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Friday, October 15, 2010
long time no blog
Today, for something completely new and different, I was surfing the internet... and procrastinating. Reading Allie Brosh's blog (hyperbole and a half --->) I found her explanation about never becoming an adult entirely too relatable... but it's 2:39AM and the Android keyboard on my phone is giving my hand a cramp, so I'll expand on that tomorrow... if I remember. No promises!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Big day
And I say that in a completely ironic, sarcastic way. It has been the complete opposite of productive around here and, funnily enough, I am extremely proud of that fact.
I have no idea what Geek and I are going to do for dinner. I have not got the faintest clue where the last three hours have disappeared to (there may have been a nap involved).
Today was a day for apathy. I am totally over it.
Work sucks. The job I am doing is destroying my soul at a rate of knots and it is crushing my spirit along with it.
The job that I want to do, as far as I am aware, doesn't actually exist. There are TAFE courses that I can do, but they will give me a piece of paper that qualifies me to do precisely nothing that will earn me any money... and not only do we have a mortgage to finance, we have to cats relying on us for sustenance and dammit my kitties will not go hungry!
What I really want to do with my life- what I've wanted to do for as long as I can remember, is be a mum.
My secondary ambition (the one that is likely to make me money, and that I can likely manage to do at the same time as raising a brood of kidlets) is to be a writer.
Now, I don't care if it's journalism, blogging, fiction, research, proofreading, editing or beta-reading fanfiction- if I can get paid to read and write as a professional, my life will be complete.
I already beta read, and this blog is my attempt at making sure that I get some regular writing out (I know, I need more discipline... but between the seizure/syncope issues and some less than fantastic attempts to upgrade my computer I've been a little preoccupied with real life to blog regularly), but with the love and support of my Geek I may well be going back to TAFE next year to do a Certificate IV in Professional Writing and Editing.
God only knows what I can do with that qualification, but a few years ago when I mentioned perhaps undertaking that course one of my not-so-lovely relatives said 'Oh, yeah, that'll be as useful as a philosophy degree!'
So I didn't do it.
But now... now I have a chance to maybe do something that will make me a bit happier. Maybe if I start a full-time course I can drop the soul-crushing hours to 15 or so a fortnight -one or two nights per week- and get myself into a better frame of mind.
I'll keep you posted. Promise.
I have no idea what Geek and I are going to do for dinner. I have not got the faintest clue where the last three hours have disappeared to (there may have been a nap involved).
Today was a day for apathy. I am totally over it.
Work sucks. The job I am doing is destroying my soul at a rate of knots and it is crushing my spirit along with it.
The job that I want to do, as far as I am aware, doesn't actually exist. There are TAFE courses that I can do, but they will give me a piece of paper that qualifies me to do precisely nothing that will earn me any money... and not only do we have a mortgage to finance, we have to cats relying on us for sustenance and dammit my kitties will not go hungry!
What I really want to do with my life- what I've wanted to do for as long as I can remember, is be a mum.
My secondary ambition (the one that is likely to make me money, and that I can likely manage to do at the same time as raising a brood of kidlets) is to be a writer.
Now, I don't care if it's journalism, blogging, fiction, research, proofreading, editing or beta-reading fanfiction- if I can get paid to read and write as a professional, my life will be complete.
I already beta read, and this blog is my attempt at making sure that I get some regular writing out (I know, I need more discipline... but between the seizure/syncope issues and some less than fantastic attempts to upgrade my computer I've been a little preoccupied with real life to blog regularly), but with the love and support of my Geek I may well be going back to TAFE next year to do a Certificate IV in Professional Writing and Editing.
God only knows what I can do with that qualification, but a few years ago when I mentioned perhaps undertaking that course one of my not-so-lovely relatives said 'Oh, yeah, that'll be as useful as a philosophy degree!'
So I didn't do it.
But now... now I have a chance to maybe do something that will make me a bit happier. Maybe if I start a full-time course I can drop the soul-crushing hours to 15 or so a fortnight -one or two nights per week- and get myself into a better frame of mind.
