Mixed Signals

Lost was amazing last night. (And every other night it's ever been shown). So intense.

My mate Nathan cleaned up in the Lotto, guessing three correct numbers for a prize pool of 15 whole dollars! Congrats! Heh heh he. Dude, that's two weeks this season you're the winner! (Two weeks ago it was Best Costume).


In Nerd News...

My iBook is going through crisis again. For those of you who do not know about my mutant powers, I have the incredible ability to shut down any computer by simply touching it, or, in some cases, simply forcing it into submission with my mind.

This power is a blessing and a curse. It was difficult in my design studies – these days computers are fairly integral in the design process – and also for my classmates, who eventually learned to distance themselves from my presence. I lost many assignments and documents because of this knack, and the tech guy in our department soon became my nemesis ("What do you mean you shut down one of my new G5 towers? They don't crash! That's not possible!"). Don't even get me started on 3D rendering or Video Editing assignments. All I had to do in those cases was submit a cover sheet with my student name and ID, and the teachers would stamp it with a Pass, knowing that it was not possible to complete any of the assigned tasks, and accepting the submissions based solely on the design drafts I created.

Anyways, last night, the iBook I fondly nicknamed Mactop experienced power failure, and the cable supplying electricity to the computer finally called it quits. It has been fairly temperamental of late, fluctuating between supplying energy and occasionally throwing me the odd watt when it felt like it.

This means a detour on my way into the city tonight to pick up a $129 power cord. Who knew? My friends at Next Byte always have things in stock, and are so much quicker than getting it via Apple. Anyone with a Mac - get yourself to a store whenever you need repairs. They all know me by sight these days.

$129. Pretty steep. The lengths we go to for that little bit of 'freedom.' We call the ability to pick up a wireless internet connection 'freeing', but really, we are still tripped up - every 2 or 3 hours, you're going to need to plug in the power supply, and you won't be able to get online from any point in the entire city, you need to stay within the range of a known network, and even then not unless you make sure it's secure (so that random passers-by don't make free with your bandwidth).

And we think we're unwiring ourselves and making life easier, when laptops are about 230% more likely to break or have hardware failure than a desktop computer. Not to mention the ridiculous prices you pay for all the accessories you didn't originally know you needed.

So anyways, Mactop is currently sitting beside me on the desk at the studio (I brought it with me on the train), finishing up some crucial downloads here on the wireless network before completely losing signal. It's a bit like an episode of Lost in it's own right, I feel.

We have the setup of a crisis, we have the emotional trauma, and we have the urgency of impending doom. Well, it only means I won't get to watch the 11th and 12th episodes of House til next week, but STILL. Urgent.


In Caffeinated News...

I know I said I'd closed with the whole coffee lady thing, and even I am getting bored with the ongoing trials of that particular situation. But I'm confused – today she was nice. A friend has advised me of the possibility that the Coffee Lady in question suffers from Bipolar Disorder. This would explain a lot!

But then, so does Robin Williams (allegedly), and at least he makes me laugh. I guess we will just have to embrace her unpredictable social behaviour, and roll with the punches. I lay to rest the Android Saga. I am at peace with whatever personality (or lack thereof) she uses on any given day, and will deal accordingly.

I just wish she (and all other women, in a huge generalisation, for that matter) would stop sending mixed signals. We're on or we're off. Don't cancel the five cent surplus for me one day, and then forget to double heat my beverage the next.

Watching an early episode of House got me to thinking about how great it would be to tell the truth. I mean, duh, but actually not ever lie. There was an episode in which the patient and her daughter had never lied to each other, and been completely honest about everything (except of course, the clinching scene in which it turns out that the girl is adopted – other than that, total honesty). One of the doctors testing her had problems with not ever lying, claiming that it provided privacy, and made things a bit easier if you don't always have to tell the truth.

To which the patient replied 'Oh? And is your life easier?'

Man, she nailed him. And me. I know it would be uncomfortable to be totally honest, but after you got over that, imagine how simple it could all be. You have to tell the truth in love. There's no use slamming someone with heavy doses of stone-cold truth if it's going to crush them. But just not feeling the need to tell even the smallest lie to avoid discomfort or embarrassment.

In the long run, it would make things so much easier. People would trust you implicitly to tell them what you really think, and they would know that you really mean what you say - your yes means 'Yes', and your no, 'No'. You would only ever be sending one message to anyone at one time.

None of this faux-friendship stuff that is on offer at Gosh Coffee...


