See You Next Wednesday
Twas the week betwixt Xmas and N’year...
On Christmas Day I went to lunch with my mum. Allegedly there would be a group of friends from her work and their thirty-something children. When we got there I met mum’s friend and her husband; two of their three sons in their early twenties who left half way through lunch to drive to Melbourne for the cricket; her mother, who didn’t have her hearing aid with her; and her brother, amongst his first words were "I have two maths degrees". And I managed to let the dog out. Eventually another work colleague arrived with a child in her thirties (and a son-in-law), so there was literally "a group of friends from her work and their thirty-something children".
"Which statesman would you rather have had as the President of the United States of America on 11 September 2001?"
misheard as "Clinton."
"Clinton? Are you mad..."
misheard as "Lincoln? Are you mad..."
"I’m going home to read a paper which probably only ten people in Australia could understand."
Christmas Day wasn’t good, but it was good enough.
I went to Dave and Fiona’s for Boxing Day where everyone was tuckered out from all the fun they had had the day before (damn them). Evan was on his last day in town and was determined to enjoy it despite the low ebb, so good for him. Dave, Evan, Fiona, James, Linda, Simon and I went to the movies and saw The Incredibles
, which was nice. I swapped Linda for Ticket to Ride
on the way back from the theatre. Alastair, Dave, Evan, James, Simon and I finished the day with boardgames, which was nice.
Boxing Day was nice.
She has a few weeks to see if she can find an Honours course down here before she has to officially accept one she has been offered in Cairns. Some people think Canberra shuts down for two weeks over Christmas, but it’s like this all the time. Well, my Canberra is and maybe it’s just me but why should she have to suffer? Poor girl.
It would take too long to explain how this is less sudden than it appears, but I went for a coffee with Emma after the game on Saturday and got home at half past three in the morning. If there was more background to this in my previous entries then the obvious conclusion to draw would not be the only conclusion to draw. It’s not wrong, but it lacks context.
Nothing to say, so little time to say it.
It’s not the matter.
We won volleyball, our first victory, except for a forfeit, since grading. I judged Heroclix for the first time since I became a registered judge. I ran a roleplaying game for the first time since last century. I played Tunnels and Trolls
for the first time in even longer. The Muppet Show
went off without a hitch and I spent hundreds of dollars of Christmas presents, which was nice.
And yet all I can generate is a single prosaic paragraph. I have a theory: I am not trying to avoid my work sufficiently to create the windows of time I require to write more than this. I have a second theory: not avoiding my work is not because I have found something interesting to do; rather, I have found something I know how to do. And now I have a second paragraph, too.
And a third (of each): if I pulled my computer out of the cupboard and set up a station at home where I’m not distracted by the novelty of my work I would write more.
(Now go and find out what Ted
has been up to.)
What’s my motivation for this week?
It seems another Wednesday has arrived and I am without inspiration to report on my pastimes or analogise my workplace. I think I may be in a rut; however it is an active, creative rut. More of a rail, the sort of thing you want to stay on.
Whichever it is, I am disinclined to write about it. Maybe later, probably not.