The Jamjar

Memory's the First to Go

My ankle has been sore for a week or more - time has lost all it's meaning lately. I've had a bruise on my right leg since I crashed into the open filing cabinet drawer the last week in January, so having an equally painful happening on my left ankle was something that's been aching around my periferal memory until the last few days when I swear it's got worse.

I couldn't for the life of me remember what I had done to cause such swelling, bruising and discomfort - until the wee-small-hours of last night while I couldn't sleep.

The day I bought my new telephone it was raining - and amoung his charming attributes, Shane doesn't like to get wet and it was raining - so spotting a Corporate Cab up off Queen Street we dashed across the road so he could ride the last 3 blocks to the office in dry comfort.

The cab doors were locked, so the driver hoped out in the rain and opened them up for us and threw ourselves in - laptops and breathless ohmygoshes. Shane then proceeded to tell the driver where we'd like to go. The driver looked in his rear view mirrow and said "you're not Mr So-and-so?" and Shane hesitated for a moment and admitted he was not. The driver laughed and said "sorry mate, I'm booked, you sound just like my fare too".

Opening the doors and exiting the vehicle after our far-too-small respite from the rain, my stupid tractionless Pulp sneakers slipped on the drain grate and I went over on my ankle into it's hard metal. Graceful? always. That'll do it everytime you want to wreck a body part - slam it into a solid iron drainage grate.

Shane and I walked the very damp three blocks back to the office - in all fairness, he didn't have to, but he's a gentleman even if his mum teases him about being a little shit, he still walked me all the way back before making his way to his parking building.

Shane Cotton at the Auckland Art Gallery

On Saturday, I paid a visit to the Auckland City Art Gallery - partly because I haven't been in a very long time, and partly because Shane Cotton's exhibition had opened the night before. I'd never seen his work before except in reproductions and online images. His work is larger than I had thought, and powerful too, in a lot of ways. The last time I'd been at the Gallery in that space was Colin McCahon's huge sheet-like works and Shane's aren't so disimilar in that they look at landscapes and writings, light on the dark. I was suprised at the other works outside the collection - Tissot, William Blake, Marc Chagall and a couple of Picassos. All and all it was a nice day at the Gallery. For all the time I worked in town I didn't visit it, and now i don't I want to make an effort to make it a regular item in my diary. I don't know enough about art to blatheron about it here - although a brushstroke here, or a fall of tone-on-tone there doesn't stop me flounsing on at the Gallery - I would like to share one of my favourite quotes from Hyacinth Bucket of the BBC Comedy Keeping up Appearances "I don't know much about art, but i do like a good frame that doesn't gather much dust." Okay so here I am, June 1st and I've come back to this entry because I am going to say what I was going to say at the time of writing but got the confidence *wobbles* about sounding like a complete pratt. I was standing in front of his 1995 work "View". Looking at it I could hear the click-clack of a train on the track - the repetitive lines and the landscape made me think of traveling by train. Of a journey - maybe, one journey and the mountain growing larger as the destination came closer; or maybe a journey that is repeated every day - seeing the same landmarks, hearing the same sounds day after day making the same journey - maybe it was time I could hear between the click-clacking/the basketballing/the tick tocking of this painting. Is it a journey we all make? back to our home? to work every day? Maybe it's the journey of a culture through the landscape that is changing and the culture's changing/notchanging/vanishing over time. I don't know a damned thing about art, but I know a thing when I see it. Shane Cotton has that thing.

No Free Lunch

It's both interesting, and typical, that I change my content management system to MoveableType at the same time their company growth demands it is no longer free for developers and commercial installations.

This, of course, sent a fairly unhappy ripple through MoveableType users. Reading a lot of the posts concerning this one theme has shown up time and again, that US$69/US$120 is "too much to pay for a hobby".

I beg your pardon?

I know many people with hobbies - I'm one of them - and they invest thousands of hours AND dollars on their hobby. Heck, I was at the Gaming Workshop on Saturday and there were people in there parting with hundreds of dollars for metal figurines and fake model trees, paints and all sorts. Women on shoe-string-budgets used to be able to sqeeze incredible amounts of money out of their budgets to buy fat-quarters and liberty fabrics when I was patchworking. Wanna try stamp collecting on less than US$69 per year?

