| Toefur the Magnificent
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[30 Aug 2008|11:21pm] |
You might be wondering why I'm talking about myself in the third person, and why it is that I think I'm so great. Actually, I'm not, and I don't. You see, my goal in life is to be great, to be magnificent, but that's a long, long way off. A Google search for myself reveals something else though, and I think that it is very telling. Picture this young fellow (lady, apparently).
The first thing you will notice is that this cat is guilty of a very, very serious case of copyright infrigement. Apparently having my name trademarked isn't enough to stop the casual citizenry naming their cats Toefur. The next thing you will notice, however, is that this Toefur, unlike me, is magnificent. How do I know? Because the Google result spake, "Toefur the Magnificent." And thus, Toefur, the cat, is magnificent. You can pretty much tell this from the picture, though. He looks magnificent. The way he (sorry, apparently it's a she) stands, that look on her face says: hey, drop everything, i am magnificent. He also looks pretty scholarly.
Toefur, the cat, is at the stage in life where I would like to be. Magnificent. She's got it made. She knows what life is about, she has everything under control. Maybe it's a bit easier when you're a cat, someone feeds you, gives you cuddles when you want them, and provides you with plenty of different and interesting places to sleep. What else could you ask for?
I ask for a lot, because I'm not at that stage yet, I am just beginning my journey now. I don't even know where it will go, I don't even know where the metaphorical different and interesting places to sleep are. So, I begin this journey as Toefur the Definately-Not-Magnificent.
Time to work for greatness, rather than to just hope for it...
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| Scuba Diving |
[15 Apr 2008|01:42am] |
Scuba Diving scares the Jesus out of me. Sometimes. Sometimes, I think it is just the idea that scares me. The act, maybe it doesn't. But the thought of being deep underwater (okay, 18 metres probably isn't all that deep) where the slightest problem could result in near-instant death frightens me a little. It's not just underwater, though. The ocean, as a whole, I have to admit (though once, I developed a theory that maybe it isn't a good idea to share with the world your fears) gives me the creeps a little. It's big. It's empty. And it is potentially dangerous.
Last weekend I completed the final stages in my Open Water Diving Certification (or something in that vein). The week before we did one day of theory, and one day of learning techniques and such in a swimming pool. This weekend, that has just been, we put these skills into practice.
As mentioned earlier, I once considered diving but never really considered it any further than considering that something like that might be fun.
Fast forward many years and my dear Donna turns out to be a rather large fan of diving (though I remain suspect of how much diving she has actually done in recent years... :), and obviously she needs a buddy to dive with! And so now I can be that buddy.
I have to admit that I feel somewhat - proud - at being a certified scuba diver. It's not significantly hard or anything, in fact pretty much anyone could do it I think. Yet I am pleased with myself that this is something, for the first time in a long time, that I have actually achieved. It is a new skill I have learnt. I know about the procedures. I know about the equipment. I have learnt something, and that is something that I am very happy with myself for.
Hopefully the beginning of a grander scheme for my life...
But for today let me talk to you about scuba diving.
For the four dives I did, I approached them with a bit of trepidation. Like skydiving, jumping into - and under - the ocean seems to fly in the face of our instincts of self preservation.Yet on the same account, there is something immensely exciting, and appealing about it. Perhaps the idea that it is different, new, exciting, something to set you apart from the rest of the world. Something special that you can be apart of.
Scuba diving is like being, and perhaps almost is, in another world. Probably the closest most of us will ever be to exploring a foreign world, to experiencing something akin to weightlessness. You move differently, you feel differently, and you see differently.
Each dive I did, I was somewhat fearful on jumping in, and, in some cases, extremely fearful on the descent. But once down there, you're settled and you know that all is well, you just cruise along, relaxing, enjoying the act of exploring and just experiencing it.
The first dive we did was at a place called Popes Eye. Popes Eye is the uncompleted foundation for an island fort intended to defend the entrance to Port Phillip Bay. Now, a National Marine Park, apparently it is a great place to scuba dive. I'm not sure how to describe it - but it's kind of like a half circle, the inside of which is shallow and it has a wall of rocks that rises out of the water. So we started our dive on the inside. The trick to Popes Eye, though, is that underwater things get a little hairy. Once you approach the end of the, uh, wall I guess, the current takes a hold and goes around the outside. So we scuba dived down along the wall on the inside and then as you go deeper, the current literally grabs you and drags you down and around the corner.
