tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13314085601518790882024-02-20T02:59:57.260+11:00Seven In SydneySeven photos in Sydney, every seven days.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-41802240721868347622012-11-11T22:58:00.003+11:002012-11-11T22:58:53.050+11:00Schrodinger mustn't have liked cats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Still here, just in the middle of stuff and things. So in the mean time, have a cat in a box.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-21012944944332141472012-10-20T18:42:00.002+11:002012-10-20T18:42:59.763+11:00If you had amnesia, would you still be friends with those around you?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This sits on my sister's fridge. I've lost count of the number of years its been there, but I remember identifying with it quite strongly when I first read it. I'm also part way through reading Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth which elaborates on the idea of ego and our perceptions of the world.<br />
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Perhaps where we see this the most is when we hear of friends that break up with their significant others. If it's a bad break, then in a mere few months, their perception of their significant other goes from one extreme to the other. The thing is, I don't think people change dramatically. I believe it takes quite a lot for someone's personality to completely change overnight, a literal life-changing matter. So what does it mean?<br />
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If someone turns around in a short space and suddenly claims that someone is despicable within a very short period of time, it's less likely that the person they're talking about has changed, but more that the perception of them has.<br />
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And on the flip side, sometimes people can change dramatically, over a period of time, but our old perceptions of them can trick us into not seeing them for who they really are.<br />
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The problem with knowing this, is that sometimes you realise that you don't actually like certain people that you think you do, and that you logically might like others that you currently find to be despicable.<br />
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And then to further complicate things, what if you're someone that is frequently misunderstood?<br />
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Busking is one of those things that for a long time I've said I would want to do, but don't have the courage to. I'd liken it to public speaking -- it will probably make you a better person when you do it, but having to do it scares most people.<br />
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As part of my day job, I record a weekly podcast. To me, that was just like busking. It sounds like an fun thing to do, but terrifies the crap out of me. The past few weeks, however, are probably the first that I've ever felt relatively relaxed. I guess the only way I can describe it is that it's not that I don't care, but I am without care, if that makes any sense.<br />
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I actually walked past this without noticing what was going on, and admittedly this is a pretty poor photograph of what is happening. There's a crane lowering this down from several stories above. No idea what it is, but maybe it's a crane.<br />
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And speaking of cranes, ever wonder how they make them? They use another crane. No kidding. I remember being told this as a little engineer in training while on the job and thinking it was a joke.<br />
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Across from Town Hall, it's probably not legible but the sign in the middle reads "Sorry, Tobacco Buyer! We may Request I. D. Under 25 years old Buyer. We are Seriously Nervous."<br />
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Yeah, me too.<br />
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I remember taking this photo and thinking it's the first time having an odd-sized aspect ratio on a smart phone is actually relatively useful.<br />
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Do you know how expensive it is to buy a bucket? It's ridiculous. But anyway, I bought a cheapy one partially for the fact that it was ass coloured.<br />
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I miss Tokyo. But then again, I've barely travelled, so that might be a reason why. What I worry about is that if I go back, it will be like Melbourne. Melbourne? Yes, Melbourne.<br />
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In 2006, I went to Melbourne for a holiday. I've been there several times, but always for work, which limits what I could see. I had a ball of a time, ate everything in sight, and have several memories from that trip that are among my most cherished.<br />
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A few years after that, I went again. I had a rare spot of extra time after going there for business and thought it would be great to wander around town again. However, I'd seen most everything I wanted to see already. I guess I'm an exploratory sort of guy, and well, Melbourne is not that big, so it was a bit disappointing.<br />
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Just like revisiting children's cartoons when you're nearing your thirties can almost ruin your prior memories, I feel like I have an irrational fear of upsetting the great time I recently had.<br />
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But then, that's just like me to confuse my perception of things with how they actually are, isn't it? Sometimes, even though you know reality might be different, it feels better to live the lie.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-75154915985320877322012-10-13T12:35:00.000+11:002012-10-13T12:35:15.835+11:00We're actually really bad at figuring out what's good for us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My suburb shut off its streets a couple of weeks back and decided to hold a party. I live in a place with a lot of art galleries, so it's not usual to have lots of arty stuff around. It's a bit of a strange feeling wandering around your own neighbourhood when it's been transformed this way.<br />
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On the weekends I sometimes take an hour or so out and sit about in the city. There are plenty of spots to relax and giant trees that will share their shelter, if you know where to look. It's usually a moment to gather my thoughts, figure out what I'm doing and what I've done. Do it for a few weeks and you'll wonder how people go their whole lives without stopping for a moment and realising if they know what they're doing and how it contributes to them being them.<br />
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It's only October and these are up in my local shops. I guess you keep them in storage for most of the year, so you might as well break them out early. But for a whole quarter of a year? I dunno.<br />
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I walked into the office the other morning and some work colleagues were putting this Night Elf on its stand. However, the stand was behind a pillar, which I couldn't see, and they're surprisingly cumbersome to position. As a result, all I saw was my colleague humping it from behind next to a pillar. Not a good sight. I was a bit too dumbstruck, otherwise I would have taken a photo.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-87622467580772157212012-10-12T15:34:00.000+11:002012-10-12T15:34:24.391+11:00Is it youth that are outrageous, or the older generation that are out of touch?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On the corner of George and Barrack street, there's a statue of a little hooded boy. I'm pretty sure he's not meant to be there, but what probably gives it away is the gas canister behind him, as though he's one of those London rioters.<br />
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I can't wear a damn hoodie any more without being reminded of them.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-53044744430944020752012-10-10T00:48:00.001+11:002012-10-10T00:48:36.525+11:00I get the feeling logic can go out the window when having fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of my favourite things to do is eat fried chicken and drink beer.<br />
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Actually, that's two things, but who's paying attention.<br />
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And there are three things in this photo.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-76302097672054134302012-10-08T21:22:00.000+11:002012-10-08T21:22:05.880+11:00Learning from failure brings you closer to success<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes in life, you just got to wear a lady bug hat like it's eating your brains.<br />
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When I was sitting for my interview a while back, the usual greatest strengths and weaknesses question came up. I know what you're supposed to answer with these -- a weakness which is actually a strength -- but I decided not to.<br />
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My greatest strength, I said, was that I am mostly aware of my own weaknesses and actively try to fix them. That's the truth. But it also means I do the exact opposite to what I'm meant to do with the weakness question: I reveal a weakness.<br />
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For me, it was that I feel as though I live a sheltered, geeky life, and have difficulty relating to others. The great thing about my greatest strength though, is that all that can change. It's no longer my greatest weakness, although it is still a weakness.<br />
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It's a long story (which I've saved you the sob story of having to read), but I've found that there are two pretty easy ways to deal with it. One is about two standard drinks. The other is to do occasionally do outrageously random things and deal with the social interactions that result.<br />
<br />
I'd rather not become an alcoholic, so sometimes, doing weird things just has to happen. Because after all, if you can deal with the stares as you walk down the street with a funny hat on, I'm sure there are plenty of other things you can deal with in life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-27229680796947519422012-10-06T13:09:00.001+10:002012-10-06T13:10:37.140+10:00It's funny how so many people only know what they want after they're given it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I've been sick the past few days with what seems like the flu. I'm sort of like a cat when I get sick. I just get a little quieter than usual and don't really show any outward signs, but the way I recover is more like a dog. I burrow away for a while then emerge a few days later all fine.<br />
<br />
This typically means roasting myself into a horrid sweat for hours. Its worked pretty well for as long as<br />
I can remember, but it also ruins my mental state. I end up having crazy thoughts and dreams and I lose all track of time. So though I had broken sleep for about 12 hours the other night while trying to recover, it felt like I lost a day or two. Unfortunately part of that was dreaming about going to work, so it felt like I went to work for another day.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the watch. My dreams got me thinking about who I am and what I do. Yet again. The truth is, as much as I am passionate about journalism and writing, it's not something I see myself doing for the rest of my life. So in my sickness I realised time is ticking away from me and I've settled into a state of adequacy. Everything is adequate for my needs, but really, I'll never achieve the form of greatness that I want.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I want to go into business, create jobs, but feed profits back into a community, and solve a problem. I want to live a life that gives back more than is possible through a single person. And I feel that every day I don't is another day wasted. So worse than being sick is getting better and realising that you're wasting your life's potential.<br />
<br />
Still, my life isn't a complete waste of time. I know that what I currently do does bring benefit to others' lives, but it's on a much smaller scale than I would have hoped. I'm no superhero, but I feel like what many of them claim to feel like before they find their purpose. That there's something bigger, something greater, that they're meant to do in life, but they just don't know what it is. The problem is, life is not a movie, and there's no guarantee I'll ever find out what it is.<br />
<br />
The watch? It's my new favourite toy, my first automatic. Doesn't keep time as well as a quartz movement, but I like how it's purely mechanical. Sometimes I'm old-fashioned that way. You'd think me different, a lover of technology, but some things just don't feel the same for some reason. Razors with a gazillion blades? What happened to a straight edge shave? Cars that park themselves? What happened to becoming a better driver? Sometimes it feels like advancements in technology just make us dumber.<br />
<br />
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<br />
From the Gold Coast earlier this year. Sipping on a beer in the media room. It was a security conference and the year before, a journalist was arrested by Qld Police. Nothing of similar event happened this time around, although I secretly had hoped something would. Is it mean to hope for excitement? I think it's just biting off more than you can chew. Or perhaps a sign that you're tired of life.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Virgin Atlantic. Scotch and dry.<br />
<br />
VA isn't bad. It's not fantastic either. I've racked up enough frequent flier miles in order to get to a pretty high status level with Star Alliance. The problem is, I'm a cheap ass and these days rarely ever fly on a Star Alliance carrier, so having status doesn't really matter.<br />
<br />
We flew Sydney to Hong Kong to London. Took a train out from London to Shropshire to Birmingham to Shropshire and back to London again. Then flew London to Nagoya to the Gold Coast and back to Sydney again. That's our first holiday in about six years and it only lasted two weeks. I have personal photos, but client work I need to see through before that.<br />
<br />
I'd like to go to the US for a holiday some day. I've been to the US about three or four times now, but only on transit. That's life just teasing me.<br />
<br />
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<br />
And while I was in Tokyo, I figured it was time to visit Disneyland for the first time. I'm not getting any younger.<br />
<br />
It's funny I say that. I've refused to admit I'm getting old for a while now. When I was in university, others would say it and I'd simply not believe them. I guess it is a relative thing. Now I look back at people in university and they seem like such young folk. I'm guessing my peers think the same of me.<br />
<br />
But physically, I'm starting to feel it. I used to work two jobs and still attend university as a full-time student. These days I can barely manage my other job on the side in addition to my full-time one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-32089953724264262422012-08-09T22:33:00.001+10:002012-08-09T22:46:22.671+10:00Ignorance is bliss, but a closed mind is like a closed book<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsG3cpK-Af-xMRNFBzQucnhLXkDYpFLLIRPr2SYqN6sqycD8C6SVJWs4XDwsppRG-V5Ia2efZ7dMXakrPOLigt_UA8rA1VSkNcZtMtZPOvw5bRI9uWYheNgHJWElXTWK2UDRqmXmT3lE/s1600/2012-05-25+11.03.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsG3cpK-Af-xMRNFBzQucnhLXkDYpFLLIRPr2SYqN6sqycD8C6SVJWs4XDwsppRG-V5Ia2efZ7dMXakrPOLigt_UA8rA1VSkNcZtMtZPOvw5bRI9uWYheNgHJWElXTWK2UDRqmXmT3lE/s320/2012-05-25+11.03.48.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I love Portal and its sequel. Actually, I never finished the second one in co-op because I don't often play and by the time I found some free time to play it again everyone else had finished it. I guess it has limited replayability.<br />
<br />
Anyway, if you're wondering what the hell this is, I wouldn't blame you (even though many people who aren't from the internet seem to have cotton on to the whole cake is a lie meme). Someone from work baked it and brought it in. I was very impressed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKBs7LPvX2YEcBEWjAJ3RMRPdBKGjlq2-jhe1vQrptkvwh6vQfj1zcKlbi8FMBwntpjtJ_IfGEZo9K5n6oDMpnDJRdQnWhyphenhyphenpCGlTXTrg8NfBcAXXTIcCmWRGxCKptuDap8IAuC8ncH0U/s1600/2012-05-26+20.36.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKBs7LPvX2YEcBEWjAJ3RMRPdBKGjlq2-jhe1vQrptkvwh6vQfj1zcKlbi8FMBwntpjtJ_IfGEZo9K5n6oDMpnDJRdQnWhyphenhyphenpCGlTXTrg8NfBcAXXTIcCmWRGxCKptuDap8IAuC8ncH0U/s320/2012-05-26+20.36.43.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"So, how are you holding up? Because I'm a potato!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I did think this was also rather impressive. Unfortunately, PotatOS it's not powered solely off the potato, but she does need to actually hooked up to operate. To operate? Yep. She spouts off lines from Portal.<br />
<br />
Why is there a PotatOS and what looks like a beer? A high school friend of mine had a house warming where everyone had to dress up as a video game character. One of the guests came in a lab coat, PotatOS and, get this, one of those very limited edition Aperture Portal Devices.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, most of my high school friends are the Nintendo console video game sort so they didn't have a clue as to who he was or what a speaking "potato bomb" was related to. I would have felt horribly bad for all the effort he put in...<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69UI59Ojr233JvGudTCbjwe0nS43A9H2fGRM86RKsjSvyTf0q925Vo7pSpPPOfH_Cjbi-_MUU0ZTjAeb_iGYeM_FKa7d24Mm_SyKnRDkBc9jMJUn3ZzKSlJBoze2Rja6YgpADySZYHxY/s1600/2012-05-26+22.20.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69UI59Ojr233JvGudTCbjwe0nS43A9H2fGRM86RKsjSvyTf0q925Vo7pSpPPOfH_Cjbi-_MUU0ZTjAeb_iGYeM_FKa7d24Mm_SyKnRDkBc9jMJUn3ZzKSlJBoze2Rja6YgpADySZYHxY/s320/2012-05-26+22.20.04.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that's Mario and Luigi in the background.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZf3JzFwNhytdvkYla93fzsw7L_FtTgX2BlAQO9n7qRVv22oTy9oqwl0W3d7HLYAoYoQTtgbIy-Y3akZdmSmQJL9f8Ghrx8D9daxji0BptL1HyivqSxXhWaZnD0mKDOYp62v09yFzpH0/s1600/hunter.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZf3JzFwNhytdvkYla93fzsw7L_FtTgX2BlAQO9n7qRVv22oTy9oqwl0W3d7HLYAoYoQTtgbIy-Y3akZdmSmQJL9f8Ghrx8D9daxji0BptL1HyivqSxXhWaZnD0mKDOYp62v09yFzpH0/s320/hunter.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why I have bandages on the outside of my arms, I have no idea.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
