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August 29, 2005
Let's play internet tag!
Yay! Excuses to talk about myself are always welcome, thank you Caoimhe!
Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die
Finish something I’m proud of. Anything! I’m forever starting stuff. Actually…
Start something! I’m forever planning to start stuff.
Solve this career thing if it kills me.
Live in a house that has a library in it.
Write a novel (though that’s more of an ambition than a plan).
Do something completely different to what I’ve done before. Start a political party, maybe. But less silly. Does anyone have a handy list of stunts to pull?
Get more sleep.
Seven things I can do
Procrastinate to the point of self-deprivation.
Listen well. I like to think this is one thing I can do.
Program in whatever language you’d care to mention (to varying degrees).
Be nice to people I don’t especially like.
Do one thousand jumps on a pogo stick (I’ve only done this once, years ago, but once was enough).
Tie a cherry stalk into a knot with my tongue.
Seven things I can not do
Talk about myself to other people. Regular readers of my blog might raise an eyebrow at this, since it sometimes feels like that’s all I ever do here, but it’s true. There are very few people I will talk about myself in person with.
Fly a helicopter. I once said I’d learn how to do this by the time I was thirty (though I think I was just trying to be interesting). Not much time left…
Be brief. I mean, I should just leave this point at those two words, but I can’t, it could just stand to be embellished a bit, see? … okay, you get it.
Do yoga on my own. I really should. But I don’t.
Let go of the past easily, though I don’t know who can.
Be objective about those I care about. Because they’re the best, see, and if you think otherwise smacks and loud annoying shouting will be administered.
Telepathy, which I know nobody can do, but I still want to. Plus, it would explain the voices.
Seven things that I find really attractive about the opposite sex
Brains. Delicious brains!
A sense of humour. Which is a very bland thing to say, but of course what I mean is that rare person with a sense of humour that has what it takes to make me grin, and whom I can make grin in return. Not everybody finds delicious brain jokes funny.
Self-confidence.
Self-expression. It’s kind of hard to explain what I mean here, but I mean how a person describes and talks about herself.
Gorgeous lips. Oh yes.
The patience to put up with my tendency to make stuff up.
A willingness to to tell me where to stick my made-up stuff when it gets dull (which is all the time).
I basically started describing my sweetheart very early on here.
Seven things I say the most
“Really?” I say this so often that one of my friends has started saying “And truly!” after me each time I say it. And I still keep saying it.
“Good work!” said in response to somebody accomplishing just about anything.
“I dunno.” said in a manner that doesn’t involve actually opening my mouth, and not readily presentable as text. Something like “Mmm-mmm-mmm.” Copied from a Mr. Homer Simpson.
“Cock monkey!” The phrases I say in frustration tend to vary, but monkeys and cocks often feature.
“Ow!” I tend to say this whenever I think of an embarrassing memory, of which there are many.
“Yay!” said in a slightly surprised tone, usually.
It’s not a saying, but I have this really annoying habit of interrupting people to finish their sentences for them (and usually getting their point completely wrong).
Seven books I love
Norwegian Wood, by Haruki Murakami. Anything by Murakami is great.
Picture This, by Joseph Heller. I actually enjoyed this more than Catch-22; I had to read it in small doses though.
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson.
Mean Time, by Carol Anne Duffy. My favourite poetry collection, but very hard to find, at least on the internet (that’s a link to an ebay auction, it’ll be over in six days). I don’t even own this, I gave it away as a present and haven’t been able to find another copy! Maybe I’ll place a bid or two…
Eva Luna, by Isabella Allende. None of her other books really match this one.
Visual Explanations, by Edward Tufte. The guy can come across as priggish, but the book is undeniably beautiful.
Labyrinths, by Jorge Luis Borges. The best short stories I’ve ever read.
Seven people I would like to see take this quiz
Most everybody I’d like to see answer has already answered. But I’ll nominate Siobhan, in the hope she’ll start posting again, and Audrey, and leave it at that. Especially as I seem to have written more than is ordinarily done for these things…
Posted by Oliver at 03:08 PM | Comments (8)
August 26, 2005
Love, honour AND OBEY
… so said the groom’s tshirt the morning after the wedding (the capitals were implicit on the original). A fine choice of tshirt on such an occasion. For her part, the bride made no secret of the next step: babies.
Kilkea Castle was wonderful. The wedding dinner had four types of potato, all delicious, and a residents’ bar open until 5 am. Of course, we all wound up in there singing rebel songs. It must have been the four kinds of potato combining with some latent Irish gene. The bride’s grandfather, a man of 82, put us all to shame by standing up and belting out a perfect rendition of some Australian song about an Irish convict. None of us knew the words and it was actually quite moving to sit there and listen and not be able to ruin it by roaring out the chorus. Though the alcohol helped some of us in trying.
The best man’s speech was very well received (I helped a little, as his “beautiful assistant” with a slideshow; we were both intensely relieved when it was all over), as were the heartfelt speeches by the proud-as-punch fathers of the newlyweds.
The band were excellent, being friends of half of us in attendance that evening. My sweetheart (heart-stoppingly beautiful in a dress she took care to hide from me until that evening) and I had great fun running around on the dance floor dodging questions about when we were going to follow the example of the bride and groom. Understanding looks were exchanged with other couples sharing the same fate. The last song played by the DJ was AC/DC’s Thunder which is still in my head almost a week later.
As I type the happy couple are in Peru, on the way to where they first met. They’ll be traveling around South America for four weeks before coming home to the (cue ominous undertone) rest of their lives. Although, knowing this couple, they’ll have as much fun as they had at the wedding.