Meanwhile, in the real world...

Having said all that, I now return to my work, (the one in which I get paid to do actual labour, and not idle away hours writing meaningless prose) in order to make the 4:52 train that will get me to the Apple retailers before closing time.


I'll be seeing you. (Not necessarily in any literal sense, mind you)


Joel
– I mean, honestly...

Up high, download. Bandwidth - too slow...

Hey guys - freebies for ya! I love freebies.

In this case, it's a desktop background I've composited. Nothing spectacular, but I love the quote - it inspires me. So if you need this on your desktop as a reminder, please feel free to download it.

Click here for 1024 x 768
Click on over to here for 1920 x 1200 (for those of us with schmancy widescreen)


Enjoy, guys.


Joel
– Design for the masses

Something to write home about.

Yesterday was a fun day.

I say this because I had the rare opportunity to work on a design for a book cover. I am enjoying this project quite a lot, as it allows for a lot of creativity on my end, and there's nothing quite like hearing a satisfied customer tell you how the finished product exceeded expectations.

Not to boast, mind you – I'm simply letting you know that I am quite good at what I do, and it's great to put those skills towards a project that you support. In this case, a soon-to-be-released volume by Dr K. Ameen, entitled 'Melbourne to Jerusalem – A pilgrim's progress in the 21st Century'. I will make sure to give you a glimpse of the artwork, as soon as it is ready for publishing and display.

I think this book is going to be a nice piece of writing. The author is a pretty knowledgeable guy. I think It'll help people interested in traveling to Israel/Palestine, as it outlines geographical as well as historical features. It will be a good student resource for people learning about the timeline of the Holy Land, and a good resource for people trying to keep up with current events and the issues facing the Middle East in the present and the future.

The cover is also looking pretty great at this point, I might add...

In tenuously related news...

It's LOST night again tonight.

Note that I did not say 'LOST is on tonight.' This is because Thursday nights are not like any other night of the week. This particular evening is completely superior because it is when what is arguably The Greatest Show on Earth (or any Other Planet) Ever is broadcast on that highly regarded channel, 7HD.

It's so much more than just a TV show. It's a way of life. LOST Fans (Losties, as they are affectionately known) are a society unto themselves. LOST is a world you can immerse yourself in – theories abound in the show, mysteries and clues are hidden in each episode, myriad connections are revealed, questions answered, answers questioned, characters arced, cliffs hung, and our calculated assumptions are scornfully tossed aside by the Producers each week, as if they had not been carefully crafted over months of research, internet scouring, and feverish brainstorming in the middle of the night after watching a particularly mind-blowing episode.

And even when the show extends, season after season, seemingly insurmountable suspense is multiplied by additional characters, animals, flashbacks, flashforwards and other brain-scrambling narratives, we still come back each week, eager to figure it all out.

Devoted fan, much?

LOST Night has been firmly established as a tradition in our household. Our weekly gathering is slowly growing, and we number about 8 regulars by now. We sit around our newly-acquired 32" HD LCD TV (with additional capitalised acronyms to spare), and talk incessantly over the broadcast, as we try to out-theorise each other.

The tradition also includes participating in the Lotto drawing. Each week we have to guess which numbers will be drawn out of the machine. Obviously the chances of winning are infinitesimal, but scoring is calculated on the number of correct guesses (e.g. Two balls out of 7 is pretty good – even if it was Hannah who correctly guessed they were going to be 29 and 36 instead of me...)

The LOST Night phenomena has even included special attention to Season Premiere and Season Finale. Let's just say that prizes are given to the best Come-As-Your-Favourite-Character effort, and the living room has never looked so tropical as on the night of the first showing of Season 3's first episode...

Why am I telling you about all this LOST fanaticism?

I am preparing you for the worst. Because of the Writers Strike still being knutted out over in the States, there are only 8 finished episodes of The Show (note capitalisation). Tonight being the 3rd week of Season 4, I only have 5 more weeks to prepare for the cessation of weekly broadcasts, until the Writers can unblock themselves and get back to making LOST. (And other, less meaningful serials if they can be bothered)

At this moment, I have no idea how I will cope with the absence. We've already waited a couple of nail-biting months, waiting to rejoin our protagonists are their thrilling conclusion to last season's finale. I'm not sure I could do another break.

In short, and all bad puns intended, I will be lost with out it...

Your prayers and thoughts would be appreciated.