... only no one really knew who I was meant to be either. Admittedly, my costume was a bit haphazard, but I was meant to be a hunter from Left for Dead. We tried the blood on my face, but decided I'd probably get it everywhere. Or eat it all first since we were using coloured honey. You wouldn't believe that it's easier to buy a brand new sweater and ruin it with bloody paint than go to a thrift shop and buy a second hand one.<br />
<br />
So it's going to turn into a top I wear when I go running on cold winter mornings. I don't know if I'll get weird stares from other joggers who think I've just cannibalised someone for breakfast, but if I do, maybe they'll run faster.<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-84743077361261788262012-08-08T21:22:00.002+10:002012-08-08T21:25:22.588+10:00A day in the life of a technology journalist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
It's no big secret that my profession is one of the least trusted in the world. I'm a journalist by day because, as much as the pay is really crap, I still need to pay the bills while I make even less as a photographer on the side.<br />
<br />
So for a while, this was my typical grab bag. A camera with a 35mm lens, a bus ticket for those times I couldn't walk across the city in time, business cards, tissues for my horrible sinus-infected nose, a collapsible keyboard, a spare battery for my camera, a set of headphones, my trusty notetaker, a lens pen, a sharpie, a backup red pen, a USB stick, a bag to hold everything in, whatever notepad I happen to have at the time, and a tablet to type everything into. Phew.<br />
<br />
That pretty much covers me if I get told to be somewhere at the last minute, otherwise I'd bring a laptop. These days I find I'm ditching the camera since processing time often takes away from writing articles.<br />
<br />
So what do I actually do with my day? I figured, for kicks, I'd take notes for a day or two.<br />
<br />
16 July 2012<br />
<br />
0840: I'm out of the house. I'm late. Again.<br />
<br />
0852: In the lift and up to the office. We have news meetings to plan our day at 9am, which means I have about 8 minutes to read up on what news I've missed and figure out what I want to pitch. This often means I skim through the news on my smartphone as I walk to work. I've learned quite quickly where I have to look up to avoid being hit by traffic.<br />
<br />
0900: I'm in the lift again. As it turns out, there's an event on at the Convention and Exhibition Centre, so I haul ass to get there in time for it to start. After the session, I quickly go and find a corner to sit in and start writing up the article immediately while it's fresh in my head. I have an interview scheduled for about 12 noon, so the more I get out of my head now, the better.<br />
<br />
1224: Interview is done, so I grab my first piece of food of the day thanks to the event catering, which turns out to be cake. Then I sit down and continue hammering out my first article from the morning's session.<br />
<br />
1259: I file my article, close my laptop and go and find something substantial to eat. Sandwiches are available and are a handy treat. Sandwich in one hand, smartphone in the other, I chat back to my colleague in the office who is looking through my article and answer his queries. I don't have long because the next session I want to cover is starting.<br />
<br />
1423: That's the last session for the event that I'm interested in today, so I head back to the office. When I get in, I notice there's been the slight possibility that there's been an intrusion on one of my accounts, so I spend a few minutes changing all my password, check my mail, tie up a few loose ends, and help my editor with something she's looking for before getting to work on an article from one of the sessions. The interview I had can wait: the interview was set up as an exclusive, but the session was not. I start getting to work.<br />
<br />
1724: I finally file my article. It hasn't been a very productive day, but sometimes it's like that. I start going over the agenda for an event the next day to decide what sessions are worth going to.<br />
<br />
1814: There are some issues that my editor has with my article. It's frustrating, but we go back and forth over the issue until it's resolved.<br />
<br />
1829: I'm drained, exhausted and a little frustrated. I hit the gym to work it off then slink back home at around 8:30pm for dinner.<br />
<br />
2100: Jess does her best impression of me.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
17 July 2012<br />
<br />
0833: I wake up and instantly I know I'm fucked. I get ready as fast as I can and leg it to work.<br />
<br />
0905: News meeting. I'm fortunate enough to have a busy enough day as it is that I don't really need to pitch. By this time, my article from the night before has gone live, but I have the interview still left over from the previous day that I need to get done. I scour my usual haunts to see if there is anything on fire that needs coverage straight away. With nothing demanding my attention, it's into writing up the interview.<br />
<br />
Interviews bother me because they make me realise how certain subjects squeeze their way out of questions by changing the subject, by answering a similar question, or by not answering it at all. On the other hand it also helps me to recognise when such a tactic is being played though and I end up playing the typical counter: asking the same question as many times as necessary, but rephrased differently. It's a waste of everyone's time if the subject isn't willing to talk or simply isn't honest enough to say they don't know.<br />
<br />
1100: I file, stick around a bit for a few quick questions from my editor, then I declare that I have to get moving and leave, jumping into a taxi to get to the other side of town. The taxi driver is insane and gets me there faster than I expected. I wander upstairs and there's a bit of an issue with media accreditation, but they eventually relent. There are a few sessions beginning at about 1130, so I find myself a seat and get comfortable.<br />
<br />
1130: The order of the speakers has changed due to one of them being late, meaning I now have to sit through a session that I wouldn't have previously attended. I take notes anyway because there are no other interviews or previous sessions that I could write up in this time. The talk turns out to be a mixed blessing as later in the week another speaker touches on the same topic and the two can be combined into a larger, more in-depth story.<br />
<br />
1309: I grab a taxi back and pick up some lunch on the way. Wanting to avoid a repeat of having to stay back while my article is edited, I eat at my desk while I hammer out the article.<br />
<br />
1532: The deadline for last articles is 5pm, so I file at this stage and prepare to start on the next article from today's sessions. My editor flicks it back and suggests that because it's a popular, but complex topic, I could go deeper into detail. I spend more time researching certain elements of the story and plucking out more detail from my notes.<br />
<br />
1640: I file again, but it is quite a complex topic and editing takes some time.<br />
<br />
1724: The article finally makes the cut after several edits. It goes in the queue for publication the next day and I get to go home.<br />
<br />
So that's two days in the life of a tech journalist that is still learning the ropes. Although I picked these two at random, they probably represent two rather tough days in the past month. I don't always get to go out and some days I'm just at my desk, writing and talking to people over the phone. The thing is, I don't think there really is a routine day. There are regular things like meetings and so on, but sometimes what's planned at the beginning of the day completely changes. And sometimes you have days where something significant happens and you drop everything to cover it.<br />
<br />
As much as people like to hate on journalists, I don't think many of them appreciate the effort that goes in to a story. What generally takes someone a few minutes to read can actually take significantly longer to put together once you consider the additional checks that journalists do. Even when giving away a slice of the day to an event, there's no guarantee that there's going to be anything newsworthy.<br />
<br />
And sometimes people make mistakes, or worse, they are misinterpreted through a lapse in concentration or an error introduced in the editing or sub-editing process. It's deeply demoralising to have someone rip you to shreds with accusations of being biased, too lazy to fact check, serving someone's agenda, or simply because you made a typo. While I was certainly humbled by my boss when making a typo in an engineering report when I was in that industry, the world never descended on me and called me the scum of the Earth.<br />
<br />
But then again, I guess part of being a journalist is being able to bear that.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-64909325133593044922012-08-05T22:05:00.001+10:002012-08-05T22:05:18.451+10:00Life is a rollercoaster, sure, but there's no guaranteed safety belt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo8Z47MqxOAnOpSvWM5_01Gm7wwViA-9t5OwLFg5bgj0QKEaAXJNcjK0FJzLw496vxFvfnDDcCj3s5THojJwddCZKMENinLRR9Wq8VHgMNoAhawjg5ZQ-qOUJyCXtzkr2nvfdq8ClwVM/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo8Z47MqxOAnOpSvWM5_01Gm7wwViA-9t5OwLFg5bgj0QKEaAXJNcjK0FJzLw496vxFvfnDDcCj3s5THojJwddCZKMENinLRR9Wq8VHgMNoAhawjg5ZQ-qOUJyCXtzkr2nvfdq8ClwVM/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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It's been a long time.<br />
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I've re-written this post several times now; a combination of trying not to kill the mood with details you don't necessarily need to know or hear about, and also trying to come to grips with what I want to say. Sorry if this jumps around quite a bit.<br />
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So I've been busy the past few months. There's been a number of exciting things that have happened, including going to the Gold Coat, UK and Japan, but a couple of downers too like getting through recurring bouts of unhappiness and getting a bit sick physically and of my (non-)progress through life.<br />
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Seven in Sydney has been affected a bit by both the good and the bad as I try and find time for it and also try and avoid it in some unhealthy mentality. I've been working on that last bit for a while now.<br />
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Anyway, me being gone for so long means there's no shortage of pics since I've still been snapping away. There'll be a couple of days where I might not write anything at all though. This does sadden me in a ways because I usually like to blab on about nothing in particular, but more recently it's been the last thing I've wanted to do after coming back from work.<br />
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It's been all too easy recently to tell myself I haven't posted anything here in so long that another day isn't going to matter, so I'm hoping that by posting this, I'll at least guilt myself into posting.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-49211097961096759272012-05-01T19:10:00.002+10:002012-05-01T19:10:42.184+10:00Having direction isn't about making the right decisions, it's about making them at all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Bloody hell Michael.</div>
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I've taken to sitting around in the State Library more recently, which is where I think I wrote my last Seven up, but I keep finding I'm using the time for other things I just haven't done yet and need to catch up on.</div>
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I think this should probably rank a little higher though.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheArJYQPu5T7EzC9e68EYTBFNlorzoKge_CRvOqRTWXs5riXZzNBRpu9na4OF4SbgBFXOWvEdJtBEnjUgNWWbyXfuktzMTzanfl02wlfwbl2dH3n38feihQayYLHDezzIcsKI6P0R0qxg/s1600/Seven_16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheArJYQPu5T7EzC9e68EYTBFNlorzoKge_CRvOqRTWXs5riXZzNBRpu9na4OF4SbgBFXOWvEdJtBEnjUgNWWbyXfuktzMTzanfl02wlfwbl2dH3n38feihQayYLHDezzIcsKI6P0R0qxg/s320/Seven_16.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After so many years, my router finally carked it, rolled over and, well, sort of died. It decided, quite randomly, that it didn't want to maintain sync for all that long and kept booting me offline. Me being me, I instantly suspected that someone was doing something odd. Perhaps trying to boot one of my other computers off the wireless to steal the handshake.<br />
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No, it's just what happens to crappy hardware when it's left on for several years at time. So I got around to getting a new one after being rather unamused at the random jerry-rigging of old hardware I had been using to maintain a decent sync speed and keep my wireless secure.<br />
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This one says that as a rule of thumb it is essential... So it's a rule of thumb or I must do it? I don't know. I never really read those guides. Does anyone?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TdeuEBaMIk1PPTavgpBEznUIX0uX2kcIvhFV8HgCGAO08xC0avJ6XdilgomAoQLaxBH8jegqMSQX6q319y6OuIiEI6dhBXPQ3gFzSTtKyhq91ejhmRDOvQntLODAzl8p63eFEl2U5S0/s1600/Seven_17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TdeuEBaMIk1PPTavgpBEznUIX0uX2kcIvhFV8HgCGAO08xC0avJ6XdilgomAoQLaxBH8jegqMSQX6q319y6OuIiEI6dhBXPQ3gFzSTtKyhq91ejhmRDOvQntLODAzl8p63eFEl2U5S0/s320/Seven_17.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I set out from home one morning all bleary-eyed and asleep (actually, that's me most mornings, but anyway) and I'd wandered a far way when I realised that the normally loud and busy roadway next to me was completely empty. During peak hour. On a week day. I instantly decided I'd died and had woken up in some alternate universe.<br />
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It turns out there was an accident some time in the early hours of the morning and while forensics teams were looking at the scene, they had shut off most of railway square and the roads nearby, so there was barely any traffic.<br />
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I heard it was a ute that hit a taxi and the taxi driver had died. Either way, everything felt rather strange, but that could also be because I don't really wake up completely until later.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfvBOo5dvJeDkAWlQwBMR8n4Jyd2BYa-4fEyOBq4nEw70tDx6fr9O92C4e81IeIo8bg-eFi_TBD7MEQLPvEtucXlG9CYEMZtOrW09ahXnJqUFFTqjnz-P_PzqoGK6bFx8D-t3d20NSOs/s1600/Seven_18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfvBOo5dvJeDkAWlQwBMR8n4Jyd2BYa-4fEyOBq4nEw70tDx6fr9O92C4e81IeIo8bg-eFi_TBD7MEQLPvEtucXlG9CYEMZtOrW09ahXnJqUFFTqjnz-P_PzqoGK6bFx8D-t3d20NSOs/s320/Seven_18.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If I had a setup like this, I'd have a live kitten feed on one of the monitors. I get to see some of the strangest things during my day job. It's supposed to be a cyber security centre, but in the back of my mind all I could wonder was how awesome a LAN party could be in a place like that. Not that I've had a LAN party in a while.<br />
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In fact, I haven't heard even my geekiest friends talk about having one in such a long while. Doesn't anyone do them any more?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqRIFde58GwmNtMXeigwRis4bKfD94Jh1gXmk27mnB7Snh7noQqY6FxfXULyWWJOntQ8kcnpC9phJUF3apZwZvWM7dzgi3aI-ZykvM3R4VZbOrQcyNdQQiI5RsyCMCw3h9IpHIVKlPS0/s1600/Seven_19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqRIFde58GwmNtMXeigwRis4bKfD94Jh1gXmk27mnB7Snh7noQqY6FxfXULyWWJOntQ8kcnpC9phJUF3apZwZvWM7dzgi3aI-ZykvM3R4VZbOrQcyNdQQiI5RsyCMCw3h9IpHIVKlPS0/s320/Seven_19.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Probably about 5 to 6am in the morning down in Darling Harbour before the Google+ Photowalk. I have a couple of my pics from the day <a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/100363915944552887190/albums/5726400219207777473" target="_blank">up on Google+</a>. Now you get to see how bad I fail when I try a little harder.<br />
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Probably the strangest thing about the walk was that I'm not a landscapes person. I shoot people most of the time. But taking photos of photographers is not exactly normal.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7U4jr-1EzAWdDsy7QFlr4fy1TUlV6AQ_xhc2kgc_Ixr5ilqehNW5-daQMpIbPHxpsp8AWKoPFG9lDPXWA38iKymxY9jBEif-Dvhb4izJB6OBgsSZTqZd-w5DInAvCohvxiql8r2YQ0c/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7U4jr-1EzAWdDsy7QFlr4fy1TUlV6AQ_xhc2kgc_Ixr5ilqehNW5-daQMpIbPHxpsp8AWKoPFG9lDPXWA38iKymxY9jBEif-Dvhb4izJB6OBgsSZTqZd-w5DInAvCohvxiql8r2YQ0c/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I don't remember the name of this place. I think it's called Mad Pizza or something similar? It's next to the Mad Mex out near Oxford St. Awesome food. What's more fun is that they leave you crayons to draw on the paper tabletops. I can't draw to save my life, but just about everyone else I was eating with could.<br />
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My friend, the one that got caught in the kid's playground netting from a week or two ago, decided the first thing he would do is draw a giant penis on my table. Joy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLAO3kNUnVMoj-VXPNW5dvz6krcvMMW9gaqqcEOpJIv64odwsdJwZCzup3OVKYpX1tLL9tiBHiRczK3vU2R_zvDSX9DIi2QhjUT4GjxS_ppKmoCMNbAHofIxgYewRyJ18eYQGs3S_f4w/s1600/Seven_20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLAO3kNUnVMoj-VXPNW5dvz6krcvMMW9gaqqcEOpJIv64odwsdJwZCzup3OVKYpX1tLL9tiBHiRczK3vU2R_zvDSX9DIi2QhjUT4GjxS_ppKmoCMNbAHofIxgYewRyJ18eYQGs3S_f4w/s320/Seven_20.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Another discarded pic from the Google+ Photowalk. More recently I ran up these after going on a Nike Sydney run. Big mistake after having already run several kms. I think I near fell right over at the top and I'm sure I looked like a fool at the time. Nevermind, it's all in the name of getting fit!<br />
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It's something that's been taking up quite a bit of my time actually. Strangely, I've been off heavy weights and long runs for the past week or so just due to random outings and things, but I've also felt horribly depressed. I'm not one to usually talk about these things if I can help it, but I thought it was rather coincidental that the two happened at the same time. They say exercise raises your mental state and you can get addicted to the high (source: broscience ;P), so perhaps that's what's happening.<br />
