Well, you could be having a heart attack… but you’re not.

I was sick last week for the first time in about three months (which is a bit of a record. Take THAT, immune system) and ended up having to take three days off to recover. I was fairly confident it was only a cold and so bed rest was all that was needed, but packed myself off to the doctor anyway, partially to compensate from the massive guilt I feel whenever I have to take time off work, and partially because as a non-medical person I couldn’t rule out the possibility that I was about to drop dead. The former was adequately dealt with, but the latter was spun out for longer than it had to be thanks to my Doctor, who I have taking to call “Worst Case Scenario Doctor.”

For the record, and to avoid the same thing happening to anyone reading this, I am entirely fine, and my doctor is, in fact, very good at what he does, which is why I keep going to him. He will inevitably correctly diagnose the problem, offer a few suggested solutions, and has been very helpful in suggesting supplements such as probiotics and fish oil capsules, which, while clinically unproven, have seen a massive improvement to my overall wellbeing and immune system. What he does first though is list every single possible and terrible thing that could be wrong with me, but isn’t.

Previously, when seeing him due to a family history of a particular gene causing higher probability of blood clots, decided it was best to test me for EVERY possible cause of blood clots. The resultant 6 vials of blood they took caused me to faint and go into shock. Incidentally, I have no increased chance of blood clots.

Last week’s particular example involved him giving me a small lecture about heart attacks, key symptoms to watch out for, and crucial steps to take if I ever thought I was having a heart attack. After a short and worrisome pause he then added that I wasn’t having a heart attack, wasn’t showing any signs of having a heart attack apart from some mild chest pain (which was in the wrong spot for it to be a heart attack) and, given my age and recent improvements to weight, was extremely unlikely to get a heart attack.

He then took my blood pressure and wondered why it was rather high…

"Does Not Compute" My Eye!

Work on the room project was put on hold for the week last week, as I dedicated myself to the exciting and laugh a minute activity that is reformatting my computer, combining technical work with data entry and a clever logic puzzle, fun for ocd masochists everywhere.

Allow me to elaborate.

My current computer is a couple of years old but still performing well, thanks to a possibly not entirely wise splurge last time I purchased. As it turns out, it's the computer that keeps on giving. At the time I purchased 4gb of RAM, which was the maximum that the operating system that shall not be named could support. (*COUGH*Vista*COUGH*) And all was well and good. However, doing some diagnostic checks earlier in the year (and speaking to my brother who Knows Stuff(tm) about this sort of thig) I discovered that the 4gb limit includes any memory included on my video card, which turned out to be 2gb. The upshot was that my video card was fighting with my memory for control of the available space. Actually that's far too dramatic and now I have a story idea for computer parts fighting for control, although in retrospect maybe I should call it Tron...

Anyway, the end result is I had approx 2gb of memory that I wasn't able to use, and on the whole it would be quite nice to. As it turned out that there was an easy (in theory) way to fix this. My current operating system was a 32 bit system, but I had a 64 bit processor. If I reinstalled windows as a 64 bit operating system, I would then be able access the extra memory. All I had to do was back up my software, then do a clean install from the installation disc, and we'll be right as rain.

After a number of obstacles, partially that I didn't HAVE an installation disc as I'd purchased windows 7 through a downloadable upgrade, and 2nd and more importantly, that it took three tries to get the correct operating system installed (it turns out that while Microsoft can create a new and well designed operating system capapble of runnings the computers of millions of people around the world, what they CAN'T do is label their installation discs correctly), I was finally up and ready, with a brand spanking new 64 bit system installed, and all of my hardware available for use.

3 days and 45gb of downloads later and I'm only just finished reinstalling all my various software and updates. Turns out theres a lot more on a computer than just an operating system, who would have thought.

At last, though, it's done. Which is just as well, as I have, you know, work to go to and stuff and can't sit around installing programs all day.

The end result? A computer that looks the same, sounds the same, and for the most part runs the same as before. But now it's 64 bit!!

...I'm such a geek.

A Room Without A View: Week 1

One week in and the room is proceeding well. The main architecture of the room (walls, roof, cupboards etc.) are complete, and textured, though not with the correct colours yet. I have found the work immensely satisfying and may have found a new hobby/career option, and have learnt many things, most importantly to never put fireplaces in your levels.

Allow me to elaborate.

Monday: Only had an hour to spare between work and a social engagement, so I spent the time taking some reference photos of the room and balancing precariously on a chair with a tape measure trying to make my arms grow another fifteen cm so I could reach the roof.

Managed to get all the measurements I needed based on the age old method of "measure a bunch of short things and add them together", as it turns out the tape measure I thought was absolutely massive when I was ten is in fact, only 2m long. Now I feel old. But also tall.

Tuesday: Took a couple of final fiddly measurements such as "width of cupboard door" and "depth of the lower fireplace shelf at the centre compared the the diagonal line of the edge" (deep breath), and then using my rudimentary Adobe Illustrator skills contstructed an architectural plan of the room showing the scale and measurements of the walls, which served as a reference and also something to make architects fall on the floor and laugh their heads off.

Then started building the room in Hammer, the level editor for the source engine.

Firstly, the Hammer editor is AMAZINGLY intuitive and enabled stupid people (ie. me) to build quite complex objects with ease.

