Rancid Meat Balls

On Saturday my Grandmother had her 80th birthday party. There was lots of old people there. Some of them drank scotch. I didn't. In fact I didn't drink much at all, just a couple of beers. I was still fairly unwell though. I'm blaming the party pies. They were good though.

So much of my Sunday was spent waiting to run to the toilet where I could make a new mess. It was pretty gross. I wasn't into it.

In fact I'm not really into typing at the moment. So I'm not going to.

Unflattering Pants

Ah, I don't really know what I'm going to end up typing this time around, but we're just going to roll with it. If you're not down with this, check back later and there might be a new post, but this is all that there is going to be at the moment.

Dirty Dave cooked up a wonderful spaghetti bolognese last night. It was terrific. It's a dish that he's been practicing for a long time now, but he's got it down pat. Some people may suggest that he cheats because he uses something from a bottle, but I don't care. The end justifies the means. I think that it might even be reasonably good for you as he puts in lots of vegetables. Although last night he could have put in some more mushrooms. I think that he forgot.

I'm reading a couple of books at the moment. One that I'm reading is the book that caused a lot of controversy on Oprah earlier this year, A Million Little Pieces. It's by James Frey. Even though it's not autobiographical, it's still an interesting story. It can be a little bit annoying though. He has this Habit. Where he has really short Sentences. And gives random nouns capital letters. And. He has this Habit. Where he repeats Phrases. Again and Again. That's okay though, everyone has a style and that's his. I can forgive him for the lying because everyone lies from time to time, right? And knowing that it's not quite historically correct makes it that bit more believable, if that makes sense? I mean, the character that he creates in the story is so over the top I wouldn't have bought it. But yeah, it's been good to see what the controversy is about.

The other book that I'm reading is one that I've read before but had lost for a while. I rediscovered on the weekend. I started reading it because I'd left the James Frey book at work. It's called Porno and it's by Irvine Welsh. I have read most of his books and I have thoroughly enjoyed all of them. Part of the joy is trying to understand what is written on the page because alot of it is written phonetically in the Scottish argot. Sometimes I have to say certain phrases out loud to try and figure out what is being said. Ken? I recommend Porno, but only after you've read both Trainspotting and Glue as there are characters that cross over between the two.

I'm off to the movies tonight. I'm going to see Thank You For Smoking. I think that it looks good. I hope that it is.

I was given a rosebush yesterday by one of the parents at the centre. I thought that it was a very thoughtful gift. I've just got to try and find a suitable place to plant it. I don't think that it could hack being at the centre. Only the hardiest of plants stand a chance there.

Have you heard the new Razorlight album? It's pretty enjoyable. Plan B is great too.

Pumping For Love

The last week has been hectic to the max and I don't think that I'll have any chance of remembering half of the things that have happened. I'm not even sure if I'll give it a go. I might just hit some of it.

So I woke up on Monday and it was a strange and sad day. It was all very surreal. We spoke to the funeral director and the lady who was to print up all of the funeral notices. The phone rang pretty much non-stop, which was nice. It was wonderful to see all the support that the family was offered. Astounding really. Some people came around later in the evening. I think that I'm messing this up a little bit chronologically, but that's okay. I was really happy with that last entry, I actually had something to say. I don't think that I do now. The only point that I want to get across is that the world is still turning, life goes on.

The actual process with the funeral director was straight forward. Choosing a casket was weird. Apparently you're not supposed to call them coffins either. So there you go.

I can't really recall what happened when. There was alot of organising. A bit of cleaning. Some buying. There was a feeling of sadness in the house. Exhaustion.

Thursday came around, and that was the designated day for the funeral. It all went off without a hitch. I was extremely proud of my family. My father especially did a particularly hard job with a lot of courage. Although the service was sad, I don't think that it was depressing. I think that the music definately helped with the mood. I don't think that I'll listen to the Angels in the same way.

Afterwards is a bit of a blur. I spoke to a lot of people, some of whom I haven't seen for a long while. I almost didn't recognise a few of them. I met some people that I have only spoken to and never seen before and met some people that I'd only seen and never spoken to before. We were the last ones to leave the church, and I don't know if this is the correct etiquette for the day, but that's okay too.

Back at home I was disappointed that I only had one sandwich before they all disappeared. I think that we underestimated a little bit how many people there would be. At one stage Dave had to go and pick up an extra 6 cartons. I continued to speak to a lot of people and it was good. My Dad took some photos later in the afternoon, and to look at them you wouldn't know that we were at a wake.

The bourbon that I'd been saving for a special occasion was opened because if your mother's funeral isn't a special occasion, then I don't know what is. It was a good bottle. Things got a little hazy afterwards. We went for a walk down under the bridge to feed the ducks. There were also some eels down there, and we fed them too.