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Either way I want to get back to the gym and beat the crap out of a bag.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41yhIVFJgoE8yWh7AsuE5wbvgZw9U3FDc1-rtZba8eJUGyQE_AFmdQRD_RNUTVj5f5iC1X4v_yVBxkpYz06MWwWpaVfzrMPZhCDQz5tqGaBe8zJm1lBaB5DUvEk78xaEohCpY5hjhHdc/s1600/Seven_21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41yhIVFJgoE8yWh7AsuE5wbvgZw9U3FDc1-rtZba8eJUGyQE_AFmdQRD_RNUTVj5f5iC1X4v_yVBxkpYz06MWwWpaVfzrMPZhCDQz5tqGaBe8zJm1lBaB5DUvEk78xaEohCpY5hjhHdc/s320/Seven_21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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On Cockatoo island I spied this. It's probably a bit hard to tell, but it's one of those concrete sculptures! Even on an island, hey? It's funny how these things just turn up when you're not looking for them, but you know about them. Like when you decide you like a particular model car and suddenly it feels like they're everywhere.<br />
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Perhaps the same could be said for how we see people. Perhaps if the pessimistic me could see that people are willing to go that extra mile, I'd better appreciate others' efforts.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-45067294172540853002012-04-15T12:44:00.000+10:002012-04-15T12:44:18.187+10:00The light at the end of the tunnel could be a train<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, it's been a while, but thankfully it's not because I haven't been taking photos. I've got a whole backlog of them again, but I'm having trouble putting some words to go along with them.</div>
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Go figure, a picture tells a thousand words, but I feel the need to add some more to them. Does it mean the photo doesn't speak for itself? Possibly.</div>
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Or perhaps I like to ramble.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wl2KgWP9Av_E0_ngACX6dGHAa9ZbD-ULxMOXHuDXs1RAQ6TT1gAoplM-Pu06SpEBiwDlzUKNmw48CiMKQjxZZALZHJhNXLpAhHu8ExesmcWNbv7WqKslEeok8pTILMDheuPnujN2jCE/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wl2KgWP9Av_E0_ngACX6dGHAa9ZbD-ULxMOXHuDXs1RAQ6TT1gAoplM-Pu06SpEBiwDlzUKNmw48CiMKQjxZZALZHJhNXLpAhHu8ExesmcWNbv7WqKslEeok8pTILMDheuPnujN2jCE/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So one of the cool things about working where I do is that I sometimes get to gawk at the new products my coworkers get to review. However, this particular picture is from the viewfinder of some brand-spanking-new camera.</div>
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You see that black blob in the bottom left? That's the lens body. I don't know how you mess that sort of thing up, but I guess it can be done.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevSqyzzNJrF82oRw-XrslFbTH-w6egLSkZFjjRBmFcb-PyO_0Iot49gBjPOJWlrtFj35HkhfMJL67N6E_jQ-11Tcs40yJ3JZe1JqtFteqKhJgLgJYMfnp4GTAJ54m7C6eUJQ49gPMqxo/s1600/Seven_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevSqyzzNJrF82oRw-XrslFbTH-w6egLSkZFjjRBmFcb-PyO_0Iot49gBjPOJWlrtFj35HkhfMJL67N6E_jQ-11Tcs40yJ3JZe1JqtFteqKhJgLgJYMfnp4GTAJ54m7C6eUJQ49gPMqxo/s320/Seven_10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I also take my camera along with me to whatever events I go to. The photos I take don't always end up being newsworthy though, so I sometimes end up with a bunch of photos I save up anything else that's related, if I ever use them again.</div>
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This is of a server. The guy showing us around wandered up to a server rack, yanked it out and took the top off it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwxswx9aoFE4jUcnoqWPvaGHnP1Egll3eSmjcobh5KOvLAeX7KbzGwBfzQ60YUw5gFq005XeKSfq2uRQTXV1Aucv-RwNkoxgGrSL5UM7w8ckEOdfuUDqZxQds3xkpucFWQm7dOm01Gkk/s1600/Seven_11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwxswx9aoFE4jUcnoqWPvaGHnP1Egll3eSmjcobh5KOvLAeX7KbzGwBfzQ60YUw5gFq005XeKSfq2uRQTXV1Aucv-RwNkoxgGrSL5UM7w8ckEOdfuUDqZxQds3xkpucFWQm7dOm01Gkk/s320/Seven_11.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Darling Quarter has turned into something pretty impressive, but what has one of my friends wondering is how this structure doesn't end up killing kids. I'm guessing that if they fall the netting is sufficiently spaced out so that with each "bounce" they're slow enough that the chance of serious injury is limited. </div>
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Or I could be completely wrong and maybe there'll be a dead kid on the news some day. I know I used to climb on the outside of these sort of things when I was a kid... and teenager. And adult. If you can call me that.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByh11jZVSvPr78pl0dkDeGmgN_T91wwF107qXlB0og9bJnb0vbgOoWUCGjLERHyIiR1lTWAKQxdURlF2cpaDDlBRxBFYgK7SRwqNJfiP3Tk-lyCls_F9fYnyouo8bEOMDLtnHl2ZI3as/s1600/Seven_12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByh11jZVSvPr78pl0dkDeGmgN_T91wwF107qXlB0og9bJnb0vbgOoWUCGjLERHyIiR1lTWAKQxdURlF2cpaDDlBRxBFYgK7SRwqNJfiP3Tk-lyCls_F9fYnyouo8bEOMDLtnHl2ZI3as/s320/Seven_12.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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You see what I mean? There's a kid in all of us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmd_KeL-VKrtNhD5rUoXML1aRS-q0IqP8s2We3ViI4TydUlWD431REsApDJtf52M0dm09sLPWztWTG9nEoDR070idhUFdwAqVwfbSpL9l-x7lGMjGOMcw37NW6ESSmUbxqAj-b_4kJZc/s1600/Seven_13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmd_KeL-VKrtNhD5rUoXML1aRS-q0IqP8s2We3ViI4TydUlWD431REsApDJtf52M0dm09sLPWztWTG9nEoDR070idhUFdwAqVwfbSpL9l-x7lGMjGOMcw37NW6ESSmUbxqAj-b_4kJZc/s320/Seven_13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I've never actually seen our city's emergency warning system work before. I had thought that the test would have involved an audio test, but I didn't hear one. Perhaps I missed it. But if the point of these tests is to allegedly prepare office workers for what to expect, I don't think it's working.<br />
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One of the video guys at work, with me just spying from the other side of my cubicle wall, if you can call it a cubicle. I'm not sure if I want the world to see my face yet. I'm the sort of person that has a lot of thoughts in his head, but has trouble organising them on the fly. It's probably why I used to write a lot -- it's a lot easier to splurge things out into a word processor and then arrange all my ideas around them.<br />
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I suppose that's what the video guys end up doing -- giving the information some structure and making it easy and understandable to watch. If you get me to do that, I usually end up getting stuck on what I should say first and end up not saying anything at all.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ihklEC4lMPGmYBZKa8tMDZgfXy1mvPl5900XLczXfeQyZYkNYjBwdOmbfqjlRvINw_KRlO7B1rZD9SxqS9-AnpnLUrqEFNTbHUe7QdUA8b7dijR3ZNE_BM9Sk7WJfRIQTAqZqcnp4JU/s1600/Seven_15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ihklEC4lMPGmYBZKa8tMDZgfXy1mvPl5900XLczXfeQyZYkNYjBwdOmbfqjlRvINw_KRlO7B1rZD9SxqS9-AnpnLUrqEFNTbHUe7QdUA8b7dijR3ZNE_BM9Sk7WJfRIQTAqZqcnp4JU/s320/Seven_15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I spotted this on my lunch break. I was hoping to get a snap of the green "alien" that was wandering around, but alas, they must have returned to their home planet. They were essentially someone dressed head-to-toe in bright green polyester. </div>
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So that's Seven, and I'm sure you're wondering where the rest are. The truth is, I get a bit bummed out and overwhelmed with the thought of writing after writing all day. It's not that I don't enjoy sharing my stories, it's just that plonking myself on the couch or reading Reddit all evening is highly satisfying after a long day at work.</div>
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So I'll rather than leave you guys completely hanging on some weeks, I'll try and queue up something. I know you guys are still visiting (and I'm surprised, to be honest!) even in the weeks I don't post, so hopefully you'll have something more interesting to see from now on.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-46999542297175947972012-03-07T00:20:00.001+11:002012-03-07T00:20:32.767+11:00Competence builds confidence, but confidence doesn't necessarily build competence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's another week of pics from my phone. I've rarely been taking my DSLR out partly because of the weight and partly because I haven't been able to find the time.</div>
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I'm finding that carrying camera gear, a gym clothes, a towel, a laptop, and whatever other gadgets I have, I can be toting around 8kg on some days. I'm going to have to find time somehow.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrLwBgKWQhFQiiyMX5_S_787gRTLgqE5ak_eHtA0WWTtCm058OIJZcrQ5om3-oHMWnZZSa0CM4lgk7_rXI6d-T4OFbLDfT51WAvsPA9aIJhKufCxPWUbjaJSiJskr6Ou3NiICByzsKvo/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmrLwBgKWQhFQiiyMX5_S_787gRTLgqE5ak_eHtA0WWTtCm058OIJZcrQ5om3-oHMWnZZSa0CM4lgk7_rXI6d-T4OFbLDfT51WAvsPA9aIJhKufCxPWUbjaJSiJskr6Ou3NiICByzsKvo/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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It was Puddles' birthday last week. We don't actually know when his real birthday is because he began life as a stray. I think he cleaned up pretty well. The first two years were him trying to adjust to domesticated life and clawing up everything in the process. The next two he was Mr Independent — doesn't need anyone or anything, except when you're going to feed him.<br />
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But this past year, he's been much more vocal than usual and cuddles up to you more frequently. There once was a time where I could only pick him up if I were wearing my motorcycling leathers for fear of being ripped to shreds, but it's not unusual now to pick him up and take him on a tour of areas he can't usually see or smell.<br />
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Happy 5th, Puddlet!<br />
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Not that you read this. You're a cat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NXPvbuNLQzF6IKhyphenhyphenJXFgps0gf7zDeDGlAgpf_fwC_pNcKrUxJAVgeHxyimocVAlCLsUkqbdcaVvf1L7iFk96z0sVh1dWUBo70bHCv0DT9isIHN2mRCD8RSiGTfOrC1E3WSbgEnn732c/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NXPvbuNLQzF6IKhyphenhyphenJXFgps0gf7zDeDGlAgpf_fwC_pNcKrUxJAVgeHxyimocVAlCLsUkqbdcaVvf1L7iFk96z0sVh1dWUBo70bHCv0DT9isIHN2mRCD8RSiGTfOrC1E3WSbgEnn732c/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was also Jamie's birthday — my ex-housemate and the childhood friend of my girlfriend, Ev. Together they run a blog called <a href="http://plisherrific.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Plisherrific</a> which is all about nail polish. Y'know, nail p'lish and terrific? Plisherrific? Anyway, Ev got her a whole bunch of girly nail polish related stuff and drew the above on the little card.<br />
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Ev isn't really a Redditor — I think that's just rubbed off from me — so I was pretty surprised to see this.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjES1giubRZ31F-HyHgvoo9Eq7YWNEUYiO3SaZshVey6h-n0rWrZPnhSR1XYTR49V0W0hsMQHn8bbd5Ge86FNl3wq_UpS-sWbXKNqK0Aa5CBVtfY08SrNtbj3nSTAf2onmwqT6Gnbrzwgw/s1600/Seven_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjES1giubRZ31F-HyHgvoo9Eq7YWNEUYiO3SaZshVey6h-n0rWrZPnhSR1XYTR49V0W0hsMQHn8bbd5Ge86FNl3wq_UpS-sWbXKNqK0Aa5CBVtfY08SrNtbj3nSTAf2onmwqT6Gnbrzwgw/s320/Seven_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Remember the "Look lfet" text? Yeah, well they fixed it, much to my disappointment. How will anyone know what to do here?<br />
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I'm curious to know if it would be possible to change it back in the middle of the night. If it went unnoticed for so long previously, surely it could do so again? If it happens to magically change in the next few days, just note that it wasn't me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdpTvV0pABFTnHhNrwTH8ygyQgZbkBML01q78A9IxB24Y8ifW5ggmk_hfZYqr_xDiSph6FLZn82ycsUHqwMQ81qQD4EQ-t6e_NfYx5WkIGG9RjylVqp8_Q3sH77IO06dqDTYSu5Tgfu0/s1600/Seven_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdpTvV0pABFTnHhNrwTH8ygyQgZbkBML01q78A9IxB24Y8ifW5ggmk_hfZYqr_xDiSph6FLZn82ycsUHqwMQ81qQD4EQ-t6e_NfYx5WkIGG9RjylVqp8_Q3sH77IO06dqDTYSu5Tgfu0/s320/Seven_4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Trolley. Not just any trolley, but one from the airport. This is on George, near Barlow. That's like 5km from the airport, and even if they took the train, I don't know how they got it on and off the platform and wheeled it down the street.<br />
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To be honest, people that steal trolleys from supermarkets and then dump them shit me to tears. Being within walking distance from a shopping centre and a university, we frequently get university students that push a trolley down the street with one or two bags in it, then dump it outside someone else's house to make it less obvious it was them.<br />
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I live in a really narrow street where my motorcycle has been knocked down several times and someone has done a hit and run on our car. There's been more than once instance where drunken loonies have decided that riding a trolley down the street has been a swell idea. Ever wonder why your shopping trolleys never track straight?<br />
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Then some poor guy has to squeeze a long trailer down the street to pick it up, which by now has been filled with others' trash.<br />
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But a trolley from the airport? I'm more amused than anything else.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMBTJwj32kPM_j40d_wFktsfbBr6HVLA-QE_7wqI6R_PBkIIH8MIdjzvs__UC9-f9GpPNE2Q8HC1p2jDzUdGxIaaHdX9gKLd2QSgvBCVPqhYq50s-QWO2id_tKgKvZav8OIEeNc3Qs1w/s1600/Seven_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMBTJwj32kPM_j40d_wFktsfbBr6HVLA-QE_7wqI6R_PBkIIH8MIdjzvs__UC9-f9GpPNE2Q8HC1p2jDzUdGxIaaHdX9gKLd2QSgvBCVPqhYq50s-QWO2id_tKgKvZav8OIEeNc3Qs1w/s320/Seven_5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Not certain what happened here, but an evidence crew from the police were taking photos of this place just next to the pharmacy outside Capitol Square on George. I was hoping I could find out a few more details in the news or through NSW Police, but all seems pretty quiet.<br />
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I'm always wondering how different one part of Sydney can be just an hour later. I don't remember the movie, but there's a scene in which a character is killed on what looks like a New York street corner, covering the sidewalk in blood. A little while later, the body is removed, the sidewalk hosed down and people continue walking through unaware that someone had died there just a few hours before.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOQ8SiKyrb9ANPhV2mkdGR6i2ea7LhHwBtPeRaQ1y818rqze6uWEFfjeDz07WX7_xKBq0-m1HRSD1N6ecVNhT_wOP0De2nMfdbXM9kAUmkqhBIRztP_9DExk8Fk64oswtBwfu90M7NEE/s1600/Seven_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOQ8SiKyrb9ANPhV2mkdGR6i2ea7LhHwBtPeRaQ1y818rqze6uWEFfjeDz07WX7_xKBq0-m1HRSD1N6ecVNhT_wOP0De2nMfdbXM9kAUmkqhBIRztP_9DExk8Fk64oswtBwfu90M7NEE/s320/Seven_6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After all of the hideous rain that we've had, I somehow picked a great day to find myself in The Summit Restaurant in Australia Square.<br />
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First of all, Australia Square, the building, is anything but square. It's a freaking cylinder. The plot of land that it's on, sure, but that's the same for most buildings and even ones that have a square-ish cross-section. They'd be more at home being called a square anything.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe6m39JArXd0rUK3jyzlSpxsEbx1bKomgkqr_8yhbi_aC7LCz3jBymf3pfT8dG2HtnsxpRpQHwFDswQzja5a6K56lmmLnVSBIEZOVs5Xlbca2r1sFgZvTnVkBcpdLC5CO8V5AZoV0Xxc/s1600/Seven_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe6m39JArXd0rUK3jyzlSpxsEbx1bKomgkqr_8yhbi_aC7LCz3jBymf3pfT8dG2HtnsxpRpQHwFDswQzja5a6K56lmmLnVSBIEZOVs5Xlbca2r1sFgZvTnVkBcpdLC5CO8V5AZoV0Xxc/s320/Seven_7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The second thing? It took me a good 30 minutes before I realised that the restaurant revolves. I was working at the time and had my back to the window while doing my job. It wasn't until it occurred to me that the sun coming in through the window was moving at a freakishly high pace that I realised it wasn't everything else that was moving, it was me.<br />
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It would be pretty amazing to get a full 360-degree stitched panorama of Sydney from there, but that's not what I was there for. Perhaps another day in my own time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfthANzgaP5JBGowxioKBoWemKfmH4Ei-1fkFPqQAxG4Q1ioMZI98MEvvUb6sWtYt6xheAIUkRLYxhECrS9mFdi5So3CGnCiZaE4uJ5F7mM8C9SCdCJ8joqaQGkgv-1gtSbx4zXXHTmeI/s1600/Seven_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfthANzgaP5JBGowxioKBoWemKfmH4Ei-1fkFPqQAxG4Q1ioMZI98MEvvUb6sWtYt6xheAIUkRLYxhECrS9mFdi5So3CGnCiZaE4uJ5F7mM8C9SCdCJ8joqaQGkgv-1gtSbx4zXXHTmeI/s320/Seven_8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Broadway is one of those places that strikes me as a bit quirky. It can be a mix of young professionals, the homeless, university students, hippies, lawyers, academics, drunkards and some combination of all of the above. You would think that this could spell trouble, but somehow everyone gets along.<br />
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I see stuff like this and wonder why it hasn't been completely defaced, or how it managed to even get there in the first place. Then, down the road, there's an advertisement that has a woman's face on it that has been defaced and cleaned countless times. Is there a rhyme and reason to any of it? Is it just funnier to draw monobrows?<br />
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Anyway, I had to borrow a few pics from Monday to get through this week, which means I'll need to be more on my game over the next few days. I've also begun to wonder. If a picture is worth a thousand words, what is a video worth? I might try experimenting one of these days in 77 seconds.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-51172704957265365082012-02-28T00:21:00.000+11:002012-02-28T00:21:56.355+11:00Often times, the odds are good that the goods are odd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last week vanished in a blur, so much so that I ended up only taking pics on my phone. They're a bit random of sorts, but I'll share a bit more of their story.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLfoyrkeT020AjbHuzqB1a99QmlbEFNb3MGcYCSw3Xp8xpu4esvHOav7pkfihSzp7DTSRnUlex5L9QU6gdZz36Gzqi6KlIUwq8VNBZnkTFY0k26M18p9-eRDZhJ1CATAE0zOEIfNiwdw/s1600/IMG_20120220_082752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLfoyrkeT020AjbHuzqB1a99QmlbEFNb3MGcYCSw3Xp8xpu4esvHOav7pkfihSzp7DTSRnUlex5L9QU6gdZz36Gzqi6KlIUwq8VNBZnkTFY0k26M18p9-eRDZhJ1CATAE0zOEIfNiwdw/s320/IMG_20120220_082752.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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She should be a familiar sight. The Jess-dog turned four the other day. She's a big sook. When she was little we were all in a car accident and I think that's left a fairly lasting impression on her. We also always trained her to be more passive than remotely aggressive since any mistake on <em>our</em> part may result in her losing her life since most people see German Shepherd Dogs as dangerous.<br />