This was my second dive and it was absolutely frightful! Because of the current the sand is all stirred up, so you can't see a thing, and the current is just dragging you, with a lot of force, around and along the wall. So for a good ten minutes or so I was puffing and panting, terrified out of my mind, just letting the current drag me along, seeing one of the other divers every moment or two, heaving a sigh of relief each time I saw some sign of another person.
Pretty terrifiying for our first dive, but probably, perhaps, a good thing to start us off on.
For our second dive we went out to Portsea Pier, which was a lot more releaxing. Dive sites that are just offshore don't really scare me at all, compared to sites that are in the middle of the ocean. So with Portsea Pier we swam around the very shallow reef (probably only about 3 metres under water) and then swam around and under the pier (probably only about 8 metres under water) which was almost very relaxing apart from the fact that I was having a lot of trouble equalizing.
On Sunday we went for our final two dives, of which would be to 18 metres underwater, which is necessary to be able to get your license. Again, at the outset this is a very terrifying prospect. After what seemed like hours on the boat heading out towards our dive site - and I felt very, very, very sea-sick after all that horrible wave hopping - we hopped in the water and began our descent down the line.
Once again, to begin with, this was very frightening. Following the line down, down, down, deeper and deeper, and visibility was quite poor here so once people were a few metres away I couldn't see them anymore. A funny thing happens down the way, too. At least to me, anyway. Once you are down a fair distance, you can't see the surface or the ocean floor, and following the rope downwards it doesn't necessarily feel like you are going down. In fact, it kind of felt like we were just travelling along the rope horizontally.
Anyway, I made it to the bottom safely, and we did some skills down there and then swam around for a little bit. After that, we swam to another area and did some skills on the surface and then headed out a little bit to do our fourth and final dive down to the Inner Londsdale Wall. Because I was more used to it by now, it was a much more relaxing and enjoyable experience. We followed the rope down, and then for about twenty minutes after that we just swam around casually, looking at things, fish, everything. I never pay that much attention, so far, to looking at things, because when I get a chance I tend to just enjoy myself floating around. And so far I think that is my favourite bit, just being there and floating. It's good fun!
And that was that! We do a safety stop a few metres below the surface and I enjoy that as well. It's an interesting feeling. Once again, you aren't near the ocean floor, and you aren't quite near the surface, so you just float there in between them for a few minutes, and you're just floating there. I really like that.
So that was my four dives, and then we went back to the dive shop and filled in some paper work and such and that was that.
Looking forwards to some diving, hopefully in the next week or two we can do a dive or two!
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| Inaction from Fear |
[15 Apr 2008|01:18am] |
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music |
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The Nits - 'Heart' |
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In realising that it is time to reinvent myself and find a firm footing in life I realised that my primary obstacle in life has been fear. And I'm not in general afraid of the sorts of things that most people are. As far as I can gather, the things that most people are most afraid of are things that I don't believe in in the first place.
Things like jumping out of planes I am deathly afraid of - but I didn't realise that until I actually tried to do it, but I realised that there is a more significant theme of fear running in my life. It's not a major blood-rushing fear like the sort of fear that you acknowledge to people, it's a quiet fear that permeates your existence.
I realised that I have a fear of doing things. What?
I realised that so many times I have never done anything because I have feared that the end result was too far away. The honest reason, and yes it is very weak of me, that I never attended University was that I feared spending that amount of time doing something. The reason so far that I have never perfected the art in any of the things I wanted to learn a skill in (lucid dreaming, an instrument, another language, an art, martial arts, life skills, and so on) is because I have been afraid that it will take time and that either 1). I won't be able to see it through to the end, or 2). seeing it through until the end will just take too long, so I won't even try in the first place.
It's now eight years almost since I finished high school, and aside from a small number of significant achievements my life has not been exactly led with boldness and confidence.
I never went to University because I feared the time it would take. I could have a PhD in something now, if I had tried. Once, years ago - I thought that scuba diving might be fun, but all I did was to say, "I could never afford that, though". But I never genuinely tried or looked into it.