Hobby's aren't free - never have been.

MoveableType have developed this wonderful tool and ask for a fee - annual I am guessing - that seems extremely resonable to me, and I live in New Zealand where the exchange rate demands I part with $130 for the lowest tier of developer licensing. They still have a free version for the everyday *hobby* blogger so I'm not entirely sure why so many panties are in a bunch.

And for all those who have a wad of pantie fabric up their whazoos, don't forget Blogger is still free and wonderful - you can have as many authors/blogs as you like and is has Google backing it so might remain free a while longer.

And, while I'm on the subject - I hate the word "hobby". It insinuates something that's not so important, a sideline interest or activity - something to do to fill in the time when everything else is done. I used to be insulted when people mentioned the "number of hobbies" i had/have. The way I express my creativity is not a lightweight sideline activity for me. It's the reason. It's the reason I work, it's the reason I squirrel money away each week, it's the reason I read technical books in bed at night, buy coloured pencils one at a time, have a dedicated area in my home to work at my art, go out on raining wet nights to night classes clear across town to draw. My creativity is who I am, and if it were to cost me US$69 per year I'd be happy to get really creative in finding the cash on a shoestring budget.

Troy

Dodgy CGI. Token WWF wrestler. Brad's bare bootom. Mean talk. Fight. Dead WWF wrestler. Mean talk. Brad's bare bottom. Helen's baps. Orlando's torso... oiled. Distant staring. Ominous talk. Fight. Dodgy CGI. Brad's arse again. Eric's torso. Fight. Bad blood effects. Agamemnon, the first Scottish king of Greece. I thought Peter O'Toole was dead. Actually, he might well be. A distant stare. Brad's arse. Odessius was from Sheffield? Brad tries to kill everyone. Then get's his arse out again. Oh for god's sweet sake, build the horse and get on with it. Eric's dead. Laughable special effects with crach-test-dummy being dragged behind chariot. Distant staring. Ominous words. Big fight. Build the horse. Try to stop thinking about Eddie Izzard. Orlando must be gay, surely. Oh look - the horse was full of Greeks. Big fight. Bad music. There's the heel shot. Kissy kissy. Everyone's dead.

There you go. I just saved you £6 and two and a half hours of your life.

Eddie's version was better.

Knit One Purl One

It seems so many people online are knitting. There appears to be a burp in the Craft Force of the Universe. All those little wool shops who have been struggling over the last 8 years or so might be glad they hung on as this Craft Generation kicks into high creative gear. It's a good thing too: it only takes a grandmother to not pass on her skills to her grandchild for them to be lost. My peers tend not to sew or knit or create household furnishings, and it was becoming a bit of a worry. Though, blogging about knitting scarves is a bit of a worry too but hey, I may have a J in my MyersBriggs profile but I don't *always* use it.

I, myself, am knitting a scarf at the moment - it's soothing and easy and growing by the day - it calls to me now actually, from the lounge where it had some attention earlier today. The wool is polyester/fluffy stuff that's so soft i can hardly feel it - Amy liked the wool and so I'm knitting it for her - she's so ill at the moment I want to wrap her up in soft, protective layerings. Though, mentioning it on here might be the kiss-of-death and I may never finish it.

[She took all those cell phone pictures in the last post, btw - with the exception of the Ed Brown huffer/jamjar tshirt boy - he was mine, as was the picture of Amy in the pink jumper]

Being a crafty person in the past, I feel the tug of purchasing expensive cottons, cutting them up and sewing them back together. When all this work madness finishes I am treating myself to a splurge at a quilting shop and patchworking a quilt top - though I now that I'm all into "knowing my limitations" i will be sending the top to be machine quilted rather than pretending I have the time/inclination to do it myself.

My books arrived from Amazon dot com too. I've had no time as yet to more than glance at them but they seem so interesting and again, I'm saving them as a treat when the madness ends.

Foto Friday

[this post has been removed because I didn't write it. Instead of containing a photograph, it seems to have transmogrified into three links to spammers' ware - bastards!]

Raining in the City

Today felt like a wintery day. Making our way up to the client's site, their granite paved entranceway sloshed in wet foot-prints and umbrella run-offs, it was nice to be in the climate-controlled offices with a job to do and tools to do it.

