The year has raced past like no other I remember. I recall the depths of a London winter, and the depression and uncertainty that it brought. The long commute in the dark, missing my graduation, missing Scott and Andrea’s wedding, missing Christmas with family, being *this close* to packing it in and heading home. I recall being supremely dissatisfied with my job as a project support guy in parking in Westminster City Council, even as I started to get used to London as a city and a place where I could really live and be. I remember the occasional trip out of the city, down to Portsmouth for a wedding, across to Madrid for a weekend, and a concert or two every now and then. I can remember going out far too much, though still able to operate in a (relatively) usual fashion, aided by a public transport system imposed midnight curfew and generous starting hours. I can remember spring as it started to arrive, the way the flowers and birds returned to St James’ Park, the way the mood of London lifted almost over night.
But then, from that point on… madness. Life has sped past in the blink of an eye, and I now find myself sitting in my old lounge in Mona Vale Ave eyeing the fast approaching end of November, and praying to whichever deity might be listening that my visa to return to the UK is granted in the very near future.
Along the way I’ve made new friends, fallen in love, made it into a job that might just lead to a career, travelled more through Asia and Europe, danced (no, really), listened to music, read piles of books, written a handful of songs, and arrived home to meet a new generation. I’ve made a few decisions about where I want to base myself for the next few years (preferably London), and started to make plans around this desire (visa pending).
But mostly, I think I want to stop for a few years, do a little settling, own more than five shirts, three t-shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. I’m waiting to see how it all turns out.
So, on goes a little Supergrass, and all of a sudden it’s ten years ago, we’re about two months into the awesomeness that was Xanadu, and all that we’ve really got to do is drink, watch music television, and play Quake II for the next 18 months. Truly, halcyon days of youth. By this time, I reckon the carpet had probably been cleaned after the flat warming (lesson learned from that particular party: it’s not a good idea to have the keg in your bedroom, or, indeed, any room with carpet), and Tim’s hangover may have subsided just a little. Actually, probably not the latter. Or the former for that matter. It was a pretty filthy flat.
Slight aside here, but this was back when Ben not only didn’t drink, but couldn’t understand why people would want to, especially given the possibility of a hangover such as Tim had the days following the flat warming. Ah, how times change…
Hmm. While that first paragraph was actually just going to be a cunning segue into talking about the MBA, there is one story from Xanadu that has probably never been committed to print yet: that of Tim’s foot going through the wall in the upstairs lounge (the bit under that wall heater outside my bedroom next to the Crude Busters (“Fighting for the Crude of Justice!”) alcove) on the very first night of occupancy. I think he may have been playing pager hockey or something. (We were so cool. Actually, anyone remember the pager craze? Anyone still have one of those little books with the three digit codes? Anyone remember the sheer inefficiency and annoyance associated with a communication device that only went one way?). It sticks in my mind as for some reason it actually really seemed to upset him. Maybe it just confirmed once and for all that he was a big munt, and there was nothing he could do about it. Or maybe he/we still cared about not destroying the flat. That certainly passed.
I don’t even know if that story was worth telling, but now it’s been told, and I can get back to that cunning segue…
Speaking of being in it for the money, the MBA is going well, With “good enough” grades in the second term, and what seem to be a whole heap of excellently cool courses in the third, ranging from a laid back chat about politics first up on Mondays, through to a full on, no holds barred, Belgian-psycho-linguistic take on International Contract Negotiation at the other end of the week. Even more cool, I’ve had my project confirmed by my sponsor company, and everything seems to be moving along at an incredibly fast clip. It’s exciting, and it feels about right, like a decisions been made somewhere along the lines, and it was a good one. (In fact, looking back, perhaps the decision was made long before I knew it. 13 December 2004, me: “So, life is good, and I think I know what I want to be when I grow up now. But I’m not saying, cos it’s a feeling that never seems to last.” This was written after doing a two day, project management course. And here I am, doing a project management course in a full blown MBA. Weird.)
There’s also the potential of being involved in another research project in my area, with potential Marsden Grant goodness, and I’ve started working at the NCRE again half a day a week (they’re applying for a grant, right, and I’m not even exaggerating a little to say that the background reading for the application process alone is about an inch and a half of paper high – pretty much an entire ream – which doesn’t fill me with a huge amount of joy). Plus there’s the possibility of helping Ben Wilson out with playing music at his work Christmas dinner thing, which would count as doing possibly the scariest thing that I had promised myself I’d do before the end of the year – performing! Which is doubly good as it gets me playing more as well, at last.