Secondly, Never try and build a room facing north starting from the west wall when you're currently facing south, or expect to get confused by compass directions every few minutes.

Completed the walls, roof and floor, then called it a night.

Wednesday: Started with the wardrobe as the single largest feature of the room, but also the boxiest. Made one of each of the wardrobe and cupboard doors, then copied them accross. Copy and paste is your friend.

The bedroom door posed a quandry, I could quite easily do a thin pretend door and leave it at that but given I eventually wanted the door to open I had to take into account the length of the frame on the OTHER side of the wall. Hammer helpfully has a 'carve' function which allows you place an object through another, and use that to cut a hole through it. So by placing the door frame into the wall and then carving, I was left with a perfectly door shaped hole. Win.
Thursday: Thursday was fireplace day.

I have what I always assumed to be a relatively plain and unassuming old fireplace in my room, which has long been sealed. As it turns out there are lots of little slats and supports all over the thing that I had previously taken for granted. To make it a bit more difficult, most of them have rounded edges. 3d technology has come along way since the days of, say, Quake, but the general rule still applies that curved edges and video games don't mix. The solution is to do lots of little straight edges, and enough of them that it effectively looks curved.

The upshot of which is that the fireplace took me longer than every other part of the room combined, but fortunately it did look the spitting image of my actual fireplace when done. A currently unsolved problem is the mirror just above the mantlepiece. Reflections are a bit of an issue in the source engine (particularly as the main character is never actually seen in Half-Life 2), but there are solutions. I just need to find them.

The main architecture complete, I threw in some placeholder textures ( the 'skin' that objects in the world wear), added a simple light, and loaded up the level in the actual game to see how it looked.

The first thing I noticed is that lighting makes your level look infinitely better.

The second thing I noticed is that the editor is actually more powerful than the game, and so all my carefully curved edges had been transformed into diagonal or straight lines. Still looked good but rather frustrating nonetheless.

But the room was done! Walls, fireplace, cupboards and doors, the framework was complete. I leaned back, breathed a sigh of relief, looked up and realised I had forgotten the roof.

Bugger.

Friday: Taking a break from the roof, I decided to solve another question I had been wondering. Half-Life 2 has a number of built in textures, but of course if I'm building MY room, I should probably make sure it's the same colour as MY room. So I needed a way to create my own textures.

This is slightly hindered by the fact that my drawing skill is almost exclusively limited to cartoon fish, which falls slightly short of the ability to create a bump mapped texture with virtual depth and inbuilt material properties.

To the internet I would go. A quick search later and I had downloaded a program a helpful modder had made that allowed images to be converted to source engine textures with relative ease. Using an image of a white plaster ceiling that I... "borrowed" from the internet until I had time to photograph my own roof, I ran the program, added a view properties to tell the game it was plaster and would react as such when shot or walked on (neither likely in this scenario but you never know) and restarted Hammer.

Sure enough my new "whiteceiling.vtf" file appeared, and I was able to replace the roof texture with this new one. Still looked nothing like my actual roof, but important milestones, people.
Saturday: Having successfully procastinated design work with learning work on Friday, I returned on Saturday to the roof. My roof has 4 cross breams running accross with whatever you call the roof equivelant of a skirting board running around all edges, which includes both the edge of the roof and the cross beams. Now this is the kind of thing you'd normally reserve for a texture but I wanted to go a bit all out on the room to know my limits, so I decided to build them using geometry instead.

The loyal tape measure was brought out once more and some quick measurements were taken of the beams and the skirting boards. From there it was a relatively simple affair of building the beams, building one set of skirting boards and then copying it 33 times to the other edges on the roof, doing a little trimming here and there to ensure that the edges blended appropriately. I also took this opportunity to trim the door frame as the top is two slanted diagonals rather than a single straight line.

On Sunday, after creating my world, I rested, and played video games instead.

Diary Of A Mad Writer #8 - So The Foresight Had Some Insight, In The Light Of Hindsight. (Thankyou, Bernard)

As I look towards the future, I've decided it might be a good time to take a step forwards and take the opportunity to look back at the previous projects I have begun, both to get an indication of the work I've done so far, and to see if there are any works that may be worth salvaging and updating for future use. Or to put it simply, in order to move forward I've looked backwards and taken the past to use in the future, and find to think forwards, one must in truth, think backwards, but only in a back to front forward thinking way.

Allow me to elaborate.

Or at least, to stop talking nonsense.

I've about ten years worth of various projects on my computer, not all of them finished. Sadly I don't seem to have anything from before this, as I appear to have deleted it all (or at least, not backed up my files when we changed computers). It was probably terrible, as it was all from 16 years and under, but I'd have liked the opportunity to have said that myself.

As my current main goal is to get something published in a sci-fi/fantasy magazine within (hopefully) the next six months, I've been going through my old files to see if there was anything that could be polished up and submitted as is. the outlook so far, is not good. Out of all the files I've been through, they have all broadly fallen into one of the following categories:

1. Too Short - The magazines I have found have a minimum word count of 2000 words, quite a few of my short stories fall around the 1600 mark.

2. Too Long - Most of the other stories I have exceed the maximum length (8000 words)

3. Wrong Genre - Many of those that are neither too long or too short are in fact too 'not science fiction or fantasy', making them difficult to submit to a sci-fi/fantasy magazine.

