New Years Resolution Time… Again.

I don’t really make New Years Resolutions… I mean I did when I was a teenager and in my early 20s and discovered pretty rapidly that I would invariably and inevitably discover my resolutions are somewhat more of the ‘non-binding type‘.  Much like those of the US Congress, they’re all good intentions with no legitimate substance behind them.  After many years,  I’ve come to understand I’m not alone in this lack of conviction when it comes to maintaing New Years Resolutions, so as I’ve gotten older I’ve pretty much given up on arbitrary ‘Oh, it’s January 1st, Must Look at What’s Wrong with My Life and Fucking Change It’ Day.  Besides the list was usually the same and was usually ignored within a month as largely being beyond my control anyway.

ongoing always broken break resolutions no

But it makes me wonder… can we actually really change at all?  Is it one of those old dog/new tricks things?  The older we get, do we become too set in our ways such that changing inherent aspects of who we are becomes too difficult or completely impossible?  Or are we basically just creatures of habit and eventually fall back into old routines regardless of how much we really want to stick to that gym schedule?  And then there’s the whole question of why do we want to change things anyway?  I mean unless you’re a meth addict or have a debilitating gambling problems, what the hell are we quibbling about anyway?  And what if the things you REALLY want to change about your life are completely beyond your control so setting yourself resolutions to try and change is just setting yourself up for failure from the outset?  :S

And if it’s small, non-life threatening, stuff… why?  Are we attempting to commit to change for ourselves or for others?  Are external motivators actually stronger or more effective than internal ones?  I imagine different strokes for different folks on that one.  I know in myself that once I set my mind to something important, I will hunt it down and conquer and/or kill it to the detriment and abandonment of all else if it is truly of great consequence or meaning to me, so internal motivators all the way with this little black duck.

Anyway, Happy New Year to all my friends and family, particularly those whom I’ve reconnected with this year through Facebook or Twitter or 4Square or any one of the other plethora of social media I’ve found myself using in 2012.  Happy 2013… I hope it brings personal growth and prosperity for everyone who wants it.

I for one will be glad to see 2012 in the rear view mirror…

new year resolutions kept broken no bother


Need to find a new special level of hell.

“You’re going to burn in a special level of hell. A level that is reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theatre,” said Shepherd Book to Captain Mal.

And who doesn’t hate people who talk at the theatre.  Thankfully it very rarely happens at the opera, hardly ever happens at performing arts theatres but quite frequently happens at the cinema.  The cinema it turns out is a bit of a social equalizer where the dole bludgin’, pot smoking bogans rub shoulders with out of touch, ivory tower academics and hard working plain speaking tradesmen find themselves seated beside businessmen with overly inflated high opinions of themselves.

We line up in the queues, buy our tickets and sit ourselves where ever seems the most auspicious location for the duration. Much like being crammed into an aircraft, we hope the person behind us won’t kick our seat around too much or even worse put their feet up on a seat right near us.  We likewise offer up a small sacrifice, perhaps a Jaffa or a Malteser, to the Deity or Superhero of Your Choice and hope that any children in close vicinity will be so mesmerized by the film that they won’t cry, talk, complain or fret throughout.  We also make small wishes on those itty bitty shooting stars that fly around the mountain on the Paramount Pictures logo that everyone in the cinema has turned their mobile phones off!

stars mountain logo high resAnd yet we’ve ALL repeatedly encountered bad behaviour of one flavour or another at the cinema.  I remember going to see Baz Lurhmann’s Romeo & Juliet and having to put up with the teenagers behind me complaining that they didn’t understand the ‘stupid way they are talking’ but ‘I love Leonardo DiCaprio, he’s so cute!’.  I’ve had someone’s spoiled brat of a child spill half a cup of soft drink all over me whilst throwing a a tantrum at their parent/adult supervisor because they ‘got the wrong lollies’.  I’ve sat near THAT woman who has to ask her partner to explain every bit of the action and give a running commentary on the entire film because discussing it AFTER the film would make too much sense.  I’ve sat near damn near terrified small children at MA15+ movies and listened to their crying because their parents didn’t do their research before taking little Johnny to see the new flick that THEY desperately wanted to see.  I’ve sat near people who haven’t mastered the art of chewing with their mouths closed thereby punctuating their way through the most poignant of cinematic scenes with an incessant chomping and crunching.  I’ve sat near people’s whose phones have gone off – time and time again… and watched on with incredulousness as people ANSWERED their calls and had conversations in the cinema much to the consternation of all around them.