In closing
The end of this post is a good time to announce my resignation – I am stepping down in my role as Human Relations Development Officer and Friend to Humanity. Though I ordered a hot mocha this morning on my way to work, I felt the distinct chill emanating from Android #1 as she passed it over the counter.

I give up.

It's like she did not recognize me at all. She offered no greeting, and made no response to my 'Hi - how you doing?', and then she stared, glassy-eyed, over my shoulder at a passer-by as she emotionlessly took my proffered cash.

I guess she must have exceeded her yearly supply of Human Warmth and Connection yesterday. Are they deducting from her pay whenever she takes a second to engage in frivolous chit-chat?

Whatever, Lady. Maybe I should by-pass your emotional unavailability and take my custom to McDonald's, five feet beyond your stall. How would you like that? Huh?

You'll come crawling back. Begging for friendship.

I told you this was a closing, and it is. The end of the relationship we could have had.


Until the morrow, then.



Joel
– Mourning the losses...

Degrees and Separation.

I have been thoroughly enjoying the past three days of dry, scorching heat. There's nothing quite like a clear sky sunset turning a hot day into a warm night, and drifting off to sleep with the scent of summer in the air.

At least, there's nothing quite like it this summer. That's why, last night, when I ended up sleeping with a fan directly aimed at me, and the blanket discarded on the floor, I couldn't have been happier. I love the heat. It reminds us that there actually is a fourth season in Melbourne, every leap year or so.

Honestly, is it just me, or are there more Summer-lovers disappointed with the poor attendance the sun has put in this year? Where were all the 46° heatwaves? The kids being sent home from school on account of unbearable weather? I'm not talking about the one day in three weeks when the thermometer is pushing the 38 mark. I mean the week-long marathon of hot air and ice-creams, camping out at shopping centres, watching the Open while seated directly beneath the air conditioner. Those are the summers I remember.

Ah well... I'm not complaining (much) – I'm lapping it up while it lasts. Tomorrow it will be raining and 23° or something ridiculous.

Summer is the reason winter is bearable, so it's sad when it doesn't keep its end of the bargain...


In recent developments...
I have discovered online gaming. Whereas before I was a Lone Ranger, now I'm more like part of the A-Team. I don't do so well on my own, not unlike Mr. T (advertise for chocolate bars much?), and I was not much of a succes as a single player. But these, days it's all the rage to destroy your friends online. The digital gaming world has opened up social possibilities that never existed when I was younger. You can now mercilessly beat down a close friend without so much as a hint of regret. What's more, they will not take it personally, and will gladly leap back into the fray and snipe you from a distant tower with no undue overtones of revenge.

I am referring, of course, to my newly acquired XBox 360 console, and the year-long subscription to XBox Live. (They were a 21st birthday present, thanks)

Unfortunately, I have also discovered the subtle undercurrents of a video game resistance movement, formed in part by my sisters (and any other women in their networks they have chosen to enlist). My mother also took it upon herself to warn me of the dangers of this form of entertainment. I believe the words 'thirty-five', 'still doing this', and 'people you've never even seen' were all mentioned at least once during the conversation.

Now, sure, I can appreciate that it would seem a little excessive to those looking from the outside. I really do think it's important to have balance there.

I find it creepy and a bit sad when you're spending a whole lot of time interacting with people of a particularly anti-social bent, who don't care much about anything that isn't virtual war. It's a kind of fractured community. Separated and connected at the same time - lots of acquaintances but no friends. Exploring the digital world but never venturing into the daylight of the real one. Interacting with everyone through technology, but shutting off genuine contact.

Having said that, there is such a sense of accomplishment in completing a particularly hard campaign against freakish, alien species, that I can completely understand why there are 169,008 other users doing the same thing right now, as we speak, somewhere on the interweb.

Surely this is not so bad.

Some day, down the track, when I get really good, I could be like those other accomplished gamers out there – sealed in their bachelor pads, starring glassy-eyed at TV screens larger than most people's front door, pounding away on controller pads (which have been moulded to the shape of their palms through continuous use), surrounded by the empty wrappers of last night's microwaved sausage roll dinner and three Pepsi bottles, yelling death threats and shamelessly gloating into tiny headsets, to the chagrin of other 12-year-old schoolboys and 30-somethings they have encountered numerous times online (but never actually been in the same room with)...

Point taken, ladies. I'll have to cut back...


Earlier today
I finally cracked the code! I may have broken through the hostile veneer of the Coffee Robots. Let's not count our chilled espressos before they're blended, but I think I've made some progress.