Soon the sun was falling, and with it my strength. I've never been able to go for the long hall when there's an early start. I missed out on going to Ribets. I had a good talk to Nick. I think that it was a fairly upsetting day for him.

I eventually went to bed. I was worn out.

I woke the next day and did some stuff. I can't really remember what. I hung out with Ria for a while in the morning. I went to the child care centre. I picked up a gift for Ria's birthday. I went and signed a new phone contract and was given a new phone. It's sweet. I went home and slept for a while. It was strange at home. After all the activity during the week, it was totally devoid of energy and action. I slept in the afternoon.

That night I went to Oxford 152 for Ria's birthday drinks. It was a little strange to begin with, but I got into the swing of things. I spoke to some interesting people. Later in the evening there were a few familiar but unexpected faces. One of them, Nelson, told me that as soon as he heard about my mother's passing he rang his mum to tell her that he loved her. He's still as charming as ever. We were both drunk. I was at the pub until closing time.

The next morning I woke up and hung out with Ria for the morning. Eventually we decided to take Tony and Emma up on their offer to join them camping at Mt Tambourine. We needed to take a couple of things, which I managed to stuff up completely. I thought that I'd packed two fold up chairs, they were actually two tables which were broken. I was asked to bring up an extension lead, so I took one that had been cut in half. I just couldn't get it together. Once we were there we went out for a meal which was atrocious. Don't go to a place called Karnak. To give you an idea of what sort of place it was, they'd hired a guy to play his guitar. He was able to play five songs, then he mustn't have known any more, because he started to play the same five again. It was terrible.

When we got back to the camp site I was really tired and stared into the fire for a long time. I think that I was reasonably antisocial. I wish that I had been better company, but I probably shouldn't have gone up there. I didn't want to stay at home though. Home was quiet. Home was empty.

Sunday morning was spent packing up, having breakfast (not at Karnak) and driving back down. I was still extremely tired. In the afternoon I had a nap. I felt better after this.

Sunday night Ria and I went out to celebrate her dinner. We ate at Sakura on Bennetts Road. It was the bomb. I had edamame for the first time. It won't be my last. I also drank a can of Sapporo which was fantastic value at $5.50 for 650mL.

Monday was Ria and my father's birthday. I gave Ria her gift in the morning. It's a painting of some geese. When I first gave it to her, I think that she was a little shocked. I really like it though, and when I saw the painting it made me think of Ria. I think that she came around in the end.

Monday was also my return to work at the centre. I must admit that I was apprehensive on my way there. I was not looking forward to having to speak to everybody, but in the end it was good. Hearing all their words of sympathy and their memories has brought a better sense of all the different ways my mother will be remembered.

After work I purchased some presents for my Dad and then came home. At 7 I picked up Ria and then we went for dinner at my Nanna's place. We had roast. It was good. We all tried hard, but there was something missing. Still, it was a nice night. I think that my Dad is going to get a cement animal on Father's day though, despite the ban that he's placed on them.

Yesterday at the centre some of the After School kids brought a baby noisy miner bird that had fallen out of its tree back. We placed it in a box with a towel, gave it a light for some warmth and rang for the appropriate information. The authorities recommended putting it back in the tree, so I took the box and put it back in the tree. I didn't think that the bird looked too good. He looked kind of dodgy. Anyways, I put the box back up the tree, with the whole family of noisy miners flying and swooping and squawking around me. I left it up there. Today I went back to check on the bird. It was dead. I wrapped the body in the towel, and then put the towel and the box into the bin. When I went back inside I was asked whether the bird was okay. I lied and said that he wasn't in the box and must have made it back up the tree.

Also today, one boy hit his friend in the view of his teacher. He was made to lie on his bed for the rest of the morning, as he has knows that this is the wrong thing to do. Later he started to complain about a headache, to which he is susceptible. I must admit that I did think that he might be faking, and that if he was unwell it was that he was forcing himself to feel that way as he is quite strong willed. He didn't eat any lunch, and was unable to sleep for a long time because he was uncomfortable. Eventually he drifted off into a fitful sleep. His mother had been called, and she came to pick him up. As she was taking him out to the car, he vomited. All over her. In her hair, down her shirt, on her bag.

The house has a strange feeling in it now. Everyone's here, but at the same time it's very quiet. It's empty. Now that we are returning to our normal lives, the realisation that my Mum is no longer here is becoming more noticeable. I know that there were things that happened at work today that I would have liked to have spoken to her about to recieve some guidance. I will just have to trust in myself alot more now.

These Titles Are Always Terrible

Today, Sunday August 13 2006, is a day that I will remember for the rest of my life. It has been a momentous day. A day of reckoning. The start of a new phase.

Today was the day that my mother passed away. It happened at about 5 to 1 in the afternoon. I was present, as were my siblings. It was an amazing experience.

