First physio appointment yesterday. She was seriously surprised at my range of movement already in my left arm. I almost have full twist motion (palm up/palm down - what the radius controls) already, and I have just about full flex, and 30 degrees off full extention. That's 3 weeks after the accident, and 5 days after getting the cast off.

The fact she's thrilled at my progress makes me happy and hopeful that I'll regain full movement. The orthopod before surgery said I'd get maybe 80-90 degrees total movement, and I've already surpassed that.

For those interested, here is a photo of a motorcycle helmet after it protected my bonce when I slid down the road on my face:




Anyone still want an open-face? :P

I've been put in a range of movement brace on my left arm finally. This allows me to get it moving, makes me look more like a Cyborg, and gets me out of plaster, thank the gods. Still achy, but manageable now with panadol. My bike is fine - cosmetic damage only.

Getting sick of being a cripple though. Want my arms back >.<

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Yes I came off my motorbike. I crashed due to gravel and inexperience on mt mee on Saturday. I have broken my right thumb, which is now wired up, and my left radial head in the elbow. I didn't so much break that as shatter it into shards. They removed the fragments and have replaced the head with metal. Yes I'm now a Cyborg. I am plastered on both arms, and tire quickly, so I'm not good on the phone, but will eventually reply to texts. I'm staying with my grandparents so visitors are out for now. I will update this journal with progress as it happens.

Tired from typing now so I'm off. Thanks all for the well wishes! I'm staying as positive as I can for now. Peace out.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Purge completed.

And those of you who think I don't know what you're saying, shit gets back to me rather quickly, you puerile, vicious little worthless shits.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

How far do you think you can push before there are consequences?

Childish, backstabbing, cult-like, otherish bullshit.

I'll be purging parts of my friends list when I have a chance.

You had YOUR chance.

I'm sick of apologising for myself, and for anyone vaguely like me.

If you want to sit in your little circle-jerk pity parties, feel free, but leave me the FUCK out of it.

I'm a white, heterosexual, "cisgender", atheist male, and I'm fucking PROUD of it. I won't be silent, I won't apologise and I won't be anything else just to fit in with your closed-minded bullshit.

Oh yes, I said closed-minded. You lot are only open-minded as long as we agree with you.

Fuck you.

T

So I was at Ikea yesterday with feybles buying my gf's xmas gift.  On the way back to the car, we were walking with our trolley behind a woman and her young teen daughter struggling with a full trolley and a full flatbed trolley full of flat-pack.  Of course the way I was raised said "help", so I asked them if they wanted a hand.  After a little shock, the mother acquiesced gratefully, and I helped her get the heavy items into her car.  It wasn't a bother for me (for those who are unaware, I used to lift weights, and even though I'm a lot less fit and a lot fatter now, I'm still pretty fuckin strong) and she would have had a hell of a time by herself.

Thankfully there was no indignant "You think I can't do it because I'm female".  Yes that has happened to me before.  There was just a look of intense relief and profuse thanks.

Then she asked if I wanted any money for helping her.

I swear I stood there for a full 5 seconds just dumbfounded.  Have we, as a society, sunk so low that we have come to a point where people only understand "I'll help you if you give me something"?  What the hell happened to helping someone BECAUSE THEY NEED HELP?  I was raised to believe in altruism as an end unto itself.  You don't do it because it feels good to do it.  You don't do it with the expectation of a reward.  You help someone out because they need help, and you have the capability to provide it.  In this case, there were two obviously struggling ladies, and a guy following them who has muscles big enough that he had trouble finding clothes that fit BEFORE he got fat.

The expectation these days is that I would have ignored their problem and gone on my merry way.  There would have been no retribution for such.  It's so ingrained now that you don't go out of your way for anyone, because it's dangerous, or they might try to take advantage of you, or they might be violent psychos or whatever (most of which I believe are just excuses for "I'm to entitled/lazy to consider the needs of others", but that's another story).  I could have walked on.  But ethically I couldn't, and I'm glad of that.