4. Wrong Format - Written for radio, film, television, or theatre. Could possibly be rewritten, but most of them fall into category 1, 2, or 3 anyway.

5. Atrocities - Awful work, kept because I no longer wish to throw any stories out, but deserving to be burnt in a fire(wall).

After you throw out all of those, you're not really left with anything, except for a couple of recent projects that fit the bill perfectly, except they fall into category 6: Not finished yet.

However, while looking through the pieces I discoverd a bunch of longer stories I had begun but never conituned beyond about the 10th chapter (or in one case, the 2nd page). As it turns out there's a reason for this which is probably deserves its own blog, but looking through them I was actually rather pleased with what I'd written so far. So I've dug them out and am editing them between calls at work in an attempt to bring them up to spec, and then can look at either finishing them, or adapting them into shorter works that would be suitable for submission.

So is there anything I can submit now? No. But there are plenty of things I will be able to submit, once they're done.

Assuming I don't change computers anytime soon.

To Sleep, Perchance To Oh Crap It's Half Past Six!

There have been many strategies over the years as to the best way to get out of bed in the morning, with limited scucess. I have been told to try putting the alarm clock on the other side of the room, to keep slippers by the bed, and on one rather bizarre occassion, to tie a peice of string to my toe and through some mechanical genius enable it to be tugged sharpy in the morning, thus waking me up (and hoping there's not a power surge, causing the machine to overload and leaving me toeless). However, I have discovered that nothing wakes you up more effectively than not getting up.

Allow me to elaborate.

I currently work in a position that for the first half of the week requires me to begin work at eight. To follow this backwards in a logical progression, that means I need to be at the office at 7:40 (as when my public transport is late, it's VERY late...), which means I need to catch a 7:00 train, which means I need to leave the house at 6:40, wich means I need to be up at 5:40, which means I need to set my first alarm at 5:30.

This is not by way of complaining, but rather to point out the timing involved. There are plenty of people for whom 5:30 would seem like a luxurious sleep in (or indeed for those unfortunate overnight workers, time for lunch). And there are definite advantages to starting work early, namely that you finish work early, particularly if you're a slack part time worker like myself. So all in all I'm actually rather glad to be working so early.

But my body clock still hasn't quite adjusted. Previously I worked until 11:30 at night, so I used to rise at about 9 or 10 in the morning and could enjoy a leisurely afternoon until it was time to leave. Now I need to be out of the house in an hour, which includes showering, shaving, dressing, eating breakfast, and remembering hat scarf, ipod, wallet, keys, and so forth. I say an hour because it allows me to not rush and instead be able to enjoy breakfast and a coffee before I go (as work for all it's free coffeeness frequently fails to comprehend that some wild crazy people enjoy non-off milk in their coffee on a Monday morning), but it can certainly done in a shorter time.

As I discovered this morning.

I use my mobile phone as an alarm clock as I generally leave it on anyway in case somebody needs anything, and also because it has the handy ability to set multiple alarms, so I generally set one alarm for 5:30 and the next for 5:40 as the first will generally wake me up, and the 2nd will wake me up just as I'm starting to fall back to sleep. This morning I cleverly managed, while turning off the first alarm, to reset my 2nd alarm for 4:40. So I awoke, (feeling sleepy but curiously refreshed), expecting it to be a couple of minutes before 5:40 to find it was, in fact, 6:27.

I have never woken up faster.
 
On the plus side, I have discovered that if the house were about to be sucked into a black hole in fourteen minutes time I don't need to worry as I can still shower, dress and pack a few things and be out of there in thirteen minutes, but on the downside I appear to have used up all the energy my body had allotted for today in about, oh, thirteen minutes as it happens. The first thing I did when I got to the office was to make a coffee, and was very glad to see that for once the fridge wasn't full of expired milk.

It was, however, full of no milk whatsoever, but mustn't grumble.

Welcome To Your Mid Year Review, Please Sit Down

Well, the first half of the year is over (or if you're financially minded, the first half of the year has only just begun, so well done on catching up to the rest of us). Summer has been and gone (and good riddance), winter has properly arrived (Hello Winter), tax returns are now submittable (yet despite the offer of free money, many won't bother to do them until the night before the deadline, proving once and for all that this is NOT just a student thing), and christmas is now only 180 days away. Not that we're counting. It's also six months since I took my first steps towards pursuing a future in writing, rather than just writing as much as I could around full time work ("as much as I could" = "not a lot"). So it's time for a review.

Allow me to elaborate.

Six months ago (not to scale) I begun looking for part time work, with the interest of pursuing side projects such as theatre, film, and video games (the making, not the attending, watching, and playing of, respectively). By the end of January I had moved into a new position away from my previous employer and begun my new part time work. At roughly the same time I began work on my writing projects. This was very much a test to see if a) I could get by on a part time income, and b) whether I could productive enough to continue to produce material on an expanded basis.

So here is a comparison and review for 2010 compared to 2009, to swell my ego with the helium of success and puncture it with the thumb tacks of failure.

2010 so far: A review and comparison. (Titles by Warren Zevon)

Lawyers, Guns and Money: The financial stuff.