My mother had been unwell for over two years now. She was first diagnosed with cancer when I was still in Canada. I was coming up to the end of my trip, but I was considering staying for a while longer. I was coming back for my girlfriend of the time, but when I was told that my mother was sick, then I knew that I was coming home.

That first round of chemotherapy and radiotherapy seems like a long time ago now. It didn't seem too serious at the time, as my mother had had cancer before, when I was a boy, and everybody was quite confident that she'd be able to beat it again. However, as the treatment progressed, we were told that the treatment that she was undergoing was not as effective as it was hoped it would be. My mother was going to need more intense, harsher drugs. This meant that she would be unable to return to work at the childcare centre for some time, and I was asked to fill her position. Which I did.

The next round of treatment my mother had, that I recall, was brachytherapy. This involved the placement of radioactive material inside my mother, which was then "charged up". This was uncomfortable and unpleasant, although my mum did get a tattoo out of it. It didn't seem to help though.

After this she deteriorated for some time. There was a long period where she was so weak she was bedridden for a long period. During this period she lost a lot of weight as the smell of food made her nauseated, let alone eating it. The reason we were given for this was that the brachytherapy had burnt her insides, and that her body would need time in order to heal itself. It was decided that to quicken the healing process, and in order to aid that process, she would spend some time in a hyperbaric chamber. Apparently the change in atmospheric pressure can help the body recover alot more quickly. At the time we were told that many footballers have this treatment to help them get back on the field again after suffering injuries. Mum never saw any footballers in there.

This was a very tough time for the family as this treatment didn't seem to be helping at all, and if anything, Mum seemed to be getting worse. It was around this time that I began to think about the possibility that my mother would not be getting better. I would often go walking by myself at night, thinking of what might happen, trying to understand the emotions I was experiencing. I remember the first time I said out loud what I thought might happen. It was not nice. I remember getting really drunk beforehand, and then getting even drunker afterwards. I was worried.

Eventually the treatment in the hyperbaric chamber ended, which was a good thing. My mother used to dread going there. She wasn't getting any better though, so there were more and more tests. The doctors knew that there was something wrong, they just could not find it. Eventually they found something. It was more cancer.

Treatment for my mum started up again. Again they had to up the drugs that they were using. More toxic, more nauseating, more debilitating. All the time through though, my mother would take it on the chin. Willing to try it all. Wanting to beat it. Wanting to live.

At around this time my father was finishing up his PhD, and looking to graduate in Cambridge. My Mum and Dad had been planning a trip to celebrate this achievement, and were looking forward to the time together. They had originally been planning a trip to Las Vegas to renew their wedding vows in front of Elvis when Mum was first diagnosed. This new trip was to take the place of that. Mum worked as hard as she could to make it on this trip. She was unable to though. She was too weak.

I ended up going in my Mum's stead. It was a good trip.

Just before we left though, we were given some news by the doctors. They told us that Mum's tumour was inoperable, and that it didn't look good. As the cancer hadn't been retarded by the previous bouts with the radiation, the prognosis was not good. On top of this, Mum was back in the hospital for an extended visit for the first time. When we left, it was a pretty bleak time.

As I said before, the trip was good. We knew that there were going tobe some tough times ahead for us when we got back, so Dad, Stuart and I made the most of our time together. While we were away, Mum began seeing the palliative care doctors who gave her a new medication regime. The change in her was miraculous. I remember getting off the plane and being astounded to see my mother by herself outside of the house. I could not remember the last time I had seen her looking so well. It was terrific.

On her new medication Mum was given her life back. She was eating again, putting weight back on. She also had her hunger for life back again. She wanted to go out and do things again. Going to lunch, going on outings. It was terrific. It was decided that we'd take an apartment down the coast for 6 months. We spent a lot of time down there. It was wonderful.

There was a downside to us coming back though. My aunt, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer the year before, passed away. The week before she died we had an early Christmas for her. It was, as my father said, gruesome. My aunt was there in body only. She had wasted away to nothing. Dosed heavily on morphine, it was a very morbid affair. Everyone tried to put on a brave face, but we all knew that it was a portent of things to come. The funeral was also a very sad affair, as we knew that before long we would be back under similar circumstances. From this though my mother made some decisions on how she would like the end to be. She decided that she did not want to be at home when she died. She did not want us waking in the morning and going to check to see if she had made it through the night. She did not want us waiting for her to die. She did not want to be an unnecessary burden. (not saying that what Auntie Jan did was wrong, just that Mum decided that that was not for her)

After that, things went back to normal. Life went on for a while. Christmas. New Years. Time spent down the coast. Slowly though, Mum was being worn down. She was still trying the chemo, still hoping, but she was running out of options.

