Diary of a Dilletante

Writing energy is being diverted elsewhere for the moment. One totally professional and one hopefully professional.

Didn’t Pease or Gray or some other pointer out of the bleeding obvious say that men only have a one or two thousand words a day in them while women have ten thousand, or more. I wish I were a woman lately. I am well over my limit by lunchtime  and my voice is caving in, my fingers are getting tired and I am having to run multiple conversations at once.

It’s hard, but I’m loving it. I love being the centre of attention.

The new job is going great. I’m kicking goals and even setting standards that will be spread throughout the globe with my multi-national employer. Not that anyone really cares – but it is a nice change to be valued.

Finally the World Cup gives me reasons to get up early to watch. Today’s equinox must mean the end of daylight savings is coming to an end so that will ease some of the early morning pain. It takes a crowbar to get the girls out of bed in the morning lately and they are grumpy little teddy bears by the end of the day. I am too – but that’s for totally different reasons.

I need to find a 2 hour or less hobby for the weekends. I need a something new to dabble in.

Why are there lingerie stores at the airport? Who decides, either before or after boarding a plane, that they need to get unexpectedly sexy? Perhaps they cater to cheating business travelers that need to be able to dress up at their destination without anyone knowing just what they packed. Is that a big enough market to make the exorbitant airport site rentals pay off?

And of course I need another credit card having just got off the plane. Just fuck off with your sales pitch buddy.

Perhaps I should rename this blog The Grumpy Traveler.

My most recent trip was not without beer or skittles. The client took myself and some colleagues out for dinner to one of Sydney’s swankier venues in est. I’m told this is a 3 hat place and I have no reason to doubt it. It may be a long time before I eat that well again.

Some fabulous scallops with asparagus, grilled polenta and some sort of cauliflower puree. The duck with grilled plums and lentils. A passionfruit souffle. I did have a quibble over the consistency of the lentils – a few of them hadn’t quite made it to al dente. But the rest was divine and I ended up making myself a bit unwell by eating more than I should have. I had no intentions of clearing my plate each time but I couldn’t stop eating – it was just soooo good.

Hooray for consultants with large hospitality budgets!!

Then, of course, it was time for another commute flight and the shit-fight that entails. Is there a more self-absorbed bunch of travelers than those on the 6:30PM Sydney/Melbourne flights. “Just get me the fuck out of here as fast as you can” was all the 300 or so on the flight were thinking. That meant oversized bags being jammed into other peoples stuff. No eye contact for anyone, grunts the only communication. It is never much fun. I’m sure I am as guilty as anyone of the same attitude. And then I get the call while I stand at the luggage collection point asking me in for an 8:00AM meeting. The rat race really sucks some days.

So it would seem that Penn Radioand the Penn Radio podcast wont be running any more. I therefore need a new podcast to add to the roster. I already subscribe to GET THIS as well as DESCI AND BOB but Penn offered me 40 minutes a day of generally interesting, libertarian nut, nerdy talk.

I don’t necessarily need to replace like for like, but I am keen for something new to fill in my commute.
You know how many good things I’ve recommended to you in the past. I think it’s high time you reciprocated.

Update
I’m retrying Dawn and Drew. Perhaps they (or I) have changed since we last met.
Some episodes of Grammar Girl are good and some are for barely literate americans.
The Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe has the same sort of material as Penn but the presentation is all smugness and not as much fun as Penn.
Creative Screenwriting Magazine has some decent interviews with screenwriters – but I think I would get a bit more out of it if I had actually seen the movies they discuss.
I think maybe I’ve played too much Warcraft. I grabbed a couple of the WoW podcasts and when they start discussing hints and tips I find myself thinking “I know that!” and “Well duh” or “Yeah – but that’s not as usefull as….”
And Bill, movies and new release books are just teasing me about things I cannot have.

is not necessarily proof of success.

That petty much describes my new job so far. The customer seems to like me but I attribute that mostly to the fact that I haven’t had to represent any failures so far. That day will come. But so far I have staved it off and managed to even buy some time. I hope I put it good use.

Yet I haven’t even picked up a golf club for 2 months now and that is shitting me. Somehow the car is booked out to the other 3 members of the family all weekend every weekend. I think I need a shitty runabout. It only needs to get me to the course and back once a week. The cost of the car is probably more than the subs to play though. The horns of an enema.

I hadn’t played Guitar Hero for weeks either. I had a bit of a crack last night trying to get past my nemesis that is Freya on expert level. I failed it 3 times and my arm nearly fell off. I am no longer match fit.

I am back on the frequent Sydney trips for work and so I will be wasting more and more time sitting around in airports. It’s just like being a regular user of crappy public transport. So I try to bring the same sense of patient forebearance to the inevitible delays. I will certainly be blogging the odd rant though. They shan’t get off scott free.

So I found myself on Monday night, sitting in the lounge, waiting for my delayed flight to board reading my book. An older lady sits right down beside me, in spite of the fact there is ample room for us to spread out and not interact with any one in any way.

“Excuse me,” she says, “but do you think those three men there look… dodgy?”
I look at the three men. They might be turkish or maybe lebanese, but they are certainly brown.
“What sort of dodgy?” I asked, “Wayne and Arthur type dodgy?”
“Oh you know” is her reply.
“Well none of them has a bag and two of them are wearing thongs so they won’t be concealing anything in their shoes. I don’t see anything dodgy about them at all.”
“Are you sure? It’s just with all the ‘things’ that have happened lately I was feeling very nervous about them.” And it’s true – she really was anxious about it.
“Well I wouldn’t buy a mobile phone off them perhaps. But I see nothing there that would make me feel at risk.”
“Thank you. I was really worried about them.”

So what does this all mean? Am I wrong for thinking she is a silly old bat who seen too many “terror alert” stories? Am I not being cautious enough about my own well being? Is she just a racist old bint?

Actually, I think it’s the latter.