Step Up And Leap

Just had to make a post on February 29. Just had to. What will I write? Something witty I said during the n00b-O-thon otherwise known as Melbourne Uni O-Week. I wish I was less sick so I can pull myself out of this downtime I'm sort of (not) experiencing...

"n00b Student: Why did you study Arts?

Me: Well, I could never submit myself to the scientific method. As a writer, I can make words and language my bitch. In maths, you're maths' bitch, and you have to sit there and take it no matter what."

Struttin'

I bought Struttin' by The Meters as on a re-issued vinyl today. I finally have dirty, funky and soulful gettin' it on music that isn't Lordi, for once.

Oh, and the new Ayreon blows everything else away, too! Gildenlow, Kursch, Englund and Renske over TWO progariffic discs...it could just crack my yet to be definitive Top 10. Really!

Liberation is best served with everything

A friend told me last night that she admired the way I thought - "logical, but not without emotion" I think it was put. I took it as quite the compliment.

It signalled to me that I've turned my thinking around through an arc enough for others to notice it. Which is a goal i've been meaning to attain since re-launching my personal development project only two short months ago. It quickly reinforced that the "why" of reality is mostly redundant when evaluating any situation you find yourself in.

This week is full on. I need money to buy a bat to bash in the Melbourne Uni Alloc8 system. My "year off" is going to be more pragmatic than I had first anticipated. That's "flexibility" for you, I guess.

What Is, Is Not

I've been afflicted by a cold the last few days. Unlike other times, when I've been dragged down by its icy grip on my senses, I've decided it isn't too bad - just a minor annoyance. It has allowed me to catch up on my reading, including my continued research into, and application of, sanity.

Reading Korzybski's Science and Sanity, in conjunction with Ellis and Harper's Guide to Rational Living is possibly one of the most rewarding experiences one should ever hope to embark on. After I had been alleviated of most of the overwhelming and debilitating symptoms of depression back in 2005, they returned again in mid-2006 and most recently on/around Christmas 2007. At each juncture, my critical faculties just broke down and were swept away by a tide of irrational emotion that had no basis in reality. Higher-order abstractions seized me with fear and held me in place, immobile and helpless. So it seemed, in the most literal interpretation of the word.

I re-read Introducing Neuro-Linguistic Programming by O'Connor and Seymour to refamiliarize myself with its concepts and commit myself to achieving what I want to achieve. I still haven't mastered it, but I believe I can apply it to myself quite well, and others with increasing success as days pass by.

Before too long, I would forget to apply certain models and end up more or less where I started. I required more familiarity with what these people were trying to get my head to wrap around most fundamentally. It seemed that Science and Sanity was glue that holds all these concepts together and has produced the most beneficial stage of my personal development thus far: learning to speak the language NLP and REBT have been written with - General Semantics. The wellspring that brought me "the word is not the object spoken about" and "the map is not the territory." In my opinion, if you can reconcile these thoughts and internalize them as your own, I think you have already made half the journey.

It has certainly opened my eyes to how "irrational" the world can make us! I can't wait to see where it takes me, or rather, I take it.

An Assigned Meant (To Be)

Bloody hell! My first interview assignment foiled by incompetent promo departments...again! Oh well, better luck next time.

A Guide To Rational Living by Drs. Ellis and Harper is a life-changing book. I think I'm going to have to insist that all my friends read it. How a book on psychology can make me laugh out loud on a train and sing in the middle of the street deserves the highest of commendations.

Conquering Queensland

Yesterday, I returned from my Queensland holiday. Four days in Brisbane and three more on the Gold Coast that revolved around seeing the legendary Iron Maiden (again.) I wish I had more mental energy to expertly and succinctly chronicle all my adventures there, including taking in the Andy Warhol exhibition while slavishly trapising around the Brisbane CBD in stifling humidity; encountering strange foreigners in our Hostel bedroom who were content to walk around semi-naked or fuck on the bottom bunk (no great surprises); witness an eighteen-year old metal fan descend into his first blistering hangover (getting kicked out of the bar to boot!); the stand in awe at the grandeur of Bruce and co. as well as way-too-laid-back locals soaking in the pulsing, intense atmosphere. Karen and Anita (whom organized the trip) took us to meet her father who works as an electrician in Deception Bay (the names of places were a definite highlight also. My absolute favorite was "Fortitude Valley.") He was one of the most interesting people i've ever met. If I ever do half the things he described, i'll die content. It felt like I was there for weeks yet only there for a short while...I had some fun - which is all one can ask for.

I'll be interviewing Hate Eternal soon. This journalism thing is even impressing me now. It impresses girls (at least backpackers on the Gold Coast) so I think this job might be a keeper.

Here's a short piece of prose poetry that I wrote after I came back. I think it captures my underlying mood at the end of my trip:

I'm addicted to melody
but you're singing out of tune
pins and needles twist your ears
I think i'll be coming soon

this sun burns hot like matches
lit under my fingertips
stop blowing me kisses babe
and lock up my lips

i'm being grilled again
but you're the one stewing
we want everyone happy
but they're not laughing

i'm counting down to your extinction
and i'm hopefully waiting for
your beautiful inevitable
self-destruction

your key falls flat against my ear
it turns the latch to finally set me free
i loved it most when you hated yourself
i loved it most and hated it best of all

Surrender Completely

I used to do nothing. Now I'm content to do bad things as opposed to nothing at all. Luckily, you only live once. Messiness implies that it can be cleaned up again. It probably could. Why not?

Iron Maiden. Indescribable. Phenomenal. Jaw-flooring. Electric. Someone please tell me where Bruce gets his speed from. That show was insane.

Not that anyone reads this, but i'll see you all when I come back from Queensland. To see Iron Maiden. Up the Irons!

Bold Face Covers Your Text

I rang up my editor over at Buzz today. Man, what a great, funny guy! And i'm not just saying it to be a sycophant. He really did give me quite a chuckle. Hopefully I'll be getting my first (paid!) assignments soon.

I saw Juno yesterday. The best semi-indie film I've seen since Napoleon Dynamite. I've never been in love with a film character before, but Juno MacGuff comes damn close. And no, it's not because I know she'll put out, either. A witty script, tight performances and down-to-earth film making is what it's all about.

Condemned for Intentions: It's the way it goes

I got the shock of my life last night. One of my exes (names hidden to protect the not so innocent) sent me a message stating how "matched" me and one of her friends are. As much as I'd love to think I'm a sad case in desperate need of a set up, it did get me thinking to a novel idea that's been chugging around in my unconscious ever since I realized my daily morning "system check" had more use than just something I could hang my towel on while I was walking to the shower.

Its the idea that past partners should act as references to new potential ones (if said partner isn't the beneficiary of the wonderful science Dr. Milton Erickson has bestowed upon us) since dating and all associated bullshit is essentially a job interview that either ends up with both parties getting naked and more humid than usual, or, one half of this duo slamming his head against a door, lamenting the overabundance of clothes he currently finds himself wearing. Just one quick phone call and a half-honest answer could cut through so much trouble. Is she prone to questioning her appearance? Is he a bastard? Does she like it when I blow into her ear? Can he last more than half a minute? This evasive guesswork isn't romantic, it's god damn lunacy. I mean, we're all in it for essentially the same thing, right?