Friday, May 31, 2002

mr pol - problemo being that the current parlous state of our finances prohibits the consideration of outside home stylee activities - as for the woopwoop problem - there is an answer to your question and it's the #112 tram to West Preston and The Black Stump. It goes right up Collins St, and seeing as how your office is located in the northern suburbs anyway it shouldn't be that much of a stretch for you.... and you're welcome to come, as long as you refrain from spending the entire evening discussing your "lovely old cock"......

One. only one of you miserable bastardos has the get up and go to reply. fine. me and mr harry and miss noodley will have mucho fun by ourselves and without you lot. pooheads.

right.

Given that we've all had a shiteful week I propose the following solution:

  • Physical Location:
    • Home of Feistynoodle, Billyjoebob, Miss Purdey Longpuppy and Miss Kudra Destructodog
  • Temporal Location
    • This very evening
  • Purpose
    • Imbibing of controlled substances (bring your own, we're po)
    • Discussion of following topics:
      • "I hate my job"
      • "I don't have a job"
      • "I can't get laid"
    • Demonstration of billyjoebob's newest addition to the Home Theatre Installation of Deathtm, the 72cm widescreen TV
  • Invitees
    • All posters to and readers of feistynoodle
  • RSVP

Ok, group hug. No, wait, that's for sissies. We need to drink of the hop. Umm, when we can afford it, that is.

Thanks to Bill, the soundtrack to Friday morning is "Berserker" from the Clerks cd. Except, I keep changing the lyrics to fit Kudra ("yes I am a little dog - DESTRUCTOR! yes my teeth are nice and long - DESTRUCTOR!!"). Bill and I have decided that Kudra is receiving messages from Satan via the living room fire, which she spends almost every evening staring into. That is, when she's not bouncing us, chewing cushions, or trying to scarf any food/paper/cupboards at a level of lower than 3 feet in the kitchen.

Thursday, May 30, 2002

Growing up, says Palahniuk, is not just about taking responsibility; it is finally attaining the things we think will save us, "and realising they won't".
from here

mr palahniuk is a genius! if you haven't read that article, then you should do so.

um.

and for what it's worth, i'm sorry.

noodle pointed something out, that hadn't occurred to me, so i'll paraphrase and hope she won't mind........if you're happy, then it's not coming across on the blog.

and i am. for the first time in my life, or at least in my adult life, i'm not in a self-destructive, self-pitying place. i *genuinely* think i've got a huge part of it figured out. i found the little space in my head that needed to change to stop feeling so f**king miserable all the time.

i'm happy, or at least comfortable with where i am and where i'm going.

i'm genuinely sorry that it didn't come through in my words here. That's a failing on my part, in my ability to communicate. i guess it's a case of saying accurately what's in your head, instead of saying what was actually needed.

i appreciate everything that's been said here and, again, i apologise for being an asshole.

um.

that's it. back to normal transmission....

so.

currently reading : Notable American Women by Ben Marcus. (he also wrote "the age of wire and string", which i vaguely think you've mentioned to me noodle) it's wonderful. the kind of strange surreal, stream of consciousness that happens rarely, but focused and tipped into a bizarre coherent story. also The victorian country child by Pamela horn. it's research though, for this.

currently listening to : Beauty Sleep by Tanya Donnely. slow and beautiful. the only kind of music to listen to as a hideous game development project scrapes past the finishing line.

currently eating: fish and chips. yum.

currently trying to deal with oscillating feelings of attraction towards: sue, the tiny happy girl from the coffee shop who came over to my house and spent the evening drawing and bashing out bizarre little stories on a typewriter.

Tuesday, May 28, 2002

>> Harry - has it ever occurred to you that maybe you would be better off venting to a person that is qualified?

yes, and i thought that was what i was doing.

>> Rather than us, as we clearly hardly even know you.

my parents used to make statements like that.

>> And please stop using lower case to say 'I' - it smacks of Poor Little Me Syndrome.

i've been thinking about this post all day. and i finally figured out why. how long have we known each other noode? over a year? i think that sounds about right. and this is what you think of me: that i write internet posts using a small 'i' because i'm looking for sympathy, because poor little me. It couldn't possibly be that due to the informal nature of e-mail and internet communication i just fell into the habit of not capitalising them.

thanks. thanks a lot.

sorry to hear things aren't going so well bill.