Recording narration with people who can do it is one of the good parts of my job. And one of the best things about recording people is that sometimes they say things that aren't scripted while still wearing the microphone. Shane told a story detailing a couple of his experiences with food and customers (190kb) and I was pleased I had pushed "record" because he made me laugh.

On our way back to the office, Shane counciled me into a new cell phone - he's an expert, you see. So now I have this [I'm told it's snazzy looking but I have no idea - I am phone-unknown] new Alcatel 735. I'm not a phone person. I could care less what sort of phone I have so long as it does what I need it to do and I know how to get it to do the things I need it to do. I was all Captain Un-Co until I got the hang of it earlier this evening though I managed to miss my very first call completely. Sorry, Todd - but I did pick up your voicemail and it was clear as a bell.

I had a nice drink with Todd after work today at Mad Dogs. We haven't been there in forever. Rosie came in for a drive-by-hello too. After Todd's historically-typical dash for the 6:30pm ferry, I decided I'd go find some dinner and take the later boat.

First stop Whitcoulls where I got into the store just as they were pulling down the security grates - seems "late night shopping" in Downtown Auckland means 7 o'clock closing. I knew what book I wanted, but I didn't know the title, or the author or really what it was about but I asked anyway. Turns out "Unravelled Bride" is enough to jog a Bookseller's mind into knowing I meant "The Bride Stripped Bare". The inside flap describes the plot as "a woman disappears, her car abandoned on a remote bluff. She was always thought to be the good wife: devoted, faithful, content. But she has left behind an incendiary diary chronicling a disturbing journey of sexual awakening." Reading this out-loud to the remaining three staff members at Whitcoulls and they became very interested in the book and want me to report back.

Taking my book, I headed over to Thai Chilli to have my usual [Pad Thai and a Pineapple Mocktail]. Taking the ferry home, I sat out on the deck. It was raining and I got wet but between the fresh air and the view of the misty city skyline, it was worth it. When we got to Ferry Landing, I was pleased and touched to find Greg there with an umbrella to share during the walk back to the carpark and the very welcome driving-me-home. Above and beyond the call of duty for an exhusband, but appreciated especially considering the number of heavy objects I was lugging and the no-bus-policy for ferries after 8pm.

Coming home to my tidy snug house was so nice this evening. It didn't take long for the heater to dry me out and make me feel like I'm almost ready for bed. All-in-all I've had a nice day.

Symonds Street

Looking for Love Online

Many people look for love online. Hardly anyone finds it - oh every now-and-again a Scotsman'll marry an American and there'll be kilts in the local paper, and you'll look at the pictures and think "oh, of course they met online, just look at them - they've never been to a party in their lives!" - but i've found True Love online.

It's taken me years - I mean, I've known this Love for a long time - started with chemistry and expectations but cooled after a little while due to other committments and expectations. We'd meet and interact a bit here and there, and my trust grew and then it seemed to have blossomed into a very fond friendship. But lately, things have felt different. The timing has been better. I've started noticing a longing when we're apart, and a joyous, bubbly feeling when we're together.

This week we've been together three times. I can't wait 'til we see each other again. I heard today the results of our relationship, the products of our rendezvous, the fruits of our passion, are winging there way to my doorstep as we speak. I can't wait - I'm so excited - everytime is like the first time and I float on Cloud Nine for days afterwards.

If ever I loved Daniel LeBrun [Sunday, February 9 DBP*] after the Devonport Food and Wine Festival, it pales in comparison tomy love for Amazon.com and "one-click-ordering", the "page that you made" and my personal favourite "new for you".

*DBP = Days Before Permalinks

Lanapyjama

Lana's got new pyjamas.

To Be Perfectly Frank

PS: Perfectly Frank is the other character in my proposed comic strip, along with Gradient Phil.

Nothing Ever Changes

Slinking around the usual traps, Danny Gregory's site mentioned the WayBackMachine. I haven't been over to the Internet Archives for ages, so I clicked and I typed in some URLs.

You probably remember this, but, do you remember this? or this this? or THIS??

