Thoughts have been slow to generate as I constantly tire myself out these holidays. I am used to spending time at home, doing nothing and just letting my mind wander to places it wouldn’t otherwise when active, or tired.

Sunday and Tuesday of the past week brought the introduction and consolidation of friendships with a large group of friends, courtesy of the K. Also very much appreciated K.

First impressions are unforgettable and it is very easy to say none other have so dramatically drawn my positive appraisal so abruptly and completely. T, JJ, L were indeed the warmest and it is almost an indignity to anticipate the next meeting, as that is almost an unhealthy greed purely for a love of life and friendship.

It is a true testament to your charisma K that your friends from both worlds came together and were able to gel nearly seamlessly as one. How? Because we are your friends.

Nothing else to say but thanks for the fun.

Warmed me to the core.

In March, nearly five months ago, I posted an entry here with a five hearted cappuccino, well 1+4 heart chain. I was absolutely in love…not. Perhaps figuratively at least.

Now it is July, there is a week remaining in the holidays and I have worked at Michel’s roughly half the time. About 10 shifts in three weeks. Working that much really screws with you mind, and yesterday, after being woken by extremely heavy rain at 4:30am after only falling asleep at 1am, and needing to wake at 7:30am, I thought it would be a fantastic chance to see how mental I could go at work.

So let’s try and pour a double rosetta. Which i proclaimed in this blog entry, would possibly be too hard!

But here I managed to pull it off with a headache. Amazed at how much my skill had grown just by working consecutive days and several times in a few weeks, I showed all present at work and began a mission to pour it as many times throughout yesterday to consolidate this.

So yeah, probably poured another fifteen or so? Relatively consistent at it, unless someone is watching and they have asked me to do it, then I might screw up.

Now having poured this, the door to pouring all manner of other designs is well in my ballpark. I tried a triple rosetta as well yesterday, which looked slightly too frothy, but still came out. I’m thinking of heart and rosetta combinations now, like proper full-blown hearts flanked with rosettas etc. Will be an interesting and fun challenge, bearing in mind its utter uselessness. I am sort-of heading into latte-art competition territory here!!

But it costs too much to enter, and if you win you need to dedicate half your life to promoting the competition you won basically haha.

On the way back from the store room today I took the ‘inside-the-shopping-center’ route, just for the sake of it.

As I ascended the escalator flanked by the main food court and an entrance, I noticed a bunch of Western Oriental Gentlemen(s) standing next to the gold fence looking down through the hole in the floor at the level below. Really bad description yes, but let’s just pretend I am on the escalator looking up, and 30m away I see a bunch of WOGs looking suspicious.

Three-quarters of the way to the top, I still have my eyes fixated on this group. A voice is raised to its resonant loudest, seriously attracting the attention of everyone. The same speechmaker raises a right fist to its optimal punching position and with a swift two steps right connects with the side of a man’s head. A fracturing click is heard as contact is made and I speed off while others converge to spectate.

Two minutes later, back at work, a couple comes around and asks for a serviette. Unflinching, as this usual request is often met with a cheap internal sigh, I scurried the nearest serviette. The girlfriend takes, and passes to the exasperated boyfriend, who accepts it by opening a bloodied hand. Hospital is needed, not the nearest cafe for a serviette.

Yes very disjointed blog post…

Seldom do I use this word.

This pleasant but rather wind chilly afternoon, I went to BodyPump at the local gym. Unbeknownst to me, it was inanely packed upon my 5 minute early entrance to the class. I stood around for ten seconds just looking for a tight space to squeeze myself into. As soon as I spotted one up, I quickly put my bottle and towel to somewhat ‘reserve’ the space.

Immediately after my eyes darted left to the nearest stack of equipment in the corner of the room. Two platforms remained, however no platform raisers were there. Usually, it is most comfortable to have four platform raisers. So, my eyes darted right to the other stack of equipment, furthest from the door, and usually abundant. Nevertheless, with the class populated nearly to overcrowding, they were dwindling, and rapidly. When I managed to dart around, there were two piles separated by about a metre. I logically went first for the pile of three, then intended to top it up with the one remaining. Obviously I had made it in the nick of time.

A cunning lady, a foot shorter than I, snuck in behind me and summed up the situation for more quickly than I, and snatched the remaining platform raiser. She then turned to me, and basically assumed I would generously offer her one. Of course I wouldn’t.