I would prefer to get told off occasionally by a feminist for holding a door or offering a helping hand than to let someone who would appreciate the help go ignored.  I consider it a personal mission to prove that chivalry is NOT dead; that the word "gentleman" is a compound of "gentle" and "man".  I believe that the world would be a kinder, more tolerant place if people just thought of others a little more.  If you're walking out of a store and you notice someone coming out behind you, it takes zero effort to hold that door for one second so they can follow you out, and that could be what makes their day.  It takes little effort to see someone with a lot of shopping trying to make it to their car or the bus and to offer to assist them (hell I walked one woman all the way home with her shopping).  It takes no effort to say "please" and "thank you" to a store clerk, but I can tell you from someone who's worked in customer service most of his life that we bloody well appreciate it.  It adds about 2 seconds to your trip to let someone into your lane who needs to get into it.  I could go on.

We've forgotten that everyone around us is a person.  A human being just like us.  Yes, I'm very publicly misanthropic, and I believe in the PTerry equation (the intelligence of a mob is equal to the IQ of the dumbest member divided by the number of members), but that doesn't prevent me from expressing common decency, BECAUSE IT COSTS ME NOTHING TO DO SO.  More and more the current generations (and this started with the baby boomers, so i'm not just saying "kids these days") are being taught that there is nothing more important than the self, and that they are entitled.  To everything.  From everyone.  And to get angry and indignant and even sue anyone who doesn't give it to them. 

That's bullshit. I was raised to walk a mile.  I was raised to be polite to those who are giving their time and energy towards serving my needs, whether they're getting paid for it or not.  I was raised to give what I can to assist those I can.

It has never cost me a cent (well...aside from charity donations and buying homeless kids a meal, but that doesn't count - money volunteered has no cost to you), and I fully believe that it has, and continues to, make me a better person.

Chivalry isn't dead while I breathe.

T

Postscript:  In the end, the mother and daughter both thanked me for my help, and wished me a very merry christmas.  I felt no need to explain to them that as a non-christian and misanthrope, I dislike christmas.  My agenda and my opinions were not the point of the conversation.  She was offering me well wishes, and I appreciated that. 

I wished her merry christmas right back, and also a safe drive home.

This is another point of mine:  If someone says something like "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Easter" or even "You look very beautiful in that", or offers you a ride or an escort home or to wherever you're going because it's late at night, don't feel it necessary to then get offended and/or explain at length why they're a tool of the corporations/government/FBI/Illuminati or that they're espousing and propogating gender/racial/sexual stereotypes or whatever sociopolitical placard you happen to wave.  Chances are that they are only trying to be a good person, and extend kindness to those around them, whether friend or stranger.  They don't mean to belittle you or offend you.  Most people who wish to offend you are very calculated and direct about it.  They are expressing in THEIR language their regard and respect for you.  Take it as such.  You'll cause less stress and fewer ulcers all round.  You can soapbox to your friends or on the intertubes.  That's what it's there for.

By getting in their face, all you do is reduce the number of people in the world willing to express the better parts of human nature to others, and further the self-entitled, arrogant and self-centred outlook that's destroying what little social cohesion western society had in the first place.

Now I'm going to make some angry music and drink tea and talk about how Generation Y don't know REAL life.
/Postscript

Today is crawling. Tomorrow will be much the same. Work getting the last laugh before I go on leave...

Posted via LjBeetle

Easy.

Joe and I met when I returned to IBM after my 3 month European holiday.  He'd just started, and we were introduced by our boss as he reckoned we'd get on well coz we had similar taste in music.

I was one of the poeple trained him up, and we developed a fast friendship based on insults, interest in the occult, a fucked up upbringing and a prevailing attitude that most of humanity can go fuck itself out its own asshole.

We've been close friends for a long time.  7 years now, give or take.  We've had our issues, including barely speaking for a fair while due to me essentially having a mental breakdown and lashing out at everyone around me.  We mended though, and I managed to get him a job where I work at DCS QLD, where we share a mutual disdain of our boss, a disgust of Government methodology, a driving need to corrupt the young 'un in the office, and insults.

Joe and I approach some things differently, but at the core of it, we understand each other on a level that can't be learned.  I'm still convinced we were brothers in a past life or something, because our relationship involves implicit trust, understanding and insults.

We're capable of yammering on for hours about just about anything, and I consider him more family than friend.  I can't imagine life without him.