cinema etiquette theatre behaviour

You’d think that the Gold Class Cinema Experience might afford you a slightly higher standard of cinema etiquette than your average Tight Arse Tuesday discount night at the local multiplex.  Not on your life.  Today Mr K, Aunty Mary, Great Gran and myself went to see Les Misérables at the recently refurbished Carindale Gold Class cinemas.  Tickets purchased online three weeks ago and we’d been looking forward to ever since.  Tickets for four comfy seats at $113 (including online booking fees); wine, nibblies platter, coffees and a desert for Gran all coming to a little over $140.00… so a $250 cinema experience which in my book is NOT exactly a cheap couple of hours of movie entertainment for four adults.

And yet, even in the rarified sanctity that should be the Gold Class Cinema, today I encountered a movie goer whose sheer wilful ignorance, absolute self absorption and complete lack of consideration for her fellow cinema patron really takes the cake!  This young woman… no that’s too generous… this chicken fuckin’ moron of a stupid little dumb arse, self obsessed GIRL decides to take photographs of her food platter using her mobile phone WITH FLASH.  Not once, not twice… but FOUR photographs before she puts the damn thing back in her handbag.  So while the rest of audience are watching Anne Hathaway sing and cry her way through a heartfelt and gut wrenching cinematic moment all I can see are these sporadic flashes coming from two seats to my left!  What sort of monumental fucktardery do you call that???  I thought I’d seen it all, but I guess not.

Abandon all hope ye who enter the cinema.. for here dwells THE PUBLIC.

cinema etiquetteImage courtesy of Dave at Blogography


My Happiness.

Have you ever been so far down the rabbit hole you don’t even expect to be happy anymore?  Yes, I’m talking about depression.  Many of us have been depressed before, many of us are still depressed.  Some of us seem to be living with depression for the longest time.  We all experience periods of sadness and if depression is situational, then perhaps all you need is some support, some time and maybe some professional assistance.

But, I’ve been in pain so long I can’t remember what it was like to wake up feeling pain free let alone ‘good’ or ‘happy’.  I don’t even expect happiness in my life anymore.  The depression is so pervasive and so persistent, it is like happiness is something that is for other people now…

There’s a story in my head and I’m not sure where it comes from – knowing me probably a book or an old movie or something but it basically goes like this:

There’s a guy walking down a street and he falls in a hole. The walls of the hole are so steep he can’t get out.  A doctor walks past the guy yells out, ‘Hey you. Can you help me get out?’ The doctor writes him a prescription, throws it down in the hole and walks on by. Then a priest walks past and the guy in the hole yells out, ‘Father, I’m stuck in this hole, can you help me get out?’ The priest writes down a prayer, throws it down in the hole and then walks on by.  Soon, a friend walks by and the guy yells out, ‘Hey, Joe, it’s me can you help me get out?’ And his friend jumps straight down the hole. The frist guy says, ‘What did you do that for? Now we’re are both stuck down here.’ The friend says t o him, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.’

After so many years of waking up and trying to remind myself why I keep going, I really, really need a friend who knows the way out.

depression hole help friend

Time to wrap it up.

I have been engaged in the time honoured tradition of wrapping the Christmas presents today.  Every year, it’s the same thing, a small tonne of irregularly shaped stuff that we’ve bought for friends and relatives and every year, the job seems to fall upon me to wrap it all up in festive paper of questionable quality which inevitably and invariably gets ripped off and discarded at breakneck speed.