Her tone rapidly changed from assuming I would give it to her, and skipped asking politely, and directly went on to guilting me into why I needed four. “What do you need four for?” My kinesiology was running through my mind, I could have given her the proper biomechanical answer if there was time. I was stuck for words.

I just thought to myself, “Fine. It’s only for a set or two anyway,” but I was absolutely nonplussed about her sense of ‘bargaining’ with me. I was about to label her racist and tell her to fuck off, but I could not justify that rapidly enough in my mind. I just handed her one and shook my head.

As I took five steps past that incident, this apparently do-gooding girl, a foot and a half shorter than I, said in a condescending whine, “When it’s this busy, you’ve gotta share.” That was ridiculous. I spun around and stated “Look at what you’ve got.” I think she replied that ‘That’s not the point,’ or something along those lines, because I knew it wasn’t the primary point of disagreement. But it was still valid as a secondary consequence. Quite literally, if she thought she was so noble in telling me what to do, she should have offered the lady (old deprived hag) two of her own raisers. I was going to call her racist too.

The main thing from this, is why I need to learn to think faster. I can do it when examined, I can do it when I am prepared for the pressure. Spontaneously, my wit is not fast enough to generate irrefutable comebacks. I need to remember that you do NOT need to be nice to people, despite how genuine their claims are. Because within, you know that they would not do the same for you. The same applies for administering first aid to a stranger…

Harden up, Matthew.

Also, I slipped in two racist thoughts there. GW is becoming ever increasingly Asianised, and I can only imagine the disdain that brings upon the ‘whites’. Not so much a problem with younger generations, however with the old lady who snatched the last remaining step, I could see it written all over her face, in the tone of her voice, and body language. It’s an obscure one, but having been subject to it in previous eons, it’s just apparent.

Also, I never call people hypocritical because I know that I am too. However, I accept this and stay out of other people’s business as much as possible, as if preventing myself being implicated in a hypocritical way. It is quite a sad thought but now I always must remind myself to assume the worst in people I don’t know, until proven otherwise.

The fastest four months of my life has just flown past and I can’t believe we’re in June. It’s winter cold for the first time in five years and it’s exam season once again.

Having four exams in four days really puts things in perspective for me. After a week off to reflect on the semester’s learning, once again the mind wanders through to all the other things that may have been happening concurrently.

I always seem to think over to all the people I haven’t seen in a long time. I wonder how they are, I wonder what they’re doing, I wonder what they look like. I also just want to hear their voice again. I want them to know that I still think about them and that they matter to me now, simply because they have mattered to me in the past.

Sometimes I wonder why I afflict myself with such restrictions which leave me seemingly pointlessly wondering where the other end of the rope is… but the world doesn’t revolve around me, and that’s how it is.

This morning I woke to the 7am news and one of the first things that registered in my mind was something along the lines of “Symonds … Twenty20 … sent home…” An instant wave of disappointment swept over me as I realised that I’d never see one of my favourite players in cricket play, again.

I will never forget how devastating he was with the bat. I still vividly remember him in the 2003 World Cup, South Africa. Waqar Younis got fed up with him, bowled him two beamers in a row. At this stage Symonds was on 70-odd. He was destroying Pakistan. He soon went on to crack his first one-day international century, eventuating to 156*. Everyone hailed Symonds as having come of age, finally. And even in the following World Cup, I remember him tearing apart the Indian spin bowling attack with consecutive sixes, some which were hit into the roof of the stadium, others out of the park altogether.

But wow. You always hear about alcohol ruining people’s lives and this is one that sets the epitome of it for me. James Sutherland said it well. “I’m disappointed in Andrew, but I’m also disappointed for Andrew. I’m sad about it.”

I listened to SEN while driving a billion kilometres today. There are some angry callers out there, probably exaggerating to make themselves sound better on radio, but essentially they all had a point. The best argument being how he kept others from playing for Australia.

I can recall the stories about how Symonds never quite fit in with mainstream society, how he had to adapt to just being normal. I still admire him for getting this far. Though, some will argue how many chances he was given by Cricket Australia, it is hard to overlook how difficult it may probably be for him to fit in like the others. Psychologically, socially: he’s just half a step out of beat.

But above everything, I’ll really miss his contribution to my loungeroom entertainment… because Andrew, it has been a pleasure to watch you and follow you.