Savings mid 2009: $5000.00
Expensive holidays to the UK: 1
Savings mid 2010: $0

Unfulfilling Full Time Jobs 2009: 1
Unfulfilling Part Time Jobs 2009: 0

Unfulfilling Full Time Jobs 2010: 0
Unfulfilling Part Time Jobs 2010: 1

Number of credit cards mid 2009: 2
Number of credit cards mid 2010: 0!

Expensive medical tests 2009: 0
Number of chronic back injuries: 1

Expensive medical tests 2010: 2
Number of congenitive heart diseases: 0!
Number of chronic back injuries: 1

Personal Loans 2009: 1
Personal Loans 2010: 1

Lottery wins: 0
Lottery entries: 0
Results: Inconclusive.

Non-essential purchases: Too many.

Comments: Great improvement in debt reduction, but poor saving results.
Goal for rest of 2010: Save some cash up for visiting Dad in Perth, laptop. Less debt = good.

Johnny Strikes Up The Band: The creative stuff.

Number of plays produced 2009: 0
Number of plays produced 2010: 1

Number of short films written 2009: 0
Number of short films written 2010: 1

Number of novels written 2009: 0
Number of novels written 2010: 0.1

Knowledge of computer prorgramming and level design 2009: None.
Knowledge of computer prorgramming and level design 2010: a bit.

Number of sword fights won with pens: 0
Number of sword fights lost with pens: 0
Results: Inconclusive.

Number of Fish in Black cartoons 2009: 0
Number of Fish in Black cartoons 2010: 0
Sighs: Many.

World Hunger ended through power of written word: Still none.

Comments: Undeniably a great improvement, but more could still have been done in the time available. Procrastination is a harsh mistress.
Goal for rest of 2010: Finish level design course, write additional films. Resume Fish In Black. Release website.

Excitable Boy: The Misc stuff.

New Years Eve spent 2009: Brunswick
New Years Eve spent 2010: York

Love of Beatles mid 2009: 0
Love of Beatles mid 2010: 9000

Xbox 360 Gamerscore end of 2009: 19850
Xbox 360 Gamescore mid 2010 30071.
Conclusions: Worrying.

Favourite Band: Barenaked Ladies
Favourite Game: Mass Effect 2
Favourite Film: Toy Story 3.
Favourite Pretzel: Don't really eat pretzels.


Outlook: Positive.

A Moving Experience

In the last 24 hours I've had to completely dismantle and remove everything from my room. In the next 24 hours I will need to completely reassemble and return everything to my room. It sounds almost as if I'm moving, and in an odd kind of way I am, except where I'm moving to is exactly where I'm moving from.

Allow me to elaborate.

We moved into our current property 13 years ago, when my parents decided rather than renting, they would like to invest in a long term property. Actually, we didn't move in until many months later, once you decide to buy a house you need find a house, wait for auction day, out auction everyone, settle the contract, wait for the old people to move everything out, and then finally move everything in, before moving yourself in. In fact, I myself didn't move in until several months later still, as at the time I was staying with my father up in Darwin.

In some ways it was quite a small house for the five of us, and eventually the six of us when my younger brother came along (I don't mean he just wandered by and moved in. He was, you know, born). So after a while (read: five years) we decided to renovate. This was a lengthy endeavour, and involved building a new kitchen, two new bathrooms, a new living room, new wood panneling, and new carpets.

How lengthy? Well, we started eight years ago. And we put the carpets in today. In our defence, everything else was done years ago, but as the carpet was a particuliarly complicated job we had been holding off on. Finally we decided several months ago that enough was enough and it was time to finish the renovations.

One of the 'really should have seen this coming' side effects of replacing your carpets is that you can't have anything on the carpet when it is replaced. So everything in all the carpeted rooms needs to be taken out and moved into a non carpeted area of the house. Now I pretty much live almost entirely in my room. Bed, computer, tv, books, reading chair and writing desk are all in the one room. The only thing I don't have in there is a kitchen or a bathroom, and on the whole I think everyone is glad of that.

But it does mean that my room is rather densely packed. For example. My parents, to prepare for the new carpets, had to move their bed, two bedside tables, and a filing cabinet out of their room. I needed to move a bed, a desk, a computer, two monitors, a tv, a tv stand, associated electronics, a cabinet, a bookcase, dvd racks and about 5 million cables.

I'm not complaining. It was rather satisfying work and will give me a chance to do some reorganising while moving everything. It did however unfortunately mean that I was up until midnight carrying furniture and then got up at six to finish it off, as they were arriving at the wonderfully prompt time of 8am. Since then I've mainly been out walking as there's really not much to do while trapped in the back room as people kindly install new carpets for you.

So I'm a bit tired. But after 13 years, it will be awfully nice to have the renovations finished.

Back to Basics

I have a sore back.

I don't mean it's a little bit sore, or that I slept on it the wrong way, or anything that could be described as temporary. When I saw I have a sore back, I unfortuantely mean permanently, and not anything that could be described as a little bit. What makes this more interesting is it was entirely my fault. Well, mostly.

Allow me to elaborate.

When I was born, well, I was rather distracted at the time, but as it turns out my spine wasn't entirely as a spine should be. At this point I could make jokes about being spineless and having no backbone, and look, I just did. But the issue in question was that one of the discs in the lumbar area of my spine (presumably where the logging industries work) wasn't quite as sturdy as it normally is.