I’m okay with that bit of the process… but for reasons that escape my not inconsiderable understanding of the male of the species, they seem unwilling, and frequently completely incapable, of wrapping gifts.  Over the last few years I’ve been making a determined effort with my son to try and reverse this alarming trend and have been ‘encouraging’ him – oh the protesting, the wailing and screaming and gnashing of teeth, and attempts to wheedle out of the task involved – to learn how to wrap a goddamn present properly.  Mostly it is in the vain hope that one day, it will spare some other poor female the onerous duty of having to wrap all the gifts all by herself.

gift pile men wrapping how to

Now I don’t mind actually wrapping gifts, in fact I think it’s half the fun and certainly the idea of gift giving for me is usually more exciting than gift receiving (apparently my fault… because I’m notoriously difficult to buy for – allegedly).  But it would be nice if I could share the task with someone else every once in a while and anticipate a reliably presentable outcome!  Sigh…

What’s that about anyway?  It’s not like it is fucking rocket science?  Men have been claiming superior abilities at spacial awareness, judging distances and map folding over women for years… but I haven’t met one yet that can wrap a present worth a damn and without sweating angst about the menial task all over the damn box in the process?!?  Go figure.

Kids today…

Dear Santa,
How are you? How is Mrs. Claus? I hope everyone, from the reindeer to the elves, is fine. I have been a very good boy this year. I would like an X-Box 360 with Call of Duty IV and an iPhone 4 for Christmas. I hope you remember that come Christmas Day.
Merry Christmas,
Timmy Jones
* *

Dear Timmy,
Thank you for you letter. Mrs. Claus, the reindeer and the elves are all fine and thank you for asking about them. Santa is a little worried all the time you spend playing video games and texting. Santa wouldn’t want you to get fat. Since you have indeed been a good boy, I think I’ll bring you something you can go outside and play with..
Merry Christmas,
Santa Claus

* *
Mr. Claus,
Seeing that I have fulfilled the “naughty vs. Nice” contract, set by you I might add, I feel confident that you can see your way clear to granting me what I have asked for. I certainly wouldn’t want to turn this joyous season into one of litigation Also, don’t you think that a jibe at my weight coming from an overweight man who goes out once a year is a bit
Tim Jones
* *

Mr. Jones,
While I have acknowledged you have met the “nice” criteria, need I remind you that your Christmas list is a request and in no way is it a guarantee of services provided. Should you wish to pursue legal action, well that is your right. Please know, however, that my attorney’s have been on retainer ever since the Burgermeister Meisterburger incident and will be more than happy to take you on in open court. Additionally, the exercise I alluded to will not only improve your health, but also improve your social skills and potentially help clear up a complexion that looks like the bottom of the Burger King fry bin most days.
Very Truly Yours,
S Claus
* *

Now look here Fat Man,
I told you what I want and I expect you to bring it. I was attempting to be polite about this but you brought my looks and my friends into this. Now you just be disrespecting me. I’m about to tweet my boys and we’re gonna be waiting for your fat ass and I’m taking my game console, my game, my phone, and whatever else I want. WHAT EVER I WANT, MAN!
* *

Listen Pizza Face,
Seriously??? You think a dude that breaks into every house in the world on one night and never gets caught sweats a skinny G-banger wannabe? “He sees you when you’re sleeping; He knows when you’re awake”. Sound familiar, genius? You know what kind of resources I have at my disposal I got your shit wired. I go all around the world and see ways to hurt people that if I described them right now, you’d throw up your Totino’s pizza roll all over the carpet of your mom’s basement. You’re not getting what you asked for, but I’m still stopping by your crib to stomp a mud hole in your ass and then walk it dry. Chew on that, Petunia.
S Clizzy
* *

Dear Santa,
Bring me whatever you see fit. I’ll appreciate anything.
* *

That’s what I thought you little bastard.