So life is full and good, and after having an excruciatingly unbalanced second term, I’m hoping that the third term will be busier, but in the end, much, much more fun. You can quote me on that in three months’ time if you like.
In other people’s news, James and Teena have bought a house! It’s quite a nice house as well. Actually, it’s a frickin’ awesome house, and don’t let them tell you any different, and just as soon as they figure out how they’re going to pay for it, I’m sure there’ll be the requisite house warming. And in the spirit of “growing up is good” that this whole blog was supposed to be about, James and Teena, if you’re reading this, don’t put the keg in the bedroom, even if it seems like a good idea at the time…
In considerably less good news, my Mum is in a medical centre somewhere in Peru getting x-rays and having drips and generally being fussed over due to a combination of rainforest travels, high altitude and a persistent cold/flu/thing. So if you’ve got any good vibes to spare, sending them halfway round the world would be muchly appreciated. I’m sure she’ll be ok, she sounds upbeat in her emails, but the more fingers crossed the better, I reckon.
And finally, as this blog has blossomed something wicked in the writing of it, while everyone seems to be linking to the video of Pavarotti’s trademark Nessun Dorma video on YouTube, I’m going to link instead to my own personal, no doubt totally uncultured, favourite… what an amazing voice he had.
Wait, one more thing. I’ve just found this link from an old blog of mine. I laughed, you might too. What To Do When You Enter The Room.
One. That strategy competitions are somewhat weird, and, discovered after some semi-sloshed investigative work at the after drinks, that some people take them far more seriously than I do. On Monday, myself and three other MBA students arrived at uni at 8.30 in the morning, were given a fairly hefty case study (about a Korean business-to-business ecommerce software provider in 2001, in case you crave details), and then were left to our own devices for three hours, supplied with water, Toffee Pops and Fruit Bursts, to come up with a ten minute presentation that outlined, and justified, what we thought was the best way forward for the company given the information provided. At the same time, another four postgraduate and several more undergraduate teams from around the country were doing the same.
Our proposed strategy, I think, was very sound, and, it turns out, probably what the company should have done – it was a real case, and we were told afterwards that the company chose a different option, and went bust within a year. Just as we predicted (which I guess is kind of a cool feeling, like perhaps we’ve actually learned something over the past few weeks and months).
Unfortunately, our presentation was not so sound. To begin with there was a slight issue with the organisers which saw a couple of team mates run interference at the end of the three hours, due to a disagreement over interpretation of the rules, while I hurriedly finished off our slides, and then our actual presentation was rather more winged than perhaps we had hoped. The judges seemed to think is was ok, but we guessed from the feedback later in the day that we hadn’t done enough to win the competition. We were right, and in the end Massey Albany took out the title. Chatting to them after though, this was only fair enough, as they had done something like thirteen practice case studies before, at at least whereas our team had done one or two total!
So I guess we were legitimately pwned.
Two. That when you find yourself buying rounds of Long Island Iced Teas, the following day is probably going to suck on two counts: physically and financially. Although I guess I can’t really say I learned this in the last week, more had it reinforced after past, similar, experiences. Still, the mechanical bull was good fun, and the hangover was not.
Three. That clouds aren’t cool when you’re trying to watch a total eclipse of the moon. Damn clouds.
Four. That Wellington is a cool place to have as a getaway destination. I felt extremely, well, relaxed when I arrived today. The bus ride into town is almost becoming routine, and the view of the harbour from Adam and Heidi’s window is like coming home in some ways. I’m here for the next four days, and hope to catch up with everyone (like, in the entire world) while I’m here. And get some sleep. And read a book or two. And not think of anything to do with business, or an MBA, or anything along those lines.
One thing I’ve been noticing lately, is that if you’re going past an incredibly familiar place or road or building, if you look at said place or road or building at a slightly different angle, in a slightly different way, it suddenly ceases to be incredibly familiar, and you can almost capture that feeling you get when you visit somewhere new and see that place for the first time with fresh eyes. I most often get it when I look out of the side window while driving across an intersection, as if looking down a street while you’re moving perpendicular to it somehow makes it a totally different place to the one you might have turned down otherwise.