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It's always made me a little sad when I hear about dogs that bite someone and have to be put down. The truth is, they don't understand right and wrong. Dogs don't have a sense of doing something out of malice — they're just instinctual. So when a dog loses its life, it's not its fault — it's the fault of its owner.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_JDq7JsuDUL4UjTP0z16DyhHJDVZ5EHBHdAkyojseZYRd-1pk4cYn3N_0UvTLnviyBD-7JlBFXKSDToQEDNt8T2K8RuWRiZsi-OpAiKIw46MfStkkoyGfWj0OcNPJmNos8tHVXd0Jho/s1600/IMG_20120221_183611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_JDq7JsuDUL4UjTP0z16DyhHJDVZ5EHBHdAkyojseZYRd-1pk4cYn3N_0UvTLnviyBD-7JlBFXKSDToQEDNt8T2K8RuWRiZsi-OpAiKIw46MfStkkoyGfWj0OcNPJmNos8tHVXd0Jho/s320/IMG_20120221_183611.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There always seems to be something interesting at my local gym. I don't talk much about the gym, but to be honest, it's something that's regularly on my mind. I took up lifting weights a few months ago and have been settling into a routine. Now when I'm not at the gym I randomly feel like lifting heavy things and I feel like I get gym withdrawal. But I wouldn't call myself a gym nut, and I'm not lifting weights that are all that heavy... yet.<br />
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Before last year, I wouldn't have stepped into a gym, believing you could do everything with bodyweights — push ups, sit ups, pull ups and the like. I guess I've been convinced otherwise now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPYOoUUhBXF15Tku6MrSjVLxGF31iI5PJfS5TBB_y5tXQdUOuMNJ3327wnjVpl8mdx1tFWq9YNfREDh2pr67RuicOwjFTdCT3Ju5Q0b7Mu3eppwnQttAMZAxz2gGTklx1D92GJxU3uiI/s1600/IMG_20120222_214756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPYOoUUhBXF15Tku6MrSjVLxGF31iI5PJfS5TBB_y5tXQdUOuMNJ3327wnjVpl8mdx1tFWq9YNfREDh2pr67RuicOwjFTdCT3Ju5Q0b7Mu3eppwnQttAMZAxz2gGTklx1D92GJxU3uiI/s320/IMG_20120222_214756.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Over at the Guylian Cafe in The Rocks. I like shiny lights. In fact, I don't like room lights. I'd much rather a series of small lamps and individual spots to highlight things like bookcases and artwork. I think a small part of that comes from when I used to dabble in stage lighting. I spent hours upon hours reading up and learning about it, actually putting some of my electrical engineering degree to use.<br />
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To this day, I've always though it would be cool to build some LED lighting strips and program some controllers for all sorts of things, like transitional mood lighting at particular times of the day. Or hook them into motion sensors to automatically provide energy efficient lighting when needed.<br />
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I find it interesting whenever I see thing that actually take something functional and practical, and combine it with something that is actually creative and artistic. Lights tend to do that for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjh8cD55xuy2fF3uunSDfPrB1wUNZSH8aeRiVa122ntDpzLIpGtua4KZPcdQZVrXIRK5A-JrcoIlbazQfWjfgVDo6UAqYoJvz25X2T32AGfRlcQdBkD6Z2DYHwLHrT842m8xfQ9scxQE/s1600/IMG_20120222_224209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjh8cD55xuy2fF3uunSDfPrB1wUNZSH8aeRiVa122ntDpzLIpGtua4KZPcdQZVrXIRK5A-JrcoIlbazQfWjfgVDo6UAqYoJvz25X2T32AGfRlcQdBkD6Z2DYHwLHrT842m8xfQ9scxQE/s320/IMG_20120222_224209.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Also in The Rocks, I must have passed this alleyway a couple of hundred times but never noticed it for some reason. It's on George?, just near the old police station. I've always said that there are a number of small alleyways that one could spend hours exploring and getting lost in The Rocks, but I never realised how close to the main strip some of them were.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMVMYvQz0WoMa5LsgOGXARqvl56WyjAUgQfSd0QTlVTKaSEr-cu4VbXqVcoxijSfDYqiFTL2xe6MzTOeog7mCZo9EItNfZCD5Ca7CfkBUDZiJtXYqoRlq5HATMnlu9FMFtdaGiaLkfAw/s1600/IMG_20120225_221837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMVMYvQz0WoMa5LsgOGXARqvl56WyjAUgQfSd0QTlVTKaSEr-cu4VbXqVcoxijSfDYqiFTL2xe6MzTOeog7mCZo9EItNfZCD5Ca7CfkBUDZiJtXYqoRlq5HATMnlu9FMFtdaGiaLkfAw/s320/IMG_20120225_221837.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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One year, a few days before my birthday, my SO sent me a letter, but didn't say who it was from. Inside were statements from people I knew, describing what I was like. The next day, I got another similar letter. And so on and on until it was actually my birthday. It's probably one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me, plus I'm a suckers for letters.<br />
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On the day of my birthday I received a parcel in the mail, which contained all sorts of things, including bubbles, a little bear and a Caramello Cream Egg. I'd mentioned that I liked them, but they were fairly hard to find at the time. Sentimental me kept everything, including the egg, until I had to clear out my old stuff from my parents place.<br />
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I never did get to eat it. And considering it's several years old now, I don't think it would've been a wise idea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4xMsfeeyA-TB2sKDVKzhYIelwUjnqYxbMw9fQ16qK02_YwocVQK6EWuhyphenhyphenhR0QuEZzXjg8v7hTvElvjR2ugPnVAMWj1WX6bdIksNL1ps4-kRIBLFlFpIMMXEdsslSAgAatCAgsK0RfPE/s1600/IMG_20120225_223007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4xMsfeeyA-TB2sKDVKzhYIelwUjnqYxbMw9fQ16qK02_YwocVQK6EWuhyphenhyphenhR0QuEZzXjg8v7hTvElvjR2ugPnVAMWj1WX6bdIksNL1ps4-kRIBLFlFpIMMXEdsslSAgAatCAgsK0RfPE/s320/IMG_20120225_223007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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While I was clearing out my old stuff from my parents' place, I came across a number of things. An old, empty cigarette packet from when I used to smoke, and my old wallet which, among a number of receipts, a note to myself.<br />
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The gist of it is an explanatory note about a black ribbon I used to have tied to my arm. I don't remember where the ribbon came from, only that it was cut in half, with one used to tie my rather large journal, which I called "Genesis", shut. The other was meant to serve as a reminder to myself to always do the right thing, and by that I meant according to my religion.<br />
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The thing was, I was chasing a girl that, according to the rules of my religion, I should probably not be chasing. So really, to do the "right thing" was to deny myself of any feelings I had for her. Which made everything pretty distressing and really wasn't fair for either of us. I can't say that I regret my decision — it's just a decision that had to be made either way — but I do often wonder what else we do in our lives with good intentions, without realising we're fucking up something special.<br />
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How's this for a blast from the past? I was a big PC gamer back in the day, racking up hours upon hours on games like Command and Conquer: Red Alert and Wolfenstein 3D. Of course, I'd always cheat, which just made games much more funnier when nukes could be launched from pistols and dogs could fire laser beams or something like that.<br />
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There's also my old Nokia phone, and an actual legitimate copy of Windows 98. I have no idea why I decided to put my tennis racquet there.<br />
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This probably didn't turn out very well, but I found my old university lab notes. I have no idea what the hell is going on here anymore asides from trying to figure out the voltage across a certain point, but apparently I got the right answer as evidenced by my "woot!" note.</div>
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The lab book was one of several books I found that day. I wrote a lot when I was younger and before the internet gave us blogs. One such journal was an account of expeditions I went on when I was in high school. </div>
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I wrote:</div>
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That's another great thing I like about these hikes. I like to write a lot. In fact, I once considered taking it up as a career. But in our lives there are too many distractions. Too much to persuade your thoughts from what they are. That why I like the bush. There aren't houses or cities or rooms to clean or other things to do. There's just what nature intended.</blockquote>
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It's funny how when I read everything I write, I go from a cringing in embarrassment to realising that some of the simplest things I held true when I was a kid still apply today. I did end up taking up writing as a form of a career and I still love to hike for the simple reason that it gives me time to close my mind off from everything else. </div>
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Sometimes, I guess the best person to turn to when you're uncertain, is the little kid inside you.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-23601025265172026832012-02-20T01:20:00.000+11:002012-02-20T16:59:09.338+11:00It's sometimes better to do without thinking than to never do anything at all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Alright, where the hell have I been?</div>
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I'm a bit behind on some projects I'm working on and that means I've been putting this off. But I have still been snapping photos from what random events seem to land in my lap.</div>
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Also, that Google+ camera strap went out to one of my readers. Hope they're enjoying it. For those interested, there's <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/108492526126263806887/posts/Dnvg7a47sRh" target="_blank">another walk happening at the end on March</a> which will end up being televised. Come along and say hi! The last one was awesome.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGoDoXUNYi1wMzsgKj0vkNwnqMwijIDsYm9_E4d7WSV226kiVWY1k9VxvcC6T_jvqvPxrUQcbCP8zdU6Q2-SBZjhb7nMbJ9nznlKyk5KziNiCkXLjU0Xbut7SExn5yeqo2hSyI5MJYPM/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGoDoXUNYi1wMzsgKj0vkNwnqMwijIDsYm9_E4d7WSV226kiVWY1k9VxvcC6T_jvqvPxrUQcbCP8zdU6Q2-SBZjhb7nMbJ9nznlKyk5KziNiCkXLjU0Xbut7SExn5yeqo2hSyI5MJYPM/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Every Chinese New Year, I do my Chinese-y thing and go to a Buddhist temple. Only I'm not Buddhist. In fact, I'm not of any religion. But Chinese culture and all that ends up being related to Buddhism so I end up going either way and paying my respects, saying my prayers and all that jazz. I suppose you could say I don't subscribe to any particular one of God's fan clubs, but I think there's probably a God out there.</div>
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Anyway, these lions are meant to be good luck. You follow them around and try to touch or stroke them. I realised afterwards that the people inside them were friends I'd met through an old school mate that do Kung Fu. I feel slightly weirded out now.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzlZZni1hgaufc3-sxonfGTsJnyTD4okP4dhZM_PnmyEt7aAHcG_TDf4_nA8nJyXa5qWtZII3-lKbRWncJ7nwx8Hjkt9gogYZTZEyo2PrXXf9F8CSxxmp8jzFYDmKGz60RawF1Kc9jSM/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzlZZni1hgaufc3-sxonfGTsJnyTD4okP4dhZM_PnmyEt7aAHcG_TDf4_nA8nJyXa5qWtZII3-lKbRWncJ7nwx8Hjkt9gogYZTZEyo2PrXXf9F8CSxxmp8jzFYDmKGz60RawF1Kc9jSM/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is Puddles, not in mid-step, but just chilling out on the stairs. With one paw down for some reason. Lately he's been getting more and more affectionate. He's come a long way from being a rescued little street cat.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkfRXy-OxajLjHDxKiwIAUiVU6f6hHQWF8pIF5sqoa985i48FCKM8EHpUie3dXHpJSeddA1Iesqp3zoYYbUeUBkWG7DDenPq20mcqKu9nOsvT_VVDiGZDFLQfGtNg-CRwkW0vdDWOYbQ/s1600/Seven_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkfRXy-OxajLjHDxKiwIAUiVU6f6hHQWF8pIF5sqoa985i48FCKM8EHpUie3dXHpJSeddA1Iesqp3zoYYbUeUBkWG7DDenPq20mcqKu9nOsvT_VVDiGZDFLQfGtNg-CRwkW0vdDWOYbQ/s320/Seven_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Over on Bay Street, just off Broadway, I used to go to this Oporto after uni and get fat. I haven't done it in a while, but I regularly pass by. I never noticed until the other day that "tomorrow" is typo'd. I think I was more horrified at the thought of having Oporto for breakfast.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypsqJyWS0IOXgi5WAKQ3aNvz_oc76kMzYwlE31Dk6gJ18wytUizQNBNhQAn5r3Ma2tvUQLTLfLWzgpORnRhPrgZqGluexgmH3R_4CK7q94KnZDAFEgxcHtuJqhKJXizAIyLgEd_yH3XY/s1600/Seven_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypsqJyWS0IOXgi5WAKQ3aNvz_oc76kMzYwlE31Dk6gJ18wytUizQNBNhQAn5r3Ma2tvUQLTLfLWzgpORnRhPrgZqGluexgmH3R_4CK7q94KnZDAFEgxcHtuJqhKJXizAIyLgEd_yH3XY/s320/Seven_4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I think we've reached a small, quiet period where these sort of decorations are down. It's pretty amazing how fast these shops can change their decorations from Christmas to Chinese New Year. And Easter is coming up, right? Giant bunnies anyone?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzJ9WFNrR3bhuVzed8emJ0VwerFzXm-lDKJbMHVJg14wX1lWI-mGZ0lkCvbPquRQIykuGf1LSlradKShatX5JYgSQfUQur_eKaBkZpB-vnZahdMGi3plqKVaCkPx98oiVuwpf5icLTNw/s1600/Seven_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzJ9WFNrR3bhuVzed8emJ0VwerFzXm-lDKJbMHVJg14wX1lWI-mGZ0lkCvbPquRQIykuGf1LSlradKShatX5JYgSQfUQur_eKaBkZpB-vnZahdMGi3plqKVaCkPx98oiVuwpf5icLTNw/s320/Seven_5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I don't like Korean food that much. I find that eating a lot of small portions tends to confuse me and leads me to believe I haven't eaten much. Horribly deceptive, but I think that's more on the side of my brain being full of derp.<br />
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Anyway, while we were standing outside this place, I realised that the funky upward lighting wasn't intentional. In fact, it was a light that had fallen off the roofing and was dangling by a single cable and balanced on the shop sign. And I'd been standing under it for the past 10 minutes!<br />
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When council closes off roads in the city, pedestrians go nuts. But only if someone else does first. We watched the police close off this road for the Chinese New Year parade and no one made a move. So I did. And when people saw me and realised I wasn't getting killed, they all ran out on the road. Seems like an awfully easy way to kill a lot of people.<br />
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This guy was full of awesome. He's got a mixing deck in there along with all his audio gear and it's powered off solar cells. Unfortunately the cops asked him to leave and for a while we were without any music.<br />
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I have no idea where they placed the projectors for this, but it seems to be an on-going tactic since Vivid Sydney many months ago. I gotta say, as cool as this sort of thing is, I'm beginning to tire of it a little.<br />
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The parade itself? It was full of WTF. Not necessarily in a good way. I have no idea what these chefs had to do with Chinese New Year, but there they were. </div>
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I could understand the little schools' participation, but in many cases there seemed to be groups that had just turned up because it happened to be some parade down George. Marching bands with brass instruments? I know the stereotype is that Asian people are meant to be good at playing instruments, but really? </div>
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There were some pretty cool items in the parade though. Dragons, when they got them right-ish, and random pandas wrapped in fairy lights on uni-cycles. Unfortunately, it didn't really cut it for me and I left about three quarters of the way in. To be honest, it's made me wonder how the typical Sydney-sider sees Asians now.<br />
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This is what happens when you don't check to see if there's milk in the fridge first. Some mornings I eat at my desk. It's mostly to do with not getting up as early as I should to eat at home and also because it's convenient. This probably isn't the healthiest breakfast though, since that tablespoon is full of honey.<br />
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I'd been told I need to eat more meals and up my protein content, but to be honest, I'm finding it hard to remember to eat at times. This coming from a guy who feels like he's <em>always</em> eating at his desk.<br />
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Pie Face. Maybe it's just my sick mind, but the top two faces look like they're enjoying themselves too much.<br />
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What's with the number of these shops anyway? There seems to be one on every block.<br />
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Okay, maybe not (just the big pins), but it certainly feels like it. Surprisingly, their coffee isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I was expecting drip-filtered watery brown tasteless stuff, but it's actually not too bad.<br />
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On George near Goulburn, there's a kebab/pizza shop that states it's open 25 hours. I've eaten there exactly once after attempting to sober up from something I don't really remember. Big slice of oily pizza. I wouldn't eat there for lunch, but it seems appropriate for 4am munchies. There's another kebab store around the corner also of dubious quality. I haven't died from it yet.<br />
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I spent a few days in Mexico the other week and flew United business between SYD, LAX, HOU, CUN. I've been told business with United is nothing compared to Singapore Air, but when I sat down I found I had more buttons than I knew what to do with. I don't fly very often, and rarely in business class. I had to sheepishly wait for someone else to pull their tray table out before I knew where mine was.<br />
