So, half way through the show (which I've upgraded my feelings about to, "Come and see it, you bastards. It's actually quite good"), and my brain is slowly returning to some level of normality. I've managed to catch up on a little sleep, and the hangover that pretty much wrote of last week finally evaporated by Friday. Work is busy, but that's ok. I've finally picked up the guitar again (after somehwat of a hiatus), and am discovering that jazz tunes are (a) cool, and (b) tend to rely on almost unplayabe chord progressions that inevitably involve diminished sevenths which leave me scratching my head and cursing my metal body. But I shall persevere.
The show is actually running very smoothly, and the performance as a whole is a damn sight more polished (and understandable) than Alice was. No scene will leave cast, crew and audience alike wondering "What the...?" (At least, not in a confused kind of way). So, come along! Oh, the Press review was very good as well...
The show is having its other expected effect as well. I've discovered that they're quite a cathartic experience for me, in that they generate such a huge amount of stress over such a short period of time that by the end I'm left feeling drained but happy and kind of, um, satisfied? Everything else gets put on hold, and then put in place - allowing for some much needed perspective, a wiping of the slate. It's a beautiful day outside, and I'm taking many little "breaks" to wander round in the sun, feeling more at peace than I have for quite some time.
Two other things that I've noticed over the past couple of days. Firstly, you know it's going to be cold outside when you're woken up by your own shivering in bed. (Damn Vertigo is a cold house.) And secondly, there's an awesome feeling of contentment to be had from watching condensation collect, then slowly trickle down the side of your coke glass when you're bone tired, full of pizza, and at the end of a good evening out with friends.
Right. My ankles are strapped, I have new, shiny red and silver boots o' doom, and it's the semi-finals. What could possibly go wrong?
Wish us luck, especially my ankle...
Update: Well, obviously you weren't wishing my ankle enough luck :) Our team went down 5-2, but it was a fighting loss, and we had many more chances than last time against the other team, so all in all it wasn't so bad.
“I don’t agree with the copyright laws and I don’t have a problem with people downloading the movie and sharing it with people as long as they’re not trying to make a profit off my labour. I would oppose that.”
“Is it wrong for someone who’s bought a film on DVD to let a friend watch it for free? Of course it’s not. It never has been and never will be. I think information, art and ideas should be shared.”
Swee.
I always used to think it was a bit poor how the sports that New Zealand played at the top levels were generally only played by a handful of ex-british colonial countries round the world (ie cricket, rugby, netball...), but I've just read this entry from Tom Tomorrow (well, Bob Harris guestblogging there), and I've begun to change my mind a little.
It was this snippet that got me thinking... "Besides, cricket is a supremely international game in which national sides tour the planet frequently, often creating the sort of cultural exchange one hopes to see in the Olympics at its very best." ...that perhaps this is what is truly different about these sports - that *national* representative teams are the highest point one can reach, and that *international* competition between teams is the aim. (No doubt another spinoff of them being ex-colonial and all - comparing each other to the other colonies to see who's best and all.)
What I mean is, compare them to a game like basketball, where if a player plays well in a national team like New Zealand's their reward could be to be drafted into the NBA, rather than the other way round, and top NBA players could care less about being in the US national team. Or even soccer, where competitions like the World Cup or Euro 2004 are huge, but the everyday important level of play is at the club - which is how a team like our own can come third in a tournament and therefore not play *any* internationals for the next two years.
That being said, perhaps with the era of professional sports and the rise of franchises like the Crusaders, this will begin to change in our sports. Or perhaps this international spirit is only really there because the sports are relatively small.
Well, small ones. But I care :)
Today I finally managed to get a poster designed and approved for the upcoming conference. With all the back and forthing and umming and ahing combined with the general annoyance at not being able to use the Centre's new cool logo (designed by Sarah, for she is both pretty *and* leet), I was beginning to think it would never get done (which is bad). But a cunning trick was devised (which is good). Our logo has been doctored so as to become (temporarily, I hope) the logo of another NZ-EU type organisation that just happens to be part-funding the conference (Martin is the President of said organisation. Convenient? Yes...). Ahah! So the image gets out and about, it's not as if anyone will necessarily remember the name attached, and when the University eventually sees sense and lets us operate with our own separate logo, no real harm will have been done to the integrity of our own "brand framework" (mutter grumble bitch moan).
Take that, marketing managers! (Well *I* thought it was cunning...)
