Dysthymia

Cleaning the last dish was also the biggest chore. Placing the last of it, I washed my hands free of the grime and oil. Dirty...

Looking at the trash - the waste, I felt sick.

My mind wondered - it always did. The usual haunts.

A means to an End

Last week was bland and in many respects, it had plain sucked. Everything signifying nothing. [I had several entries lined up but it was the genius of blogger that perhaps it would be fun to recode these words into some illiterate script of 1 and 0 and other means of computer markup 'it' understood.]

Moments came and went but overall, it was a mutual understanding between life and myself that I would attempt, nay - bare the brute of it all, and cruise through as quickly as possible.

Like an MasterCard ad, I could count the moments - the good and the bad. I smiled politely but at the end of the day, the one I thing I was not comfortable with or in was my own skin - my life as a whole.

Am I just winning about the challenges of everyday life? Most likely.

Contemplative, a week on fast forward - Parentals. Uni. Work. Gym. Food. Tiffany & Co. Money. Housing. Him. Her. They.

Part-ey hard-ey [I think you need to add a wooho] Woohoo!

The website is a mess. A piles of burning rubble of what once was and could have been. Though this were only from the eyes of an Eurasian poorly trained in Chinese - my proficiency, low. Very low. Though one would think amongst its varied clientele the website would be accessible to Australians or an 'abc' (as I was to be known by the girl behind the front desk). I managed to book it anyway - in person - and though the staff weren't very proficient in the 'English' language, they smiled and we managed!

-

Walking down Lygon St, just before the rush hour of dinner can be a daunting experience! Shop owners rush to your side as each attempt to beguile you into their tiny Italian restaurant. Specials they list meticulously or perhaps a discount offered on food or drinks. You glance around, searching for affirmation in someone's eyes. Nothing... And you judge - not by the merit of the deals themselves but the interior design. Probably not the best choice but what else is one to do. It usually all works out mighty fine in the end though - its Lygon, exceptions aside one can't really go wrong.

Gifts; they were beyond sufficient. Her gift exceeding my expectations, it was obvious a clear train of thought had been place into them - and it was the thought itself that touched me. It was far-reaching, heart warming.

-

Karaoke wasn't something I did often - nor most people for that matter. But the night was an experience that burns memorably regardless how I look at it. Alcohol, food and some incredibly outdated songs - 'material' compared to the people the time was spent with. The atmosphere electric and despite the cosiness of the room itself, it was alive and well.

A str-ay

Magazine rack at Borders. As much cruising of 'talent' both on and off the page.
You sit and you read. The eye catches a passing figure. And in that brief moment you passively judge. It's second nature - instinctive.

Your eyes fall back onto the page.

-

Editorial for thought.

What If You Only Thought You Were Gay?
For some men, the trouble starts when they realize they're actually straight. - By Anna David, Deatils Magazine.

In the early nineties, Dan Rothenberg was having a gay old time—literally. A rising comedian in San Francisco, he spent his nights at clubs in the Castro, where he discovered, to his surprise, that he was "a bit of a boy magnet." Rothenberg, then in his early twenties, was for pretty much the first time in his life finding hooking up with people easy. A regular at the Stud's disco night, he was known for starting off his routine at local comedy clubs by saying "I like my women like I like my coffee . . . I don't like coffee." Fifteen years later, he sits outside a West Hollywood Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf reminiscing with a woman about his days as an out-and-proud gay man. The woman happens to be his wife.

Rothenberg and Colleen Crabtree, both 35, met seven years ago. Five or so years before that, Rothenberg was paralyzed by fear over the realization that he wasn't actually gay. Although it took about a year to admit to himself that his Castro days were over, one incident stands out. "I happened to see a female friend getting dressed," he says. "I remember watching her and thinking 'There's no way words can describe how much I want that."

Read more here

Existence of God

Either a God so conceived exists or does not exist.
But if he does not exist, that cannot be just a contingent matter – ie ‘he might have existed, it is just that in fact he does not’ – b/c that would make his existence also a contingent matter. But then this would not be the God we had conceived of, since his existence is necessary.
So if such a God does not exist, his non-existence must be necessary, which means it is impossible he should exist.
But there is no reason for thinking his existence is impossible.
The only alternative is that he exists (necessarily).

Tute Exercise 3

Is belief in God a matter of faith or of reason, or of both? 200 words, to be submitted at your tutorial in Week 5 (week Beginning Monday 25th August)

Other quarter?

6:25pm.

AND she's late. Nothing surprising really, but I was hungry. I'd been up since what I called the wee hours of 7:25AM and it'd been a good 11hours.

I sat, I waited; staring catatonically at the city lights that laid before me. Strange how such a vision can be seen from campus. But there it was! The hub of metropolitan Melbourne. A sigh, but all that could be heard was a cough. I wanted to move and not anywhere, somewhere out there!

6:26pm.

AND there she was! A smile. WHAT the HELL is she? She wasn't my better half. That I have no doubt! But she made the day easier to bare and hours past... she's like that second last piece of the puzzle.

Its still incomplete though...

I await the last.

Late night shopping after gymming

It funny how you feel after doing an hours class of 'TRI-ATHLETIC'. It felt like aerobics to me. Though I'm sure, the names there for a reason. I mean - where would you rather be?

I didn't bother changing afterwards, though I rushed back to the change rooms all the same. I worry - its what I do! My stuff was still there, ALL of it this time - good, good. It was packed. Many swimmers and/or regular gym rats and I waited my turn... I threw on my hoodie and the branding stared back at me, and I sinked JUST a little bit...

The iPod proved quick comfort as I blasted the music way up - some American band that most people have probably never heard of. I was thirsty and it looked like a quick trip to Coles before the train.

-

I scanned the shelves. No sugarfree V to be found... and THERE! They went pass me, even amongst the crowd - my eyes followed. Moving on, I mentally debated the pros and cons of a sugar hit after behaving like an idiot for an hour - they call that a workout? Indifferent, mizone was the end champion at 1.70 a bottle.

I lined up and in front of me...

They bought 2 cartons of soy milk, 2 diet cokes, a pack of pasta and a tub of low fat yogurt.

It'd been obvious they had just come from the gym. Though oddly, the duo was all suited up. You wouldn't have known if it weren't for that hair - it was wet and pushed back - maybe it was sweat.

Then that one person in all the world popped back into my head.

I ponder the possibilities; and during that split second the world stalls, an experience all too familiar. Though honestly before, I or anyone can really gather their thoughts, everything is just as it seems.

"Next please!"

And I've just hit a new low.


2 people will get this - maybe.