Posted by Oliver at 04:08 PM | Comments (0)
August 22, 2005
Too tired for pronouns
Shattered. Best wedding ever. Congratulations to bride and groom. Didn’t embarrass self in front of congregation. Should’ve taken today off work!
Posted by Oliver at 10:29 AM | Comments (0)
August 19, 2005
Foster-father stand-in
At the wedding rehearsal I take the place of one of the bride’s two fathers, and am complimented on my youthful yet fatherly appearance. I am now expert at handing the bride over to the groom and stepping neatly back, which will be no help at all to the real father, when he gets here.
When discussing with the groom which prayer of the faithful I’ll read at the actual ceremony, I suggest slipping in a Rock on, Motherfuckers! to, y’know, get their marriage off on the right footing. He promises to pay me €20 if I do. The temptation!
Posted by Oliver at 03:56 PM | Comments (0)
August 14, 2005
Stag Night Redux
Weekends in Amsterdam are all well and good, especially for a committed group of friends determined to see the husband-to-be enjoy the best weekend of his life ever, presumably so that when he reflects on what he misses most about the bachelor life, it’ll be that weekend that comes to mind.
But as many more people would like to shake the groom-to-be’s hand than made it to Amsterdam, we had a second stag do last night: starting in Frank Ryan’s, then the Voodoo Lounge, and then the Admiral’s flat. Meanwhile, in another part of town, the hen party was singing it’s collective heart out in a karaoke bar.
At 3 am I was negotiating with an all-night petrol station attendant for some soft drinks to dilute the vodka with. 4 am saw us taking turns singing; I sang what I could remember of The Animals’ House of the Rising Sun, which wasn’t much, but it seemed to be well-received. It was after 5 before myself and the groom’s prospective father-in-law bundled the groom into a taxi. I made it to my own bed by 6 and woke up painfully at 10.
I’m so exhausted and hyped up it’s all I can do to rock myself gently to Razorlight’s Up All Night. Hopefully I’ll pull it together in time for the wedding, next weekend…
Addendum: I never finished my Amsterdam story, and at this stage the details escape me, but I do remember us all blundering into a gay bar and staying for one quick drink. We left fairly shortly after arriving, which the locals weren’t happy about. Before I made it to the door, two of them grabbed me by the legs and hoisted me into the air. Some manner of parade formed as I was treated to a tour of the bar’s ceiling. My friends seemed to think I was enjoying this as much as they were, judging by their delight on their hugely amused faces. I only wish I cold have seen it for myself, though at the same time I am very glad that there are no photographs.
Posted by Oliver at 04:51 PM | Comments (0)
August 10, 2005
Because I don't have enough toys
I’ve spent the last few evenings depriving myself of sleep as I stay up late working, then struggling through the next day in the office like a zombie. More on why I’ve been doing this once it doesn’t matter who knows.
Something I’ve found soothing in my zombie state is to put together my ideal PC on the internet. Which is an unusual activity to admit to, especially as something relaxing! But I find it satisfying to mentally build my ideal PC from a pile of parts, even if it’s to see how much it costs at the moment. It’s not very demanding to do, and it’s a nice distraction from the usual list of five things that need immediate attention.
This particular build of PC solves most of my pet hatreds of computing machines: it would be small, whisper-quiet, and very good for playing games on. This last one isn’t as important as it used to be, as my game-playing has tailed off considerably recently. After 15 years of gaming, very few new relases excite your interest any more. My liking for the DS is due almost entirely to it’s touch-screen, which is the most innovative thing to happen to how games are played since they invented the wireless joypad rumble pack analogue stick … arse! Since I don’t know what, but it made me interested when I was bored, see?
Anyway! This new PC - or the components of it, as I’m building it myself - are listed here, for those with an interest in this sort of thing. And after all that, I wasn’t even planning to buy it… but then, after a prolonged mental debate, I did! My iBook, while great, still needs repair and is starting to struggle running the external monitor I’ve it hooked up to. And I’ll finally be able to do all that development stuff I’ve wanted to; homebrew work for games consoles on apple computers is much more of a hassle than it is on a PC, and on the PC it’s already something of a hassle. This does ignore the main reason for my not doing such activity as being lack of time, not lack of a PC, but if it’s easier to get started I’m that bit more likely to do it.
I’m definitely not looking forward to the guaranteed minimum hassle quotient you always get with Windows: viruses, automated hacking attacks, and the occasional crash. But if I only use it as a games and development machine I’ll never have to use the internet (the iBook is still great for that) so hopefully all that bad stuff will just pass on by. Hopefully.
Posted by Oliver at 05:22 PM | Comments (2)
August 03, 2005
Obscure link of interest to only one particular reader
And not just because I have zero interest in this object’s supposed function.
I’ve gotten very consumer-happy recently. It’s my way of avoiding doing some work that’s been staring me in the face for the past month. How rude!
Actually. For a supposedly creative person I have been doing minimal amounts of creative stuff this year. My ‘Background reading’ page says I started the blog in part to practise writing, but that pretty wilfully ignores something I’ve realised many times: writing magazine articles will only make you better at writing magazine articles. Writing blog entries will only make you better at writing blog entries. And so on. If I was really focused on becoming good at writing, I’d practice writing in the form I wanted to become good at. Random blog entries are no substitute for actual creative discipline.
But I am glad I started AWVC, if only so that future entries of this nature can be handily paraphrased with a link to this one.
Posted by Oliver at 11:45 AM | Comments (0)