At some point Mum had started having troubles with her legs. They were swollen and painful. I think that it was about Easter time. What she had was deep vein thrombosis. Something was causing her blood to have a hard time making its way out of her legs and back up to her heart, and it was starting to clot. This meant that she now added the hardcore anticoagulant Warfarin to her list of drugs. She had her own dispensary really. Something to stop the pain. Something to stop the nausea. Something to help her sleep. Something to keep her regular. Something to stop the side effects of something else. Something to stop more side effects. Something to stopthe more intense pain. She had all the different little coloured pills with all the different little markings.

Also around this time we had a family meeting with some of the staff of the hospital. There Mum spoke to us about what she would like to happen. About how she would like my brother to come home. About how she would like for us to come together for special occasions, and just have some nice quality times together as a family. She also spoke about her vision for the family after she had left us, and what she would like for us to do. She was also spending more time in the hospital. Up in Ward 4A. It was nice up there. It was never daunting going up to visit. In fact some of my favourite times would be up there. I'd finish work in the afternoon and then go and visit her, having my mother's undivided attention for a couple of hours at a time. We'd talk about the centre, the families there, what was on the television. Whatever was going on. It was nice.

Unfortunately her legs were starting to give her more and more bother. Plus the cancer was spreading. Her diet was changed, to try and minimise her discomfort. Her medication roster was also changed. The DVT would come and go. Her immune system was non-existent. She was a regular recipient of blood transfusions, which would pep her up for a bit. But there seemed to be more and more things going wrong. To talk to her though, you would not know she was unwell as she was still sharp as a tack. Sharper probably, even through the medication.

These past few weeks have been tough. There was a blockage in her venae cavae, caused by the DVT. The surgeons decided to do an operation where they inserted a stent to allow the clots to pass through. They then took the stent out. Mum picked up an infection after this procedure which became septicemia. This was a worrying time for the family as she became very unwell very quickly. I remember going up to the hospital one night to visit her. I was there for around an hour. Mum finished her dinner, then went to the toilet. When she came back from the toilet she had an attack of the shakes. Like when you have a fever but feel cold from the core out. There was nothing I could do as I watched my mother shake and shake, with the nurses giving her extra blankets and a shot and oxygen to help her relax. It was not a nice night. I left Mum that night as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Eventually though she beat the infection. She even made it home. We had meatloaf that night. Mum was weak though, but you could see that she was happy to be home. To be able to eat with the family. To see the dog. To sleep in the same bed as my father. She loved being back in the action. We even went out for Yum cha.

It was short lived though. On the Tuesday her legs were swollen again, and purple. She had a last night in home, then she was taken back into the hospital. Back up to Ward 4A. It was like before though, she was okay up there. I went up to visit and we hung out together for a couple of hours.

Friday night was my Aunt Susan's birthday. Even though Mum wasn't there, it was good to have the family together. Ria was there too. We had some fun that night, even though Stuey burnt Nanna and spilled red wine on the floor and wall. All the old stories came out. All the embarassing ones. A real family night. We had roast pork.

On the Saturday I went for coffee with Stuart and Tim down at Denim. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, 11 was working. It was a great morning. No parking tickets. Afterwards we had some baked goods in West End and then a beer in the garden at Lock and Load. I was then dropped off in town and picked up my oilskin jacket, a couple of jumpers and some lip balm. I was also told that my iPod is unable to be salvaged. Then I took the train to Auchenflower station and went up and saw my mum. Mum was holding court over quite a crowd. Will was even sitting on her commode, but I don't think that he knew. I showed her my new purchases, and it was good. Before I knew it though, it was time to go. That was okay. Mum was feeling good, and enjoying herself. I'd be up to see her tomorrow.

Saturday night I went and played some poker and got drunk. I spoke to Josh, who had just vomited in a toilet at the pub. It was a good night. Great pizza. I had some Jaegerbombs and recieved an sms from Luke Jones in Taiwan. I even won a couple of hands. A nice night.

This morning was a great morning. I woke up next to Ria and we hung out for a while in bed, just dozing. Then I walked down to the corner store and bought some real maple flavoured syrup, as opposed to the diet stuff I made the mistake of buying last time. Ria and I made up some pancakes and had them. Then I phoned Dirty Dave to see if he would be able to come and pick me up. Dave and Stu were already up at the hospital. I said that they should have picked me up on the way, but it was okay and they would pick me up on their way home. I would go up in the afternoon. I wanted to take Mum up the centre's group photos. She would have liked to have seen them. I got a phonecall from Stuart though. He said that the nurses had told him that instead of him coming to pick me up, I should get in a cab and get up to the hospital. So I rang a cab, said good-bye to Ria and headed up there. The cabbie was a pleasant guy and told me that he'd be happy to drink recycled water. Apparently he liked how Brisbane had plenty of hills too. It made it more egalitarian. Fair enough.