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This boggles my mind. When I went to Japan last year, I didn't see many vending machines selling anything more wild than hot and cold coffee. But this is in LAX, a freakishly boring airport. You can buy Nintendo DS games, headphones, and those sort of random electronic items.<br />
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Oh, and before I had ever set foot in LAX I'd been told it's the most boring airport in the world. I didn't think it could be too bad, but it is. People were sleeping on the floor. There were probably about four or five shops. Getting stuck there for more than a few hours could be extremely boring.<br />
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When is the Wall Street Journal not a publication? When it's a shop. A shop for a publication about a street. I also didn't have much time in HOU, but for the brief time that I was, I kept forgetting that they drive their carts on the right-hand side of the road. I don't know what it is about Houston, but they have carts whizzing across their airports all the time.<br />
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And this, after about 26 hours of travelling, is what I was rewarded with. I woke up extremely early in order to be able to go have a run along the beach on the first day I was there. I really regret not going in for a dip, but I guess I never would have found the time anyway.<br />
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I was in one of those apartments somewhere on the lower levels. It's an east-facing wall, so the sun creeps in across the Caribbean Sea and makes everything glow in the morning. The first morning I woke up freaking out a little to be honest. I don't know what it is, but I tend to be a bit startled when I wake up in a different bed.<br />
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That's possibly a good survival thing though.<br />
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The first day was also the only one that I had some free time because there had been nothing scheduled until the afternoon. I wandered to La Isla and had a look around, but early on a Monday morning, nothing was really open. It's a really pretty place, a tourist shopping trap also, but I don't know if I'd ever go back.<br />
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I've got a huge gap where I'm frantically at work, but dinner is much more relaxed. At one point the CEO of the company who is hosting us wanders over and tells me I should go and have a cigar. It turns out he's hired someone to roll them there.<br />
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I quit smoking a long time ago — it was a bit of a derp thing I did in uni when I thought no one was looking. It once came up in a casual conversation we were having between friends and a girl that I had a crush on mentioned that I smoked to the others. On one hand it was flattering to have had her notice something I hid, but on the other, I was a little ashamed as I got the impression she didn't have much respect for those that smoked.<br />
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Occasionally, I still feel the urge to have a smoke after having a beer. The two go so well together. I would have thought cigars and scotch would have been my thing (and scotch typically is my thing), but I found myself chatting to new-found work colleagues over a glass of red and puffing on a death-stick.<br />
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I remember waking up the next morning, not with a hangover as I tend not to get them, but with the taste still lingering in my mouth. Not something I'd want to do regularly, but I'll try most things once.<br />
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This is me for most of the next day. I can't tell you how painful it is to be working when you know you could be out there floating in a pool or in the sea. So close, but yet, so far.<br />
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But it was certainly a different place to be working.<br />
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Yo dawg, I heard you liked clouds so I put some cloud in your clouds. On the way from CUN to SFO.<br />
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Cancun airport has a Bubba Gump. You know, from Forrest Gump? Why in Cancun? I have no idea. I also have no idea why at this stage in the trip I developed a heavy American accent while I was at the airport.<br />
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I have a pretty horrible habit of subconsciously picking up on the accents of others and adapting them into my own. To be honest, I don't even know what sort of accent I have. I was born in the UK and occasionally, when I'm nervous or stressed, involuntarily speak with a British accent, so I'm wondering whether I just speak with a semi-Australian accent because that's what I hear most of the time.<br />
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Can you hear Bubba's voice? I can. Or could. I wonder how they got the rights to this?<br />
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After travelling for about 28 hours on the way back, I jumped off the plane and went on a 5.13km obstacle course called the Warrior's Dash. There was mud. Apparently while I was away it had been raining. I brought my camera along, but had nothing to wipe the lens clean with since everything was caked in mud.<br />
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How caked in mud? Billy here looks relatively clean. I think the worst part about the mud isn't that occasionally you can smell manure washed into it, or that you don't know what else is in there with you, but the feeling when you get it in your eye. You can't wipe your eyes because your hands, clothes and arms are caked sometimes literally in crap. And you don't want to stop and lose your pace either. So you try and shrug it off.<br />
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One of the river crossings in which my friend lost his camera. He tried for a while to find it, but came up with bits of grass and bark. I doubt anyone is ever going to find it.<br />
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Naive little me thought I'd be able to use my shoes again. I wish I'd donated them to this here group. While my clothes came out alright in the wash, my shoes are dead. They were well on their way out before the run, which is why I decided to use them, but I was hoping that the mud would come out and I'd be able to use them for some other run. Fat chance of that.<br />
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Mud gets everywhere. I mean everywhere. I get pretty badly congested sinuses and for about a day after the run, I was still blowing muddy snot out of my nose. Yum.<br />
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Anyway, we placed around 3400 out of 8600 entrants, finishing in just over an hour, including the time spent waiting in line for obstacles to be free and searching the river for that lost camera. Not bad for a jet-lagged scrawny kid, I think.<br />
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Over on Broadway there's a little Japanese place called Maki Maki. When I went there several months ago, it was pretty average. I'd decided that the place down the road, Masaka, was probably better. Only when I went there on a Sunday, they were shut, so Maki Maki it was.<br />
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The place has changed quite a bit since I last went. The menu, decor, seating are all a crapload better. It feels like it's changed from a take-away place to more of a sit-down sort of establishment. Get the Wagyu steak thinggit if you ever go.<br />
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Speaking of places that have changed, the old Paddy McGuires in Captial Square has been replaced with this place — Yardhouse. I don't know what it is, but the back of it — the part that is inside Capital Square itself — was full of senior citizens. It was mid-week, sure, but wow. I opted for a quieter seat inside. Me? Calling a bunch of senior citizens too loud?<br />
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Anyway, while I didn't eat there, it looks like it might have some decent food. Must go back some day.<br />
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I think this is how the guys at my gym attempt to display lost property. Either that or someone has been dressing the fruit again. I think those bananas would make a good hairpiece.<br />
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The Australian Youth Hotel. Last time I was here it was for a staff function in the very same room. They call it the Nude Room because of all the art on the walls of nude women. I like the chairs for some reason. And the lights. I think it gives it a sort of class, which is strange because downstairs is very much a pub.<br />
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Anyhow, there's a whole bunch of weeks in there that I hope makes up for me going missing. I might try and post in smaller increments if possible, so it's more fitting with the name of this site and so I find time for my other projects.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-84490575427015462492012-02-07T04:16:00.001+11:002012-02-07T04:16:25.753+11:00Excuses, excusesI'm not very good at this regularity thing, am I?<br />
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I'm overseas at the moment for work and finding an internet connection has been more difficult than I first imagined. It looks like I'm going to have to give you guys another mega-update next week as I'm running flat off my feet here at the moment as well.<br />
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In the meantime, here's a random pic of me from last week trying to be a dragon, but appearing to just be a hippo...<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-27523996675081778962012-01-25T23:27:00.000+11:002012-01-26T00:39:23.180+11:00Every second is another chance to be someone better than you were<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Alright, here I am after a long hiatus.</div>
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I hope none of you thought I had been run over or accosted for shooting someone in the street. There's several weeks worth of photos due, I know, and while I didn't quite make the Seven every week, I did try and keep up.</div>
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So here's a mega-huge post that I hope makes up for it. </div>
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This is one of our IT guys at work. I often think it must be a strange thing to work in IT for a company where most people are tech-savvy. But I guess it means that the bugs and issues just become weirder.<br />
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Take this, for example. He's connecting a TV up to our network using arcade-style controls. I think I'm slowly getting used to all sorts of random.<br />
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Just prior to Christmas I wandered over to the Fish Markets with some friends. I have no idea how or why. One of my friends needed to pick up some fish and so we tagged along. At 1am or so in the morning.<br />
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I really dislike the Fish Markets. Not because I don't eat shell fish, but because every time I go there I seem to get shat on by seagulls. Thankfully there weren't many at 1am, but previously I've been shat on the leg, on the head and even in my ear. I swear those bastards are aiming for me.<br />
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One day I'll get my revenge. Come here seagull, I'm going to shit in your ear.<br />
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While we were wandering around, we suddenly had the idea of making Bloody Marys. I've never had or seen one before, but I'm not sure it's meant to look like this. It reminds me of this scene from Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels:<br />
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<i>"I asked you to give me a refreshing drink! Wasn't expecting a fucking rainforest. You could fall in love with an orangutan in there!"</i><br />
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I seem to have a thing for benches. I never sit on them myself, but I like taking photos of them in peaceful places I've encountered. They never seem to be occupied, but I bet many others have sat and contemplated deep, serious thoughts. Me? No, I just giggle and fart and move on.<br />
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This is my dog giving her best impression of being an oversized rat. I don't know why, but she's hopeless at being the ferocious German Shepherd Dog that everyone thinks she is. I think I may have mentioned this before.<br />
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She's got seriously long legs. I call them supermodel legs. But she's constantly got this look of worry on her face. <i>What's that? You're scratching my head. Oh no! I like it, but... Oh no! </i>We love her anyway.<br />
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Christmas means getting fat. I'm not huge to begin with, but I've stopped growing upwards and begun to grow sideways. I'm always at a loss at what to tell people when they ask what I'm doing for Christmas. Lots of people have plans to go away, but me? I always spend it with my family.<br />
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Going away sounds like fun, and I'm sure it is, no doubt, but I've always thought it's time spent with those closest.<br />
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There used to be a giant sculpture in the Galeries Victoria where an LCD signboard at the top of it could be programmed to read whatever you wanted. I think after being abused, it was quickly disabled and thereafter became something really boring.<br />
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I hadn't been in a while but now there's a giant staircase and a series of floating books, presumably from Books Kinokunia. I'm sure it changed a while ago and I'd simply not noticed.<br />
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Down near the Regency building, past Chef's Gallery (and no, it's not like Men's Gallery but with chefs), there's a coffee place called Tom'N'Toms. It looks like an Asian ripoff of Starbucks, but I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. The Engrish is amusing, to say the least, but the other weird thing is that they sell pretzels.<br />
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The only advice I can give is not to drink the coffee.<br />
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I can't remember where this is exactly, but I think it's somewhere nearby Oxford Street and down an alleyway. I don't think it ever really gets noticed, which is a shame, but I wonder what was going through the minds of the designers. I didn't notice any theme among any of the buildings, just one alley-facing wall with flowers.<br />
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What I love about Summer is that after work there's still light. I walk past Railway Square all the time and more recently there's been this lovely glowing light as the sun settles down. Although you can't see it for the sun, Central Park is also beginning to emerge on the horizon. It's not yet built to its full height, but there's this giant gap in the sky between the buildings that you can see it will eventually take up.<br />
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I'm still not sure whether I approve of the development or not. I guess it's just one of those things I'll only be able to decide on once it's finished and the full effects are known.<br />
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Supermarket Mondays. We've changed over to Woolworths for a bit so instead of making fun of the characters and their quotes on Coles Select products, I get to see cats that are either enjoying themselves in the middle of a long one, or are smugly approving of their owner's choice of litter.<br />
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Why do they call it litter anyway, isn't cat crap meant to be litter? Putting litter in your litter? Litterception?<br />
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Don't think I've ever seen one of these before, nor one that's been spray painted. To be honest, I don't really know how to interpret this one. Golden child? I'm also curious to know who is removing these. I don't think it's council because a lot of others don't go missing, but they don't really last long either.<br />
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This is a Black House spider that had been living in our laundry for the past few years. Venomous, but not agressive and generally not a biter. I'd known it had been sitting in the same place for a while and we'd lived relatively harmoniously, but only under the condition that it never venture further into the house.<br />
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Unfortunately after several bouts of rain it decided to creep right into the house and we had to get rid of it. It's probably the most tolerant I've been with a spider since they tend to scare me the crap out of me unless I've grown accustomed to them (like hiking in the bush for several days).<br />
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I went to an Asian grocer the other day and bought a cleaver. I don't know why, but it felt rather weird carrying one in a shopping basket. When I was a little kid, there was a white elephant sale at my primary school. One of the things for sale, I think for a dollar, was a cleaver.<br />
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I have no idea what possessed me to buy it, but I did. And without questioning what I would do with it, it was sold to me. I ended up giving it to my mum, who also never questioned how I got it. I doubt that would ever happen today.<br />
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I couldn't decide if I really wanted these biscuits or not. I mean, I could eat stoned cars or sexy stoned monkeys.<br />
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What do people think when they design these things? Or do they?<br />
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I actually went to Sydney Festival first night by accident. I felt like stretching the legs so I wandered out into town and discovered this in Martin Place. There were people dancing in the street.<br />
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I've got to say that Sydney puts on a pretty good show. If I were a tourist visiting over the New Year I'd certainly think that it is one of the best cities in the world. I mean, you come around for what are arguably some of the best fireworks, then they throw this party for several weeks and now it's Chinese New Year and they have all sorts of other stuff on.<br />