His latest achievement is turning me to the dark side of miniature painting nerdery, completing the set of computers, roleplaying and gadgets that I already possessed.  He's a skilled painter, an incredibly well-versed and learned man, a talented hypnotherapist, devoted partner to his fiance and commensurate animal lover.

In a way I look up to Joe.  His ability to dedicate himself to a train of learning is something I envy with my short attention span and need to learn about EVERYTHING which stops me concentrating on one thing for long.  In another way he's my equal and my brother.

To me our relationship over the years defines what friends SHOULD be.

'nuff said really.

Oh, and the little bitch will probably read this and get all up himself...well more than usual anyway.

Did I mention the insults?

T

Not much to tell really.

Awoke to my alarm at 07:30, woke up, got dressed, got to work about 8:30 (late for me).  Walked in to a disaster area (I'm doing my boss's job at the moment as well as my own - not getting paid for it though...) and spent most of the day either in meetings, working out user issues, arguing with developers or trying to wrangle my staff (which is like wrangling rabid cats).

Had "lunch" at 1400, although I can't remember the last time I had an uninterrupted lunch.  Finished at 1800 as usual and drove home through the tail of peak hour traffic while listening to Through The Ashes of Empires by Machine Head.  Great album by the way.

Got to my unit at 18:30, and wrote this.

My work week is usually pretty boring hey...

Promising myself I'll catch up on 30 Days this weekend.

Spent a lot of today catching up on sleep.

I'll get to it!

last day today.

8pm finish, then i'm taking tomorrow off to sleep.

I get 2 weeks break, then I do it all again.  Then another 2 week break, then same again.

I can't wait for December.

T

Hmm...Difficult one.

Love is...what you define it to be.

I used to believe that love was that all-consuming obsessive passion that overtakes you in some relationships or with some people.  That's not healthy or sustainable.  It's destructive.  There will always be the honeymoon period, but that passes, and what remains has to sustain you.

I believe that love is looking forward to seeing or speaking to that person again and again, years down the track.  It's thinking of the person and smiling.  It's beyond lust, beyond obsession and beyond thought.  I believe you can love a friend and not love a lover.  I believe what we're fed by the media is a lie, and again, an unsustainable fallacy that serves only to make us feel bad for our love not to be like that, and to make us question ourselves.  it's like the media depiction of "beauty".  It serves only to make you consume more and more to make you live up to the ideal.

Love is acceptance.  Love is no compromise, and no need for compromise.  Love is going away and knowing the warmth you will come back to without doubt, fear or worry.  For love to exist, trust must be implicit.  Without trust there is no love.

True Love is something I doubt I will ever feel.

True Love is something I feel every day.

True Love defies definition, and beggars belief.  It is chemical, physical, spiritual and emotional.

Love is.

T

yeah I know i'm behind.

I also just did a 12 hour day, and I'm already on my way to work again.

Gimme a break :P

T

Fucking tool almost took out my car tonight on my way home.  Coming up Musgrave road in the right lane, and dickwad in a magna decides he wants to be in my lane.  Approaching traffic lights.  Without indicating.  In the rain.  Without checking.

If I hadn't been so well trained in emergency braking and keeping an eye on other driver's movements, and if I hadn't had ABS, I'd have lost my second Triton to a fuckwit.

I hope he wipes himself out on a fucking pole.

T

hmm.

OK. This is gonna be long and fractured.  I'm dredging up some serious scars here...

My parents met through my father's brother (D).  D and Mum were mates, as they're the same age. 

They got married when my mother was 18 and my father was 21.  My father, being Water Resources Commissioner for western QLD, had to move around a lot.  Took mum with him.  I was born less than a month before mum's 19th birthday, in Rockhampton, as previously stated.  My sister and brother followed, in Bundaberg and Charleville respectively.  We moved a LOT.

Mum and dad divorced when I was four and she took us back to Brisbane.

Dad was a responsible father.  he lived on potatos and offcuts, in a shed in Charleville so that he could afford to send as much money to us as possible.  Every second weekend without fail, he'd finish work (which usually involved him spending up to a week out on farms building aqueducts and artesian wells etc), drive home, pick up some stuff and drive to Brisbane, an 800km drive.  he'd stay at his brother's place and he'd do stuff with us all weekend long, then drive back Sunday night to start again Monday morning.  He was devoted, active and determined to be a part of our lives.