I went up to the hospital and made my way up to Ward 4A and then down the hallway to Mum's room. Looking at her I knew right away that something was up. She didn't look too good. She wasn't awake, but she wasn't asleep either. Her breathing was laboured. I asked Stuart and Dave if she had been dosed up, but they said that she hadn't, that this was just what was going on. She'd been like that since they'd been there. They'd called Erin. She was on her way. Dad was still a few hours away, coming back from Tarree. Then the nurse came in and told us that now was the time that we should talk to Mum and tell her anything that we wanted her to know. She said that it might be an idea to do it alone. This was scary.

So I went first. I told Mum how I loved her and how I would try and do the right things and that she had been a great mother and that I knew how she believed in me and that I knew that she loved me unconditionally.

Then I left, and someone else went in. Then they moved her into a bigger room. Erin arrived. We all went in. Mum was more restful now. Her breathing was no longer laboured. She was lying peacefully. We sat with her. We spoke to her. We held her hand. We watched as she died. It was beautiful.

After she had passed away, we each had a few minutes alone with her. It was upsetting, but important. The lighting in the room had changed. There was still warmth in her hands. The colour was starting to fade from her face.

We started to make phonecalls. I had to get in touch with my Dad. He was still 4 hours away. It was a long wait, in that room, with Mum. A few people came and went. Friends and family. I had to get out of there a couple of times, get some fresh air. Take a walk down to the park. Dad arrived, and he had some private time, then we sat around her bed for a little while and spoke to each other. Then we said our final good byes and left.

It has been a long day. I'm tired, worn out, exhausted. Yet unable to sleep. Tomorrow I am going to wake up and for the first time in my life be without my mother. She was an incredible lady and a fantastic mum. I will miss her. I will miss her most when she isn't there for me to talk to. I will miss her most when I am having important occasions in my life. I will miss her most when I want her most.

Although I knew this day was coming, I didn't expect it to be today.

Claws Against Knives

Sunday turned out to be an interesting sort of a day. At least from the viewpoint of my stomach. Everything was going swimmingly for the start of the day. I was hungry, looking forward to breakfast at yum cha, fasting until that point. We got there and I was ready to start tearing into anything that came my way. So I did. We went to a restaurant I haven't been to before in Sunnybank. It was great. There was one dude there who had some pretty wild hair. I must be getting old, because I made the comment that it looked like he had stuck his finger in an electric socket, and that's the sort of thing that old men say. But it really did. For a guy who would normally have straight hair, it looked like he had spent quite a bit of time teasing it out. I didn't mind it.

But back to my stomach. I ate a bit of everything that was put in front of me. It was all terrific. Except for some pork ball type things. No-one else liked the look of them, so I ate 3, and things weren't the same for the rest of the day. I just couldn't quite get back to normal, and it was a little upsetting. After the meal was finished I wasn't game to put anything else solid into my mouth for the rest of the day, fearing that it would push me over the edge and cause everything to come back out again, which would not have been pleasant.

Actually, this could be a vomit themed post.

So the rest of the day was kind of uncomfortable, but at the same time very enjoyable in parts. I went down the coast, but didn't get to see the water which was a shame, but I did get to see Katie and Lenny's baby which was great. Her name is Ella, and she's a lovely little girl. They also have a one-eyed dog who looks like a pirate. His name is Oscar. He was cool too. He looked tough, even though he is a Maltese/Shih tzu.

After that I hang out at Ria's for a short period, and then I slept for 12 hours, making it Monday.

Monday was a busy day at the centre. Louise, the director, was away. She was looking for a dress to wear to a wedding. Apparently she found one, but it's black, and she's not sure if she can wear a black dress to a wedding. Apparently it would be more suitable for a funeral. I don't know too much about what you can and can not wear to weddings.

Apart from Louise being away, there was also quite a few children who were away, and some who should have been away, but were brought in anyway. One little girl spewed in the morning, and that wasn't too great. She felt a bit better after that though, until she spewed again. Another girl had to go home later in the day, she looked like she was going to spew.

In the afternoon I went out to the museum loans department. Sometimes I get really cool stuff from out there, like dinosaur bones and interesting cultural things. One time I even had a dead mongoose and cobra snake who were entangled in an eternal fight to the death. That was awesome. This time I felt kind of let down though. I was given a box of things that begin with the letter R. This included a toy rhino, a reptile (snake), a reptile (lizard), a raincoat, a red cup, a red hankerchief and a railway guide. It was lame.

I took Ria with me out to the museum. The loans department is located out at Hendra. Something else that's out that way is The Confectionery Warehouse. I bought a heap of sugary shit. Some of it I've never seen before. Like Skittles with gummi inside of them! It was awesome. Except I ate too much of it. And then I felt like chundering.

Today was another busy day at work. It was photo day. I think that the photos that were taken were very nice. I think that everyone smiled. Or tried too. Sometimes with these things you just have to make it as un-natural as is possible. Because no matter what you do, it's never going to look quite right.

