Month: December 2003

I self censor what I write more and more these days, and looking back at some of the earlier wordage I realise that, like me, this site has evolved.

Firstly there is the constant need for approval, the checking of referrer logs to see if I’m popular or not, then the recriminations of self to make sure I am aware that I am maintaining this for me (!) not anyone else (which is obviously a lie but it allows me to keep up the pretense).

Secondly there is, what I call, the pause. That moment when I look at what I write and decide whether or not to post it. Yes I realise it probably seems like most of what I write I post without checking (this is true) but many times when I’m writing about me, my feelings, emotions and thoughts, I pause. I am aware that people I know read this. People I work with, friends, family – all of whom have a different view of who I am. Deciding how much of myself I want to reveal to them is the pause.

And I’ve just done it again. Unbeknownst to you, dear reader, I’ve just deleted three paragraphs of low-esteem waffle. Don’t worry, it was pretty boring, waffling on about flittering thoughts, hypersomnia, looking through glass and the like… .

THIS is why I don’t like these end of year introspectives. I don’t like looking back with finality. I enjoying reveling in memories, fondly recalling good times, trying to learn from the bad, reliving the past as a shield from the future. It’s scary. A new year stretches in front of us, no-one knows what it holds, but it’s all we can do to take each day as it comes, plan for the next if we can, and live.

I did look back through my archives here and pick out resolutions previously made and frequently broken, but what is the point? This time of year is dark, cold and depressing. It pulls my mood into line with itself and taunts me with possibilities. The ‘what if’s’ return and I glare at them, with malice at first, but my gaze soon softens and welcomes them for what they are; not broken aspirations but unplanned dreams.

Raise your glasses. To 2004. Come what may, it will only be another year.

Couldn’t resist.

Some wisdom from children:

When your dad is mad and asks you, “Do I look stupid?’ Don’t
answer.
Hannah, age 9

Never tell your Mom her diet’s not working.
Michael, age 14

Don’t pull Dad’s finger when he tells you to.
Emily, age 10

When your Mom is mad at your dad, don’t let her brush your
hair.
Taylia, age 11

A puppy always has bad breath even after eating a Tic Tac.
Andrew, age 9

Never hold a dustbuster and a cat at the same time.
Kyoyo, age 11

If you want a kitten, start out by asking for a horse.
Naomi, age 15

Don’t pick on your sister when she’s holding a baseball bat.
Joel, age 10

When you get a bad grade in school, show it to your Mom when
she’s on the phone.
Alyesha, age 13

Never try to baptize a cat.
Eileen, age 8

Never trust a dog to watch your food.
Patrick, age 10

There is something wrong about being in work this close to Christmas. It’s the first time in about 5 years I’ve done it and it’s just not right.

Mind you, there is a perverse pleasure to be gained watching people scurry about at lunchtime, panic etched on their faces, consulting hastily scrawled lists or mobile phones.

Ahhh yes, the well-earned joy smugness that comes with having finished your Christmas shopping (ok, minus three things but we know what they are and they aren’t needed until after Christmas).

So, the countdown begins. Tonight I’ll wrap Louise’s presents, endure another day of work tomorrow and then it’s home for a few glasses of wine and the Muppets Christmas Carol (it’s tradition). Christmas Day we pick up my Gran and spend the day at my Mum’s. Then off to Louise’s sisters at night for drinks. Boxing Day is dinner at Louise’s brothers, then it’s the Christmas gathering of friends on the 27th. Out for a few beers on the 28th, and recovering on the 29th. Hic.

I’ve been toying with doing a recap of the year but will leave it until after Christmas I think. I’ll be working mucking about with new designs for a couple of other websites, adding a feature here and generally lounging around come the 29th December. So that’ll give me plenty of time to come up with a Troubled-Diva-esque posting about 2003. Or not.

We were at the Raymond Gubbay Christmas Concert: Carols by Candlelight, tonight. It was more classical than I thought, but I knew all the pieces. Stand out was, of course, the chorus singing Stille Nacht, a wonderfully soft, harmonised arrangement which I’ve heard before.

In fact I was surprised, as was Louise, at how many of the more traditional carols I knew. Mainly from church as a youngster, but a few, particularly the choral arrangements from attending concerts with my Mum, watching my Dad sing for a local choir. It brought a lot of memories flooding back, and a tear to my eye. Wonderful.

Only let down was Handel’s Messiah. Needs a full orchestra and choir to really do it justice I think, although maybe our seats (in the Choir Stalls) didn’t help.

So I thought I’d take a quick skim through the other ‘almost’ winners of THAT competition (which I really don’t wanna say any more about as I fear I’ve already upset Gert – still luv ya sweetie!).

(“sweetie”? WTF?)

I happen across the runner-up: apparently nothing at all, and see there is a Powershot S30 gallery. “Ohh that’s the same as my camera”, I say (in possibly a bit too girlie a manner), “I wonder how what the photo’s are like”.

So I go and visit the aforementioned gallery. Then, after spending 10 mins idly clicking around, I wish I hadn’t.

Same camera. Vastly superior photographer behind the lens. Some wonderful photos in there. Puts me to shame.

So item number one for my New Year’s resolutions is:
1. Become a better photographer (in fact become a photographer is probably more accurate, at the moment I’m no more than a ‘snapper’ even on my better days).

(Strictly speaking this is item number two, but take it as written that I’ll be trying to lose weight again next year).

(By the way, how are these parentheses working for you? Should I just stick to italics?).

(Too much, right?)

As usual our Christmas party was a cracker. Yes, I’m still recovering.

Skipping past the ‘better than average but still not too great’ food (which, considering they are catering for 300 people at the one time, I thought was pretty bloody good), the night kicked off with a band.
A very good band.
A very good band playing classic disco and soul tracks with a slight woman on vocals.
A very good band playing classic disco and soul tracks with a slight woman on vocals who had a fantastic voice.

I was at the bar (unsurprisingly) when they started. I can’t quite remember what song they started with but I presumed that the female voice was coming from a CD, she WAS good.

Aside: It’s funny to see the attractivenes gained by someone if they are hugely talented and confident. She worked the crowd well, and several guys commented about her, but she wasn’t a stunner by any means. Good to see not all men are blinded by big boobs and blonde hair (not that there is anything wrong with big boobs and blonde hair, and I’m not just saying that because I ended up with a blonde sitting on my lap at the end of the night… cleavage inches from my face).

I digress.

I was pretty tired yesterday and wasn’t really that bothered about the night out. As ever the meal seems a little flat as invariably you end up sitting and chatting to people you don’t really know that well. But once the dancing started I was much happier.

Yes, I dance. (stop sniggering at the back)

And then it was over. 1 a.m. Time to go home.

Quick memories: This year’s ‘thing’ of photographing calves (of ladies). The attraction a good silk tie holds, apparently. NOT drinking a slippery nipple (hi Google). The drunk girl in the red top. Finally seeing a colleague fulfill your expectations (not in a good way). The trouser snake. And the girl with the diamante thong.