I really thought that posting a long and uninspiring questionnaire would help get me blogging again. I mean, really, who would post something like that and have it sitting that the top of the page for months?

As it turns out, that would be me.

Sorry about that.

Still, even though I feel dreadful for abandoning my blog for so very long, it was all for a good cause. I have now finished studying. Completed. Done. Finito. Results are in and other than my complete balls-up effort with the JavaScript assignment, I'm not too shabby :) I can make websites, and I have the piece of paper to prove it (or I will have, come January).
The icing on the cake is that I was actually completing two courses simultaneously rather than just the one. Win! I can now design and administer. I do believe that is the IT equivalent to country and western.

But but but I'm done! Its over! I can start picking up the rest of my life and getting on with things. I can spend time baking hideously moreish cookies, I can mow the lawn before it becomes a buffalo jungle, and I can go out and get absolutely hammered while wearing clothes that would be considered somewhat inappropriate for polite company.

Actually, scratch that last one. A year of sedentary desk work has done my already borderline backside no favours whatsoever. Ho hum. The cookies probably won't help the cause either, now that I think about it, though from what I recall of my cookies it'll be well worth it.

So that is me. I already have a handful of webby projects on the go with the opportunity for a few more down the track. There are plans for a diploma some time next year, because I just can't get enough of management and paperwork. But that is for later. Right now, right this very minute, I'm on holiday and enjoying every second of it!

I love being able to recognise a holiday as different to everyday life. I'm starting to understand what all the fuss is about!

Stolen from Janek and Dan (who no doubt nicked it from someone else)

Only two rules– and you MUST follow them:
1. You can only say Yes or No.
2. You aren’t allowed to explain anything unless someone asks you, so feel free to ask.

I must have looked just a little bit hopelessly and utterly lost.

It might have been the rolled up flannelette shirt and chesty bond singlet combo that did it, or perhaps that I'd ventured out of the house in my never-leaving-the-house-in-these-jeans jeans. Whatever the cause, the result has me both amused and confused.
Sitting next to me are two books on clothing, specifically which bits one should wear to avoid having people offer to loan you books on the subject.

I am still utterly bewildered. Its just clothes, isn't it?

When you get right down to it they are simply bits of fabric that cover up your fuzzy squishy bits. Where the hell did they get enough information to fill two complete books? And why, given that books seem to have enough space for silver glittery sandshoes and bizarre little sweater-ettes that would be hard pressed to keep a toaster toasty, have they neglected to mention the simple beauty of a threadbare flannie?

Still, you can't argue with a book. Books are serious.

So far there are 3 garbage bags and one laundry basket filled with things that I shouldn't be wearing. It isn't so much that they don't fit, though that is certainly the case with my cherry red slides and those mildly wedgie-ish jeans, it is more that they should be fitting someone around 10 years younger than me.

I am now officially hogget. No longer lamb and not quite mutton, and my wardrobe should probably reflect this. No, definitely. It should be unceremoniously stripped of its tummy-flashing lycra boob tubes and replenished with... what does a hogget-aged person wear on a night on the town?

Never fear, I'm sure there is a chapter on it here somewhere...

It is a strange thing to lose someone. Thinking about it, its even stranger to speak of it in those terms. It makes it sound like they've just been temporarily misplaced, like the spare keys to the car.

I've forgotten where I put Roger, has anyone seen him?

I've spent the last week half-expecting someone to call and tell me it was all a joke and that he had indeed simply been misplaced, or to show up at class last night and find him sitting up the front chatting away to someone about their latest photoshop disaster, with the breadmaker merrily kneading away in the corner of the room. They didn't, and he wasn't, and I suppose that is the reality of things.

There is a certain awkwardness in having someone so influential, yet not quite a friend, suddenly wink out of existence. After the initial shock wears off you start to wonder about silly things like if you have a right to feel sad, or if sending sympathy cards to his family would be considered creepy and inappropriate, all the while feeling guilty that your education took away precious time that could have been spent with loved ones. I'm not really one for denying feelings or being appropriate, so the wondering was reasonably short-lived, but it still makes you think.

I even pondered about going to the funeral, and if that would somehow be offensive to his family. Two weeks ago Tuesday I was 5 minutes late for class and scuttled to my seat with a hushed barrage of "sorrysorrysorry". He looked bemused and said "don't be sorry, don't ever be sorry for showing up, it's a good thing". So that settled that.

I'll be there along with my classmates, the faculty staff, his family, some jammin' musos, artsy photographers, local turf farmers, a mishmash of IT and designer types, and whoever else happens to show up. I expect it to be a full house and then some.

I'll be wearing pink. I'll show a bit of skin. Somehow, these things all seem strangely appropriate.

Roger Dodger

For all your design needs...