I'll keep you posted. Promise.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
diagnoses and specialists
I had another 'instance'. Well, a few actually. Five in total, now. After one of them I spent two nights in hospital (after 8 hours in casualty waiting to get admitted, finally taken up to the ward at 2:45AM) had a CT scan, an MRI and an ECG before finally getting sent home.
The whole theory about the aging population seems to have been confirmed by what I saw in the hospital- I get that older people get sick more often, but I cut a few laps of the ward and I was the youngest patient on the entire floor by a good thirty years.
Thank goodness for my Geek. When I got admitted it was after I'd been unconscious on the floor of the lounge for 90 minutes, called the ambulance and then followed it up to the hospital. He was going to stay with me until I got admitted, but I sent him home around eleven when it looked as if I was still a few hours off admittance... turned out I was right.
I'm also pretty grateful that mobile phones are allowed on the wards now- I was able to text Ace and request some real clothes (not to mention some pyjamas and my laptop). Those hospital gowns are less than flattering!
I got some jeans, a few t-shirts and- luxury of luxuries!- a bra delivered to me, plus a few dvds to keep my sanity intact.
Nothing like real clothes to make a girl feel human! Plus Ace, being the genius that he is, had thoughtfully made sure that the DVDs he had delivered were seasons 4 and 5 of House. Of course. I'm in hospital with some unknown thing making me pass out for extended periods so he gives me a TV show about a brilliant doctor to get me through.
Since the hospital admittance I've had four more 'instances'- we're not sure if they're seizures or syncope (sudden drop in bood pressure) but the longest I've been unconscious is 20 minutes, and I've flatly refused to go back to hospital, mainly because in the 48 hours I was actually up there I saw my doctor for a grand total of two minutes, and his lackeys (I assume interns/fellows) for about ten. I get that they're busy, but seriously?
I've had an EEG, too (the gel stuff they use makes your hair feel disgusting) and apparently the timeframe for results to come back is three weeks.
And then, of course, my 'specialist' appointment, which was supposed to be tomorrow, has been delayed to the 25th of August.
Stuff it, I'm going to make an appointment with my own doctor and see if we can figure it out.
The whole theory about the aging population seems to have been confirmed by what I saw in the hospital- I get that older people get sick more often, but I cut a few laps of the ward and I was the youngest patient on the entire floor by a good thirty years.
Thank goodness for my Geek. When I got admitted it was after I'd been unconscious on the floor of the lounge for 90 minutes, called the ambulance and then followed it up to the hospital. He was going to stay with me until I got admitted, but I sent him home around eleven when it looked as if I was still a few hours off admittance... turned out I was right.
I'm also pretty grateful that mobile phones are allowed on the wards now- I was able to text Ace and request some real clothes (not to mention some pyjamas and my laptop). Those hospital gowns are less than flattering!
I got some jeans, a few t-shirts and- luxury of luxuries!- a bra delivered to me, plus a few dvds to keep my sanity intact.
Nothing like real clothes to make a girl feel human! Plus Ace, being the genius that he is, had thoughtfully made sure that the DVDs he had delivered were seasons 4 and 5 of House. Of course. I'm in hospital with some unknown thing making me pass out for extended periods so he gives me a TV show about a brilliant doctor to get me through.
Since the hospital admittance I've had four more 'instances'- we're not sure if they're seizures or syncope (sudden drop in bood pressure) but the longest I've been unconscious is 20 minutes, and I've flatly refused to go back to hospital, mainly because in the 48 hours I was actually up there I saw my doctor for a grand total of two minutes, and his lackeys (I assume interns/fellows) for about ten. I get that they're busy, but seriously?
I've had an EEG, too (the gel stuff they use makes your hair feel disgusting) and apparently the timeframe for results to come back is three weeks.
And then, of course, my 'specialist' appointment, which was supposed to be tomorrow, has been delayed to the 25th of August.