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This guy climbed a light pole to see the guys that were doing acrobatics on poles. I like that no one around him really cared.<br />
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Social experiment? People kept moving these lights and I was curious as to why people at times would avoid walking between them or stroll through either not noticing or not caring.<br />
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There's only really one reason I took this pic.<br />
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That is all.<br />
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I've noticed this is a thing Sydney does quite a bit. When in doubt, make your trees technicolour. I'm not quite sure if this had any significance, but I'm with the majority with throwing reasoning out the window. It just looks frickin' cool!<br />
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This is one of those times where a fast photo results in this, a slow photo results in a mess and neither really show what is going on. You know when you look at those optical illusions of banded together lines and it makes your head spin. That's a good approximation of what this moving pattern achieved, but on the scale of being building-sized.<br />
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Let's gather around the TV, children. There's not enough room in the Domain to house everyone, so there's an obvious solution. Close the road, bring in a huge-ass screen on a crane, wire up the street with giant speakers, and turn off all the street lights.<br />
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Looking down towards Kings Cross. I still haven't got my technique to walk across the street, snap, and run before the lights change, quite perfected yet. I rarely venture into the Cross. The last time I went drinking there I don't remember how I got home. I do remember convincing a girl to make out with one of my work colleagues and something to do with an aerosol can.<br />
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And meanwhile, here's a pineapple wearing a disguise. Could have fooled me. It's at the cafe attached to my gym. I somehow know the first names of most of the baristas at cafes I frequent, but I'm more impressed when it's the other way around and I haven't struck up a conversation.<br />
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When I was working in The Rocks a while back, I used to regularly order lunch from a little shop attached to the Shangri-La Hotel. The lady there knew my name and what I usually ordered. It was actually a little more expensive than other places nearby, but customer service like that kept me coming back. Everyone wants to feel special.<br />
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So anyway, I'm sorry for not posting in such a long time. I was on such a roll too! I know some of you are keen photographers, so I have something that might interest some of you. After attending the Google+ photowalk, I've found myself with a Google+ camera strap that I've realised I'm never going to use.<br />
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Rather than see it collect dust, I'd be interested to know if anyone would be interested in having it, even if it is re-gifted? Leave me a comment below or send a Tweet to <a href="http://www.twitter.com/mukimu" target="_blank">@mukimu</a>, preferably with the tag #7inSyd to catch my attention.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-22950892859799935832011-12-13T01:39:00.000+11:002011-12-13T01:39:23.110+11:00Genuine apologies make certain they never have to occur again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I pretty much wrote this week off after several evenings out kept me from my work. That and I've still been playing too many video games. I have a feeling it's going to be like this until next year as Christmas rolls in.</div>
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Speaking of which, I'd better find some presents for people. </div>
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Guns on our streets. Lol. Does it fire lulz? How would you reload a lulz gun?<br />
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I actually considered joining a shooting club as something that would be out of the ordinary, but I have enough expensive hobbies as it is. A gun that could fill people with laughter would be infinitely more useful.<br />
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What about all this rain? It seems I wasn't the only one caught out without an umbrella this week. I'd like to some day take my DSLR out in the rain and shoot street. You see, most people aren't going to stop you when it's pouring and they're trying to get out of the rain. And there's some quite odd things to see.<br />
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Take this fellow for example. I have no idea how this works, but he'd been doing it for a while, wandering around, not in any sort of rush, with his hand on his head. I haven't been minding the rain too much for this reason. There's always a lot of interesting things to see.<br />
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I ended up in Lidcombe this week and one of the places I stopped in at was a Korean grocery store. Why? Ice cream. I don't understand any of it except the English written "please", but I assume it's asking me not to leave the freezer open. Or eat all of their ice cream. Or take photos or something.<br />
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I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I love Korean ice cream. I'm not a huge fan of Melona, the green ones in this pic, but I like the "e-Chocolate Bars" in the blue packaging. Apparently it stands for enriched chocolate ice cream bar. I'd tell you where this shop was, only I have no idea where I was at the time.<br />
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A close near-second are Asian drinks. Who else would sell "Alcohol Doctor" hangover tea? Or a Power of Energy drink? I have no idea what else is in this fridge. I ended up getting something that looked like a half-can of orange-flavoured something-or-other.<br />
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I figured it'd be like Fanta, but when I opened it it wasn't carbonated and instead contained orange pulp and sweet orange juice. I bet one day I'll buy a coffee based on the picture of coffee beans on it, but instead find it is actually just full of coffee beans.<br />
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Remember my infatuation with bananas? I'd been waiting for them to come down in price and refusing to buy them any sooner than what I thought was fair. The only problem is, I've gone so long without them and feel so spiteful towards Coles and Woolies/Safeway for jacking up the prices (and I believe they went up way before and after stock would have been affected/been restored) that I haven't been buying many.<br />
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I have been a lot less festive this year. Normally we have our lights up around November and the tree shortly after. In fact, our lights have been up for the past two years, just never switched on. Well, they don't seem to be working correctly this year and we're still debating where we'd put the tree. We currently have a giant cat tree in our living room for our cat, where our Christmas tree usually goes.<br />
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But in a way, I don't feel so bad when we have this Christmas carousel at work. This thing actually moves. I spent a little while trying to figure out if it was at all possible to get inside and dance amongst the reindeer, but it doesn't seem possible. I've taken to prancing around outside of it when I think no one is looking.<br />
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I haven't had a Zooper Dooper in years. When I was in the first grade or so, my primary school used to have tokens that kids were given for good behaviour. These could then be exchanged at the school canteen for a Zooper Dooper. The first time I ever got one I was super excited (excited is something I generally don't appear to be these days, at least outwardly) and ran to the canteen during recess.<br />
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I was clutching it in my hand as I ran across the playground as fast as I could with the other kids who had one, but when it came my turn to give up my token, it suddenly wasn't in my hand anymore.<br />
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I never did find out what happened to it, or forget the moment of panic I felt when I realised I'd lost something important to me. After seeing me lost for words and on the verge of bursting into tears, the canteen lady spoke for me. "Did you lose your token, dear?" The only thing I could do was nod while still looking around, wondering how it could have impossibly disappeared.<br />
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She handed me a Zooper Dooper after snipping the top off with a pair of scissors and reassured me it was okay before sending me on my way. I still don't recall the taste of it, but I've always remembered the mix of emotions at the time. It was probably my first lesson in life of significant (to me at the time) material loss, but more importantly, that sometimes people will give you the benefit of the doubt, even when they're within their full right not to.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-58009177420617929122011-12-05T22:39:00.001+11:002011-12-05T23:34:40.225+11:00Sometimes the biggest problem is admitting you have a problem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Lots of things to take pics of this week, with work Christmas parties happening. Unfortunately, I failed to remember to take pics. Then again, it was probably a good thing I didn't take any after seeing some that have been floating around the office. I'm not sure if I'm not in many because I managed to dodge the camera, or if others are saving me from embarrassment.</div>
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I've also been healing up all week from a toe infection of sorts in preparation for a 20km day walk. A couple of those pics made it through this week.</div>
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In the office, we're starting up our podcast again, but it's turned into a more relaxed chat about whatever might come up rather than a more structured (and stale) program. For me, unstructured-ness is a great thing. I tend to not like it much as I generally go wherever, which is a bit of a blessing and a curse as a writer since I'm forever trying to figure out where I'm going with something, but in the meantime coming up with all sorts of new thoughts.<br />
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I also have developed a horrible habit of over formalising things after working as a consultant in so many corporate environments. I try to take things a little less seriously these days, but bad habits are hard to break.<br />
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Out on Sydney harbour on Friday on a boat. Nice boat.<br />
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I've always wanted to get my boat licence, not just because it'd be fun to float around (probably in a tin can), but because I could be Captain Michael of Sydney! I'd so flaunt that. Excuse me? Michael? That's <i>Captain</i> Michael to you.<br />
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One of the people I was talking to on the boat that had their licence said that one of the first things the licence guide tells you is that boats and alcohol don't mix. "I don't know what they're talking about. Boats and alcohol are one of the best combinations known to man!"<br />
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I went hiking from around Berowra to Mt Kuringai over the weekend. It's like Cityrail's screw ups manage to follow you around, even when there are no train tracks and only walking tracks.<br />
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I did find it slightly amusing that they chained the sign down. You'd have to be pretty dedicated to want to hike back out of the bush carrying that.<br />
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We saw a lot of things. I walked over a brown snake, which thankfully decided to slink away and not kill me, a red belly, a few bush turkeys, a random rooster (I really have no idea what the hell it was doing and I when I heard it crow I thought I was going mad), a few goannas, a crapload of spiders, and a kangaroo.<br />
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Oh and leeches. Blood sucking bastards. I had one in my shoe.<br />
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But worse than leeches are probably ticks. Those suckers just don't let go like leeches do.<br />
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I'd been eager to find out how much going to the gym had improved my endurance and overall fitness, if at all. Unfortunately, I've been fighting a toe infection of sorts and had not been going in order to rest it up and let it heal in time for the hike. Going on a walk after practically not doing anything made my body pretty upset.<br />
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Upset might be an understatement.<br />
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The funny thing is, after about 20 minutes or so, it gives up and just accepts its fate. I think I did a lot better than I would have a year ago.<br />
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While hiking is great for fitness, it's not the main reason I do it. I think a lot during these hikes -- when you're walking for so many hours, it's natural to do so. But hiking is a very symbolic thing to me. There's no guarantee that you're going to finish and it's a constant struggle to take the next step. It's the same with life.<br />
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Where do you find the motivation to take another step, to make further progress? Sometimes you don't. You just tell yourself to shut up and do it. All the ways you tackle it can be applied to life in general, it's just that you get to live a microcosm of it for perhaps one day.<br />
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Did you miss the scenery? Are you walking down the right path? Are you putting in all this effort, only to have to turn around later? Are you falling behind, or getting to far ahead? Who's going to help you if or when you fall down?<br />
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It's the greatest analogy to me, and even at the end of it, after it's all done and finished with, if I look back and don't have fond memories or a sense of achievement, it makes me question whether I set the bar high enough.<br />
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What do you drink when you finish a walk? Soghurt. Or is it Yoda? It doesn't matter, because it's green time!<br />
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Seriously, I have no idea where this is from, but it pretty much tastes like what you might imagine yoghurt would be if it were a soda. Sort of like creaming soda actually. But just, not.<br />
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But lastly, as if I wasn't tired enough, a bottle of JW will do the trick. Oddly enough, although I previously stated that only JD gets me depressed, I found myself extremely sooky and woke up the next morning to strange posts on one of my social networks which, admittedly at the time, I remember seemed like a good idea, but was horribly cryptic and fairly pointless.<br />
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I often get a laugh out of cryptic messages on Facebook and the like. The sort where people post about how they are having a horrible time or something similar and when someone asks, they say they don't want to talk about it. But in reality, I've realised that many people do the same, putting up little passive-aggressive tantrums to let people know they're upset, but not wanting to discuss it.<br />
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You don't even need to be tipsy for that, but I'm guilty nonetheless.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-68381712643037941922011-11-29T00:21:00.000+11:002011-11-29T00:21:45.959+11:00"I love you, but ..." is the easiest way to tell if love is conditional<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After shooting all of last weekend, my SLR is getting a bit of a rest. One of the things I do is ensure that I have multiple backups of all the photos I take. At the moment, this means all my compact flash cards are sitting at work just in case my house burns down and my multiple sets of local copies are destroyed. I'm paranoid about these things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So this week is entirely from my phone and more opportunistic than with any sense of thought.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtlG-lJr22xuPsviXCQvsKQpQGMrlcGFULbsyeFiUQS6Zgn_uGwUACu4s38GdeaCIbnuowdDLHB3nstRhXe0PBXvIr-RyHScGo4u7wvvjNNV9oXyHrgp7jSO5IwApgYUmFjo7bj3iL50/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtlG-lJr22xuPsviXCQvsKQpQGMrlcGFULbsyeFiUQS6Zgn_uGwUACu4s38GdeaCIbnuowdDLHB3nstRhXe0PBXvIr-RyHScGo4u7wvvjNNV9oXyHrgp7jSO5IwApgYUmFjo7bj3iL50/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Christmas is coming up and it seems like the beginning of November is fair game for decorations. I don't really understand what's up with the Canadian flags though.<br />
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It's slightly amusing to me because this is near my work place. My old work place used to be near the Canadian consulate and last week I ended up listening to talks that in part related to the Canadian government in an event near that work place.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-B01ql4BZBTSgs2-gvPr24oj0MUwmJqINPkssOKZktryMjUGz-WRdDHRG3hhfEhXzHUJKKIY1bjBsuOe4eR3LokaDh5T56W7qtDGrS3yl0eiPsMVst2wbYJfFRqi7AfSd5RIZstA4OYA/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-B01ql4BZBTSgs2-gvPr24oj0MUwmJqINPkssOKZktryMjUGz-WRdDHRG3hhfEhXzHUJKKIY1bjBsuOe4eR3LokaDh5T56W7qtDGrS3yl0eiPsMVst2wbYJfFRqi7AfSd5RIZstA4OYA/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
One of the interesting things about being a journalist is that you get to meet a lot of different people. As someone who was once such a social recluse that he hated the very idea of even purchasing train tickets from an attendant as opposed to a machine, it's an interesting space to be in once you realise that for some reason people are more scared of you than you are of them.<br />