It wasn't until Donna bought me the Discover Scuba experience for Christmas that I went Scuba Diving. And even then I probably wouldn't have taken it further if Steve had not said, when I had finished my first dive, "So are you going to sign up for the Open Water course?" Right then and there on the spot I did it without much time to think - because I knew that If I did go home and think about it, that I would never end up doing it. And so I signed up and did it. I paid for it. It didn't cost much. But it took the prodding and gifting of at least two other people for it to happen.
And I have to say that going scuba diving is probably the only skill, interest, I have actively developed over the last however-many years. I was becoming stale... if I could highlight the points that made my life standout over the last few years - It would start with the IT course that Mum made me do in 2001 (and I wouldn't be where I was now if not for that), followed me my trip around the world in 2005, followed by a rise to management in 2007 and learning to scuba dive in 2008.
None of these ations have been facilitated by me. The opportunities I have missed out on, the times I realise that I have just slept through life, well... it all has to end.
The reinvention begins.
I can do things.
I will do things.
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| Feeling Like an Important Person |
[26 Mar 2008|07:21pm] |
It seems like every day now that the postman stops by our house to knock on the door and personally deliver some kind of parcel. Only yesterday it was nice new 'In the Beginning Bag...', now with all new special website address printed along side the picture. See if you can make it out in this picture, which you may not be able to as it seems to be more focused on me posing than the beautiful, beautiful merchandise.
If that simply isn't enough to make me feel important, today I recieved something even more special. Not content to carry around a bag that proclaims something about visiting a website, I thought that my life would never be complete until I enjoyed the capacity to carry around hundreds of business cards on my person so as to be able to thrust them upon each and every unwitting person that inadvertantly crosses my path.
So, I was not 100% unsurprised when a box arrived today inside a suspiciously unmarked box labelled, "Priority". I love international post. I do realise that I ordered it express post (well, in all honestly that was the only option they gave me), but the fact that I ordered it the week of Easter, and recieved it only the week after, originating in the United States, makes me a very happy man.
But then again, regular post from Australia to Estonia still seems a lot faster than sending mail from Geelong to Melbourne (a distance of 70 odd kilometres).
The contents of the box even looked important. They smelled important, and the little slips of cards looked like the numbered in the thousands. I am thinking that maybe I should have ordered the 2000 cards, just so that I could have felt four times as important as owning 500 cards allows me to feel.
I piled them high just to bask in my own self importance.
And now all that is required is finding the victims to thrust these upon...
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| Le Penseur |
[18 Mar 2008|10:30pm] |
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music |
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The Monster Mash |
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We call this one Le Penseur, or shall we say Le Llama. Yes, it is The Thinker himself. When people think about The Thinker, the thought that generally comes to mind is that of Auguste Rodins most famous sculpture of bronze and marble, originally named The Poet. What people don’t generally realise is that Rodin’s famous work is actually inspired, if not entirely ripped off, by a famous pose that originated over a century after Rodin created his first small plaster version.
Above one can see our preliminary working of the great Thinker, inspired by Rodin’s Le Penseur (and who knows, maybe we will go on to make an actual sculpture of it, that’s a great idea…), and below see Rodins sculpture itself:
What most people don’t know is the ORIGINAL work, pictured below. Commonly referred to as Le Toefur’s Philosopher Grande: (Also note the shirt Toefur is wearing:)
And why is the Toefur better than the Thinker? Because it is a true to life model in true genuine 100% technicolor. Examine the subtleties and nuances of dramatic and philosophical exposition within every inch of the sculpture and you can see the obvious and blatant plagiarism of Rodin himself.
Now, Occams razor would suggest that obviously Toefur is a copy of Le Penseur because it was created many years later, but the truth is far from that and relates to incidents involving Auguste Rodin and a time travelling device and many skips into the future for what he likened, in his secret diaries, to ‘inspiration’. More like downright thievery if you ask me.
So whilst Rodin was obviously a complete fraud, we can attest to the fact that the Llama Thinker is a genuine work of art taking generous inspiration from both works to create a piece that is of amazingly higher quality than either of the original sculptures, and still even better than both combined.
Enjoy The Thinker, He will be techni-colored and plastered all over merchandise for your consuming pleasure as soon as is possible!