Holy Crap. I was half expecting the original SouthBeach site (you know the one, my first one, with Christmas decorations and 53 animated gifs and the embedded midi "save the best til last") to be there, but it wasn't. Thank goodness/what a shame.

I need new material! I haven't had so much fun doing anything since colaborating with Kv way back when. If you look closely (rover and spot) you will see the *very* first ever graphics I created for the web - and I still think they're good!

3’59.4”

That’s how long it took Roger Bannister to complete four laps of the Iffley Road track, 50 years ago today. It’s also slightly less time than it took three of us to try to break in and emulate his great feat (and, indeed, his great feet) at 5:30 this morning.

I picked up my co-conspirators (both also called John) at 5:15 as planned. We drove to Iffley Road, occasionally sniggering at ourselves and the foolishness of what we were doing. A quick drive around the perimeter established the fact that we weren’t going to be able to stray “accidentally” onto the track from the main road, and that what we would have to do to gain access was maybe a tad closer to breaking and entering than any of us had planned to get.

We dumped the car in a side street. Ordinarily, I’d have just parked it, but dumping it seemed more in keeping with the general dodginess of our behaviour. We established that we could perhaps vault over the fence by the sign commemorating the event, but the presence of a still-pissed student staggering home from a rough Wednesday night scuppered that plan. We walked to the top gate. Barbed-wire. Spikes. They really didn’t want us to get in. We decided that our planned excuse if caught on the premises (“What? We aren’t allowed in here? We thought it was a public track!”) wouldn’t really work if we’d clambered over a barbed-wire fence to get there in the first place, so we walked down to the bottom gate in the hope of finding a hole in the hedge.

And so we did.

Our conversation on the way there involved gruesome stories of people getting spikes through their feet in attempting to clamber over fences. Somehow we managed to clamber over the collapsed spiked fence and through the hole in the hedge with no greater casualty than the seat of my trousers, which I snagged a little bit.

Now we were inside the complex – albeit, a good way from the track. We waded through some thick grass, past a hockey pitch, and arrived at the trackside – but still the wrong side of a fence. We continued to circle in the hope of finding a gate, but succeeded only in finding first a CCTV camera, and then a groundsman. Strangely, he didn’t seem overly pleased to see us.

In fairness to him, he swallowed our wide-eyed confusion rather than delving deeper (he’s probably got a busy day today) and told us that the running didn’t start until later. We apologised for causing any concern and wandered back through the wet grass to the hole in the hedge.

As a token gesture, we jogged back to the car. It wasn’t a mile, but we still didn’t manage it in less than four minutes.

A running track is a lot bigger in real life than it looks on the TV. Making it round there once in a minute is impressive enough, never mind doing it four times in under four.

It’s a strange record, the mile. In 1913, it was acquired by one John Paul Jones (who later went on to play bass and keyboards in Led Zeppelin) and stood at 4 minutes and 14 seconds. 40 years later, Bannister had knocked the best part of a quarter of a minute off that. 50 years later again, the record stands at 3 minutes 43. By my reckoning therefore, on 6th May 2154, some bright young thing will be hurling himself around the track on the Iffley Road four times in an attempt to be the first to break the three minute mile. I hope he has more luck getting into the venue than we did.

A Blonde and a Brunette Walk into a Cafe

Today is a busy day - Danielle and I are spending the majority of our day at the Client's site, recording narration and taking screen grabs etc. It's a hectic and complicated day trying to co-ordinate with a very busy Subject Matter Expert and a multimedia developer or two. We decided to break for lunch for half an hour at 12:30 pm and I followed Danielle down to the Cafe Krema on Symonds' Street.

We queued and we ordered and I knew Danielle wanted to finish up her final script for the narration audio we were to record in the afternoon. This is where reality separated:

Reality came together again with the realisation that Danielle had never left the cafe and I had misheard/misunderstood her and then not noticed she was at another table and I tried to reassure Danielle that I am, afterall, blonde and it's a miracle I get through each day as it is.

Everything's Relative

I don't think it's just me. I don't believe I am the only person in New Zealand who won't deal with Telecom unless there is no other choice - and quite often, there is no other choice - they have had a monopoly for years, and in some areas they still hold all the strings.

But one thing they are really good at is having terrible Public Relations.