This was not noticed at the time, I merely mention it now for chronology's sake. Fast forward 21 years, and I was now an adult, writing, among other things, short comedy plays for my local church. We had been doing this for about six months and it was great fun and our humour was being well received.

The latest script included, for reasons that now escape me (possibly as a result of ensuing concussion) a section where an actor portrayed the life of a tree. He started as a seed, then grew into a full tree, before facing off against strong winds, forest fires, before finally being chopped down by the logging industry, at which point he fell sideways to the floor I was that actor. I played that tree, and that floor was a rather sturdy wooden platform, which made a satisfying thump when I hit it.

The audience applauded at this display of violence, and I finished the play in good spirits. We took our bows, and I returned to my seat, whereupon I realised I was having a little trouble breathing, which didn't on the whole strike me as a good thing. The doctor (when I went, he wasn't sitting beside me at the time or anything) explained I had bruised some ribs, but that this would go away in time, and for the moment I should instead concentrate on not falling over in future. The pain went away and so I promptly forgot about it.

A few months later though, I noticed that my back was rather sore. The occasional sore back was nothing really new so I ignored it, but as the month wore on it didn't go away, so I realised something might be wrong, and desiring some medical opinions to back (ha!) that up, my doctor organised some tests to be done, that were a) extremely expensive, and b) a little bit weird

The first was an x-ray, which is not all that weird as I've had them before (once for a suspected broken ankle, and another time to check the airways in my lungs. X-rays generally seem to occur in dingy test labs, like they're slightly embarrassed to still be performing them in this day and age. The problem, as a nervous technician came in to tell me, was that they couldn't find my spine. I idly considered asking them if they'd tried looking in my back, but decided against it and merely assured them that it was there, and could they keep looking.

A couple of readjusted x-rays later and I was proved medically to not be spineless, and I was off to have a CT scan, which is a far newer (and more expensive) test, that scans the layers of muscle and tissue sliver by sliver, therefore giving the odd impression that I had had a nasty accident with a paper shredder. Unlike x-rays, the CT scan took place in a gleaming white spotless lab, and involves lying on a bed which is passed through a giant revolving white disc, and left me with the unerring impression that if they couldn't work out what was wrong with my back they could at least beam me up to the mothership.

My doctor spoke to me once the results had arrived, and informed me that my extremely expensive tests had not actually shown anything conclusive, so he was going to recommend me to a physiotherapist to see if he could do something about the back pain.

I explained all this to the physiotherapist who took at look at the tests and told me that in actual fact, as a result of my fall, I had managed to disloge on of the discs in my spine that has been more than usually fragile since birth.

So, by writing what seemed a midly amusing scene involving a tree, I had managed to give myself a permanent back injury.

On the whole this takes suffering for your art to an amusingly literal extreme.

Better with his hands

I am the last person you would describe as a handyman.

Ok, Stephen Hawking.

I am the 2nd last person you would describe as a handyman.

I wouldn't really know where to begin with building a wardrobe. Or a door. I couldn't tell you the best type of wood to use to create a lightweight but sturdy shelf. When presented with hammer and nails, I would most likely recite a series of puns about hammers and nails, but at the risk of sounding like a tool I will refrain. I most likely would hit my own thumb in the process of hammering, and then if I was especially angry, probably someone else's thumb. Actually that's not true, I would rather hit myself than anyone else, and given that sounds worryingly masochistic I think we should just move right along.

Totally nailed that introduction.

I mention all this because I am in the process of putting together some Ikea furniture. For my birthday my parents offered to buy me a new desk. I would like to point out that my birthday's in January, but we've all been busy. But in what I am now dubbing the year of change, as I have changed jobs, long term goals, and budgets, I am also redesigning my room a little. So! I've a new desk, a new set of drawers, and two cable boxes to organise the leads from the myriad of electronic devices I have surrounded myself with to assist with the early onset of radiation induced evolution and thereby bring about a new plane of existence for all humanity, or possibly just brain cancer.

A cable box for the record is a generic plastic box with a few holes pocked in that the instructions tell you to put your cables in. They could have painted it red and written "Cable Box" on it to drive the point home further but they're actually pretty useful. They don't in any way actually make your cables easier to sort but they do hide the ungodly mess from beyond the veil that your cables become, and with the application of a few rubber bands they're behaving themselves pretty well.

The desk isn't getting delivered till tomorrow as it was too big to fit in the car, but I did start assembling the drawers (as in typical Ikea style they come in pieces - for your convenience) before bedtime and the need to get this blog in on schedule necessitated a break in their construction. The last time I assembled anything was when I put my tv stand together (which was also a birthday present from my parents a few years back. They're good that way). That time I ran into a few problems.

The instructions were easy enough to understand. Put screw A into slot A. What an easy to understand system! Much better than those convoluted instructions you sometimes see.

Only problem was there was no slot A.

After a frantic search I eventually discovered a slot 1, and further investigation helpfully showed that while the instruction writers had decided to use an easy to understand letter system, the carpenters responsible for cutting and labelling the pieces had decided to use an easy to understand number system. On the whole I think a couple of emails, perhaps a morning tea with scones to meet the two different departments, a work social outing, maybe a movie, or just something to indicate that the other department EXISTED and maybe they should be talking to each other might have helped things considerably.