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| Franken Llama or, The Modern Prometheus |
[17 Mar 2008|09:17pm] |
Brian e-mailed me yesterday with the sketches for our next three Llama designs. It’s a pity I’m not making millions of dollars of this whole llama thing yet, because I’ve got a list about 200-llamas long of hilarious and brilliant ideas for llama-as-human designs. In fact, just writing that then I had another great idea - Purple Tentacle from Day of the Tentacle? Instead, Purple Tentacle Llama. I don’t know how that would look, but I like that idea. A poster, "Day of the Llama."
Bernard: [Unties the tentacles] There, you’re free to go.
Green Tentacle: Thanks, Bernard!
Purple Tentacle: Yes. Thank you, naive human. Now, I can finish taking over the world! [Purple Tentacle leaves]
Green Tentacle: Wait!
Bernard: Oh yeah. Now I remember. He’s incredibly evil, isn’t he?
Green Tentacle: Uhhh... I’ll try to talk him out of it.
Anyway, that little bit of nostalgia out of the way I was here to talk about Frankenstein: or, The Modern Prometheus. Something about this one just made me laugh hysterically. Though, in all honesty they all do when I first see them. My initial joy and amazement doesn’t start to wear off until I’ve ordered about twenty products featuring the design and realise that even though I sell them, I still have to pay for them.
The sheer expression and character that are prevalent in all of our Llama designs just makes me so happy, the style is so perfect for what I want to portray; and in an effort to sound significant I will describe my artistic desires as being a visual representation of the human condition, as presented through the image of llamas.
As brightly as the sun shines, these llamas just ooze character. If Frankenstein Frankenllama isn’t a roaring success, then I’ll have no choice but to rant and rave about the depravity and general apathy of the working class. Until then, savour the sketch...
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| Timeline |
[06 Feb 2007|10:52pm] |
Here is an approximation of the path I shall endeavour to lead my life on over the next year or two. I expect that, given luck, I may achieve maybe two of these goals if I'm lucky. I should set myself some goals for once, though, rather than just ambling through life hoping that somewhere out there over the treacherous hills of time a good opportunity awaits for the unwitting.
* 2-3 Weeks: Find myself a suitable transportation for getting to/from work (I'm considering a cheap car, or maybe an electric bike at the moment!)
* 3-6 Weeks: Move into a woman-haters bachelor pad with my pal Rob, because he needs a roommate and it might be entertaining to live with someone else for a while.
* 4-8 Weeks: Get my wisdom teeth removed, because hopefully by this time I will finally have enough money to pay for it, hopefully they haven't started destroying other teeth yet.
* 2-3 Months: If I can find the time and money to squeeze it in, begin Diploma of Professional Writing & Editing, because I need something to keep my mind going while my retail career tries to disintegrate all trace of intellectualism.
* 4-6 Months: Find a way of increasing my gross yearly income by an extra $800 a month, this may be done via getting another job (I don't know where I'd fit that in) or making another small fortune on the internet.
* 6-9 Months: Begin planning and finalising details for my triumphant return to traveling overseas.
* 11 Months: Quit my job.
* 11-12 Months: Three weeks of intense partying, spending time with family and friends (which is something I hope to include in every week from now anyway)
* 12-19 Months: Overseas.
* 19-21 Months: Triumphant return to Australia.
* 21 Months: Catching up with friends and family.
* 22 Months-26 Months: A few months of intensely travelling Australia.
* 24-26 Months Onwards: I haven't got a clue at all.
Taking that last point of "I haven't got a clue", I could say that I could add that in in the previous 24 months if any of those plans collapse as they surely will - what else could/would I possibly do if these plans fail to come to fruition? Not a clue at all.
It's especially risky considering I honestly have no idea how one could force themselves to make an extra $1000 a month simply by sheer force of will, and yet so many of my plans are reliant on that.
It's a challenge though, I shall see if I can meet it... if not, well, I tried, eh?
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[05 Feb 2007|12:07am] |
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Now.
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[16 Jan 2007|02:45am] |
I don't write anymore because I don't know what to write anymore. There was a time where I would want to write about anything. I had an opinion a political issue. Every political issue. I had an opinion on a social issue. Every social issue. I had an opinion on a philosophical issue. Every philosophical issue.
