A Live Journal Commitment...

Hello.

As regular readers of this journal will know, I mostly started it to amuse evildoom_bunny (who is at this moment looking up Bollywood dance classes at the CAE - WTF???) with whom I have a girlfriend-boyfriend kinda relationship going on. And, by extension numerous of her friends and cohorts on this thing (stillbeing, sshatteredd, goth_prostitute, look at my friends page for more!)

I come to Blogging late and, I confess, a bit reluctantly. Back in the day, when I first got on the net - more than ten years ago - eep - it seemed like most personal webpages were the worst form of self publishing. Blogging always struck me as more so, and I refused to read any of them. What possible interest could I have in the minute details of someone else's life? Especially a complete stranger?

I have however noticed there's a whole community thing going on here, which is kinda cool. I like to keep my people in what used to be called "Real Life", but I can see how you kids have been making good use of this technology.

About this time in 2005 I started a blog on my website, the now mostly abandoned Goatboy Diaries, which are a complete fiction, a complete nerdy fiction. Although at least one of my friends didn't realise, and asked me about some of the absurd events I described. However, strangely enough, spending an hour a day of work time writing a blog got me a little behind, and I also ran out of omph for making shit up.

Anyway, the point of this entry is: I plan to start using this thing more like a diary. There are so many little details of my life which I forget from day to day - life is like that, especially one as absurdly busy as mine. And I was looking through this earlier and it reminded me of some fun things that had happened to me in the last few months. So, beware. I won't be doing this daily, but certainly more often and perhaps less flippantly...

Random Events

Dear Diary,

At this very moment, the fucking Melbourne Big Day Out is taking place in a park about five kilometres from here. I can hear some some awful band playing, it's a bit muffled, but if I knew their songs I'm sure I could figure out who is on. evildoom_bunny identified Iggy and the Stooges as the band on prior to this.

I had a somewhat bizarre morning on Friday. First off, a trip to a specialist at the Alfred hospital. I don't like hospitals, they seem, strangely, full of sick people. I am not sick, at least not even 10% as sick as some of the people I saw being pushed around in wheel chairs. Damn, I'm never getting old and infirm, and I'm never getting ill enough to be in hospital overnight!

Anyway, the appointment was for 9.40AM, I arrived at 9.30, took a seat. At about 10.05AM I was summoned to wait "between doors four and five." There were more benches to wait on there, and depressingly I recongised some of the people who'd been called a lot earlier than me, still there waiting. I'd only been promoted to a different level of the waiting room.

Eventually, I was summoned into a bizarre consulting suite. A little narrow room, with no back wall. The consulting suites were a whole row of about seven little room with doors facing waiting benches, and backed by an internal corridor, down which people wandered back and forth carrying files etc.

The doctor, whose name I now can't remember - I recollect something Scandinavian, but that may just be because of his accent - poked my face, ears, nose, soft pallet, and kindly offered to pull out a chunk of wax he'd spotted in my ear. I felt his services would be better used on the genuinely sick people waiting outside, but he insisted.

Anyway, seems I have a deviated septum, which is a condition of the nose and NOT of the brain - it is deviated for a whole set of other reasons, not susceptible to surgery ;-)

I'm on a waiting list for a Septoplasty, although I might make use of my bloody expensive private health insurance instead - might as well screw them out of the last three years premiums. Said procedure should help my sleep apnoea, although it isn't guaranteed to fix it, damn it.

So, having had wax scratched from my ear with what I can only describe as a metal scraper, I hopped on a tram and visited my fucking bank. Late on Australia day, my ATM card was swallowed by a defective ATM at Flinders Street Station. Great. So my bank tells the ANZ will just destroy the thing, and they'll have to issue me another, which will take a week. Great. Then I said, can I have it linked to my other card - a credit card I only use as such. Apparently I could, but then it turns out I don't have a PIN for it, and the only way they can get me one is to issue me with another new card! Argh! Which will take about a week!!!! Double argh! All this because the damn ATM wouldn't spit out my card - it wasn't like I'd even buggered up my PIN, which has been the same damn numbers since about 1991! Net result: two new cards, and me off on holiday for a week without a working card. Grrr.

This ends today's update.