Today's temperature suggested to me that a cold coffee might be better than the heated alternative. I chose an Iced Mocha instead of my regular beverage. Who could have known that it would be a catalyst for such a monumental change?
They say that a butterfly flapping its wings in Tokyo could... could be used as a meaningless analogy for some ridiculous and unquantifiable theories further down the track. But that's not the point! The point is, by making this choice, I have opened up several alternate futures for myself, in the majority of which I develop a close friendship with the Coffee Ladies.

That's right. She spoke. Not the hardwired interfacing prompts she was built with – those are commonplace. She actually looked in my eyes, and laughed at my witty banter, and replied with an airy 'No worries!' when I finished my order!

I know. We're all in shock. This new development could be the start of something beautiful.

Thank you, Coffee Lady. Thank you.



Joel
– Real relationships are the ones where we can't decapitiate them when they screw up, right? I get them mixed up...

Hallmark Love Day

So, today, officially, is the anniversary of the day in which a man of questionable identity was buried at the Via Flamina (north of Rome) circa. 269 A.D. He may have been a martyr, a priest, a bishop, or simply a collection of legends and fictional characteristics created by Chaucer.

Happy Burial Day, everyone! What better way than to celebrate St. Valentine's new occupation of pushing up daisies, than to send each other flowers!

I myself did some 24-hour-kmarting late last night. (note to self: submit the verb 'kmarting' to Addictionary.org for inclusion into the English language) This was to make up for my bent for doing everything 3 minutes before deadline.

This is why at 1:24 am (20 past God-forsaken, as I like to call it), I was blearily staring at my computer, doing my best to will it into submission. I had a bizarre X-Men moment. Everything I touched promptly packed up and shut down for the night. Halo 3 was very distorted and cut off, so I gave up altogether, and tried to get some designs done for cards I wanted to give my sisters for Hallmark Love Day. But my MacPro had some other ideas, and everything shut down. I then consulted my phone to send a text message to a mate, but was Unable to Send Message 7 (Stored in Outbox to Send Later, thanks very much). I then tested my telephony abilities by prank-calling my sister. The Call Failed. (Retry? NO. Don't try! Just DO! Just make the call!)

At this point I was sufficiently aggravated to effect a curfew, and went to bed to worry about my technical difficulties in the clear light of day.


6 Hours Later...

We rejoin our protagonist, still asleep, standing at the Tram Stop, having been delayed from leaving for work on time (mainly due to his insistence on laying out presents and a card for loved ones), realizing his wallet is at home in a plastic shopping bag from Kmart, trying to make an emergency call (to anyone who could rendezvous for a wallet drop-off) and finding he is able to use his phone for almost anything except actual communication with other people.


20 Minutes later...

Having been reunited with his wallet, the boy wonder finds himself in desperate need of a wake-up. Where better to obtain one than our favourite coffee stand - GOSH Coffee at Box Hill Station! We can tell this will go down well...

Before I go on, I must tell you that I have had sound relationship advice from a trusted friend of mine, who suggests that all I need to do in order to strike up a friendship with the Coffee Androids is slip in a suggestive comment when requesting a beverage. This I had to try.

I was planning that the conversation would go along these lines:

Android (with clown-makeup smile): "Good morning sir, what would you like this morning?"
Joel (all charm and wit): "Your number and a Grande Mocha, thanks love." (this punctuated by an unmistakable wink.)
Android (blushing furiously with a hint of a smile): "That'll be $4.20...0..423 576 509... Happy... Happy Valentine's Day!"
Joel: (swaggering slightly in light of recent achievements) "Cheers, darlin'"

In actuality, I arrived a second too late. I was beaten to the punch by a middle-aged man dressed in short shorts (white socks pulled up past his black runners) and a baseball cap. He proceeded to flirt dangerously with the Android, with a goofy grin on his face as he looked around to see who was taking note of his success with the ladies, and the dutiful robot went off to fix his coffee (and slip a little something extra in for him too, I'll wager).

This perplexed me. As I waited for my pick-me-up (double the size of my regular caffeine fix – today had not started well after all), she proceeded to have a lengthy conversation with this man, asking him if he was doing better than he was the previous day (?), doling out advice on love, life and other words beginning with L.


What. The.