And then somewhere amongst the mess that I made of my life, I stopped caring. And when you don't care about anything, how can you write about anything? Because anything you write about is something you care about. And if you care about nothing, then... you have nothing. And even now I almost have nothing.
I have lost my motivation for independence of thought, and contempt of the systems that suck the life out of us. I can pinpoint exactly where it all changed, and yet my only motivation for anything is a delusional attempt to return to a similar point. And I know I will return to that point, regardless of the consequences, because in between then, now, and the then to be... there is nothing lost. Nothing gained, and nothing will be gained without action.
There was a time when I cared about so many things. And now is a time when I say things simply don't matter. Have I already reached that stage where, apparently, every adult eventually casts aside their idealism and hope, and becomes yet another drone in the system? Following the motions, and living the inevitable life, dying the inevitable death?
And when your friends have abandoned you in your quest for getting back on the right track, is it their fault for not being there any longer, is it your own fault for asking too much of them?
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| :) |
[23 Feb 2005|12:01am] |
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mood |
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Some of these I will never get sick of.
134-Year-Old Man Attributes Longevity To Typographical Error
NEW ORLEANS - area dock worker Bert Greer celebrated his 134th birthday Friday with a quiet party at his home, surrounded by family. Asked the secret to his astounding longevity, the feisty Greer credited "healthy eating, a good walk every evening, and a Social Security worker's accidental striking of an extra digit while typing in my age." The remarkable Greer, who remembers meeting President Lyndon Johnson as a young boy, said he has "no plans to retire any time soon."
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| It's... Monty Python's Flying Circus! |
[20 Dec 2004|12:33pm] |
Probably not all that funny, but oh how I do love this one.
Host: Last week the Royal Festival Hall saw the first performance of a new symphony by one of the world's leading modern composers, Arthur 'Two sheds' Jackson. Mr Jackson.
Jackson:Hello.
Host: May I just sidetrack for one moment. This -- what shall I call it -- nickname of yours...
Jackson: Ah yes.
Host: "Two sheds". How did you come by it?
Jackson: Well, I don't use it myself, but some of my friends call me "Two Sheds".
Host: And do you in fact have two sheds?
Jackson:No, I've only got one. I've had one for some time, but a few years ago I said I was thinking of getting another, and since then some people have called me "Two Sheds".
Host: In spite of the fact that you only have one.
Jackson: Yes.
Host: And are you still intending to purchase this second shed?
Jackson: (impatient) No!
Host: ...To bring you in line with your epithet?
Jackson: No.
Host: I see, I see. Well to return to your symphony.
Jackson: Ah yes.
Host:Did you write this symphony in the shed?
Jackson: (surprised) No!
Host: Have you written any of your recent works in this shed of yours?
Jackson: No, no, not at all. It's just an ordinary garden shed.
Host: I see, I see. And you're thinking of buying this second shed to write in!
Jackson: No, no. Look. This shed business -- it doesn't really matter. The sheds aren't important. A few friends call me Two Sheds and that's all there is to it. I wish you'd ask me about the music. Everybody talks about the sheds. They've got it out of proportion -- I'm a composer. I'm going to get rid of the shed. I'm fed up with it!
Host: Then you'll be Arthur 'No Sheds' Jackson, eh?
Jackson: Look, forget about the sheds. They don't matter.
Host: (sternly) Mr. Jackson, I think, with respect, we ought to return to the subject of your symphony.
Jackson: Huh!
Host: I understand that you used to be interested in train-spotting.
Jackson:What?
Host: I understand that, about thirty years ago, you were interested in train-spotting.
Jackson: Well what's that got to do with my bloody music?
Other host: (entering) Are you having any trouble with him?
Host: Yes, a little. Good Lord! You're the man who interviewed Sir Edward Ross earlier.
Other host: Exactly. Well we interviewers are more than a match for the likes of you, "Two Sheds".
Host:Yes, make yourself scarce, "Two Sheds". This studio isn't big enough for the three of us! (They throw him out.)
Jackson:Here, what are you doing? Stop it! [Crash.]
Other host: Get your own Arts programme, you fairy!
Host: Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson... Never mind, Timmy.
Other host:Oh Mike, you're such a comfort.