Mum hated dad with a passion.  She would take any steps she could to stop him seeing us - not actually doing so, but putting as many obstacles in his way as possible.  This may have had an effect on his later behaviour - but that's for later.

My dad remarried.  A dutch woman from Charters Towers.  I'll call her C (ironically, her name is the same as my mother's, although she goes by a pet name).  They eventually moved to Brisbane when dad got a management position with Main Roads.  They bought a house in Wynnum.  C never liked us...well maybe that's not fair.  She didn't like the IDEA of us.  We were a link to dad's past - to mum, and C wanted dad all to herself.  Things started to change.

At first it was subtle.  Access went from every second weekend to every second Sunday.  Instead of hanging around their house, dad would take us on historic walks or out for picnics.  Anything that didn't cost money and didn't involve C.  I was old enough by this point to recognise what was going on, and I hated it. 

Then they had their first child together.

Things went from bad to worse.  It was now one sunday ever THREE weeks, and we had to make our own way part way.  He wouldn't even buy us an icecream.  My dad has always been careful with money, but it was getting ridiculous.  Mum had to take him to court twice to keep up his child support payments.

C wanted us out, and my father was too much of a coward to stand up to her.  Apparently this was pretty normal for dad - mum wore the pants in that marriage too.  My sister and brother, too young to have remembered dad in the good times, took it in stride and joined mum in hating his guts.  My brother even threatened to take dad to court himself.  I refused to give up.  Dad had been pretty much emotionally and (as much as C could get it) physically absent for years by this point, but I was brought up to respect family.  That was about to change.

The point at which I stopped speaking to my father came a few years after his second son was born to C.  Things had deteriorated to pretty much nothing - if I wanted to talk to him, I had to contact him.  I was in uni by this point, and his kids were about 7 and 5.  C was not even trying to disguise her dislike of me anymore.  She'd retreat to her sewing room when I was around, or take the kids and go out.  Didn't help that I hated her right back.  She had no personality whatsoever and was your stereotypical dutch woman - my way or the highway.  A stay-at-home-mum who dictated what my father could and could not do with the money he earned.  My 18th birthday present was a dubbed cassette.  Any gift given to us had to be under $10.  By contrast, C's 2 kids got whatever they wanted, up to and including top of the range musical instruments.

I was supposed to go to a friend's birthday party in Manly.  I asked my father for one thing - if I could crash on his couch after the party so I could go (I couldn't get home that late).  He said yes, but then C interjected, and all of a sudden it was too much hassle.  Between that, his miserliness with us, C's hatred of us and dad's lack of a spine, I'd had enough.  I never said it to him.  I wrote him a letter, but never sent it.  I just stopped contacting him.  Stopped going to his place for xmas.  Stopped caring.

Yeah that probably scarred me.  I don't trust males really.  You can count my male friends on one hand.  I don't care.  I'm glad he's out of my life.  Mum wants me to go after his estate when he dies (he's a millionaire now).  I don't want his money, his time, or him.  He is - and has been for a while - The Sperm Donor.

*sigh*.  Now my mother.

She left school at 14 to join the bank.  Married dad, divorced, and all of a sudden had 3 kids to bring up on her own.  I have to give her this - she was a fuckin machine.  She managed to raise us on her wage plus the pittance my father paid her.  She sent us to private schools, we all got orthodontics done, and we never wanted for anything.  We were beyond poor, but she made it work.  She's still paying off our school fees.

So yeah.  She worked hard.  Problem is, her and I never got along.  She's an Aries, I'm a Pisces.  She's a feminist, I'm a male.  I was treated like a second class citizen because I was born with a dick.  I was also the eldest, so copped it all.  It's how I learned to deal with pain.  When I stopped reacting to her hitting me, she'd get a rolling pin or a belt and try again.  I learned to wall it all off.  Wait for it to end.  Then I'd go to my room, listen to Pantera and read.  I learned how to shut off emotion - how to not care.  Music quite literally saved my life, as things just got worse as I got older and became a man.  If it sounds odd that I was getting beat by a woman (someone my size???) remember two things - first, I don't hit women, so I never retaliated.  Second, she's 5'10 and strong.