Across the carpark, the Pols department is a strange place to be nowadays. With neither Tim, James or myself kicking aimlessly round the corridors, it is devoid of the life, energy and pure joy of living wot touches all things that find themselves in the mere presence of a TBALC associate. Ooo, and the dedication. Claire and Corey are still around, as are the newcomers, but it's just not the same, (no offence, guys), and they'll be gone soon enough as well. Of course, this void of us will only remain until Tim decides that he was right all along and the Real World (tm) isn't worth a damn, and then back to the hallowed halls he will flee to hide out in his own ivory, or possibly beige, tower. Soulfully observing all the cleavage-muffins who happen past his lonely vigil...
Which I suppose is unlikely. (Well, unlikely that this will be done either (a) from an ivory tower or (b) soulfully.) So I think the department will be safe from our pernicious influence for a little while longer.
Um, something something... Oh yeah, you should all come along to the new show that'll hit a Unviersity Theatre near you sometime near the end of July. "'Tween Heaven and Hell" is an original musical, written and directed by Corey Matthews, and which is dodgy in the extreme. So maybe I take that "you should come along" missive back. Hmm, we'll see. Anyway, Ben is in it (as the trombone player, not the White Rabbit) and I'll be somewhere out the back with the headset on, saying things like "lights go on, lights go off" and similar. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wear that slightly puzzled expression as you wonder how they mnaged to get some of this stuff past the musoc censors...
Other than that, not a lot to report. Things and stuff and the like are pretty good for the most part. Flah.
Interesting. For Dave, being gutted is improving his waistline. For myself, being gutted has in fact led to a rapid expansion of my waistline. (Well, rapid for me.) Just one of the side effects of no longer being with Sarah? Hmm.
Another side effect, the lack of blogs. I've been pretty up and down and all over the place over the past couple of months (as those close will attest to - it ain't pretty), and will no doubt continue to be so for quite some time into the future. Which is why the lack of blogging. It's hard to blog when you're not sure if what you write will be what you think or feel the next day, hell, the next hour! But this morning I find myself unable to sleep (again again), and with a whole bunch of ouzo still coursing through my body, this sleep deprived, half cut state seems a perfect one in which to write for the first time really in a month or more.
Just don't expect a high level of coherency, and watch out for potential morosity.
So, yeah. Just in case you've been living in a cave somewhere in remotest Azerbaijan, Sarah and I are no longer together, and as of last week her and Emma have moved to Palmerston North. It's fair to say I'm not the most happy I've ever been about this situation, but I do think it's a good move for Sarah, both career wise and personally. So in that respect I'm very happy for her. Regarding us, I had hoped for a different outcome, but timing is never my (our?) strong suit. I still love her, but what can you do? Only wish her bon voyage, que sera sera, etc etc.
So, because as we know this approach *always* works, drinking has ensued. Actually, to be fair, the drinking which has ensued has had absolutely nothing to do with anything mentioned above, and has in fact been in honour of (a) finding ourselves at Micky Finn's watching Pete's band Vibra Slap play on Thursday night, and then (b) general thesis finishing shenanigans on Friday night. No more theses people - TBALC is free of them! We have entered a new, post-thesis era. How weird will this be? Well done to all involved, it looked a bit touch and go at times, but with Jill on TBALC's side, not even the Registry can stand in our way.
(Speaking of theses, I have been reliably informed by Tim and Ben that as I handed my thesis in before the deadline without the need for any sort of Registry arm twisting and/or begging and/or bribing, I do not have a "real man's" thesis. Bollox more like.)
Two things learned from the last couple of nights include that according to my physiotherapist I *shouldn't* be getting drunk then dancing while my ankle is still stuffed (again again - bloody indoor soccer). Who knew? And that ouzo makes me all smiley and warm inside. Mmm, ouzo. Oh, and while on this ouzo thought train, Corey, Ben and I are planning on making a trip to the Jolly Poacher on Monday morning (oh, so early) to join the Greeks willing their team to victory!
Should be a good way to start the week...
And on the "Why cell phones are cool" front, yesterday I received the following text: "Hi brother. Julz and ma here. We about to cross the order to cambodia. Its so hot! See u soon." So very book. Indeed.
Right. The alcohol's leaving my system. I think I'll see off the potential hangover with some eggs. Mmm, eggs. Party on people, and to Tim... enjoy your first day of freedom (oh, and just how many "post-thesis" emails did you manage to collect?)