:-/

and with that. he was gone.

redundant?

don't talk to me about redundant - brain the size of a planet and i'm a glorified telemarketer.

"i don't need to see a psychologist. i don't need to be analysed, to have my problems given a name. i just need to sit with things, think about them, be given space to vent them. that's how i've ben dealing with things while i've been over here, and despite some setbacks i find it works for me. each to their own."

Harry - has it ever occurred to you that maybe you would be better off venting to a person that is qualified? Rather than us, as we clearly hardly even know you. And please stop using lower case to say 'I' - it smacks of Poor Little Me Syndrome.

Monday, May 27, 2002

ok.
This is the end of the whole thing as far as i'm concerned.

>> I really don't think your counsellor is helping.

*moral high ground*
Based on what exactly? based on things i've said? based on my opinion of whether it's helping or not?

i think, i KNOW that the only person who can make a statement like that is me. yes things have been difficult, yes i have made some choices this past year which have lead down some pretty scary roads, but maybe you should ask me how i feel about the whole thing. just a suggestion, i'm not telling you how to live your life.
*/moral high ground*

>> I think you need to see a FULLY QUALIFIED PSYCHOLOGIST.

i don't need to see a psychologist. i don't need to be analysed, to have my problems given a name. i just need to sit with things, think about them, be given space to vent them. that's how i've ben dealing with things while i've been over here, and despite some setbacks i find it works for me. each to their own.

>> and it is going to be pretty strange when it goes away. And no one can tell you what to fill that particular gap; that's for you to figure out.

it is strange, you're right, and i'm still feeling around in the dark for what fills the gap.

See, this is how i know it helps: because i sat, and i thought, and i vented, and i thought some more, and i tried some new things with my life. during this process pieces slid into place, some got jarred and twisted and had to be pulled out and tried somewhere else, but something happened. a single thought, born from the hellish experiences, took shape, then grabbed some words to wrap itself in. that's what last week was about, well partly. the realisation that life is messy, that things don't come together like a story, that you're sometimes redundant, that the universe isn't imposing meaning and that you need to find it yourself. it's *so* important to me, as i've said. i kept expecting things to get better on their own, that moving here would magically make my life better, that writing would magically make my life better, that finding a girlfriend would make life better, that having a social life would make it better. when none of those things happened, it was a huge blow, one which i've only started to come to terms with.

i've found that i can't hurry realisations like that, the focus-pulling thoughts, they just happen in their own time, but that understanding helps me to deal with the smaller stuff. when i spoke to michelle about it, she got it, and given the time we've spent together and the trust we've built up, she believed me and knew how important this shift was.

i know that nobody is going to believe me, but i can deal with the depression part much, much easier now. i'm no longer beating myself up over things. i know, because i figured it out how to cope with things, or to at least know that i'll be alright if i cant. there's still things that suck, and still things which are difficult, but i can look at them with a fresh perspective now.
(sounding suspiciously like your experiences noodle)

and i can kind of start feeling around inside my head to find what does make me happy, to begin imposing meaning on all this for myself, and to let those old, dangerous, expectations go. it's still hard, but it's nowhere near as hard as it has been. trust me on this.

>> but I don't think they can take you where you need to go.

that's right. i can though.

i'm sorry you needed to go see someone noodle, but i'm glad it helped you.

that is all.

I've been a bit quiet on all this to medicate or not to medicate stuff, cause, well I think harry knows my opinions... but the rest of you don't (probably) so here goes.
1. I think you need to see a FULLY QUALIFIED PSYCHOLOGIST. Think it's expensive? How much is sanity worth, and how much have you spent so far? I really don't think your counsellor is helping. Sorry, but that's the go.
2. I think that *if* - and only if - your fully qualified psychologist thinks it's a good idea to go on meds, then you should do it. The chances are they've seen a lot of similar things and already know what works. That's what having a big brain and a doctorate tends to do for a body.
3. I think that you might not enjoy the pain, but in some ways you're used to it, and it is going to be pretty strange when it goes away. And no one can tell you what to fill that particular gap; that's for you to figure out.