Sometimes she'd try.  She'd be a good mum.  Take me to my friend's places, buy us things, try to be there.  But other times...most times...the stress got to her and I was the easiest target.  didn't help that I look a bit like my father.

So between school and mum, I learned a lot about pain and closing down.  I was a walking ball of rage for most of my life, and as I said in an earlier post, some kids took the brunt of that.  They deserved every bit of it, but yeah.  I could just...unleash.  It felt good.  But I'm getting off track.

Mum was adamant that we'd do well at school.  It was her obsession.  If I came home with less than straight A's, there'd be serious trouble.  I wanted to do music and history.  I was told I was doing physics and chem.  Academic subjects.  REAL subjects.  I was going to do a real degree, not some artsy-fartsy arts degree.  I WOULD go to university and MAKE HER PROUD.

When I told her I'd dropped out of uni, she was utterly livid.  It was also the point I stopped caring what she thought of me.  Yes, through all this I just wanted her to be proud of me.  I wanted to do the right thing by her, because she'd worked so hard...tried so hard to give us every opportunity.

I didn't care anymore.  I'd moved out a year earlier.  Got a girlfriend.  Discovered booze and sex.  Hated my degree.  Got out.  Decided to live my own life.

I didn't speak to mum for several years after Rex and I broke up due to her comments on the situation.  (I'm male.  It must have been my fault.  Get over it.).  I think that gave her a bit of a shock.

We started talking again in my mid-20s.  I didn't say anything to her about why I'd stopped.  She didn't ask.  I knew she was incapable of apologising, and careful probes have shown me that she's blocked a lot of it out.  She doesn't remember beating me.  She doesn't remember me breaking my arm when I was 13.  She doesn't remember me dislocating my knee when I was 16.  She doesn't remember a lot of things, so to her, she's always been good to us, and I just badmouth her to look cool.

Mum and I became friends, as adults, in my mid to late 20s.  We skirt certain subjects.  She still tries to bait me, but I know her ways and just ignore it now.  She moved to Canberra a few years ago, and that helped a lot.  Mum and I get on a lot better over the phone than in person.  When I visit her, I want to see her and her new husband.  This is a good thing, and it's great to have a relationship with my mother again.

I think it's also why I'm attracted to dominant, strong, independant women.  I respected those qualities in her and always tried to live up to them.

I could say a LOT more, but I have things to do, and some shit is just too painful to bring up again.  Let sleeping dogs lie.  My father's family - his parents and brothers - are the closest family I have, and I'd die without them, but my father can fuck right off.

And Mum gets told in no uncertain terms what subjects are off limits now.  It works for us.

I love my mum.

T

Ooh.  This is gonna be a difficult one.

As a lot of you know, my first girlfriend was ghymoreid.  She was also my first love, and I still love her, but as a close and dear friend now.

We met at a friend of mine's band's gig in the city.  A mate of mine had come along with a girl he was trying to chat up.  That was Rex.  She was a 19 year old ex-Conservatorium student.  Beautiful, scintillating, intelligent, sexy and funny.  I was a 19 year old metalhead, geek, ex-weightlifter and serial virgin.

Thing is, at that point I'd had what I thought was exactly zero interest from girls.  I was nearly 20, and had never had a girlfriend or anything even close.  Looking back, I HAD been approached by women.  I was just too bloody dim to see it.  I'd already developed my social networking skills, and had introduced several friends to each other who subsequently entered into serious and successful relationships.  I knew a lot about love and attraction, just not where it applied to me.  I've grown up with female friends, and strong female figures in my life.  Between that, my shyness and horrible self-image, and my cloistered all-boys-college existence, I couldn't see myself as someone people would be attracted to, just someone who could line up other people's attractions for each other.
I had no clue whatsoever....

Much to Rex's chagrin.

We spent most of that night talking, including the time I was supposed to be watching the band.  We just hit it off immediately.  I was impressed at her level of musical knowledge and intelligence.  She was impressed that I managed to talk to her for 4 hours straight without once staring at her tits. *grin*

We retired downstairs for a smoke and some fresh air, and this is where things get kinda funny - she was draped across me with arms wrapped around my neck, and I STILL DIDN'T GET THE FREAKIN HINT.  It took my friends being incredibly unsubtle about things to get her home with us and kinda prod me in the right direction.  That was the start.