Sometimes the feeling strikes me so hard it takes my breath away, and all of a sudden Christchurch isn’t quite so staid and boring as sometimes I fear it is. Maybe it’s because spring appears to be fast approaching? Perhaps.
Either way, it’s a good thing, as I’ve just said goodbye to my Mum, who’s off to (I believe – I’d check the itinerary, but really, it won’t diminish the “Wow, cool!” impact) Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia and Easter Islands for a seven week, take lots of photographs trip. Her camera bag probably weighs more than her pack – the amount of backup batteries, films, cameras, and all the rest of it she decided she needed to take to make sure nothing went wrong once she’d trekked up to Machu Picchu is really quite formidable. What’s more, in a strange twist of Christchurch fate, it turns out that one of her camera-companions is the mother of one of the other guys in the MBA programme. Two degrees, indeed.
So, Mum’s in South America for seven weeks, Dad’s just completed 10 weeks in the USA, notching up 25 national parks in that time, and is off to the UK and Europe for another six. Juliet’s in Melbourne, but that’s more living than travelling I guess, Dad’s partner Liz has just headed to Indonesia for a month. Not only is all of this travel simply underlining that I’m ultra sick of my computer screen, I get the feeling that someone, somewhere, is spending my inheritance.
But, speaking of the computer screen. It’s actually holidays now, lectures have finished, and for a whole two week (barring one 1,500 essay to go) we technically don’t have to be in at school. So what do I do? Sign up for a strategy competition on Monday. Cos I can’t get enough of strategy. Jedi dumbarse.
The term was a hard one. That’s my excuse for not posting in almost two months. For those of you who have been through the hell of the end of an Honours year, imagine it happening three times in one year, but with more work due each time. That pretty much sums it up.
This clip’s a little out of date in terms of what I’m listening to at the moment, but I thought I’d better post it, as it represents my conversion to Death Cab For Cutie almost fanboy. Enjoy!
Though the four of us are now spread around the world, wherever we go, we all carry memories of Grandma with us – the fun, the love, the dancing, the music, the art, her bedtime stories. Over the past few days we’ve collected a few of these between us, in the hope we can paint a picture of who Grandma was through the eyes of her grandchildren.
These are just some of the things that we remember Grandma best for…
The best chicken drumsticks in the world; mashed potatoes, carrots and peas; chocolates and sweets, hidden in the cupboard by the fridge; pink wafer ice cream sandwiches; cameo creams and chocolate chip cookies; lemonade and Sunday morning cups of tea in those brown and white teacups…
Walks to Red Cliffs for 50 cent mixtures, down the 101 steps, past Moa Cave, on to Cave Rock; walks over the peninsular, singing as we went; playing on the beach for hours while Grandma watched on…
The bed time stories! Everyone remembers the bed time stories, where she told fantastic tales of what the other pair of cousins got up to, or of our Dads and their brothers’ adventures when they were young, or of her and Granddad’s travels round the world…
Sunday morning BBC radio stories in Grandma and Granddad’s bed, especially Flick the Little Fire Engine; Sunday evening Walt Disney TV shows lying in front of the kitsch electric fireplace; The Sound of Music; Dorris Day; Whitney Huston; The Beegees; Tiffany; the girls making Grandma watch heaps of dances choreographed by them just for her…
The yellow shag pile carpet and the immaculately clean house, including the front steps and pathway which Grandma used to sweep on sunny days; the rhythmic comforting tick tock of the grandfather clock in the living room; Waking up in the morning and sitting in front of that electric heater underneath the grandfather clock until it was sunny enough to fall asleep in the conservatory; the view from the balcony of their house, and the sound it made when you ran around it, footsteps echoing off the walls and ceiling; Christmases at the house with the whole family; catching Grandma putting Christmas presents under the tree one Christmas…
Painting watercolour scenes of banks peninsular with Grandma on wet Sunday afternoons; painting rocks in a stream bed, somewhere on Banks Peninsular on one of our walks; going through her art and playing with her old oil paints…
Visits from the Ogilvies; riding on the orange skateboard down the Ogilvies’ driveway, while a worried Grandmother watched on; visits to Gran and Harry; making everyone gin and tonics…
Watching excitedly for Grandma’s car to drive along the causeway on her way home from Farmers; leaving Grandma and Granddad’s house on a Sunday after spending the weekend, not wanting to leave, tired and sleepy, that feeling as you turned out of the driveway with the crazy downhill dip and turn thing, looking back at the Port Hills from Ryans Road – you could almost see their house from home…
But most of all, we will never forget Grandma Bobbletree’s amazing, unwavering, unconditional love for all of us, her generous spirit, her kindness and her devotion to her grandchildren.