Also, the little girl who spewed yesterday was back again today. And she spewed again. But I can forgive the parents for bringing her in, because her spew today wasn't caused by illness. What happened was she spewed in her sleep, then woken up, then told me about it. I had a bit of a look at it, and it wasn't the normal sort of technicolor yodel. It was way too red. Blood red. So she had spewed up blood, plus there wasn't a whole heap of food in there, it was more saliva/mucous type stuff. After she'd been sitting up and awake for a minute, a thin trickle of blood came out of her nose. Using my super sleuth skills I surmised that she had had a blood nose whilst being asleep, and it had run down her throat, instead of out of her nose. This had caused her to choke a little and then vomit up what was blocking her throat. Case solved. Cleaning it up was still pretty gross though.

So that's been my past couple of days. Lots of good times with vomit! And I'm looking forward to the Census tonight!

Proliferation

I'm currently lying in bed writing this post. It's quite a novel experience. I have a feeling that my neck could be a little bit sore by the end, but we'll see how I go. Lucky for you I'm not naked, or that could be kind of awkward for both of us.

So yesterday I went bed shopping. I would have tested out at least 30 different types of mattresses. I think that I'm definately more of a firm mattress kind of guy as opposed to a softer one. Plus one with reinforced sides is nice too, as it makes propping yourself up in bed a lot easier. Plus it's a whole lot harder to roll out of, which is a good thing. I went with my dad, my job was to test them out, his was to pay for it. We both did our jobs pretty well. The new bed should be here on Thursday. This new bed isn't for me though, it's for my mum. I'm not too sure how I feel about her moving downstairs. I don't know how much peace and quiet there is going to be down there, and it can get pretty chilly with those tiled floors. But then again she doesn't want to have take on the steps, and she doesn't want to be locked away in her room, she wants to be part of the action, so I guess downstairs is the place for her to be.

I went and watched Richard play football again yesterday. Leonie from work had said that she was going to come down too, which she did. She also brought her son Nicholas. I was a little bit worried that there was going to be some inappropriate language yelled out, but thankfully it was pretty tame yesterday. Not like when they played Sunnybank, that was awesome. Sunnybank deserved it though, they were old men. So, yeah, Richard's team got up, but they're not sure if they're in the finals or not. The game yesterday was a good one, it looked tight for a while there, but the Tigers got up in the end.

After the game I went Kangaroo Point for a farewell party for Caron. I wasn't really too sure who would be there, but I was still surprised to see some of the parents there. Not that it wasn't a pleasant surprise, I guess I should have thought about it a little more. I didn't want to tell them that the reason that I wasn't drinking was because I didn't trust my self control at the moment. Apart from the older generation though, I knew no-one at this party. It was a little weird. I'd seen quite a few of them before, as alot of them were in a production that Caron was in. Drama fags. The lot of them. Actually, I didn't mind talking to them too much, because as a whole they are fairly interesting. I was talking to one guy, Michael for quite a while. I was trying to figure out which way he swings, but it was proving to be quite difficult. He was well dressed, well spoken, well travelled. An interesting guy. A little bit effeminate, but not in a camp way. Very much interested in the arts and things. He seemed to have some interesting tales from his past, and apparently his parents don't approve of the way in which he chooses to live his life. He didn't really talk about girls, but he didn't really talk about boys either. He had said that he'd been living with "friends", which was a little ambiguous. I couldn't figure it out, and I didn't really care, I was just intrigued. So I asked Caron as I was leaving and she told me that she thought that he was gay, but apparently he was in love with her. So I'm not too sure how that works, but she is a lovely girl.

So that was pretty much my Saturday. It's now 8:30 on Sunday morning, and I'm looking forward to yum cha for breakfast. There's also a fete on at a local school, and I saw that they have dodgem cars there. I like fetes, and I like dodgems, so that could be a winning combo. I'm going to try and get there at some point. I'm going down the coast with Ria to look at a baby this afternoon. I'm going to try and get down to the beach for a swim too. I think that it'll do me some good.

Spill My Drink

I had this really weird dream last night. Or it was a series of dreams. I'm not sure what order they came in, and I can only really remember snippets of them. In one of them I was in a bathroom at a ten pin bowing alley/bar type thing when I was washing my hands. There was this man in there finishing up at the urinal. He looked like a truck driver, with a dirty hair, a moustache and a blue flannellette shirt on. He finished doing what he had to do then made his way over to the sinks, where I was washing my hands. Once he was there, instead of washing his hand in the sink, he simply wiped his hands on me, using my clothes as some sort of towel. After this he walked back out into the bowling alley/bar. This made me very angry and I went out after him. I was intending to start a fight with this man, but before I could get there, somebody else came and punched me, causing me to fight with them. I'm not too sure what this one means, but this is what happened.

My other dream was really weird. In it I dreamt that I woke up, and was lying in bed crying. I was pretty sure that this wasn't a dream at the time, but I woke up and I hadn't been crying, so, again I'm not too sure what was going on.