My brain failed it's roadworthy a while ago too. I'm a snob - I have a designer dog, polished floorboards and an eggplantmobile* (even though I can't drive**). So I went to a person who had more letters after her name than anyone else. Now before anyone saddles up and rides off into the sunset on their high horse (no doubt galloping along over moral high country) I'm not trying to say that my problems are the same, as bad or any worse than anyone else's on feistynoodle (incidentally, the noodle part of my nickname was given to address my inherent lunatic/rambling/spazmatic proclivities, albeit in a generally harmless way). But I digress.
This woman really helped. I can't say that I'm never going to have another panic attack, feel severely insecure, catch WIS (What If Syndrome) or get completely stressed out with life the universe and everything, but I know how to deal with these things now. I know what causes them, I know how to avoid them in the first place, I know how to deal with them when they occur, and perhaps more importantly, I know not to let these things overwhelm or destroy me.
Harry - all I can say is, go talk to someone who's suitably qualified. The people you're talking to mean well, and might be quite handy with some problems, and they might have helped with some issues, but I don't think they can take you where you need to go.

As for feistynoodle drinks, yep, sounds good.


*Well not at the moment cause we were in an accident on Saturday. (All ok though, apart from car, which is in hospickle)
**This is not a personal observation following the accident - I just don't have my licence.

Thursday, May 23, 2002

mr alex: pint sounds good.....um....sunday? now that our project of doom is at an end my weekends have returned to me. unfortunately i don't know much about kilts, or declared marriages, but if you can live with that all shall be well. i need to sleep saturday, and start eating properly again. weeks of 12 hour days and eating nothing but pizza, fish & chips and take out chinese have left my body complaining loudly. sleep, sleep and more sleep and some kind of fruit based product is called for.

the thing about delusional fantasies that i've noticed, from contact with people who've had them, is that there's only a finite number of them. i think it's probably to do with some base level symbols that our brains have hardwired into them.

maybe.

harry.

"One a' those days, huh. Well, a wiser fella than m'self once said, sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes the bar, well, he eats you."

A former consumer of Victoria's mental health system chimes in with his two cents...

Harry, fancy a pint? I want to talk kilts and declared marriages. I saw them on the telly, you see.

Nearly seven years ago now my brain broke, and the chemicals brought me, more or less, back. I have the men in white coats and their extremely low dosages of Haloperidol to thank for that. Incidentally H is one of the drugs mentioned when they were treating some fellow in an episode of the X Files. I got to yell out "product placement!" but nobody listened.

What really baked my potato was idly searching the web one evening and finding someone had written out their 'florid' delusional reality from their illness -- and it it was almost a perfect match with mine. They were from the US I think. Fancy that, just like having the same dream as someone, only you're awake.

To sum up, I'll fence-sit on the medication debate, with the caveat that you may not have a say in it if you end up at Albert Rd or equivalent. I think this should be part of your equation that currently returns the value 0 for the variable "pills". And I hope all the athletes who sleep in the former Royal Park Psychiatric Hospital, if the village gets buit there, have those really really nasty night terrors, with that little fuckin' goblin crouched on their chests.

`Night!

Wednesday, May 22, 2002

it's not about being clever. it's about trying to figure out my place in the world.

whatever that means.

> Go and see about the drug don't sit there in your ivory tower of misery biting the bullet.

i'm not ignoring it like that. i'm engaging with it, seeing a counsellor and actively trying to figure out *why* i feel the way i do sometimes. that "it is just a story" thing is *really* important to me, in terms of my world view and self image and stuff. i wish i could let you see the shift that's happened in my head from that, but you're going to have to make do with the words.

and i don't enjoy it. the pain i mean, and that's why i've been trying to deal with it. in my own way. and i think it's working, i just think that along the way things have been scary and hard.

anyway, that's all i want to say about the whole thing.

thanks for putting up with the venting & stuff.

harry.