Stories such as the widow who had to pay $45 to have her late husband's initials removed from the white pages listings because Telecom "couldn't have a contract with a dead person" are not unusual for this hulking great corporation.

Their advertising schemes seem to do nothing for their image either. Recall when they first introduced capped national and international phone calls - amazing to be able to telephone Australia for $5 and the USA/UK/Canada for $10 talk all you want!! Oh yes, and we did. We got into the habit of making International telephone calls off peak and talked for_ever. Then, after they felt the habit had been established, they tried to yank the deal, quietly, after 3 or 4 months. Customers began to realise they had huge toll charges, not having realised the offer had ended and complained. (If i remember correctly - and Lord knows I couldn't remember my way out of a paper bag even if MegaMemory was on the *inside*) Telecom tried to enforce the bills but the Commerce Commission said Telecom had offered the deal for so long, it was no longer a "deal" but a "rate" and Telecom had to abide by it until the end of the year. So they did, and continued until the end of the year and then changed it to "talk for up to 2 hours".

So it's no real surprise that Telecom's inititive to woo the lucrative txting market to their dark side has had them adjust their offer. Last year, Telecom offered a $10 per month txt-all-you-want deal to their 025 and 027 customers, luring txt-crazy customers away from Vodafone, who's smart media campaigns and clever business model was taking more and more of the cellular/prepay market by the day.

And it worked for Telecom. Lots of people switched. Hung up their 021's and went for the txting capped rate and started exercising their thumbs like never before. So much so, in fact, that now Telecom is saying "whoa" and capping the number of txts you can send per month to 500.

Now, I'm not a txt'r. I don't txt naturally. I can't abbreviate my "are"s and "you"s to "r"s and "u"s and I need to use all the punctuation available. Everyone of my txts is a hand crafted message that takes me between 20 and 30 minutes to make because I am a hardened chatter and txting's just *too slow*. So to me, the idea of 500 txts, (16 per day) is plenty. But to your average txting teen/twentysomething, 500 is only enough for a couple of days MAXIMUM - and when they've used their 500 they will be to spending .20 cents per message like they used to before the special rate - and that works out extremely expensive for your average non-working habitual-txting student. As you can well imagine, this news did not go down well to those who changed services lured by the $10/month special.

Last night, on the news, two young teenaged girls were interviewed over the change in Telecom's offer. When asked what they thought of the change one said "I was so mad, I had to txt people. Lots of people" she went on to say something like "We're gonna find out where these people are and go and get angry and chain ourselves to stuff.. and stuff".

Kevin Kenrick, of Telecom was also interviewed and had some interesting statistics that spun the reasons for the change. He said 5 % of the $10 txting customers were txt bombing those ones without the $10 rate. He also said that last month's highest user sent around 27,000 txts. That's a lot of txts - and it's also a lot of money Telecom's missing out on.

I'm thinking it has less to do with txt bombing or bullying or anything else other than the Marketing Department was charged with getting as many people as possible away from Vodafone - they came up with a scheme that did just that - then the Accounts Department saw how much money *wasn't* coming in from txting, and they also saw an huge increase in the amount of paper they had to buy in for the detailed accounts and said _cut_it_out_. I think the techies might have been up in arms about the pressure to the networks that service texting, but no one really cares about techies when accountants are about.

So folks, let this be a lesson for you - when Telecom come a-woo'n, remember they have a track record of thinking they're smarter than you, so stick with the service providers who treat you like the valued customers you are, no matter what temporary gilded carrot Telecom dangles in front of your nose.

(I find stories about companies I don't like by reading an online news service I don't like.. heh.. this is mostly due to the fact I'm not getting out into the world much at the moment)

Reporting yesterday that Lana Coc-Kroft was "feeling better" had me thinking she was awake, and speaking, and still poorly but visibly improved. Today's report in the Herald reminds me that everything is relative - she's breathing on her own again but still in a coma, and that's an improvement. I hope she keeps improving.

Entertainment?

Lana's feeling better and "over the worst" they say. It's strange that The Herald's been filing her illness under the Entertainment section. I would have thought her illness more News, than Entertainment.

Entertainment is a word to use loosely around the NZ Idol show. Billy Connolly described our contestants as "talantless fucks" at the beginning of the competition and really, on a par with the other shows of this format, we don't fare so well.