In less surreal news I finally made it to the Chalk last night. It was fun. It was a guy called Steve's birthday. Apparently he shares his birthday is the same day that Hiroshima was bombed. I bought a I *heart* Hiroshima cd last week. Crazy. But, yeah, the pub was okay. Lots of different levels. Lots of older dudes. Lots of old school teachers. Lots of girls. One gay Asian dude.

I've been washing this morning, it's good washing weather today. I hope my clothes will be dry soon, then I will be able to fold them up and put them away.

I think that I've destroyed my iPod. For the past few months I haven't been able to sync it up with the computer. Next I dropped it in the airport bathroom on my way to New Zealand. This cracked the screen making it a lucky dip as to what song was going to play. Now it just doesn't turn on. Bummer. I guess I'll have to try and get it fixed.

Later on today I'm going to a going away party. I think that I'm going to drive and be sensible and stuff. I don't really trust myself at the moment, and feel that things could get too loose too quickly, and I don't really want that to happen.

Banks Are Going Bust

I don't even know what's been going on these past few days. I can barely remember them. I can kind of remember writing here. I can kind of remember phoning in sick. The only other thing I can remember is sleeping. Alot. And feeling sad. It's depressing.

So yeah, I guess the past couple of days haven't been happening. It's been a real pain in the neck. There's been a few things that I have wanted to do, and somehow I've ended up sleeping through it all. I wasn't even making a whole lot of sense for a little bit. Sorry if I sound like a broken record, but it's been an unusual week, and one that I'd like to not repeat for a while.

I'm doing something tonight that I haven't done for a while. I'm getting a haircut. I'm going to get that long shit cut out, and I don't know about the rest. The curls get the girls. Apparently. My old hairdresser has moved on to greener pastures, so Dylan is cutting my hair again. He's got a Michael Jackson tattoo which is pretty tough. He was a funny guy though. We'll see how my head turns out in the end.

I haven't even written anything about crashing the car yet. That's how lame these past few days have been, I've been doing dumb shit like crashing cars. This morning I was driving Timothy, Damian and my brother to the airport. It was pretty early in the morning. Still dark. Tim has one of those U shaped driveways that you drive into and then drive out of. Unfortunately there was a blockage requiring me to reverse back the way that I came. Unfortuantely I was incapable of doing this and crushed the bumper bar. Luckily no-one was hurt. It's more annoying than anything. I'm going to have to get it repaired, and it's going to cost some money, but at the moment I don't give a fuck. I could not care less.

So yeah. I've got some weird shit going on and it is making me sleep, crash cars, sleep too much and swear alot. Good times! I'm not going to let myself near any alcohol for a little bit. That'll be too much I think.

I Like Peach Coloured Things

It is now Wednesday night, and I'm not entirely sure as to how it got to be now. Last time I checked, I was watching Syriana with my Dad downstairs. When I woke this morning it was about 6 o'clock in the afternoon the following day. That's weird. I'm not even hungry.

So today has been a day of absolute sloth. There could be several reasons for this, and I've heard a couple. They include: I'm a little bit sick. I've been doing too much. I'm depressed. I'm lazy. I'm run down/worn out. I don't know what it is. I know that I'm reasonably bored, and am looking to go back to work again tomorrow.

I hate missing days from work. I feel guilty. It's not that I don't trust everyone else to cover for me, it's more that I know that the day never runs as smoothly as when all hands are on deck. I've got a role there, and it's not fair to ask someone else to do their job as well as part of mine. Plus, if I'm allowed to be a little bit full of myself, there are things that I do, that no-one else there does quite as well. Ha! Still, I have been neglecting it a bit recently. Other things to worry about.

I guess I can write about what's been bugging me lately. I guess the fact that it's getting to be obvious that my mother isn't too well is getting me down. I don't mind going up to the hospital everyday after work, but there's a reason no-one likes hospitals. They are full of sick people. And as much as I say that it doesn't worry me, it must. The average person doesn't spend 3 weeks out of five confined to a room no larger than the standard bedroom. The average person doesn't have 3 meals brought to them at the same time day in day out. The average person doesn't have to persuade themselves what is placed in the bowls and on the plates before them is actual food, and not just a sad reproduction of wonderful fuel. The average person is able to get out of their pajamas every now and again. The average person doesn't receive three different bouquets of flowers a week.

Maybe that's what has been slowly wearing me down over time. Like what's left of the12 Apostles down South. There's only so long you can put out a tough face, eventually it creates little cracks, and then the pressure gets along those cracks, sending them, spreading them out. The cracks keep continuuing until the structure is riddled by them, being held together only by the (almost) untouched surface and something else. What is that something else? Is it hope? Is it expectation? Is it life?