Tuesday, May 21, 2002

first off: chemical imbalance. neither of you are qualified to make that assertion!

but anyway :)

melodramatic: yup.
childish: yup.
emotionally immature: absolutely.
wallowing: yup.
attention seeking: most definitely.

but how many people reading this haven't done that? casting first stone & all that.

and anyway i don't care anymore. but in a kind of good way. this is where i'm at right now, and i'm dealing with it. this was venting. it was a story, about where i'm at in my life. a way of making sense of my situation somehow, and maybe illuminating to others what's going on in my head.

and:

this is my big epiphany. i think the one i've been waiting for. the one that's supposed to help everything slide into place.

i was watching 6 feet under last night, and i was thinking about stories. About why we tell them to each other, why we feel the need to create our own. .

and this morning i was waiting for a tram and an old woman talked to me. she told me about how her husband was in hospital, being tested for cancer, and how it had been 2 years since he'd had it last and now she'd been backwards and forwards to the hospital for weeks. she'd lost weight, and she didn't know if she'd ever gain it back.

and i didn't matter. everything in my head didn't matter to her. all she needed to do was tell that story, to somehow pass it on and make sense of it all in her head. didn't matter who i was, what i thought about it, or what was going on in my life.

and i realised something

we tell stories to explore our thoughts, our feelings, to somehow make sense of things, to apply order to the chaos that is our lives. because life doesn't wrap itself up neatly, life doesn't have answers, or meaning. life is not like a story we tell our children. even the ones we end up telling about our life are idealised. they've been pored over and meaning's been applied to them. when we're there we can't see it. forest, trees and all that.

that's what that thing was. an exploration, a way to make sense of a particularly bad moment of my life.

i knew that if i posted it here there'd be responses. i was guaranteed a readership, an audience for my story.

i knew i'd get a reaction, and sometimes that's all you need. someone to sit there and say, "hey, there you are. you're not invisible."

ok then :)

if this part here were a story, me posting & others commenting then what would happen is that we'd argue back and forth. Whichever side was "right" would triumph at the end of it, everything would be resolved and all loose ends would be tied up. cliches one & all, but maybe sometimes they're suitable. i'd end up on medication, seeing a counsellor, and we'd be treated to a montage sequence of me smiling and laughing and generally being well balanced.

but that's not what's going to happen here.

what's going to happen is this:

i'm going to apologise for posting it. I'm sorry. i've been quiet for a while because this is the kind of shit thats been orbiting my head on a daily basis, and this time i *needed* to get it out into a forum where i thought people might actually read & react to it. and they have. i don't regret it, but i'm sorry for any distress it might have caused.

and i'm going to state absolutely categorically that medication is not going to happen. i know you all have my best interests at heart, but no. no f**king way. i'm dealing with stuff, sometimes well, sometimes badly, but in my own way i'm on top of the whole thing.

> So what? We get up each day and spend it keeping the wolf from the door.
> Shitful but true,whaddayagonnadoabadit?

i'm going to go back to university part time, and study creative writing or something similar, and i'm going to write and i'm going to find a way out of the corporate bullshit, because i don't want to live like this. i want to be happy, and i want to wake up in the morning and feel that i'm in control of my life. the trick is to minimise your contact with the bullshit, and by working in an office, writing video games i don't think that it's going to happen that way. i'm going to spend the next 6 months writing, create another novel, do some short stuff.

as for going back to scotland. it's still up in the air. i don't think i fit in over here, and i agree i'd have the same problems if i shifted countries. i've also been down that road bill, so i can speak from experience too. if i could live here, and have my friends over here then i'd stay, but they're not, and i miss them. one thing that potential has done is cleared up a lot of the thoughts i've had about living here. it doesn't matter that i have few friends, and a complete lack of social life, because in 6 months i probably won't be living here so why bother making the effort, may as well stay home & write. it's given me a time limit and a focus to try and make a positive change in my life. even if the reasons are stoopid and childish, that's what i'm going to do over the next 6 months. maybe i'll decide to stay anyway, there's a good part time writing & editing course at rmit.

finally:

thanks peeps. i'll try & keep it in check in future.

harry.
off to drink tea & write.