But the format works. Okay - the format works on me. I can't help it. Aussie Idol, American Idol, NZ Idol, World Idol. I just love sitting on my couch, feet on the coffee table saying "yep, yep, nope, no way, oh-my-god-what-was-THAT?" every Sunday night. I had opinions on Clay Atkin and the Teddybear guy; I gasps with the rest of the Idol audience when Cosima withdrew from the competition leaving the woefully inadequate Shannon "He should have been knocked out in any of the last 5 rounds" Knolls and Guy "go the 'fro" Sebastian; I was impressed to all hell and back by the little hobbet guy who took out the World Idol with his fabulous "Stars in Their Eyes" performance of U2's Beautiful Day.

I don't bother with the Monday night elimination round because, quite frankly i've already decided who goes and sometimes they agree with me and sometimes they don't - and of course, I *never* vote.

I'm expecting Camillia to go tonight, and the Live Final to be between Ben and Michael. I'd love to see Michael win if only because he's the only one who doesn't crouch when he's singing - the other two have been to the Shania Twain School of Performance and can't keep their legs together.

Warriors vs. Melbourne Storm

Oh thank goodness. After committing to a season pass I was beginning to think I'd put a jinx on our Team - but, although it was bitsy and a bit weird in parts, we managed a 20 - 14 win over the Melbourne Storm.

And it didn't even rain during the game!

Sarah's Garden

It rained and rained today. And then in the afternoon it bucketed down. I was in-and-out in the rain most of the day. I bought myself one of Sarah's Garden's new mugs (its the Mug Green one) and now I'm drinking hot lemon-barley and thinking it's the perfect mug for that beverage.

The woman in the store remembers me from when I bought the teapot a few years back. She must have a sharp memory. She knows I don't want to buy the entire set, but I like to get pieces I like. I saw a beautiful piece while I was in Sydney and I wish like crazy I'd had the brain power to have bought it. I've never seen it here nor in any catalogues or at the Wedgewood site. It was a china lemon juicer, and it was even on sale and I picked it up and put it down about half-a-dozen times and knew I would regret not buying it, but my sensibles butted in saying things like "you don't want to travel with china in your luggage, what if it breaks, what if it cracks." and "you can get this at home, don't be a silly-mish, put the lemon juicer down and step away from the China Department."

Sometimes it pays to listen to your sensibles but sometimes it doesn't.

If you will look to the left, you will notice some of the Interweb's largest known link buttons. Please do not be alarmed, but we suggest you keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times. You might even note, that there are a few additions to the list. Danny Gregory scans lots of his drawings and shows them on his site Everyday Matters; Effing the inEffable is a kiwi guy who has just moved to Australia - I like him for a couple of reasons, but most of all because he links back to me - I love people who do that happy sigh; and New Zealand dot com really is a very attractive site with information and nice images from around the country.

This is a very nice little button generator for those of you who prefer the new fashion of *small*.

Lana's still really sick. That really sucks.

Private Investigator (not really)

I took this photograph the other morning - Monday, I think - but it's taken me this long to post it. My photos never do their subjects justice. I marvel at sites like Witoldriedel.com's ability to publish such beautifully coloured photographs. And this, from Heather Champ is abso-freaking-beautiful.

My camera's not great, you know, but at least it takes fuzzy pictures.

Today I picked up my business cards - only took 5 months to get around to doing it. I tried to *design* my business card, but didn't like anything very much at all so decided the only thing for it was to type my name and my business and print that on plain white card. This weekend I'm going to throw paint at them and see what i come up with.

A while ago, kv gave me the wonderful gift of business cards "Private Investigator (not really)" makes people smile every single time - I've been handing them out recently, that's how I know.

Tonight I've been uncharacteristically horizontal on my couch watching all four of the TV channels - there are a few more but that's all I can get on my old console television. I can imagine the designers saying "Four channels should be enough for anyone." back in the day. After watching Girl, Interrupted I remembered how much I dislike Wynona Ryder. She's okay when she's asleep. It's all the stuff she does awake in movies I don't particularly like.

Lana Coc-Kroft isn't very well - I hope she gets better as quickly as she got sick. Or quicker, even.