Self-confidence is a funny thing.

4 hours ago I had plans. Good plans. I was going places. I finally had something concrete to hold on to that I could identify with. I could be that person. I could almost taste it.

Now, I'm just another late night salty mess.

I've been ignoring it for months. I've been busting a gut to stay quiet about things that are really important to me because I have become aware that nobody wants to hear. It seems that my interests and accomplishments either are so completely foreign to them and hold no meaning whatsoever (this variety generally nod and smile), or are so totally utterly beneath them that they can't even be stuffed making the effort to try and relate (this type force a smile, say "uh huh" and change the subject). If they do make an effort, it is only to be critical.

This is patently unfair.

For years I sat still and sucked up information like a sponge so that I can now participate in conversations with those well above my education level. I've learned things about certain subjects that wouldn't even win me prizes at trivia nights, they are so obscure. I've sat and listened to topics that were so utterly dull and pointless to me that I was almost convinced my brain would become aqueous and dribble from my ears at some critical moment in the exchange. It isn't because I have nothing better to occupy my time with, it is because I genuinely care about being able to understand where everyone is at.

It really wouldn't kill people to be remotely interested in what I'm doing with my life. It wouldn't hurt them to have a bit of faith in my decisions. It honestly wouldn't take that much self control for people not to roll their eyes just that little bit and find something else to talk about if I happen to get a tad over-enthused about my latest project.

And you know, I get it. It isn't the sort of thing that floats people's boats. Vet nursing was fine because everyone loves their Fido and wants their Heartguard tablets at cost, even if they fancy themselves a regular Dr Doolittle. Websites on the other hand, unless I suddenly invent the next Facebook, I'm no more worthwhile of conversing with on the topic than Joe Bloggs down the road who chucked together something for Great Aunt Gladys in his lunch break at school. I honestly do get it.

No. You know I don't get it at all.

I really want this to work. I want this like I haven't wanted anything in a long, long time. I know I can make this work, even if I screw up spectacularly along the way, this will work.

All I'm asking is for a little respect and a little support so I don't have to be sitting here at 4am sewing my tattered ego back together.

And, just for the record, no I will not make your website.

I've been mulling over how to, and even if I should, write this next post. I wasn't going to say anything about it at all, just brush the whole thing under the carpet and forget it ever happened. It is probably a mere triviality to most, but it has been bothering me. As it happens, I'm not so good at forgetting bothersome things.

So...

When Duke and Duchess where here, we did a spot of sight-seeing around Sydney and surrounds. There were trains and ferries and long waits at terminals, such is the way with these things. On the way to the harbour one day, while changing from a train to a ferry via a short walk and a very long wait, we decided to stop for morning tea. They walked into Gloria Jeans.

This is where things got a bit wobbily.

I will not support Gloria Jeans. They have brilliant coffees, lovely cakes, and too close of a tie with Hillsong Church. I will not support Hillsong Church. I can't do it. There are very few things that I will really put my foot down on, but these guys have the honour of being on that short list. They have proven untrustworthy and have some seriously dodgy ideas on homosexuality.

I stood in the doorway jiggling while people pointed at cakes and nattered about types of coffee. I was incredibly hungry and incredibly tired, but there was no way I could bring myself to eat. As I stood there, I felt all my anger bubble up in one nauseating lump, which conveniently steeled my resolve. PSWC came over to where I stood to get my order and I told him I wasn't going to eat. He looked very concerned (I must have looked like I was going to flop over in hunger) and queried why, so I gave him a quick run-down, saying that it was just my personal choice and it didn't affect what everyone else was doing. It really didn't. I was just going to grab a cookie on our way to the ferry, no big deal.

Bless his little cotton socks, he walked in and announced to Duke and Duchess in his normal-but-somewhat-booming voice that we weren't eating there because the company was no good. My little heart almost exploded with admiration.

Back out on the footpath, the Duchess seemed puzzled and a wee bit little irritated at the lack of coffee and cake. She asked again why we couldn't eat there.

I was tired. I was hungry. I was still stunned that we were going to eat somewhere else and was spending all of my energy on putting one foot in front of the other to get there. I answered.

Because they are associated with a church that treats the gays badly...

Boom.

It was out there. The gays?? As soon as the words left my mouth I just wanted to curl up and disappear. Who says that? It is like saying the pencils or the garden shed. Complete dehumanisation in 3 little letters.

Those people over there

I still don't know why I said it. I certainly didn't mean it. I've never even thought it. I suspect that I was partway to saying "the local aboriginal group" and somehow mouth and brain had a failure to communicate or some such, totally mangling the entire sentence. Somehow though, I still feel like a shot the last dodo.

Weirdly, nobody noticed. We just kept walking. The explanation was accepted and that was apparently that.