It’s almost the shortest day (tomorrow I think), and the combination of the rapid onset of winter, reaching the halfway mark of the coursework part of the programme, and my high levels of procrastination via internet, are combining to deliver me into not the greatest place. Which is a real pain, as everything was good just a few days ago. Ah well, they’ll no doubt be all good again in just a few days.
But, while I’m in the right sort of headspace for this sort of thing, it has got me wondering about what does and does not belong on the internet, and how each of the multitude of forms of communication at my fingertips should best be used, and whether they should be used at all!
At last count, I have three active email addresses, one blog, a LiveJournal account, a Twitter account, a MySpace account, a Bebo account, a Facebook account, and a Last.fm account. I’m on ICQ, Skype, MSN Messenger and Gtalk. Along more traditional lines, I have a landline and a cell phone, although as I’m no longer working, I don’t have a fax or an office phone. You could even send me a *gasp* letter, if you felt the need. Oh, and, failing all that, maybe even grabbing a coffee and having a chat would do the trick.
I don’t think I’m missing anything above, although I didn’t go into the fact that things like Facebook have multiple ways of contacting or “interacting” with people, so they count for more than just one entry, really. And I don’t think I’m the most connected out of the people I know either!
Sometimes, when faced with all these ways of communicating with people, (oh, and when I say “communicating”, I guess I’m including passive forms of communication where you tell the world about who you are and what you’re doing, rather than only messages directed at specific people), I get the feeling you get when you walk into a room that’s full of heaps of people you know from all the different parts of your life. That uncomfortable “who am I” feeling, when you suddenly realise that you’re actually several different things to several different groups of people. And I wonder whether that’s a good or a bad thing, whether there’s a reason for that – should you keep all the bits separate?
Maybe the online personality, such that it is, is something that you develop through these sites. Are people really the way they say they are, online? Or does the slightly removed, almost anonymous effect mean that people develop a different identity when using a blog or a Facebook account? And does this online personality change from medium to medium? Are people different on MySpace to how they are on Twitter? (And while I’m here, one “blogs”, right, so does that mean that one “twits”? Cos that, given some of the entries I’ve read, would be oh so appropriate.) Or perhaps you become like those people who seem to have sorted out their “photograph face”, who have that smile that they use in all the photos that get taken of them that you never see them use at any other time? I know people who are totally not who they appear in real life when they appear online, whether that be a blog or otherwise, as I’m sure everyone does.
I’d love to know what effect on people’s identity formation sites like these have had, whether they have an effect at all. Or perhaps not? Thoughts?
Then I begin to wonder whether any of it is worthwhile, or whether it’s be a much better idea to cancel all the accounts and restrict myself to the odd email, a phone call or two from far flung places, letters (remember the joy of opening a letter, actually handwritten for you by someone?) and face to face only, so when I run into an old friend who I haven’t seen in years, there really is a whole pile of stuff to talk about. Totally drop off the face of the earth, or the internet, to be more precise. (Kind of like how there are two types of traveller, the ones who you keep in touch with online all the time so it’s really just like they’ve popped into the next room for a bit as opposed to travelling halfway round the world, and the ones who when they go away, they go away. I think my Dad falls into the second category, although I’m sure that’s at least partly because he probably hasn’t quite figured out how to use internet cafes yet.)
But would that just mean that you drift apart more? I guess, then, that another question to ask is how much more groups of friends stick together, or whether people now operate with a much wider group of friends and acquaintances now than they ever used to – what are the positive effects of all this sort of tech?
How has it changed how individuals conceptualise self? How has it changed how we all “stick together”, as it were, in society? I know there’ll be stuff out there written about it, books, articles, studies, documentaries, piles of the stuff, hours even, all available at a click of a button or a quick trip to the library. But I’m really not in the mood for reading or investigating, just for musing.