Stuff it, I'm going to make an appointment with my own doctor and see if we can figure it out.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
stupid body failing on me....
Well, more of a 'fell!' than a 'fail!'
I got out of the shower yesterday, and woke up half an hour later on the bathroom floor.
Totally blacked out. Freaky-deaky.
The scariest part was that I was home by myself. So I woke up, freezing, on the floor of the bathroom, with the cat licking my foot, no idea how I'd gotten from the shower to the tiles.
I got up and rang my Geek, and I think I freaked him out more than I was, because I think I had a panic attack while I was on the phone with him, so he came straight home from work (an hour early) and took me up to Casualty.
Three hours, two blood tests, five blood pressure tests and two hours on a heart monitor later, I'm the picture of health and they can't figure out what happened to make me black out.
Nothing like making a girl feel safe!
The only thing they could think of was that the sudden change in temperature (hot shower-cold bathroom) caused a drop in blood pressure and I blacked out, and the only thing that was definitely ruled OUT as a cause was pregnancy.
Which brings me to my next point.
Ever since a couple of months before we got married, my Geek and I have given up on the contraception thing, in pursuit of producing a Geekling.
Yes, that's right, not only do we have sex, but we want to make a baby happen as a result!
But, of course, this comes with its' own pitfalls.
The whole 'making a baby' thing is made out to be so damn EASY! Everyone, when you are a teenager, hammers home the whole 'use protection or you *will* get pregnant' line, but when you stop, and actually want to have a baby, it's suddenly not such a simple task.
It kind of makes me glad that we've kept this little decision to ourselves, because every single parenting forum that I have come across has multitudes of 'trying to concieve' boards with story after story of women becoming seriously depressed every time 'AF' (Aunt Flo - aka, your period [because, of course, you can't use the correct term on a message board supposedly for adult women]) arrives.
Some have truly heart-breaking stories of battles with infertility, but others seem to be using the boards as a place to complain that, while they and their 'DH' (dear/darling husband) are desperately trying to make a baby by charting (using a cervical thermometer to check basal body temperature), having sex during 'fertile times' and taking three different kinds of pre-pregnancy vitamins, their sister, sister-in-law, cousin and every single female workmate is getting pregnant 'without even trying!'.
Not one of them seems to realise that not everyone is so vocal about the fact that they're having sex every other day and sticking a thermometer up themselves at the same time every morning just to 'increase their chances.' Only one of my closest friends even knows that Geek and I are in the process of trying to get pregnant, and she is under strict instructions to slap me in the face if I start talking about cervical thermometers or mucus levels. Chances are that someone in my circle of friends is also in baby-making mode, and if I happen to be pregnant first then she'll be bitching about me somewhere on the internet, possibly to the tune of 'HOW DARE SHE GET PREGGO BEFORE ME AND STEAL MY THUNDER!? IF SHE STEALS MY BABY NAME I WILL CUT HER FACE!'.
Another thing I don't get, which is prolific on baby-centred websites, is posting a list of names that you like and asking the opinion of, essentially, a bunch of random strangers. Or, even worse, whingeing that someone else has 'stolen your name' when you've been telling all and sundry about your 'short-list' since your first pair of pink lines. If you don't want someone to use a name that you like, then don't tell them the names you like.
I don't want to be one of those women whose entire world revolves around the idea of a baby, who makes her husband have sex even if he doesn't feel up to it, and cries for two days after she gets her period.
I'm well aware that this process might take a while, I know that most couples take, on average, six months to conceive a baby. I know that pregnancy can suck royally, with everything from mild swelling of the ankles to nine and a half months of all-day 'morning' sickness, but that doesn't make me sad, it makes me excited.
Besides, if it happens 'naturally', via IVF, or if it comes to the point that we have to get rid of our cats so we can foster kids with a look to adopting one, I know that I am looking forward to being a mum.
I just hope that I can be good at it.