Construction continued without otherwise presenting an issue, until the final step when I was required to add a small piece of wood to the back of the unit to cover up those unsightly cable holes. The wood was of nice quality, durable, had a nice silver lacquer and just plain didn't fit where it was supposed to go. I spent about a half an hour playing with it, taking measurements, trying to gently force it into place, trying to roughly force it into place and then finally whistling nonchalantly before leaping on it and trying to take it by surprise. Nothing worked.

Eventually - after realising that by covering up those unsightly cable holes it would become immensely difficult to actually thread cables through them - I simply threw the nice quality durable silver lacquered piece of wood in the bin and haven't had another problem since.

As such I was surprised and alarmed to discover that Ikea's directions were simple, efficient and above all actually bore relevance to what you had to do to assemble the unit. So while they're not quite done I have no worries with assuming that it will be easy to finish tomorrow and will be able to have my new desk in place shortly after.

On the whole I've found it quite satisfying. Maybe there is something to this handyman stuff after all. Of course, since I'm in the top 10 list of people who'd be the last you'd call a handyman, my general lack of technical skill probably gets in the way.

But who cares. I have a new desk.

I'm afraid your leg needs to be amputated, although it could just be a mild sprain...

About a week ago they offered free health checks at work, so I signed up.

Given that a work based health check is by nature mostly non invasive, and given they can only provide basic recommendation advice (generally either "See your doctor" or "Perhaps see your doctor"), what they were basically offering was a chance to get stabbed in the finger.

Ow.

Anyhoo, they did a glucose/cholesterol test, a waistline measurement and the old "put a balloon round your arm and call it a medical examination" blood pressure tests that have intrigued me since childhood. Everything checked out for the most part, cholesterol and glucose levels were fine, waistline well within normal range, and F&V intake slightly low but easily rectified.

What was above average was my blood pressure. An anverage over three tests put me into the medium/high risk for future development of cardiovascular diseases. Which sounds fun.

Given that there were environmental factors that may have increased blood pressure over normal levels I (Firstly that I had been having a rather stressful week and not sleeping much, and secondly that you had just stabbed me in the finger) I decided to wait a week before visiting the doctor until the world was a bit calmer.

As I waited for my local medical group to answer the phone a couple of days ago I came to an unfortunate realisation.

I had forgotten my docter's name.

This on the whole was exceedingly embarrasing to me for some reason, like forgetting the name of your distant uncle. In my defence since the last time I had been to the doctor I had travelled halfway round the world (and then halfway back again to go home), explored three countries, changed jobs, written a play and a half and spent the last week memorising about twenty minutes of dialogue but none of this really accounts for being completely unable to remember the name of the person tells me to open wide and say "Ah".

The conversation ran something like this:

Reception: Welcome to Moreland Medical Group.
Me: Hi, I need to make an appointment.
Reception: Have you been here before?
Me: Yes.
Reception: Ok, certainly. Which Doctor do you usually see.
Me: Um, which Doctors do you have?

Pause.

Reception: You're sure you've been here before?
Me: Yes.
Reception: Ok, well, we have Drs Cameron, Lynch, and Teo.
Me: Ok, could I see Dr Cameron please.
Reception: Certainly we have -
Me: (Realising I had picked the wrong Dr) No, wait! Dr Lynch please.
Reception: Are you really sure you've been here before?
Me: Honestly I am.
Reception: You don't sound sure.
Me: Dr Lynch please.
Reception: Certainly.

What compounds the matter further is over the years I had seen all three of these Doctors before, because when you feel terribly sick and work and your concious is insisiting you get a medical certificate you don't tend to be particuliarly choosy. But I'm trying to stay with a regular Doctor because it just makes things much simpler so it helps if I can remember which one is which.

Dr Cameron and Dr Lynch are (other than that they both share last names with film directors, the latter one of the worst and most hideous directors ever to grace the silver screen, the former sadly fallen from former greatness into the seething bubbling mire of mediocrity.) unremarkable in their quite competence. Dr Teo on the other hand, while also extremely competent, has the rather amusing/alarming habit of worst case scenario diagnosis. Specifically, he will start at the worst possible thing my symptons could even vaguely possibly point towards, and then work his way down to whatever minor affliction you possibly have. I have been diagnosed with 'a bit of a cough' with the opening sentence "Well, people your age don't normally have heart attacks," and then proceeding down the list of possible symptons (Including strokes, crushed lungs, and oddly enough tuberculosis) before finally concluding that I should probably take some cold and flu tablets, and leaving me far more likely to have a stress related attack than before I went to to the doctor, which on the whole can probably be considered a step backwards.

As I sat in the waiting room and idly read the posters on the wall and wondered if I should be concerned about posters saying that 1 of every 2 women in the room could suffer an osteoporosis related fracture if I was the only one in the room, I realised with a growing realisation that I had in fact, made an appointment with the wrong doctor. But nontheless, apart from his nomenclature relation to a film director who's films fill me with the fiery hate that burns with the fury of a thousand suns, he was a very polite and helpful doctor especially as I hadn't seen him in about four years.

The end result is that I've got to go off to get a few (expensive) tests done, as my blood pressure while down still creeps into the med/hi risk area. This wasn't so surprising a couple of years ago when I was overweight, not exercising, and generally making a pig's ear of this whole health thing, but given I am now in the normal weight category, do watch what I eat, and while I can't claim to be the most voracious exerciser I do at least get a lot of walking in every day, my blood pressure remains high.