So, one thousand words written today, and none of them to do with either the budget or Fisher and Paykel Healthcare. What did procrastinators do before the internet?
(And then, just as I finish writing this blog, my cell phone alarm goes off to remind me that it’s a friend’s birthday. A friend in far away places, who I can send a quick message to say that I’m wishing him well precisely because of the forms of communication I’ve talked about above. And it reminds me that perhaps I think they are good things, when you get right down to it. Happy birthday Corey!)
As for the song of the week, the one that matches my current mood, (although not, I’ll admit, the content of the blog) is Sting’s Shape of my Heart. Not Damien Rice for a change, but really damn good, and this version is especially cool.
The interesting thing about having written down a plan for life, being a required part of a course last semester and all, is that when opportunity knocks, there’s actually something to measure that opportunity against. It’s no longer just a case of going “Woohoo! Opportunity! Go!” It’s a (slightly) more measured response, with pros and cons and the whole shebang, which can then be measured against the existing plan to see if it is better or worse. The plan provides a baseline comparison, as Si put it.
So when the opportunity to go to apply for a PhD scholarship at Limerick (as in Ireland) University, writing a thesis on the aviation industry and the EU’s energy policy (I mean seriously, how cool would that be? Very cool!) arrived in my inbox, after the initial rush of “Exciting! Yeah!” passed, there was some yardstick to measure that new future with my current future. It didn’t measure up, as it turns out, so I think I’ll let it pass. More money, that’s what I need, so a job (shock horror) would be more appropriate at the end of the MBA, rather than yet another thesis.
And thanks once again to the TBALC brains trust, who are an excellent resource for offering advice. It really is quite amazing the range of responses you get from a somewhat similar group of people!
Probably the best idea was from Claire, who declared that if I was to be based in Ireland, I could spend three years stalking Damien Rice. Fanboy that I am, it’s an ever so slightly creepy plan, but, it does make for an excellent segue from talk of a PhD into your Weekly Dose of Damien. (Well, everyone but Scott, who refuses to click on the YouTube video links. And don’t worry, I’ll get sick of this schtick soon enough.)
This week, it’s a version of one of my favourites, La Professor La Fille Danse….
Don’t ask me to sing the French bit at parties.
So, other than PhD dreams, this week hasn’t had a whole lot going on.
One expedition of note, our second visit to Fat Eddie’s on the weekend wasn’t quite as successful as the first, especially in terms of the number of bartenders to people wanting to be served. Took some time to wave down the bartender, and in the meantime I started writing a journal entry about supply and demand for my Business Economics assessment in my head. Quite apart from the fact that that last sentence was intensely geeky, the journal in question is really interesting (no, wait, I’ll get to the interesting bit) as it’s made up of everyday observations put in terms of whatever economic theory we’re studying at the time, and reading back through it I realise that around 90% of my entries are about either (a) the fact the MBA is sucking up all my time and money (which in actual fact it isn’t, I just like to complain), (b) musing on carbon sinks and carbon trading, or (c) bars. Seriously, it’s like a glimpse into my current state of being, where life is tending to revolve around these three themes. I’m actually not terribly upset about this.
But wait, more stuff happened as well. Like the Felt website being launched. You should go there and check it out, as it’s a friend’s new business, and if I haven’t spammed you about it already, I probably don’t have your email address. Tell all the crafty type people you know. Do it!
And what else, hmm. Facebook. Yes, that happened. To me even. *Shakes fist in Si’s general direction*
So, Dad hopped on the plane for Melbourne this morning, the first part of his round-the-world, seven-month-long, I’ve-just-retired-and-god-I’m-bored trip. It’s a pretty cool itinerary he’s got, but I seriously hope he manages to make it through some of the less than safe places he’s heading to in one piece. As Liz (his partner) pointed out, he may ask for a lot of advice, but he seldom takes it, and I hope that doesn’t catch him out. Hmm. And that he makes it through the full seven months.
All going well, hopefully he’ll come back just that slightly more open-minded and world-wise. Nah, who am I kidding, just as long as he has fun!