I got out of the shower yesterday, and woke up half an hour later on the bathroom floor.
Totally blacked out. Freaky-deaky.
The scariest part was that I was home by myself. So I woke up, freezing, on the floor of the bathroom, with the cat licking my foot, no idea how I'd gotten from the shower to the tiles.
I got up and rang my Geek, and I think I freaked him out more than I was, because I think I had a panic attack while I was on the phone with him, so he came straight home from work (an hour early) and took me up to Casualty.
Three hours, two blood tests, five blood pressure tests and two hours on a heart monitor later, I'm the picture of health and they can't figure out what happened to make me black out.
Nothing like making a girl feel safe!
The only thing they could think of was that the sudden change in temperature (hot shower-cold bathroom) caused a drop in blood pressure and I blacked out, and the only thing that was definitely ruled OUT as a cause was pregnancy.
Which brings me to my next point.
Ever since a couple of months before we got married, my Geek and I have given up on the contraception thing, in pursuit of producing a Geekling.
Yes, that's right, not only do we have sex, but we want to make a baby happen as a result!
But, of course, this comes with its' own pitfalls.
The whole 'making a baby' thing is made out to be so damn EASY! Everyone, when you are a teenager, hammers home the whole 'use protection or you *will* get pregnant' line, but when you stop, and actually want to have a baby, it's suddenly not such a simple task.
It kind of makes me glad that we've kept this little decision to ourselves, because every single parenting forum that I have come across has multitudes of 'trying to concieve' boards with story after story of women becoming seriously depressed every time 'AF' (Aunt Flo - aka, your period [because, of course, you can't use the correct term on a message board supposedly for adult women]) arrives.
Some have truly heart-breaking stories of battles with infertility, but others seem to be using the boards as a place to complain that, while they and their 'DH' (dear/darling husband) are desperately trying to make a baby by charting (using a cervical thermometer to check basal body temperature), having sex during 'fertile times' and taking three different kinds of pre-pregnancy vitamins, their sister, sister-in-law, cousin and every single female workmate is getting pregnant 'without even trying!'.
Not one of them seems to realise that not everyone is so vocal about the fact that they're having sex every other day and sticking a thermometer up themselves at the same time every morning just to 'increase their chances.' Only one of my closest friends even knows that Geek and I are in the process of trying to get pregnant, and she is under strict instructions to slap me in the face if I start talking about cervical thermometers or mucus levels. Chances are that someone in my circle of friends is also in baby-making mode, and if I happen to be pregnant first then she'll be bitching about me somewhere on the internet, possibly to the tune of 'HOW DARE SHE GET PREGGO BEFORE ME AND STEAL MY THUNDER!? IF SHE STEALS MY BABY NAME I WILL CUT HER FACE!'.
Another thing I don't get, which is prolific on baby-centred websites, is posting a list of names that you like and asking the opinion of, essentially, a bunch of random strangers. Or, even worse, whingeing that someone else has 'stolen your name' when you've been telling all and sundry about your 'short-list' since your first pair of pink lines. If you don't want someone to use a name that you like, then don't tell them the names you like.
I don't want to be one of those women whose entire world revolves around the idea of a baby, who makes her husband have sex even if he doesn't feel up to it, and cries for two days after she gets her period.
I'm well aware that this process might take a while, I know that most couples take, on average, six months to conceive a baby. I know that pregnancy can suck royally, with everything from mild swelling of the ankles to nine and a half months of all-day 'morning' sickness, but that doesn't make me sad, it makes me excited.
Besides, if it happens 'naturally', via IVF, or if it comes to the point that we have to get rid of our cats so we can foster kids with a look to adopting one, I know that I am looking forward to being a mum.
I just hope that I can be good at it.
Monday, June 14, 2010
bahahahaha!
I can now blog from my phone. Perhaps This is not a totally new or wonderful thing to everyone else,but to me it is a huge deal.
So when I have a random thought I can just toss a blog post up without too much trouble, or tap out an idea, then come back later to flesh it out. Okay, love to all. Real post sometime tomorrow, after all it is a long weekend!