Hate to say this, but I'm with Unky Pol on this one, Mr Harry. Having much experience in the field of "being unhappy in one country and deciding to go to another country", I can forthrightly say that it Doesn't Work. The only things that work for sure to make yourself happier and less likely to leap from tall buildings are the following:

  • Medication designed to smooth out the highs and lows, prescribed by a suitably licensed medical health professional
  • Taking pleasure in tiny things, like the firm, smooth flesh of a tanned buttock.
  • OOOer, is it warm in here?
  • er, i can't really think f anything else.
Suffice to say that my advice closely mirrors Pol's. Go To A Psychiatrist and Get Some Drugs, you have a Chemical Imbalance.

Monday, May 20, 2002

So.

You move to Australia.

Partly because of a girl, partly because you need a change in your life.

Things don't go as planned.

You see a doctor about anxiety attacks. She refers you to a counsellor. One year later, you're still seeing her.

You find your depression, which has been around for a long time anyway, getting worse. You start cutting yourself. Long shallow cuts and short deep cuts along your arm. All to test whether or not you will actually be able to kill yourself when the day comes. A day that you think about every morning when you wake up and every night as you're falling asleep.

You do a job, which you discover you don't like, and which you begin to suspect you might not actually be very good at.

With each friend, potential and actual, there comes a turning point, a single conversation, where you go too far and reveal too much of yourself. The result being that both of you have to pull back to a safe distance. Nobody wants to have to deal with someone at that stage in their lives.

After 18 of the worst months of your life, you think 'Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't have come. Maybe I should go home. Family, friends, people who need me, who'll support me, and maybe the next 18 months won't be as bad.'

You mention this to people, casually at first to gauge their reaction. One of those people is the same girl you kind of came over for. A girl with whom you had that turning conversation with during the first few months here.

"I think I might go home," you say, "i don't think it's working out."
"Oh," she replies, "well. I think that some day you'll look back on this as a really positive experience overall ."




sometimes silence is its own reward.

anyway, i'll be at these things: st kilda film festival, and the australian sci-fi film festival, if anyone else is interested.

Thursday, May 16, 2002

Ian - glad to see you're still with us... even if you are in Katherine. As it were. Would love to see Kakadu, hell, if I ever make it as far as Uluru, I'll be happy... Bill and I talked about a road trip last night, but I think even though I have NEXT WEEK OFF (aside: huzzah!) it would be a bit difficult to organise, especially given lack of money etc...
Anyway, today, I'm feeling cheated. Have just discovered that one of my favourite authors, Alain De Botton, who is especially good to read when you're in the mood for a mug of cocoa, extraneous band aids, huggles and being wrapped up in cotton wool - my zen-like philosopher-author - can afford to be fucking zen-like, cause his dad is a fucking billionaire... I honestly wish I'd known that when I got my book signed by him, I would have made more interesting conversation, brought a big knife, held him to ransom for *assumes Dr Evil pose* "One bill-ion dollars!!"

Tuesday, May 14, 2002

Who's a swotty cleverclogs then? Of course, this explains why I'm unemployed and awake at four fucking thirty in the morning.

Dear ahw@mira.net,


Thank you very much for participating in The National IQ Test on the BBC.

We hope you enjoyed it.

Your IQ score is:

126

Logon at http://www.bbc.co.uk/testthenation for the analysis of IQ scores.

Find out how 'clever' your region is, or check out which team has the
brightest football supporters.

Enjoy!

Yours sincerely,

The BBC Test the Nation team

The BBC Test the Nation IQ Test is designed to give you an indication of
your IQ score, however, it is not a conclusive result and should not be
relied upon as such. If you are interested in obtaining a more exact
measurement of your IQ, please contact your local psychologist or health
care professional or go to http://www.mensa.org/ for further advice.

