the road. The dog was pulling hard on the leash with his stumpy little legs; tongue flapping from the effort. He looked like he knew where he was going and was determined to get there. 

They crossed the road and then quite suddenly, the bulldog stopped in his tracks. In front of him was a small flower on the footpath. He stuck his wet nose in it and began sniffing it. He seemed to be enjoying it until his owners tugged him on the leash to follow. Then onward he plodded  to wherever they were going.

After 11 hours, the bomb threat is over now. It's business as usual tomorrow.