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Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Movie Review- Julie and Julia
Attempting to get away from yesterdays' rather depressing topic- today I watched Julie & Julia, and may have rediscovered my cooking mojo.
Amy Adams and Meryl Streep were both fantastic. I can look past some of the anachronisms (for example, Notre Dame being alabaster in 1949, when it should have been black from pollution) and the somewhat ridiculous accent that Meryl did for most of her part of the movie, but it's still a fantastic story... plus I love Amy Adams' haircut.
The fact that the entire movie revolves around a blog also makes me smile.
I am considering getting hold of a cookbook from an Australian chef and cooking my way through that- maybe making some notes on here as I do.
The entire movie is very well put together and the food that is produced by both protagonists is enough to make anyone's mouth water.
Besides that, the actor who plays Julia Childs' husband is Stanley Tucci, the man who played Nigel in The Devil Wears Prada- the chemistry between them is really great!
Julie's (Amy) attitude towards her blog is really not surprising- for the first little while she is somewhat pessimistic about it (her mothers' attitude doesn't help much) but as she gains followers she gets more into it.
Her dedication to her blog is admirable- making me think that I should maybe set myself some kind of goal with this one so that I don't abandon it again!
Julia's journey through her cooking school in France is amazing- the fact that she's the only woman in the class doesn't hold her back, but the woman who runs the cooking school seems to think that a womans' place is certainly not as a professional chef- the first class that Julia takes teaches the women how to boil eggs!
It's enough to make me want to spend the money on my kitchen remodel- but I need to find a job that isn't so soul destroying so that I can fund it.
I'm not going to give any more away (nothing worse than when a reviewer just summarizes the entire movie) but it's definitely worth the watch.
Now, I am going to make something delicious for myself for dinner. No idea what, but it will involve beef.
--Geek Wife.
Amy Adams and Meryl Streep were both fantastic. I can look past some of the anachronisms (for example, Notre Dame being alabaster in 1949, when it should have been black from pollution) and the somewhat ridiculous accent that Meryl did for most of her part of the movie, but it's still a fantastic story... plus I love Amy Adams' haircut.
The fact that the entire movie revolves around a blog also makes me smile.
I am considering getting hold of a cookbook from an Australian chef and cooking my way through that- maybe making some notes on here as I do.
The entire movie is very well put together and the food that is produced by both protagonists is enough to make anyone's mouth water.
Besides that, the actor who plays Julia Childs' husband is Stanley Tucci, the man who played Nigel in The Devil Wears Prada- the chemistry between them is really great!
Julie's (Amy) attitude towards her blog is really not surprising- for the first little while she is somewhat pessimistic about it (her mothers' attitude doesn't help much) but as she gains followers she gets more into it.
Her dedication to her blog is admirable- making me think that I should maybe set myself some kind of goal with this one so that I don't abandon it again!
Julia's journey through her cooking school in France is amazing- the fact that she's the only woman in the class doesn't hold her back, but the woman who runs the cooking school seems to think that a womans' place is certainly not as a professional chef- the first class that Julia takes teaches the women how to boil eggs!
It's enough to make me want to spend the money on my kitchen remodel- but I need to find a job that isn't so soul destroying so that I can fund it.
I'm not going to give any more away (nothing worse than when a reviewer just summarizes the entire movie) but it's definitely worth the watch.
Now, I am going to make something delicious for myself for dinner. No idea what, but it will involve beef.
--Geek Wife.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Pokies.
As of a few weeks ago, I am working 2-3 nights a week at a local gaming venue- most of my shifts start between 4 and 6 then finish around midnight-3AM, so that means I'm seeing less of my Geek- he's not home before I leave for work and I'm asleep when he gets up to go to his job.
But the money's good and we've worked out that I've only got to be at this place for about three or four months and then the work is optional- so I can look for something else... which I still am doing- working at a pokie machine venue is slightly soul-destroying.