Monday, May 13, 2002

Those images are a bit scary. but fortunately, it's not 10pm, I'm not five years old and I'm not hiding under the covers in my stripey pee-jays. So I think I'm safe.
Is there a link to the ILM short, Pol? Sounds like it's rather cool...
Yesterday, we caved in the the stinking pressure of yuppiedom, and had a visit from a dog trainer. (As Kudra has some barking/obedience issues, and Miss Purdey is - well - a criminal mastermind.) The poor guy was there for 4 hours. But it worked - I think - after a training lesson like that, both the dogs and Bill and myself were too kerrnackered to do anything else anyway, and a hard afternoon of video game playing/newspaper reading and lounging on the couch at such an angle that it was entirely possible that one might melt right off it, into a pool on the floor.

Sunday, May 12, 2002

definitive Aphex Twin image hiding skulduggery page, check it out before it gets slashdotted. contains less sensational aural-steganographic images.

Thursday, May 09, 2002

Javascript utility for converting images into sound. Developed in researching sight for the blind.

Feds need another terrorist incident. Batten down the hatches.

Weird geeky board game. Where's Glenn when you need him?

That is all. Three clean links in a row -- someone check to see if hell hasn't frozen over, pigs aren't flying, and that politicians aren't telling the truth ...

Re: minty. It's ok, Darren was just chewing gum.

Alex, I always have to check your links before I dare click on them, lest Vampirella get me.
Pol, Alex is right, you do rule...

Hmm - I think I have paranoia brought on by an excessively minty bed. (Long story, involving peppermint essential oil, attacks by mosquitoes, overuse of peppermint oil, 4am and about an hour of having an excessively cold (nay, minty fresh!) feeling leg.) I'm quite convinced I can smell it everywhere.

Wednesday, May 08, 2002

Pol, you rule, if my opinion's worth anything. *dark clouds gather* oh arse. Remember, there's another chance to sit around and drink Bill's grog coming up -- And We All Know What That Is. I just looked for annoying gniddew midi files but lost interest half-way. I saw an amusing article in the Irish press the other day ... this to be precise. Rename the id=820 number to examine someone's definition of 'funny'. You can tell a Wella woman by the way she wears her hair, but you can tell someone's brain from what they decide to put online ... and what they link to. This for example. God I love Spacemoose. Remember, Pol, when it all gets too much, and you're out of gin, just think of the nihilists in The Big Lebowski, especially that one fucker jumping up and down screaming "I FUCK YOU! I FUCK YOU!" in the fight scene in the car park. They thought they were hot shit right, but they were completely flummoxed by The Dude's amazing Slack(tm) powers. Or something.

Sunday, May 05, 2002

More quizzes! Will the madness ever cease?

Which Royalty Are You? Find out! By Nishi.

Friday, May 03, 2002

The "Stalin vs. Hitler" showdown appears in this page, in the top-right-hand corner of the page what I posted. I mustn't have had my glasses on. Oh, that's right, I broke them at the Jebediah concert a few Fridays ago ... weirdest night in me puff it was. Are you game industry fuckaz looking forward to health warnings on your product? Only if TV and cinema are first, I suppose! (Just wondering if the anti-CounterStrike hysteria in .de at the moment is going to make it across the Channel.) In other news -- next time you see someone on a mobile on the train, punch them in the mouth. They're irradiating your guts ...

Passengers on packed trains could unwittingly be exposed to electromagnetic fields far higher than those recommended under international guidelines. The problem? Hordes of commuters all using their mobile phones at the same time.

Thursday, May 02, 2002

Alex - I followed the link to some very nice illustrations, but no sign of hitler or stalin. Methinks your html fu is getting weak, grasshopper.

I just caught myself doing something very stupid. I had just created a bit of artwork, and wanted to have a look at the finished product. So what did I do? I cocked my head to one side, and squinted. That'll make it look better!

Stalin vs Hitler, in Russian with partial translations! woo++

Heheh, yep, I suppose I should have quoted my source - but to do that, I"m going to have to explain myself a little - Dan sends strange news stories to a mailing list we're on, and yesterday there was a link to one in the Sun "news"paper.... and even though I'm not about to believe stories entitled things like "Hitler's Dog Baby Ate My Chunks!!" those pics are pretty funny...

Wednesday, May 01, 2002

Erk - 80s popstars gone bad...
Human League

and who could forget 5 Star...

if anyone can tell me what happened to the... person in the middle - blog me.

Ian - have you got the link for the article about the anti goth grant?