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I think a business card speaks volumes about the sort of company that you work for. Whether they're embossed, gloss, matte, textured, or unique in some way they all say something. Probably what leaves an impression on me the most though, is the weight of the paper stock. I was actually surprised that Facebook's cards weren't printed on something heavier. In contrast, a public relations person I'd been talking to earlier that day had some pretty nice cards.<br />
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I often check with people whether they understand Eastern traditions in giving and receiving cards by simply doing it and seeing if they follow. I don't expect many people to do the whole giving and receiving with two hands and studying the cards, but I'm often surprised by who does and doesn't know how to, or who simply flick their cards across the table! I'm sure everyone keeps a "dirt" file on me anyway. Those damn journalists!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2oLUlX4JTesA1OfoQPYgN1jIeKUTh58BTKd3r0hrUJ156gojL7yNt-NNA53fwlr91Frgka9DlaCINYvoxeQAxzCu_wEta-lztpHLCagVY0Iq3R4NYgCl5h9wRRJUo-SxAoqkMX_ql1g/s1600/Seven_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2oLUlX4JTesA1OfoQPYgN1jIeKUTh58BTKd3r0hrUJ156gojL7yNt-NNA53fwlr91Frgka9DlaCINYvoxeQAxzCu_wEta-lztpHLCagVY0Iq3R4NYgCl5h9wRRJUo-SxAoqkMX_ql1g/s320/Seven_3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
I have a few friends that live in Ashfield and I often end up eating around the area. While one of my favourites are two dumpling stores of Liverpool Road -- New Shanghai and Shanghai Night -- there's a cafe a little further down the road that I visited for the first time this week. I thought their chairs were cute.<br />
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It's one of the few cafes I've seen with a separate indoors, but partitioned off, smoking area. Usually you see that sort of thing at a pub. They're a bit pricey, but the servings, at least for dessert, seem pretty generous. I couldn't finish mine. Homers Cafe, 339 Liverpool Rd.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRDQeoJnq9Y1mEYRBnCEQs3M6TKBkYBFVdCw12k1oqlr1rex1VlQ-QTR2gB4VD67H39jQql14HOGUxmnHqZxhf7AH4UxMr5PjCY6z16evrFxUfFGPaSvSqPGqcrgbkeRlmabmJVYfixg/s1600/Seven_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRDQeoJnq9Y1mEYRBnCEQs3M6TKBkYBFVdCw12k1oqlr1rex1VlQ-QTR2gB4VD67H39jQql14HOGUxmnHqZxhf7AH4UxMr5PjCY6z16evrFxUfFGPaSvSqPGqcrgbkeRlmabmJVYfixg/s320/Seven_4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I also made the trek out west where we had lunch at a little place in Glenbrook called the Jazz Apple Kitchen. My significant other's sister's interest often plays the guitar there. While I only met him for the first time that weekend, it's interesting the things you pick up, or possibly imagine that you pick up, from conversations.<br />
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When I was following him in the car, I spent a while wondering what it was about his driving that seemed familiar. I realised a little later that the lines he drove, even though we were both driving quite slowly, reminded me of those I've seen many, many other motorcyclists take when I used to ride myself. Now I don't know whether I imagined it or if it was because he mentioned earlier that he too used to ride.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPub0UpIOAgRgch3WWcMjIAB39pK9FmRLuxPYUQVHWlMMwpm2htm3xuwG3Peh5nLL006zG_lA0xHDlSEPUUx80W_2KabTknY31UfQ1Sa9ukIqBQ94EpcAjnHp8qEYm9xQTgrilGNyp2A4/s1600/Seven_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPub0UpIOAgRgch3WWcMjIAB39pK9FmRLuxPYUQVHWlMMwpm2htm3xuwG3Peh5nLL006zG_lA0xHDlSEPUUx80W_2KabTknY31UfQ1Sa9ukIqBQ94EpcAjnHp8qEYm9xQTgrilGNyp2A4/s320/Seven_5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
French toast and caramelised bananas. I'm a sucker for bananas. Make them into thickshakes, bake them into banana bread, deep fry them, add some icecream and call it a banana split, or make a banana sandwich; it's probably one of my favourite fruits. I was devastated when the price rose to over $14 per kilogram and cafes and restaurants in Sydney began to charge ridiculous surcharges.<br />
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Call me crazy, but if you've never tried it, take a thin slice of tasty cheese and eat it with your banana. Cheese and banana. It works.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4oh5DEylV-wOD6AZR0qWj8xnT1wQ3_mXJEWToyCP6fzpPQpLrXoEum4V2rL-Mm7VxXRBKv9v3Sle3Lp6c8NkvbddqUq6ANRIp9uQffWIQEyfWWPRiPk8jnb9qC88BNEHSG_kLzbwQxu4/s1600/Seven_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4oh5DEylV-wOD6AZR0qWj8xnT1wQ3_mXJEWToyCP6fzpPQpLrXoEum4V2rL-Mm7VxXRBKv9v3Sle3Lp6c8NkvbddqUq6ANRIp9uQffWIQEyfWWPRiPk8jnb9qC88BNEHSG_kLzbwQxu4/s320/Seven_6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Looking out from Bluff Reserve, Glenbrook, south-west towards Jellybean Pool. I actually had no idea where I was when I took this picture, but I'd been to Jellybean Pool many years ago when I used to go hiking semi-regularly. Back then, as a scrappy little kid, I'd fall into creeks and rivers all the time.<br />
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My days of exploring canyons and peeing off cliffs have since been replaced with the urban landscape where I still explore laneways and unfortunately find where others have been drunkenly peeing. There are less spiders at least, though.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32x8TOA6W3jl1U9HVFktob65ZpxHjCtZSLGVZ2ENdjA4RRyJfkc-rzqjevmvn04YqNJUheIfWHsa6PB_Kgs_p0kupi_NErBs9Oy085IuGiOmMoeqSmK3zWW2dDfFr0fNoDSUkXsfjt78/s1600/Seven_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32x8TOA6W3jl1U9HVFktob65ZpxHjCtZSLGVZ2ENdjA4RRyJfkc-rzqjevmvn04YqNJUheIfWHsa6PB_Kgs_p0kupi_NErBs9Oy085IuGiOmMoeqSmK3zWW2dDfFr0fNoDSUkXsfjt78/s320/Seven_7.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
This is Belle, a Belgian Shepherd. She's quite old and has a few medical issues, but like my German Shepherd Dog is a sweet old sook. She's how I imagine Jess may grow up into one day. Jess is still mostly bouncing off the walls still though.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-75626252672590754792011-11-23T22:21:00.000+11:002011-11-23T22:21:56.867+11:00You can't chart your forward destination if you're always looking backLet's try not to make posting this late a habit.<br />
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I shot over 1800 frames last week, but unfortunately I can't share most of them with you as they were part of a good friend's wedding. Ironically, I didn't end up shooting that much for this post, so we're going to take a revisit of some older photos that didn't make the seven.<br />
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But first...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Wi157Is15g77qf21oj1WID-mFa7t3PMEBNLgRS3pwab0ZTRUczTUlI1RkEydNxlKTwbfxMBxwT8J3l5FqkVNKb-OLMDUHunKqlwbKeTKGQWNi1B5QL2ffcZMEfCrzFhTHrRROj15uo4/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Wi157Is15g77qf21oj1WID-mFa7t3PMEBNLgRS3pwab0ZTRUczTUlI1RkEydNxlKTwbfxMBxwT8J3l5FqkVNKb-OLMDUHunKqlwbKeTKGQWNi1B5QL2ffcZMEfCrzFhTHrRROj15uo4/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
The wedding bands.<br />
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I've seen people make them themselves, engrave each others fingerprints on each others', have them combine with other rings and so on, but no matter how (un)fancy, they're probably one of the most recognisable symbols of commitment and love.<br />
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That said, they can be pretty expensive symbols.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghe9FTrKQCU89R5eQXgtHP0rVkJ9A69qBe-l45buqS9m8gyctkaB78IoO8VJ6v2bt1KNvz8H2m948RhFblVUfaaJZi0Eoc7HBs3vfyMy7voGs1ngjZxNCFtgtzZtjW3jgd7Le4r8MlpQ/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghe9FTrKQCU89R5eQXgtHP0rVkJ9A69qBe-l45buqS9m8gyctkaB78IoO8VJ6v2bt1KNvz8H2m948RhFblVUfaaJZi0Eoc7HBs3vfyMy7voGs1ngjZxNCFtgtzZtjW3jgd7Le4r8MlpQ/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Nothing like a good old barbecue in, er, the middle of nowhere.<br />
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One of my friends has a shop on Parramatta Road with an open back yard that pretty much backs on to brushland and the M4 Motorway. It's a really strange place to roast slabs of meat, but also very cool at the same time. I often wish I had a big backyard to do something similar.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SxYeTGaa03yHCYKgnxgV9_BnklmlCZnkK_f6btDfm2t6oPJL5iSiIu1ZaPqzvzSCcyanCgeFIQAGdeXlvups6zPafGPqtIkJCwLTmSqYOGaur-9tUSeTn23O5uu6EAty3FRU_rApLBc/s1600/Seven_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SxYeTGaa03yHCYKgnxgV9_BnklmlCZnkK_f6btDfm2t6oPJL5iSiIu1ZaPqzvzSCcyanCgeFIQAGdeXlvups6zPafGPqtIkJCwLTmSqYOGaur-9tUSeTn23O5uu6EAty3FRU_rApLBc/s320/Seven_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Hide the vegetables! The kids won't know they're there! I don't know why I haven't noticed this before, or why people hadn't thought of it sooner. What will I be eating next? A cheeseburger with hidden spinach?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HQ2-FL2MuTk_tQqY-a1mI4HrXpe6rl4postKPtonc0sB9bgQUXCA_xKOj9VlLYXfmdWUgdjsZejuyYkZmQKLRQeVU0oyHLWIA3lSnd1UxhDYN111tyqcXJbG-v-Xmr9yAtb__YkvMxY/s1600/Seven_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HQ2-FL2MuTk_tQqY-a1mI4HrXpe6rl4postKPtonc0sB9bgQUXCA_xKOj9VlLYXfmdWUgdjsZejuyYkZmQKLRQeVU0oyHLWIA3lSnd1UxhDYN111tyqcXJbG-v-Xmr9yAtb__YkvMxY/s320/Seven_4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Scotch and dry is my drink of choice. I don't like fizzy mixers, but scotch neat or with water is just a bit too strong for my liking. Dry ginger ale seems to hit that right balance for some reason. It's a pity I never seem to have any at home. I have bottles upon bottles of Glenfiddich 12, 15, and JW Red, Black and Blue from my days as a bartender, but never any dry to go with it.<br />
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There's also a bit of a strange situation I find myself in. I rarely drink because everyone I've lived with has been a non-drinker. My significant other doesn't like to drink, my most recent ex-housemate tries not to as she gets drunk and a little grumpy too quickly, and my housemate before that is deathly allergic to alcohol.<br />
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As a result I only seem to drink at home when I'm down and I only ever drink one spirit in those cases -- Jack Daniels straight up. I seem to have gone through several bottles now.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWDNCheiPPbEwJ_l1BRfpBo6sNYk450ZmB70IZ4q56mS7F-OqO8HrAtZiLJDZNMXZ8Hv_OCO0CEyr9AeTUWo6oUWrlvOgKXyO1RSWFMv-EhMGgl3pRnUnLASC_8DZqQEdyPt0cnovPe4/s1600/Seven_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWDNCheiPPbEwJ_l1BRfpBo6sNYk450ZmB70IZ4q56mS7F-OqO8HrAtZiLJDZNMXZ8Hv_OCO0CEyr9AeTUWo6oUWrlvOgKXyO1RSWFMv-EhMGgl3pRnUnLASC_8DZqQEdyPt0cnovPe4/s320/Seven_5.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Taken during the Sydney Google Photowalk, I ended up turfing this one because the two people were slightly out of focus. I'm beginning to wonder whether I should just be a bit more lenient, or whether in the long run it's good to maintain a high standard. The same could apply to many things in life. It's funny people always say act like the world will end tomorrow, but if that were true we'd have no long-term backup plans.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PU0-2eCA_OLUBVAaGWYnHtj3ydXVGcAHEQMl2VmjNcsLwX4p2yNV8WVNOx2zlGGrmcYZf7UDGqfTWr4D_E8uyCTiSsZri3T5e6MvAaOrjL_3_yF3bibf1mF1vbP63RVgX6WjHDeT7uE/s1600/Seven_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PU0-2eCA_OLUBVAaGWYnHtj3ydXVGcAHEQMl2VmjNcsLwX4p2yNV8WVNOx2zlGGrmcYZf7UDGqfTWr4D_E8uyCTiSsZri3T5e6MvAaOrjL_3_yF3bibf1mF1vbP63RVgX6WjHDeT7uE/s320/Seven_6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Over on Broadway, there's a set of a apartment blocks called the Quadrant. One of my friends used to live in there. It's a fairly swish place considering how close it is to the city. Despite being so close, it has a pretty large, under-used courtyard. This water feature sits in the middle of it, but it otherwise feels like pretty wasted space. I suppose if it were up to me though, the city would be full of skyscrapers. Wait, it is.<br />
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There's also a pretty good Malaysian/Thai restaurant in the Quadrant called Malacca Straits. I suddenly had a craving for their food today and that's saying something since I usually don't like to eat Asian food.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGSIGptLRQHjw7OYhC5IeS1p1elH407ymPE9uIFh9qVUdum0hg3BvrG8muhCNKwe7Kk1Vpqrx6dO09qLzphqlzGvdDsmYIGucTl3kykP6QCM53Kgi1yek1fwFJM3_UNFwd3F7QxnuDhk/s1600/Seven_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGSIGptLRQHjw7OYhC5IeS1p1elH407ymPE9uIFh9qVUdum0hg3BvrG8muhCNKwe7Kk1Vpqrx6dO09qLzphqlzGvdDsmYIGucTl3kykP6QCM53Kgi1yek1fwFJM3_UNFwd3F7QxnuDhk/s320/Seven_7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Could be on a beach somewhere, or a park, or someone's backyard. I enjoy these moments of just taking time out, but to me they're just that -- a moment. People often say they need a holiday to get away from it all, but to me a holiday is more about immersing yourself in new experiences. I think what people are really asking for is time to pause and reflect on life. The great thing is, you don't need to go somewhere far away -- in fact, that can sometimes be more stressful -- you can pause to reflect almost anywhere you are.<br />
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It's just closing your eyes, taking a deep breath and letting everything go for just a moment. And often, that's all you really needed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-73376588882499710602011-11-17T00:22:00.000+11:002011-11-17T00:22:58.591+11:00Sometimes you have to take a step back to make a giant leap forwardAlright, it's another week with a few experiments in street. I guess it could be argued that most things here are street since most of the time I wander around Sydney's streets taking photos, but I don't see it that way.<br />
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The greatest take away from all of this? I'm still here alive and breathing. Taking pictures on the street will not kill you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyU4GCaXvc9hfndw85D66PCqU8uMnp1ARXLsfN0S5KRi3mj9_c7WwkxpHR2jQ1bCNvwhSwDMJhuIaj71-3ufKwaLFhKFoPSQHWmaNEo70hus2YPnhc2D6jAmQG5z1NCqa6D5jvpSx8HA/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyU4GCaXvc9hfndw85D66PCqU8uMnp1ARXLsfN0S5KRi3mj9_c7WwkxpHR2jQ1bCNvwhSwDMJhuIaj71-3ufKwaLFhKFoPSQHWmaNEo70hus2YPnhc2D6jAmQG5z1NCqa6D5jvpSx8HA/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I have no idea what caused this paint spill at Railway Square, but it was pretty fun to watch the stories that came out of it. Was it a trolley? There were tracks coming out of it. But the paint trail went on for several hundred metres down Regent.<br />
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It was mostly cleaned up the next day, but not before I spotted this little track of footprints. Dirty bird.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3qkdg5KFWx0C0UNkXtt9XZ4A3_pwploNi1EgZP9HLxBXK0cG46qRKzysub4BlAj-MnhcRdDSwucNHlKSZvUMNkQpIjxF8x22SLrV_BmIoYAWmoKBMUpdWbwy35Lg2jo_DdaOXpFk7J84/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3qkdg5KFWx0C0UNkXtt9XZ4A3_pwploNi1EgZP9HLxBXK0cG46qRKzysub4BlAj-MnhcRdDSwucNHlKSZvUMNkQpIjxF8x22SLrV_BmIoYAWmoKBMUpdWbwy35Lg2jo_DdaOXpFk7J84/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I actually took this to experiment with in some new processing software I was going to try. I still haven't gotten around to doing so. Last week was my turn to come into work early, so I've been getting all this lovely light, but not having enough time to watch for things to shoot.<br />
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A fairly recognisable intersection, Goulburn and George. What is with this crossing? You can't turn right no matter which way you approach it. I've often wondered how much of Sydney's traffic is just people driving around trying to figure out how to get on to a certain street.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-YH844a4IOHJxn8-e_rqTB1DqCLRXenvLujPDAHrqIfZRuu3fIC4fldtmt9mpCfP953_HrQTtxzNG7JyEul761xI22SYcqY2P52LSoWxZ4cKdDuaIH5NrXMeXOe05TAV0-zz9L9TY0c/s1600/Seven_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-YH844a4IOHJxn8-e_rqTB1DqCLRXenvLujPDAHrqIfZRuu3fIC4fldtmt9mpCfP953_HrQTtxzNG7JyEul761xI22SYcqY2P52LSoWxZ4cKdDuaIH5NrXMeXOe05TAV0-zz9L9TY0c/s320/Seven_3.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
I'm wondering what she's thinking. Not many people actually look up as they're walking. It's pretty sad actually. We're rushing through the city, staring at the back of the person in front of us, or down at our smartphone, which is meant to make us more connected.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2DPb86verKvKdzJscNrVb4lHEnlNnWVANScw0g8G59_AcHq9jBXQuJCKWWnHMiFF5kiB8jmtuCjJsRWy03GOp-Kbprs6rgNDedxvEkWixbFyybvd4dsF8n3mcZYQkZRnX3oGa3mkGaQ/s1600/Seven_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2DPb86verKvKdzJscNrVb4lHEnlNnWVANScw0g8G59_AcHq9jBXQuJCKWWnHMiFF5kiB8jmtuCjJsRWy03GOp-Kbprs6rgNDedxvEkWixbFyybvd4dsF8n3mcZYQkZRnX3oGa3mkGaQ/s320/Seven_4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I liked the variety this guy had. While I've seen that bag around a few times, I haven't seen any Chicago Bulls merchandise since high school. Rarer than that, it just hides his blue-dyed rat's tail -- something I used to have when I was a wee little kid and never seem to see any more. I guess it's like the mullet. There are only so many people that can pull it off. Like MacGuyver.<br />
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And back to his bag, what's that it's eating? An Angry Birds keyring. Awesome.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9dh-16RPe0zB8BjJSOnSFv7pcZ3s1hsihc1XsJbAq8DXn7i4ChHHHXYLFuJYeI-p_X9cyea6J0SJjZU6UOBgllr46lIiExsXFRML2h2j9KnsA8eI2UM3JMwS2aK9Xi9VG5mnxGEo7_U/s1600/Seven_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9dh-16RPe0zB8BjJSOnSFv7pcZ3s1hsihc1XsJbAq8DXn7i4ChHHHXYLFuJYeI-p_X9cyea6J0SJjZU6UOBgllr46lIiExsXFRML2h2j9KnsA8eI2UM3JMwS2aK9Xi9VG5mnxGEo7_U/s320/Seven_5.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
This guy was enjoying a peaceful moment, nodding off for a nap while surrounded by shoppers. No one really gives you a second thought. I'm beginning to wonder how much you can get away with in Pitt Street mall.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLwRcfhHbEkO1fCShU0f46mtqzX6zZLwHB4rz6BfBkCREMyC7vOgl-7b1YhrQL3WP0mq6aQ7GQ4n9z78gF5GmsA9GlHAWReiHdzgsAixIBwhtlG1UJW8jYetZ0yvFTLwdE2YTX8bGaFA/s1600/Seven_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLwRcfhHbEkO1fCShU0f46mtqzX6zZLwHB4rz6BfBkCREMyC7vOgl-7b1YhrQL3WP0mq6aQ7GQ4n9z78gF5GmsA9GlHAWReiHdzgsAixIBwhtlG1UJW8jYetZ0yvFTLwdE2YTX8bGaFA/s320/Seven_6.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Eddy and Pitt. I wonder who spent the time to do this. More importantly, what the heck is it? It sort of looks like an alien with a huge exorcist head stepping on a baby. Or taking a dump, getting freaked out and running away. I'm sure that's exactly what they had in mind.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Tq4FlYczmzc3ikN0WilcDwvdR9keCq_QCqzTVZIWSh3hGNFqSYdHPO7jIMj5_ai_7W9Et1b11oJCemJ5paQ5GCRQ2wWgVk6rJo4f3j822UFlyjzUyRnMJmB2A553Y8ZHXubNuRJGemY/s1600/Seven_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Tq4FlYczmzc3ikN0WilcDwvdR9keCq_QCqzTVZIWSh3hGNFqSYdHPO7jIMj5_ai_7W9Et1b11oJCemJ5paQ5GCRQ2wWgVk6rJo4f3j822UFlyjzUyRnMJmB2A553Y8ZHXubNuRJGemY/s320/Seven_7.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