What it does mean is that I’m now very completely the only member of my family left in Christchurch. So if one of the reasons for traveling is to get away from the family, well, I seem to have accomplished that already.
Sunday was a very slow, low day, thanks to excessive amounts of alcohol consumed (reading back through blogs, this would appear to be a common theme, ah well, you get that I guess) at Mary and Charles’ going away / we’re engaged party on Saturday. Congrats and huzzah and all the rest to both of them (Tim, we’ve almost reached the “letting the side down” stage I feel), and another bon voyage to Lisa and Dan and the rest of the Loopen crew who headed off to South America this week to tour a show and generally have an awesome time. What’s more, between bouts of hangover and some frenzied cooking, one exceptionally good discovery of Sunday was a series of YouTube videos of a Damien Rice concert I hadn’t stumbled on before.
Here’s one of them now.
Well, I liked it, (and I’m pretty sure there’s a bit in there that reminds me of the Neverhood soundtrack). The others vids are pretty cool as well – although a lot of them have the annoying thing where the camera focuses on the guitar, but only on the hand strumming, not the hand playing the chords. Grr, so frustrating.
And, firmly lodged in the “And that was a good night” files forever more, the 48 Hour Film Competition Christchurch regional finals saw TBALC’s “Painkiller: the Sick Sense” nominated for best script and best use of prop, and winning the best use of character! Fan-frickin-tastic, and great job to the whole team, as I’d hazard a guess that the strength of our film in these areas was largely the result of the full team brainstorming efforts at the very outset of the competition. Watching the other finalists, especially the likes of The Outwits’ winning film, it’s pretty obvious that these were the only kind of areas where we could really compete given our editing-in-our-lounge technical styles, and it was pretty gratifying to hear the crowd laughing at all the right places… Congrats to all the other finalists as well, especially Matt’s team who took away a couple of awards as well.
Seven days already? Not according to that regular journal I’m supposed to be keeping, dammit. Turns out drinking all night long is not conducive to a period of considered self-reflection prior to finally making it to bed. ON the upside, it also turns out that the ill-considered self-reflection of the infamous “Guilts” seems to have abated. No longer does every social interaction from the night before get insanely over-analysed, detail by minute detail. Which is all good, and I’m sure means something is going right somewhere, or that I’m not making a fool of myself as often while drinking.
Hmm.
In fact, the last seven days have been pretty damn cool. Got my marks back: did better than expected, which was nice. Started the second term: busier than expected, which isn’t so nice, but isn’t particularly concerning. Went to Wellington to go to a Climate Change Adaptation and Mitigation conference (NZ responses to the IPCC Fourth Assessment Report): super cool, even though a lack of sleep and caffeine led to my pen being jammed into my thumb to stay awake through some of the less, um, well presented seminars. Drank beer in the Beehive: wouldn’t describe this as super cool, more mildly amusing due to their “cult sacrifice” decor in the function room next to the bar.
I also Went to Wellington to visit the assembled Christchurch ex-pat masses up there: even more super cool, with everyone found to be in fine form. Managed to catch up with most people around the place, although if I missed you it was definitely due to a lack of time in the city as I fled back to Christchurch early to finish a presentation… the MBA really is going to be the stock standard excuse for everything this year Saturday was especially cool, starting as it did with a drive out to Eastbourne Turner’s Auctions to help Adam sell their new car (long story, think the auctioneer bought it. Wait, just looked at the auction report online, he may not have…), and a long walk down to the Wellington Food Show at the Cake Tin.
Course, for Adam and me it was more the Wellington Wine Show, although that was more due to the generally disappointing nature of the food on display than anything else. Best straight out stealing of the day award to Adam, who swiped a couple of wine glasses ($5 each) from a table. To be fair though, he did try and pay for them, he just didn’t admit that he’d just taken them from the table behind the girl who said that we “didn’t need to pay, as we already had glasses”… ah well, more fool them. They didn’t have particularly good wine anyway.
So anyway, after dinner at Harem (mmm), we all ended up, via Havana Bar and several expensive cocktails later, at Will’s apartment, where guitar and singing, cheese and crackers, some appley alcoholic beverage and coffee, massage and arguments about the Iraq War all ensued over many hours. I wasn’t involved in that last one, believe it or not.
And then, home on Sunday. So that was a good weekend then.