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[13 Dec 2004|08:21pm] |
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| Toefur's Daily Anecdote |
[07 Nov 2004|09:42pm] |
I started going to Disco's in grade 5, so I would have been ten, turning eleven, back then. My best friend at the time suggested I go with him. I don't know if he had been before, but he seemed positively enthused at the fun to be had there.
We'd go there, in our wisened ten year old minds, and pick up girls.
I remember the very first one I went to. The first girl that found me latched onto me immediately. Generally, the process went like this: you would walk around in the darkened room (usually a big area like a gym or an auditorium) with your friends (that was if you hadn't found a nice young lady yet) and at the end of each song you'd approach a girl that took your fancy and ask if she'd like to dance with you, or vice versa.
We hadn't been there long, though I had danced with my fair share of girls already, and one young lady came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance. If things were going well, you would continue dancing after the first song. If things weren't so bright, you'd let go of each other and walk off. Speaking wasn't a large part of the whole ordeal.
If things did progress into the next song, you would get progressively closer until your two bodies were pressed right up against each other and your heads were resting on the other's shoulder.
For two hours (until the end of the night) this girl and I danced.
Our conversation went like this.
(Since I have no recollection of the girls actual name, we'll call her Michelle).
Michelle: Do you want to dance?
Me: Okay.
Michelle: What's your name?
Me: Chris.
Michelle: I'm Michelle.
Michelle: What school do you go to?
Me: Grovedale West.
Michelle: I go to Mandama.
Me: Cool.
Michelle: Do you want to go out with me?
Me: Okay.
[Interlude where I go to tell my friends the good news].
Me: That's Michelle.
Andrew: [Suppressing a laugh] Hi (He thought she was ugly).
Michelle: Hi.
[We resume dancing].
Michelle: Have you ever kissed a girl?
Me: No.
Michelle: Do you want to?
Me: I don't know.
Michelle: Okay.
[The end of the night approaches].
Michelle: Bye.
Me: Bye.
Michelle: Will you be here next time?
Me: Okay.
That was the beginning of the end for my youthful innocence.
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[03 May 2004|10:10pm] |
If there is one absolute in the Universe it is either Toast, or God. Unfortunately for either theists, or eaters of toast, it can only be one of these. Never can both exist as absolutes, thus neither more than one or less than one of these two shall be worshipped as the divine perfections that that they are at the same time.
This will answer the age old debate over whether or not God exists, but does it answer it how we wish it to? You see, when examining things close one can take a sampling of vegemite on toast, or peanut butter on toast and revel in the wholeness, in the beauty, in the delight, and in the sheer clarity of the moment. It is the process of these meagre samplings, it takes but a mouthful, though two are preferred, and, if possible, at least four slices, of toast that demonstrate both the utmost complexity and also the extreme of simplicity of the clearly divine nature of the toast.
As one bites into the toast it will crunch, as properly toasted bread does, and the being responsible for the eating of said toast will realise to themselves, "This... is what it's like to know God". Thus we have the realisation that God and Toast are inseperable to such a degree that, as far as the definition of god can go, toast is God.
The unfortunate paradox of the matter is that since the original statement clearly demonstrates that both cannot exist together as absolutes, that then they both cannot be the same. That toast cannot be god, even though the experience of toast surely proves, beyond a reasonable doubt, that toast itself can be nothing other than God.
The only logical conclusion possible is that since the experience of toast is the closest possible demonstrable experience of the divine that toast is therefor the only absolute, and the closest in any meaning to a god, and 'God' itself does not exist.
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| That's Thompson with a P, as in... |
[10 Jun 2003|05:01pm] |
One thing I just had to share, and it's only one picture because scanning is an absolute pain in the arse, but I might do a few more later. What am I talking about? I haven't explained myself yet, have I? Ah, let's see. Tintin. Who loves Tintin? If you don't, I hope you burn in hell for a few days.
Seriously, I love these comics they're so funny and full of personality. The characters are what make it, of course, being full of (insanely ridiculous) character but they're oh-so likable, and oh-so funny. I mean, my image below isn't even close to being exceptionally hilarious, but the characters stand out so much, and you've got to love the facial expressions. The expressions in all situations are always perfect to the emotion, and perfect to the character.
Oh, and I almost forgot: This image below is just after they've found the house of a serial pickpocketer, and the two detectives (of course) had been the victim of this pickpocketer more than a few times (as we can see here).
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