Articles
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14 Deadly Sins
Today the Vatican announced the first update to the list of deadly sins since the 6th-century, expanding the list from seven sins to fourteen sins.
Each sin on the list is guaranteed to give you a nice warm spot writhing in agony amongst fire and brimstone and all that good stuff, so I thought I'd have a look at the list from my agnostic perspective.
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World: Hold on
I am, at heart, a bit of a greenie, although not the kind that would rush off to chain myself to trees or destructively paint slogans on the side of Japanese “fishing” vessels. I am however strongly opposed to so many things that are permanently scaring the natural world, such as the aforementioned logging and whaling, and my opinion on climate change is that while it's a natural process, we have done so much to speed up the process.
Recently, to my absolute revulsion, a disgusting court case that epitomises the insalubrious legal system of the USA has once again highlighted the human obsession with sweeping major problems under the proverbial rug in order to convince ourselves that someone else will deal with the problem.
The problem is — as I realise every time I need to vacuum my apartment — that this mysterious “someone else” won't deal with the problem.
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Flying home
I'm flying home today, surrendering the fantastically warm and sunny weather here in Melbourne and returning to the gloomy, miserable, cold weather in Brussels.
This also means psyching myself up to return to the office: Urgh.
Sadly I missed out on seeing a few of my friends, but maybe you lot can come over to Brussels at some stage!
So long Melbourne; I'll be back!
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Melbourne revisted
Being back in Melbourne feels weird. It's been two years since I was last here, but this time around I feel like a tourist in my own home town. Melbourne is a city that has always grown fairly rapidly, and much has changed — new structures and the conversion of many shops into yuppie fruit-shake bars being the most prevalent.
At the end of the day though, is it the city that's changed, or have I changed?
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⊥ɥǝ Ιɐup poʍu-nupǝɹ
˙ʇsǝɹ ǝɯos ʎΙΙnɟǝdoɥ puɐ uns ǝɯos qɐɹɓ oʇ ǝɔuɐɥɔ ɐ
— sɹɐǝʎ-ʍǝu puɐ sɐɯʇsᴉɹɥƆ ɹoɟ suoᴉʇdɐɹʇuoɔ ǝqnʇ ɓuᴉʎΙɟ
Ιɐʇǝɯ snoᴉɹnxnΙΙᴉ puɐ ǝΙqɐɹǝsᴉɯ ǝsoɥʇ ɟo ǝuo uᴉ ʞɔnʇs
„‘pΙɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ɟo puǝ-ǝsɹɐ„ ǝɥʇ oʇ ʞɔɐq ʎɐʍ ʎɯ uo ɯ,I ‘ʎɐʍʎu∀
˙sɹǝuǝɥʇɹoN ʎpooΙq noʎ ‘ʇᴉ ɹǝʌo ʇǝ⅁
¡pɐoɹ ǝɥʇ ɟo ǝpᴉs „ɓuoɹʍ„ ǝɥʇ uo ǝʌᴉɹp
ǝʍ ʍoɥ ʇnoqɐ ɓuᴉuɐoɯ ɟo ʇuᴉod ǝɥʇ oʇ uǝʌǝ
‘ʎΙsnoᴉɹǝS ˙spɹɐʍʞɔɐq ʇsɐǝΙ ʇɐ ɹo ‘uʍop-ǝpᴉsdn
ɓuᴉɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ op suɐᴉΙɐɹʇsn∀ sn ‘ǝɹǝɥsᴉɯǝH
-uɹǝɥʇɹoN ǝɥʇ uᴉ ǝΙdoǝd ʇsoɯ oʇ ɓuᴉpɹoɔɔ∀Posted
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So long, Little Johnny
After eleven years and four terms in office, Australians finally decided today to say goodbye to Mr. Sheen, and replace him with the hopefully more sensible Milky Bar Kid. In fact, it was such a resounding victory for Rudd that Howard may even become the second P.M. in Australian history to completely lose his seat.
Once again this proves that democracy can bring down the destructive “axis of evil” between George W. Bush, Tony Blair and John Howard — Two down, one more to go!
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The great alarm experiment
I'm having a hell of a time trying to wake up on weekday mornings these days. Oversleeping has become so regular that my boss has even given up on joking about arriving an hour late in the morning.
I rely heavily on my E70 to drag me out of bed in the morning because I have some particular requirements for my alarms. To this end, I decided to revive one of my old distractions and create some new alarms.
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So, I gave in.
It was one year ago today since I started a little experiment, and that little experiment has since grown into somewhat of an outlet for my thoughts and frustrations. In fact, through the hundred-odd articles of the past year there's been a fair bit of relentless bitterness unleashed upon the masses.
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Quietude
I’ve been trying to avoid using my holiday time from work so that I can use most of them for my eventual trip to the arse-end of the world at the end of this year, thus keeping as many holiday days for next year as possible. To this effect, I haven’t taken much in the way of time off this year at all.
So hectic was last month, I didn’t really get much time for myself to decompress, and the national holiday of November 1st gave me the perfect excuse to was time to relinquish some holiday time to finally unwind a little.
Fortunately Aline was kind enough to offer an escape by way of her family’s chalet in Chiny, so on Thursday morning we trundled down towards the French border with John for some well-earned time away from everything and anything for four days.
…Or so we thought.
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Repudiation
Recently I mentioned that an Ex of mine was to arrive for a short visit. These plans didn't come together when I put my foot down last night, effectively cancelling them.
Ordinarily I wouldn't air such things out here, but in this instance I felt I really needed to let it out into the open and allow the funk to dissipate.