Am I so repulsive, so unapproachable, so... unworthy of the time of day? Is it the age difference (she was clearly manufactured about 30 years ago)? All I managed to get out of her (after offering a very sincere, clearly-enunciated 'Thankyou very much') was a sullen 'You're welcome' - this being projected directly at a nearby benchtop in the other direction. The benchtop appreciated that, I'm sure.

On the International Day of Lurve, I have been outright rejected.


In other news...

I have discovered that people other than Mum read this blog (she doesn't read it herself, incidentally). I discovered, when logging in to create new thought-provoking philosophy for the masses, that I had unread comments in my inbox, waiting to be moderated and added to the marvel of modern publishing that is this blog.

In the dregs of the spirit of Sorry Day leftover from the 13th, I apologize to all those who interacted with me through comments and were flatly refused! On this, the Day of Love, I want you to know I do appreciate you, and thanks for reading.

I have some actual intelligent thoughts to pen, but I should save them for tomorrow. They may be more refined if I give myself some thought-processing time. We will all be the better for it if I take a breather.


Until then...



Joel
– Spreading the luuuurrrvve...

Sorry...?

So. It's Sorry Day today, the 13th of February, 2008.

It seems saying "Sorry" is all the rage, so I guess that would be a good place to start – with an apology. I have completely forgotten about this blog. I'll be honest. I have spared no thought for the news-hungry readers of this blog (the numbers of which I can count on three fingers). For all the trauma I have caused these, my fellow Australians, for all the opinions and thoughts that were withheld from you, I am deeply sorry.

I have decided Kevin Rudd must know more about healthy relationships than I previously thought. Choosing the day before Hallmark Love Day as an annual day for apologizing was certainly more than coincidence. He realizes that being able to admit wrongdoing is key to any good relationship. I applaud the choice. From this day forward, Sorry Day shall be a day we can all commit whatever atrocities we like, providing we follow up with a formal apology, and flowers with chocolates the day after.

I envisage the Hallmark empire will begin production on Sorry Day gift cards, which have a returnable, reply-paid envelope included, wherein lies a fill-out form, with blank spaces for the recipient to write out the monetary amount you owe them in compensation. This is pure gold.

(Note to self – sell this idea to the card company. Scratch that. Give it to them for free. Four years later, sue them for all they have, demand compensation, then send my sympathies to them on a Hallmark Sorry Card.)

That about covers Sorry Day.

In other news...

This morning I felt unusually lacking in energy, so I visited the caffeine shrine that is Gosh Coffee in Box Hill Station. I go there for a Medium Cafe Mocha whenever I actually need to use my eyes at work that day, instead of spending the morning in a blind stupor. The staff there are always seemingly pleasant and chirpy. There are two ladies working there regularly who always have a welcoming smile, and take your order very politely.

But I have hit upon a snag with the service they provide. I have discovered that their sing-song greetings are only pre-programmed, sentence-deep habits. Everytime I respond to their friendly hellos ('Good morning, sir!', 'How are you today, sir?') with a friendly comment of my own ('Not bad, how are you doing?' 'Fine, thanks! What's good today?') I am met with complete, blank silence.

Not a word. Not until I tell them I require a medium-size Cafe Mocha ('No problem. That will be $3.85') do they respond.

Now to you, this may not seem to be a particularly note-worthy occurrence, but I can't tell you how disconcerting it is – when trying to break through the shallow veneer of hospitality and establish an ongoing rapport with the Coffee Ladies – to come up against a stone wall of impassive stares and awkward pauses.

It's like, if you're going to be cheery and friendly, FOLLOW THROUGH on your promises! Don't leave me hanging like that, Coffee Lady! And when you wish me a 'Good Morning', expect a reply! Accept my response graciously, instead of leaving me hanging like that.

What are you playing at, woman? Are you conducting sociological experiments with us, your customers? Is your brain so accustomed to only speaking in terms of Frappe, 'ccino, Grande, and Soy, that you are unable to hold other conversations any more?

If this behaviour continues, I will have no choice but to abandon my hopes of striking up a casual friendship between myself and these people I interact with daily. No one needs that kind of cold rejection that early in the morning.

I am sure in the big scheme of things, my discomfort matters little. But think how unpleasant it would be to be cut off from any conversation deeper than initial small-talk and shallow well-wishing! Has the art of the idle chit-chat and friendly banter been replaced by routine phrases and standardized servitude?


Obviously, I have blown things a little out of proportion. But a simple sorry would go a long way here, lady.


I need a mocha.



Joel
– "I'll have a regular latte with a side order of Good Ol' Fashioned hospitality, thankyou."