I understand that pokies are supposed to be fun and games and happy la la lets have a few drinks and put some money into the pretty machine and watch it light up while it plays pretty music, but watching someone push $500 through a machine in half an hour isn't something I can feel particularly good about.
I understand that it's not a good thing to judge people by appearances, but when someone comes into the venue, in worn thin tracksuit pants, a designer-ripoff-bought-at-the-market-for-$10 hoodie and joggers so ancient that the shoelaces have been re-tied mid tongue, then proceeds to feed 10 or 15 $50 notes into a gambling machine, it makes me wonder.
What else was that money supposed to be spent on? Was that the grocery money for the fortnight? The rent money? Was that supposed to be petrol in the car or money off the mortgage, but this person decided to come into my place of work and spend it all on digital spinning wheels that are programmed to only give back 20c of each dollar put into them?
Statistically speaking, less than 2% of the revenue from the machines comes back into the venue. 18-20% goes back to the player, depending on the machine. Then, of the other 78-80c that goes in, 40c goes to the government as Pokies Revenue, and the remaining 38-40c goes to the company that owns the machine.
Seems like the player gets a raw deal.
I get that it's each persons' choice to put the money into the note acceptor, but where is the accountability? I understand that any win greater than $1000 legally has to be paid by cheque, as a supposed 'control measure' to prevent people pouring money back into the machines. I understand that ATMs on-site have to be out of sight from any gaming machine on the floor, and will only dispense a certain amount per card per day, and that they won't let you withdraw from a credit account.
But the number of people I see coming into the venue I work at, which, honestly, is in a lower socio-economic area, and pouring what I classify as a fortnights' pay into a pokie machine, then walking out looking like the world is about to end, is a crushing reality.
The money might be good, but damn, I sometimes wish I'd never obtained my Gaming Industry Employee License, because witnessing what I am is making me go more than a little bit mental.
But the money's good and we've worked out that I've only got to be at this place for about three or four months and then the work is optional- so I can look for something else... which I still am doing- working at a pokie machine venue is slightly soul-destroying.
I understand that pokies are supposed to be fun and games and happy la la lets have a few drinks and put some money into the pretty machine and watch it light up while it plays pretty music, but watching someone push $500 through a machine in half an hour isn't something I can feel particularly good about.
I understand that it's not a good thing to judge people by appearances, but when someone comes into the venue, in worn thin tracksuit pants, a designer-ripoff-bought-at-the-market-for-$10 hoodie and joggers so ancient that the shoelaces have been re-tied mid tongue, then proceeds to feed 10 or 15 $50 notes into a gambling machine, it makes me wonder.
What else was that money supposed to be spent on? Was that the grocery money for the fortnight? The rent money? Was that supposed to be petrol in the car or money off the mortgage, but this person decided to come into my place of work and spend it all on digital spinning wheels that are programmed to only give back 20c of each dollar put into them?
Statistically speaking, less than 2% of the revenue from the machines comes back into the venue. 18-20% goes back to the player, depending on the machine. Then, of the other 78-80c that goes in, 40c goes to the government as Pokies Revenue, and the remaining 38-40c goes to the company that owns the machine.
Seems like the player gets a raw deal.
I get that it's each persons' choice to put the money into the note acceptor, but where is the accountability? I understand that any win greater than $1000 legally has to be paid by cheque, as a supposed 'control measure' to prevent people pouring money back into the machines. I understand that ATMs on-site have to be out of sight from any gaming machine on the floor, and will only dispense a certain amount per card per day, and that they won't let you withdraw from a credit account.
But the number of people I see coming into the venue I work at, which, honestly, is in a lower socio-economic area, and pouring what I classify as a fortnights' pay into a pokie machine, then walking out looking like the world is about to end, is a crushing reality.
The money might be good, but damn, I sometimes wish I'd never obtained my Gaming Industry Employee License, because witnessing what I am is making me go more than a little bit mental.
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