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Agorafolly
One week ago I was awoken earlier than usual by the sound of what I initially thought was a chainsaw. This being somewhat odd and inexplicable, I made the effort to get out of bed and take a peek. It seemed workers had arrived to shut down the fountain and, from what I could tell at the time, they were starting to encase it in wood.
Being a little too weird and therefore difficult to comprehend at the extremely unsociable hour of 7:30am, I went to vegetate under the shower and wake up. Once outside, I still failed to comprehend what exactly was going on here.
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Death
Death seems to be a common theme lately. I seem to know or at least know of several people who are currently going through their grieving process right now, as if it's some sort of organised or seasonal event. Indeed, death has come to my family, with distant relative Geoff Echberg, who could be considered my Great Uncle, passing away last Saturday at the age of 92.
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Retrospection
When you look back into your past at the people you once new, the situations you were once in, the places you once frequented, and the things you once did, how exactly do you feel? Do you feel sad? Angry? Regretful? Revolted?
Something the Victorian education system failed to teach me is that history is important; it tells you where you've been, who you are now, and where you're going. Without history, we'd all be moronic shells, bumping into the same problems we never knew existed and never really going anywhere new.
Lately I've been in a very retrospective mood. Most people would tell me that I'm living in the past and it's time to move on and look forwards into the future, however my personal “balance philosophy” tells me that a little retrospection is a good thing. (I will write about that later, in great detail, I promise Steve!)
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Serf
People don't seem to realise that computer programming is an artistic discipline rather than procedural office work. Those outside of the field would probably scoff at that remark, after they've put together a pivot table within excel. Just because you can cook doesn't make you a chef.
Your average manager fails to understand the difference between someone within an artistic job and someone with a procedural job — the difference being that to accomplish their goal one designs and constructs while the other follows list of tasks. Just because you're a mechanic doesn't make you an automotive engineer.
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Sleep
Sleep is one of my most favourite things.
When I don't sleep I tend to lose my ability to multi-task and eventually I get stuck in an infinite loop — like a record skipping — on singular topics that honestly never seem to reach any formal conclusion other than to recursively become ever-more circuitous than would otherwise be necessary, and ultimately the introduction of some form of interruption is usually the only thing that can put an end to my redundant cogitation, forcing my brain to return to functioning with syllogism; and in my current state of excessive verbosity would compel me to stop writing this esoteric yet amaranthine dissertation that I nonsensically continue to slowly dribble into this post painfully like a daydreaming slug slithering through a dry salt pond and onwards towards oblivion…
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Healthy life
The one thing that occurs to me lately is that getting healthy can be very expensive. Oddly, I always knew that eating healthy was horribly expensive compared to buying junk food, but now I realise the cost of things to help you be healthy are equally expensive.I love my empty calories, and as my metabolism is slowing down like the rest of my family, I'm regaining the pot-belly I once grew while I baked myself in the sun at a resort in Pattaya back in 1992. Get me another watermelon juice, slave!
It's time to put an end to all that, and get a bit of catabolism going, beyond just walking everywhere. I've been saying for months that I should start running, but I couldn't motivate myself. Cyclocity instead encouraged me to cycle, and unfortunately for them I wound up buying my own bike.
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Festival weekend
Over the weekend just passed, the Brussels Summer Festival (formerly known as Euritmix) wound up the last big batch of their 280 free concerts being performed through-out the city. Me being me, I missed out on most of it, but I couldn't possibly miss the action when it arrived on my doorstep!The weekend was probably the busiest weekend I've had in a long time, with many errands to run and much out-of-pattern spending to be done, and yet I still managed to spend a lot of time watching bands from my window ledge. For my own future reference, I thought I should jot down some notes about these unknown bands, which is represented by this post.
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Summer in the city
As I try to refrain from The Lovin' Spoonful references, I have to say that lately I've been feeling more and more at home living in the city. I love summer in Brussels, because all the plebs that live outside the pentagon bugger off on their holidays and the city centre turns into one amazingly friendly village (so long as you ignore the tourists).Brussels also comes alive in a certain indefinable magic way, not only because it has it's own beach on the canal, or the arrival of the carnies at the medieval city gate in the south, but because of a fantastic summer festival.
This year, the festival has come to my doorstep!
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Retrospective: Last year's road-trip
As Scott has reminded me, a year ago today the two of us were wrapping up our 8000km lightning fast road-trip, mostly through Western/Southern Europe. Back then I didn't keep any sort of journal, and I still didn't believe in taking photos using my then brand-new E70 since camera-phones usually take photos of miserable quality.Scott took on the role as the photographer putting some of them up on Smile In Europe. I left this up to him since he brought a suitcase that included his fancy Nikon D70, and about a million accessories to handle any photographic circumstance!
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Malignant society
My usual metro this morning from De Brouckère was late, which in itself isn't unusual. Despite being «La Grande Vacances», a late metro still converts the locals into pig-headed selfish morons, unable to understand that forcing themselves through a small doorway with twenty alighting passengers is not only impolite but incurs further delays for everyone.One particular woman and her son did just this, blissfully ignorant to the obvious fact that once everyone had left the carriage there was plenty of room to embark. They hogged the open doorway arrogantly, refusing to move to let other passengers pass easily. So far this could describe any morning's journey to work, and most days I'm simply amused (or bemused) by the sheer aberrations being played out before me.
Upon arrival at the next stop, Gare Centrale, this woman's son, who must have been no more than 8-years old and no less than 6, started screaming painfully; «Maman, maman, mon bras! Il blesse! Il blesse!»
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