This most likely means nothing at all. But because with all medical things there is always a niggling small "but on the other hand" there is an extremely minor chance that this is a symptom/could lead to development of some form of heart disease, I need to go and get tested. Hopefully it will be a collosal waste of money, but the potential of heading something off at the pass justifies the cost.

So we shall see, we shall see. But being told you're almost entirely healthy is still a good thing.

Diary of a Mad Writer #2 - Thinking of the future, thinking of now.

As I type this journal, the first thought to go through my head is my life is very different to how it was a day ago.


Actually that's not true in any capacity, I thought no such thing, and my life is much the same as yesterday, it just seemed like a good opener.


Another night that was low on sleep, largely due to the remnants of a cold that will hopefully be realising it's outstayed it's welcome any day now, but also because my brother is buying a new computer and is very excited (understandably) and is frequently seeking my advice. This is very flattering as he obviously feels I 'know stuff', at least when it comes to choice of computer hardware, but does mean I am assaulted at all hours with questions such as "But can the 5870 out perform the 4870, when direct x11 products have not even been released yet?" He's very considerate and doesn't bother me once I've gone to bed but woe betide me should I wander past the study to take some pain killers, as he'll humbly ask if I can run over the latest build for him, and I haven't the heart to say no.


Emboldened by a large cup of caffeine; I thought I would update everyone on where I stand creatively at the moment.


Current and Future projects:
1 Play (Current main project)
3 Novels (2 active, 1 archived)
3 TV Shows (2 active, 1 future development)
1 Flash Game (In Learning phase)


In reverse order:


Flash Game - The Dead Shall Walk.
Surival Horror game inspired by older games such as Sword of the Samurai and The Oregon Trail. A slow paced game about the preperation and execution of your escape from an invading zombie horde. Choosing which supplies to take and leave behind, whether to use faster but noisier transport, whether to fight or to run, whether to travel into the day and risk being spotted or lose time and supplies by waiting till nightfall. A learning project in order to teach me Adobe Flash and Action Script 3.0.

TV Shows - 2 Comedy/Dramas, 1 Review Show.
These are projects created by a collegue of mine that I have been recruited for to assist in a writing/acting capacity. More will be revealed once they have moved further into production.

Novel - MI8
Not in active production, but an old project I intend to return to. Crime Thriller with a supernatural twist, this story deals with the fictional MI8 division of British security, that handles magical crimes. The story of a Witch Finder and his companion Witch Smeller, and their attempts to uncover an alchemy crime ring. Delves into the Witch Smellers and their origins. The first twelve chapters can  be read at http://thefibber.deviantart.com/

Novel - The Great Red
Murder Mystery set on the Indian Pacific, a train that runs from Sydney to Perth through the Nullabor Plain. Theft and eventual murder breaksout on the train, and everyone assumes it must be an inside job as the crimes occur during the middle of the desert. But all is not as it seems...

Novel - Midas
Fantasy Adventure set in the dream world of Midas, a girl who disappears into her dreams when her boyfriend is turned into a tree due to magic leaking through from the dream, and attempts to wake the princess before reality collapses. All in day's work.

Play - A Guy, A Girl, Two Fruitcakes.
Situation Comedy about 2-3 nights in the lives of three people, each 7 years apart. Extremely silly and farcical, full of rapid fire dialogue and humour. An extended version of a previous short play that was performed in 2003. The play is scheduled to be performed in April at the Mechanic's Institute in Brunswick.

The big change is less than 24 hours ago, this was not the play we wre going to be perfomring.

Since the end of January I and my two collegues have been working on a script entitled "Scarred For Life" which we had developed after a previous production had fallen through due a lack of suitable actors. The basic premise was a girl, oppressed by her controlling father, retreated into her own little fantasy world, inspired by the fairy tales of old.

After 4 drafts and back and forthing we eventually sat down to a meeting yesterday and had to admit the harsh and unfortunate truth that the script simply wasn't working. Faced with the option of either performing a lacklustre script or cancelling production, we instead turned to our backlog of old works, and discovered, in one of those "why didn't we think of this earlier, no, really, WHY didn't we think of this earlier?" moments a script I had previously written, which was performed in 2003 as part of a short lived living room theatre group, which sort of fell of the wagon when real productions became a possibility, and a lack of availability from a university based acting community.

It was short, it was funnier than our existing script, and it called for the bare minimum of props and only three actors (which is how many actors we had). In short, it suited our needs perfectly. Plans were made to extend it to a full length 40-60 minute play, and we were back on track.

The fairy tale script has promise in premise (or premise in promise?) and after extensive rewrites, replanning and a complete change of track, may still see the life of day in the future. but certainly not in it's current form.

So there is plenty to keep me busy over the next 12-24 months while I pursue this writing thing.

I am starting to feel the drag from lack of sleep so I'm off to make another cup of I-really-can-believe-it's-not-coffee.

What Centrelink and Advertising have in common.

It was a payroll Monday today, which generally means I take a late lunch and treat myself to some takeaway (Generally McDonalds because a) It's about the only close takeaway and b) Subway doesn't count as takeaway because it's actually vaguely healthy).