Except I don't think that it has been me that I have been talking about. Maybe it is. But I don't think so. It seems that everything is being built up towards one moment. But what happens when that moment comes? Time doesn't stop. Ice doesn't stop melting. Rivers continue to flow. Hearts still beat. Waves crash on the shores. Nothing changes. But something has. And that change is what is worrying me. I don't know what that change will mean to me. I know some of it, but I won't know the rest until much later. I've just got to hold my breath for a little bit longer.

All In Buyers

So it is now during the day on Tuesday and this is all that I have achieved so far. Apparenlty last night I lost the ability to communicate and I don't know what was going on. I slept a very sound sleep, so deep was this sleep that I slept all the way up til 10 o'clock. I rang work, they're going to be okay. I'm going to go back to bed soon. I don't know what it is. All of my moves are very stilted, I keep over-balancing and needing to grasp things for their support. Very foreign to my usual grace. Even my typing has affected. The effect being that I keep having to go back over my work and fixing it up. I tried to write an sms last night, I re-read it this morning, and it looks like I'm trying to communicate in Swahili.

I wish that I could have gone into more depth about my time in Rockhampton. The gardens up there were beautiful, especially some of the trees that were in blossom. The red cotton trees were magnificent. They looked like they would be great to climb. The playground was fun, Ria had a bit of trouble getting on top of some tunnels, but I didn't have any.

The party was a blast. There were people eating, drinking, talking, joking, singing. It was nice. The food was terrific. I think that everyone had a nice time.

The pubs and clubs in Rocky were a bit of an experience. From what I understand you are only allowed to go to certain places between certain times. If you try and go there outside of those times, then you will be the only person in the bar. Not always a bad thing. Apparently some dude got beaten up in on of the toilets, but by the time I had to check it out it had all been cleaned up. Some dude did call me a poof for not wanting to cross swords, I just wanted a little privacy.

I've been hearing about this place. Been hearing about how half of Rockhampton ends up there on a Saturday night after 12. About how the floors are disgustingly sticky and haven't been washed in 10 years. About how the lights are kept nice and dark, and about how the podiums (slut boxes) have recently been removed. I would have loved to see the place, it would have been tops. Oh well, maybe next time.

Since then it has been life pretty much back to normal. Wake up. Go to work. Hang out there. Go to the hospital in the afternoon. Have something to eat. Go to sleep. Repeat.

I did have a nice dinner at Lefkas though. While I was there I saw a friend with his beautiful girlfriend. I think that our platter for two was better than theirs.

Lorazepam Retry

So things are a little different now. I watched Syriana with my father. Some of the details are vague already. Hmmmm, I think that I know the answer there. My typing is also fuccked. I think that's because I am now really tired and don't care what letters end up where on the screen. BLQAH!

The trip to Rocky was nice. I got to meet some nice people. THere was some great food. I behaved myself. I spoke to one lady about how she had to get up at 3 in the morning to compete in a horse show. Apparently this lady has a beautiful daughter.

I also spoke a bit of shit to the men. The stuff that doesn't really matter much, but stuff you say anyay. It went okay.

The food was served, and I ate some. There was tea and coffee, and I had on of each. They were terrific because I was starting to feel a little bit tired as the sun had gone down, and I am solar-powered. The tea and coffee helped rechard my batteries. Ria and I watched the first half of the football at her place. Then we jumped into a cab and headed to the Ally's were we watched more of the game. It was a strong, solid match. The Wallabies weren't given many opportunities again that big All Black Defence, and we squandered the chances. We threw everything we had at them in the second half, but it just wasn't enough. There's always next year.

The rugby ended and Ria and I walked to the Heritage pub which is closer to town. On the entire walk we did not see a single other sole. It was eerie.

I was barelely in the front door at the Heritage when some girl was giving me attitude. It as lucky we were travelling in separate directions, because I wasn't in the mood for copping attitude. It would have not been pretty.

Beut yea, we went up stairs and there was a really lovely area up there that was open air. Realy nice. We hung out here unti it was time to go home. When that time came, we went home.

I slept very well in the lounge room with Ria's brother Dominic. I hope that I didn't snore too much.

Unfortuately this is prety much the last of the Rocky trip.

We had some trouble findining a park, but then we got one. I saw Ian Healy at the airport.

I'm out.

Waiting By My Side

So I spent a bit of time up in rocking Rockhampton. It was a good time. I like flying Virgin Blue, they've got that little bit of humour about the whole process. Makes for a flight that is slightly more fun than usual.

I touched down on the tarmac at the airport, and headed into the terminal. I was getting in first, and had a little bit of time to myself. It was nice. After not too long Mrs Jack found me and she was slightly mortified that she hadn't been there to greet me. I was okay though, I've been through it before. Right after I met Mrs Jack I saw Mrs Landsberg, which spun me out a bit. I think that I gave her a bit of a shock too. It was pretty weird.

Eventually the rest of the travellers arrived and we headed back to the house.

Umm..... I'll have to continue this a little later.