This was one of those awkward moments where I saw a shot, lined it up, and the subject turned and looked directly at me. I shot it anyway and kept on walking. I actually thought the original shot would have turned out nicer. I guess it shows what happens when you're just that touch too slow.<br />
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The building she's sitting at is Wake Up!, a hostel/cafe on George and Pitt. It seems like a pretty nice place to stay if you were travelling and I've considered stopping in just to have a beer and a bite. Maybe next time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-40989526090681943442011-11-15T19:53:00.002+11:002011-11-15T19:54:02.013+11:00Well, this is embarassingSo I went to pull my photos out to upload and guess what, I don't have my camera with me!<br />
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That means I'm going to be a little bit later than I would have hoped for this week, but in the meantime, here's a pic from The Star.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOB7m1atvqnTx1Uz7X3VIU1RCI2wBvD-Y3ZGNhJA8sWh4jkEC9MZ64GmbFgAm5GiNmMPp3VT0tp1O0RFMeJON29cXSN8-bUkLzkDyNSZdDoQqLaB3UPFUR8CjgyQpyuvFByeOFg1kHaw/s1600/_MG_9255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOB7m1atvqnTx1Uz7X3VIU1RCI2wBvD-Y3ZGNhJA8sWh4jkEC9MZ64GmbFgAm5GiNmMPp3VT0tp1O0RFMeJON29cXSN8-bUkLzkDyNSZdDoQqLaB3UPFUR8CjgyQpyuvFByeOFg1kHaw/s400/_MG_9255.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-13742173594472933842011-11-08T00:22:00.004+11:002023-02-23T11:51:25.703+11:00If you never understand yourself, it is rarely reasonable to expect others to<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's been a pretty fun week. In between losing sleep over video games and forgetting to go the gym, I went to a themed ball, hung out at an old biker cafe, ate more Japanese food, went boxing for the first time, and got punished by my temporary trainer immediately after. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Still, it feels like a lot more could have been done with my time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCvRPDk9kJap881fHXZQ5xPtWY4_LZ4SXfQZPb5cgE8AB64qgG-tK1fuhEflG8q_ARLxUmUxbOv6JN5paSCDP-LCue6ohaJT9Ls2x7frJIkhSMc_HmOVyxQXvmHCiNK8htdnVFdsXM0U/s1600/Seven_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCvRPDk9kJap881fHXZQ5xPtWY4_LZ4SXfQZPb5cgE8AB64qgG-tK1fuhEflG8q_ARLxUmUxbOv6JN5paSCDP-LCue6ohaJT9Ls2x7frJIkhSMc_HmOVyxQXvmHCiNK8htdnVFdsXM0U/s320/Seven_1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
The regular shopping trip always yields weird and interesting things in the oddest places. Surfing down the cereal aisle (and yes, I still use the trolley as a scooter/toboggan when I think no one is looking), I saw this peering out from a dark shelf.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtqXmURh1FH3OR5yVBXwNFhY-MCHaj3xyKsKoIcin7CAtmvw73xj_CArsfKdz6sUEUl9IfL2akLwI0F6S5ICXIh_SdWQk5KcW2f6GjlcKtZ2MqTVA0aB4gCJH55f03GlehV3yIf2or4Do/s1600/Seven_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtqXmURh1FH3OR5yVBXwNFhY-MCHaj3xyKsKoIcin7CAtmvw73xj_CArsfKdz6sUEUl9IfL2akLwI0F6S5ICXIh_SdWQk5KcW2f6GjlcKtZ2MqTVA0aB4gCJH55f03GlehV3yIf2or4Do/s320/Seven_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Hanging out in Pitt Street mall again while waiting for my gym partner. You see a lot of different people walking through here all day, most oblivious of others' existence. It's a slightly comforting thought when you're wandering around taking photos, but it's also a rather strange thought. You can walk through one of the most populated areas in Sydney and no one will really know you're there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPux5OZs_8CVF00sG4jNY_64IVSS0cSzmlMc_RiomlBjfoMUg4VDfuyfB06Oi0AoxafoLQ9ppfRFGFdeNNopv1fp_cBnDa2Lp681dV9sos4ehXvk86VTcRJ8WNvPMfYNGA2zBACj4sVI/s1600/Seven_3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPux5OZs_8CVF00sG4jNY_64IVSS0cSzmlMc_RiomlBjfoMUg4VDfuyfB06Oi0AoxafoLQ9ppfRFGFdeNNopv1fp_cBnDa2Lp681dV9sos4ehXvk86VTcRJ8WNvPMfYNGA2zBACj4sVI/s320/Seven_3.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Goulburn and Pitt, on the World Square side. I've seen this concrete doughnut for weeks now, but keep getting really blurry pictures on my phone. Having tried several times now, I think I'm pretty much used to people looking at me weirdly as I squat and try to take pictures. The funny thing is, once they notice what I'm taking a photo of, it's all perfectly acceptable behaviour.<br />
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It sort of reminds me of when we dressed one of my friends up for his bucks and went to town. It's pretty amazing what you can get away with, so long as there's a relatively reasonable explanation. Hey, it's okay, I'm the official number taker tonight.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHuWac-G3mZonbr0JiQn252zO41toZxgG4nyPsIQc1VaDgp9ZtUyl3fr9936ZRmpSVhiymRXqT6di-8FMQYRSvFQ8BqojTczCH1x9SZ4_4JHPE5zUePt0GPIqRabdRNyTr7p4cU7F9Uw/s1600/Seven_4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHuWac-G3mZonbr0JiQn252zO41toZxgG4nyPsIQc1VaDgp9ZtUyl3fr9936ZRmpSVhiymRXqT6di-8FMQYRSvFQ8BqojTczCH1x9SZ4_4JHPE5zUePt0GPIqRabdRNyTr7p4cU7F9Uw/s320/Seven_4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I'd forgotten there's a TAFE just across from Railway Square for some reason. Sneaky buggers. There's been one pretty much close to everywhere I've ever lived. I don't know if that's to do with coincidence or whether they just have a seriously huge number of campuses.<br />
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I studied at the Ultimo campus part time one semester doing mechanical engineering. Given I was studying electrical engineering at uni at the time and all my coursework had become something along the lines of solving hideously complex (and boring) equations, I was stoked to be able to do things like learn to weld. A couple of hours a week at welding might just have a bit more utility to me today than calculating equations that can now be plugged into simulators.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-olxSIz9Z6MlAHQdT8rVobZ___qDDiImakDqnOYI7_AQR2YKADlBJJwO5gkX_BC2WROvWx55fA2E1sxHJBFLvPAtwXJd2x4x9DWeP98yFUhDlwfro_W_H3Zz2WNJCHIIWptVJzVAsUqg/s1600/Seven_5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-olxSIz9Z6MlAHQdT8rVobZ___qDDiImakDqnOYI7_AQR2YKADlBJJwO5gkX_BC2WROvWx55fA2E1sxHJBFLvPAtwXJd2x4x9DWeP98yFUhDlwfro_W_H3Zz2WNJCHIIWptVJzVAsUqg/s320/Seven_5.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Still at it, although not with much change, here's another street sculpture at Liverpool and Pitt, on one of the monorail pillars. I think almost all of them have a sculpture of sorts. The original creator of these is <a href="http://www.willcoles.com/" target="_blank">Will Coles</a>. I'm not sure if he's the same guy fixing them to everything, but it's slightly strange to be following someone around by the things he leaves behind.<br />
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I stumbled across his site years ago, but lost the link until recently. They say Sydney doesn't have much art, but it's there if you know where to look.<br />
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Speaking of which, Sculpture by the Sea is currently on. I'd be more interested to see if anyone has tried to sneak their own work in again as Will has done in the past. I wonder who would have known the difference?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchcbmoFh4oLUqH9Qsevg_hhjjgfZOPe1qQ-cJ0ba4wMYIZ9T01tq7A_m5kGJNGxP9nr6swdF3rxrGwgV-gHLUcrUO9K2svKY4RRVceEI5LiaH6sdTKim_WnKTJISJCmfTyrpD4zb5qH8/s1600/Seven_6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchcbmoFh4oLUqH9Qsevg_hhjjgfZOPe1qQ-cJ0ba4wMYIZ9T01tq7A_m5kGJNGxP9nr6swdF3rxrGwgV-gHLUcrUO9K2svKY4RRVceEI5LiaH6sdTKim_WnKTJISJCmfTyrpD4zb5qH8/s320/Seven_6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Upstairs in the Queen Victoria Building, we take a very old building and make it our own private dance floor. I bet they didn't see us coming when they named it the Tea Room. I don't think I even had a single cup of tea. False advertising, that one, unless they consider alcohol to be tea. A perfectly acceptable substitute.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1mXYQgKTVtPa1xUnLW5JhScOSaTekY6vRjKEcuNtclaATQB4Dr5v22Ib6pJthvRs6QmLuE7_i4Ad5zrGAPlxcnF80n2e_B2lyB4-pJ_HyEMLfl1IqWVYEp_3wBg4lOGXJxd1CvD4tuk/s1600/Seven_7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq1mXYQgKTVtPa1xUnLW5JhScOSaTekY6vRjKEcuNtclaATQB4Dr5v22Ib6pJthvRs6QmLuE7_i4Ad5zrGAPlxcnF80n2e_B2lyB4-pJ_HyEMLfl1IqWVYEp_3wBg4lOGXJxd1CvD4tuk/s320/Seven_7.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I have recurring dreams of travelling on old elevators like this one, also in the Queen Victoria Building. Most of the time I'm a coal mine kid, trying to get out of the mine shaft. Other times I'm a suit and tie, a confident exterior, but really just completely lost. Half of the time I die. Now that I think of it, I've never been in an old elevator. I don't think it's a good time to start.<br />
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I don't seem to have many dreams where I die. Another is whenever I am driving or am a passenger of an R32 Nissan Skyline. I always, without exception, die. Usually in a horrific accident, but sometimes the car will just randomly explode. I've never sat in one for that reason and will refuse to drive one, even though I think they are a fantastic vehicle from what I've seen and heard.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AdwP-mz2dHqOrTA4VPkVUw9hJDM1AUvzuUTUCiJJtlm77DBezYkTO4XtUm1kCc8U4hckisDKsl7y6SK5LhNG7tiekNZljE3sb66V17DtmSXLtF4jSKJQqTY0fHHCtr_mt7KIxXrXK8E/s1600/Seven_8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AdwP-mz2dHqOrTA4VPkVUw9hJDM1AUvzuUTUCiJJtlm77DBezYkTO4XtUm1kCc8U4hckisDKsl7y6SK5LhNG7tiekNZljE3sb66V17DtmSXLtF4jSKJQqTY0fHHCtr_mt7KIxXrXK8E/s320/Seven_8.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Coffee on a lazy Sunday afternoon, one of my friends bought this pomegranate and green tea tonic, which was the strangest, glowing shade of red. Although we were at Deus Ex Cafe, I was more fascinated with this drink than the bike in the cafe. I mean, this red thing looked like it was comic book radioactive or something.<br />
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On the other hand, it was fun to actually visit the cafe for once. I'd passed it so many times, often on my motorcycle, but never stopped in. I would have thought there would be a lot more motorcyclists like at the various other places I used to hang out at when riding, but there weren't. In fact, there were a couple of senior citizens and families. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywydm33n9tqlMLl4YGPoQ5eS3aIwp6FnbK-HzRUNfZiAQkrz81emB6Xh-j2iRdChHCbznwNn6hxW5LOL5wqI84NNpcmK-lI-pmtzMBdaoMK_fqyvv4kCDsaGEGmyfv_TM7RB9uZUOl94/s1600/Seven_9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywydm33n9tqlMLl4YGPoQ5eS3aIwp6FnbK-HzRUNfZiAQkrz81emB6Xh-j2iRdChHCbznwNn6hxW5LOL5wqI84NNpcmK-lI-pmtzMBdaoMK_fqyvv4kCDsaGEGmyfv_TM7RB9uZUOl94/s320/Seven_9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Out in the demo room, I spotted this little gem. I really wonder who decides to go ahead and make these things.<br />
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I had my eye on an old bike, a Honda CB 750 that had been restored and fairly heavily modified. My last bike was fairly old and only made over a period of two years. It was a constant battle to keep her maintained since she'd been pretty badly abused over the years. Though she's gone now, I really do miss being on two wheels and getting grease under my fingernails.<br />
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</div>I also seem to have lost the ability to count to seven. Never mind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1331408560151879088.post-60189784456628359602011-11-01T21:39:00.000+11:002011-11-01T21:39:19.646+11:00You never have to do anything, but you always have to live the consequencesBit of a tough week this one. Mostly because I've forked out some money for a video game that has been slowly killing me in all sorts of ways.<br />
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So it was actually pretty painful to scrape together enough photos for this week. I did take more than seven, but the quality of them sucked. But considering the rule here is it doesn't matter how much they suck, here they are. I had to cheat a little and put in some from other weeks, but here they are nonetheless.<br />
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This is Quan. He makes excellent coffee. It's one of the few places around my workplace that sell Campos. I've mentioned previously that I'm a big fan of it, but don't particularly remember why I started drinking it in the first place. I really wish I knew somewhere I could sit down and have a cup of the stuff during my lunch break, but I'm yet to discover anywhere close by.<br />
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There are little details that go into making coffee. Quan has a little block of wood that I think he brought in that sits next to the coffee machine. Why? Because after foaming the milk he needs to tap the base of the jug on a surface to settle it. Not such a pleasant thing to do against a stainless steel benchtop, so he brought his own.<br />
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If it's not immediately apparent what's up in this picture, it's one of my pet peeves. The cyclist in the middle of the intersection is stationary in this photo. I think cycling is a great form of transport. However, more and more I'm seeing jerks that complain that they're not given their fair share of the road (and I agree), but at the same time refuse to abide by simple traffic laws like obeying traffic lights.<br />
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I don't have a problem with cyclists who ride on the footpath at a jogging pace. I do have a problem with cyclists who ride straight through red lights and through pedestrians trying to cross the road. Are you cycling on the road? Then obey the road rules. One of these days I'm going to lose it and kick someone off their bike. It'll probably be an unwarranted for just a single idiot, but the number of people that don't obey the rules seems to be becoming the majority.<br />
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Woolworths (or Safeway depending where you live) was apparently selling Kindles. I have no idea why. I rarely ever shop at Woolworths since there are practically none where I live, so the idea of selling consumer electronics is quite strange to me.<br />
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I would have thought we'd see iPods in Woolies before Kindles.<br />
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Over on Pitt Street, near Goulburn, is a little known restaurant/lounge called Shinara. Upstairs they have an all-you-can-eat buffet, Korean style, but downstairs the lounge is rarely populated. A couple of friends and I ended up having dessert here the other night and it's a strangely mature place. Mature? Well, usually we end up at cafes and such where there are a lot of loud uni students or it's on a busy street with lots of people coming and going. I think we might have been the noisy lot, and we're not even that loud.<br />
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I'd probably give the buffet a miss next time, but for somewhere quiet to have a chat on an evening, the lounge is a pretty nice place.<br />
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Friday morning tea at work involved bobbing for apples. I somehow found myself nominated, but escaped at the last moment. Probably a good thing as the last time I played some food-related game I ended up catching a tooth on a piece of string, cutting up my gums and not being able to eat without my mouth hurting for about two weeks. Good times. Will do business again. AA++++.<br />
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Watching people bob for apples, on the other hand, is a barrel of laughs. Really, it should be called "dunk your head in a bucket of water", because that's essentially what we're here to see. Given my reluctance to do it though, I have to give it up to my coworkers. While I'm a bit of a chicken for not doing it, really, what's the worst that can happen? You're expecting others to have a laugh anyway. Are you worried they're going to laugh? Sometimes logic evades me.<br />
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I've heard a story about a class of students that were shown video footage of buildings from the first floor upwards, without given the location. When asked where they thought the buildings were, they could never figure it out. It makes sense though. How many times do we ever look up at buildings in Sydney? We've got a huge number of old facades, beautiful buildings, but we never stop to appreciate them. This one should be pretty obvious, but can you picture where you'd have to be standing to see it from here?<br />
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I'm in Pitt Street mall again, looking up at The Strand building (obvious from the words on it). Most people get distracted by the old hallway that joins up with George Street with all the shops in it. It's actually a really pretty building from the outside and quite well kept.<br />
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Also on Pitt Street mall, another busker. I find it amusing that this guy is probably making more money from each CD he sells than signed bands do when their publisher sells an album. Sure, he might not have the same volume of sales, but making lots of money isn't always the aim of everyone.<br />
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I sometimes wonder if I'd rather do something I love every so often and earn a rich return on it, or to turn what I love into work and let everyone along the way take a cut. I might still be working for myself, but I'm also working to pay everyone else at the same time. Makes you wonder how many entrepreneurs are out there who think they are working for themselves, but are really working for a different definition of the man.<br />
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I think it's more clearly explained by the story of a multi-millionaire who had houses in several countries and housekeepers in each one. In the end, he ended up feeling like the was working to ensure that his housekeepers were paid. I guess our busker here is really living in his own house and paying himself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0