Half-way through my first bite of my Mighty "totally not Mc" Angus Burger I remembered I'd have beef for lunch and so really should have ordered chicken but half-way through that I was distracted yet again by the advertising slogan for what I was eating (just in case I'd forgotten and had needed to look at the box to remind myself): "A little bit fancy."

It struck me as a very odd slogan in most respects, and rather lacking in commitment. It seemed to be telling that the burger I had ordered was special, nicer than the usual common fare one might find in a take away franchise of this calibre. But not too much. Just a little bit. Cause, you know, some people don't like fancy food (potentially quite likely if you're eating in a McDonalds), and we wouldn't want to alienate them. So it's a little bit fancy, possibly, if that's ok.

Sometimes I kind of wish that advertising would shed it's pretence of sophistication and just get down to the actual message, so instead of slogans like "A Little Bit Fancy", we would have "Everyone should buy this right now," or possibly more interestingly "Buy it or I'll break your kneecaps."

It was about this point that I nearly choked on the half bite of burger that my flight of whimsy had prevented me from swallowing, and drew a very odd look from the lady sitting next to me. I considered telling her I had been philosophising, and asking her if she liked food that was a little bit fancy, but I doubt it would have improved matters.

After I got my breath back I remembered an ad I had spotted a couple of weeks earlier that had struck me in a similar nature. It was for a bank, and had the catchy but incomprehensible slogan "Savings - It's the new spending."

No, no it's not.

Saving is the new spending is about the same as saying that Aardvarks are the new Potatoes, and makes about as much sense, although the thought occurs that I found a bank that had the slogan "Aardvarks are the new Potatoes" I would probably sign up based on the novelty alone. I did a brief google search to see if there was a bank named Tatervarks, but for now it looks like I'll need to stay with my current Financial storage facility. I would also sign up for a bank if it had the slogan "Bank with us - Or We'll Break Your Kneecaps" but fortunately I haven't found one of those either.

On my way back from my fine dining establishment my mind decided to bring up the oft-told but still amusing tale of the first (and for obvious reasons, only) time I applied for youth allowance from the government. I can't find much of a connection between advertising and youth allowance except a) they're both mired in bureaucracy, and b) they're both just plain weird.

Anyway, I was 18 at the time, freshly graduation from high school, and had decided to take a year off before going to university to get a job and living a little. I did this by not finding a job and sitting at home being bored. May arrived, the job hadn't, and I decided in the meantime I should head down to my local Centrelink and get myself some spending money. I looked around on their website but couldn't find any form of online application, so decided to head down and apply in person.

I walked in the front door and said I'd like to apply for youth allowance of some kind. "Certainly" replied the receptionist, "have you considered Newstart Allowance? It's a youth allowance of some kind."

Perfect, I thought, so we started the application.

"Are you over 18? Because if you're over 18 you can get Newstart Allowance, look, it says so on this pamphlet!" she said, and handed me one. It did indeed say that if I were over 18, then Newstart was the Allowance for youth like me. Perfect, I again thought. "Excellent!" said the receptionist, really getting into it now. "Then all you need to do is ring Centrelink's call centre and apply over the phone. I'll get you set up with a phone."

Behind the receptionist, Centrelink's call centre buzzed with activity.

I looked quizzically backed at the receptionist, but she didn't seem to see any problem with phoning a call centre a mere 5 metres away, and they were offering me free money, so I didn't complaint. Maybe that's how things were done. She set up with a phone and I dialled the call centre number and waited.

"Hello, welcome to Centrelink," came the voice on the line. I didn't have the heart to tell them I was already at Centrelink, and in all possibility we were in the same room, and merely requested to sign up for Newstart Allowance.

"No worries, I'll just open up our website and fill out an online application for you."

So there I was. Inside Centrelink. Phoning Centrelink. Who were opening up Centrelink's website for me.

It was at this point that alarm bells were starting to ring, but I figured it was just someone breaking into a shop next door and pushed on with the application.

"Are you over 18?" I checked the pamphlet again.

I replied that indeed I was, and that I'd heard that Newstart allowance was for youth like me.

"Oh it is," they confirmed.

I finished off the application, and was told they'd be in contact to arrange an interview. All well and good.

About two days before the actual interview my mother rang Centrelink on an unrelated matter, and mentioned in passing that her son was applying for Newstart Allowance.

"Oh so he's over 21, is he?" came the reply.

My mother very calmly said goodbye and came and found me. That's not right, I thought, and went and checked the pamphlet.

I found out two important facts. First, that Newstart Allowance was valid for anyone over 18. Second, that the pamphlet was valid for anyone reading it before April 1998.

It's worth pointing out that at this stage it was June 2002.

I went into the centre to tell them that I wouldn't be attending the interview.

"Why not?" asked the receptionist, surprised and slightly angered. I politely explained that Centrelink had offered me a cover that I wouldn't be eligible to get for another three years.

"No, I can't cancel the interview, it's too short notice," she explained. "You'll have to go to the interview and tell them you're not going."

Yes.

I considered asking if I could borrow a phone so I could ring Centrelink and ask them to cancel online for me, but decided I really had lost the energy to be flippant, so merely told her "No," and left.

Doing some research online later, it turns out that my parents earned too much money for me to be eligible for any kind of youth allowance anyway.

Get a job kids, so you don't have to talk to Centrelink

Or they'll break your kneecaps.