Missed the 48 Hour film viewing though, which is a bit pants, although did see that it got a pretty good review in the forums so hopefully it gets through to the finals so I can see it with an audience in attendance. Yeah.
Two days. Amazing how much creativity can be jammed into such a brief period of time.
This year saw a slightly different TBALC/Occasional Goldfish team take shape, with the subtraction of those now spread around the world in various secret and not-so-secret locations, the addition of those returned from such locations (Scott, Adam) bringing their tried and trusted skills to bear, and all-new members (Andrew, Hamish) who brought with them both leet cameras and the required skills to make said cameras rock. Hard. And, what’s more, who have read the appropriate histories and so are appropriately steeped in TBALC lore. The film that was eventually produced was of a higher quality in almost all aspects than last year’s attempt (suggesting they’re obviously not steeped enough in he lore), with many of the lessons learned from Wormflu coming in handy as the days progressed. I think the planning for next year’s one has already begun!
Handed in with 20 minutes to spare and clocking in at 6 minutes 56 seconds (of the possible 7 minutes), we appeared to have judged our run almost perfectly, excepting the cut Priest scene – funny, but not plot-essential. Although for a while there it looked like everything was coming unstuck at the last, as the camera/laptop/recording onto the miniDV interface started to glitch and Andrew started to yell even more. I reckon the laptop was about this close to being thrown out of the window… and that it must have been karma for last year’s easy run to the finish line. But, it was done, the free beer was drunk, the watching of those less fortunate (seconds late. Gutted) and the hellos to the many people known on the other teams were shouted along with high five action.
Was all good, especially for one who was so sure he wasn’t going to be involved just a few weeks back. But then I relented and thought it’d be fun to be part of the brainstorming/scriptwriting crew. And then I played proxy Producer for Saturday afternoon and night. And then I even made it (uncredited) into the movie itself for a last minute voice over. So yeah, I guess I actually ended up doing a hell of a lot more than planned, but in a much more relaxed fashion (the weekend happened to be my two days of holiday between MBA terms) than last year. Muy excelente.
What’s more, I found the DVD Heq made for me with many mp3s, among which is my favourite U2 single ever, “Please, Live from Rotterdam”! Fan-frickin-tastic.
Had the first lectures of term 2 tonight. Strategy looks like it’s going to be a lot of fun, and Economics, well. It will also be fun, but I was very quickly reminded why I hated economics when I was doing Pols (“Rational” actor bullshit already, and we’re only one lecture in . The lecturer is a really cool guy, if pretty right on the political spectrum, a fact he certainly doesn’t try to hide in his lectures! So we had a chat afterwards (I am, after all, a mature student now) and it promises to be a fun few weeks… I definitely need to brush up on my left-wing economics/political science theory in order to compete. Remains to be seen what the rest of the classes will be like this time round, although I can honestly say I’m not looking forward to HR with it’s 2 inch thick reader. Bugger. Although, at least the lecturer provided a reader, and I didn’t have to buy another $140 textbook. Ouch ouch ouch.
We get our provisional marks back for term 1 tomorrow, and I’m expecting (unless they’ve scaled me up or down somehow) a couple of A+’s, a couple of A’s, an A-, and a pass for the pass/fail course. All in all, not too shabby, and successfully on top of the required GPA (not that I’m obsessed or anything…) Also, a good return from something like a month straight in the computer lab towards the end of the term.
Managed to come first in the Accounting class as well. Shh, don’t tell Dad, he was always so upset I never became an accountant!
Otherwise, things seem to be mostly good. Life is beginning to develop a pattern that’s conducive to getting by, although sleep and money run in short supply at times. Am taking the chance while single to do some much needed work on me, and to begin to reconnect with what I really find important in life, whatever that may be (I’m working on it!). Even had to do a final assignment on just this, with interesting results.
So yeah, as part of development plan attached to that project, I’m going to try and actually blog once a week. No really.
Seriously.
Of course, I’m even too crap to update Twitter!! Ah well, we’ll see.
Saturday was especially cool, starting as it did with a drive out to Eastbourne Turner’s Auctions to help Adam sell their new car (long story, think the auctioneer bought it. Wait, just looked at the auction report online, he may not have…), and a long walk down to the Wellington Food Show at the Cake Tin.