The mate who'd brought her out was NOT impressed.

Rex and I dated for 9 months.  In that time I lived in 5 houses, officially dropped out of uni and discovered that I really, really, really like intimacy.  I'd always been a tactile person, but this was a new level, and I didn't want it to stop.

Fact is, I was head over heels.  Inexperience and uncertainty were still there, sure, but I ignored them quite happily most of the time.  We still spent most of our lives talking - hell we still do whenever we see each other.  Rex and I love nothing more than a blether.

We had our moments, which I won't go into due to mutual friends and bygones staying bygones, but suffice to say some pretty serious shit happened at one point.  We were happy though, or so I believed.  It was incredibly intense, consuming and almost delerious.

9 months later she walked out without warning or explanation.

I don't think i've ever been more crushed.  You always fall hardest for your first, and I was no exception.  I thought the world had ended, and it wasn't helped by several of my friends and even my mother saying I deserved it and should have seen it coming.  I had the blinkers on, I suppose.  I was a shit of a person at the time, but I believed not to her.  I was depressive, impulsive and was still learning to control my rage.  I dunno.  May have been a factor ;)

We spent a few months not speaking (duh), but I found I missed her company too much to let it all go.  We got back in contact, and discovered that we do even better as friends.  We've been close now for 11 years, and I haven't regretted a second.  I've since developed an understanding of love and relationships that, in hindsight, told me that what we had was not sustainable.  It was obsessive and far too intense to be long-term; but when you're young and a girl finally shows interest in you, you just don't get it :P

So yeah. That was an interesting time for me.  I hope I learned from my mistakes and kept the best bits for future relationships, but that's another story really...

T

OK jumping on the bandwagon now.  My journal has been a bit content-free of late!

30 days - Day 01 - Introduce yourself.

I go by TwitcH.  I have a real name.  Not that many people know it, although that number seems to be growing.  I just don't think it really suits me, and TwitcH works as well as anything I suppose.  Had that nickname for nigh on 10 years now.  Not going into how I got it.

You can tell how long someone's known me by what they call me.

Only my family use my full real name.

I was born in Rockhampton on the 15th of March 1979.  It seems a long time ago now.  I have two younger siblings - one born in Bundaberg 20 months after me, and the other Charleville 4 years after me.  We moved a lot.  I moved to Brisbane when I was 4 1/2 years old after my parents divorced.

I also have 2 younger half-brothers and 3 step-siblings.  I have a large extended family on both sides, but I don't talk to my Mother's side if I can avoid it.

I suppose I was always a bit of a black sheep.  I got into Heavy Metal when I was 10 years old, and there are extant photos of me wearing black shirts from a young age.  I've always been obsessed with music, and truly believe I'd be dead without it.

I went to a prominent Brisbane private boys college, and hated every minute of it.  I'm an academic, a poet and a musician - three things that are pretty much guaranteed to get you beaten to a pulp in a boys school.  I learned to fight due to this, and my brother (who went to the same school) has some rather harrowing stories of my violent exploits in retaliation to the constant bullying.  I don't remember myself - I just....snapped a few times I think.  It's a blur, but a lot of my time at that school is.  I think there are parts I don't want to remember.

I do know I put 2 kids in hospital and knocked out a few more.

I was raised Roman Catholic, but I don't think I ever really believed in a deity.  It was just something one did to appease one's family.  I've always believed there is a life force out there, and that our 5 senses are limited by definition, but there is no big beardy dude in the sky, and there is no need for one.

I went to UQ to study Electrical and Computer Systems Engineering.  I lasted 2.5 years and dropped out.  I hated every minute of it.  My father, his father and his father were all engineers, hence why I ended up there.  Me dropping out was a revelation.  It's the point at which I stopped trying to live up to my family's expectations and started living for myself.

I ended up in an IT career kinda by default.  I've always loved playing with computers, and while doing a TAFE course in my early 20's I was headhunted by IBM, and the rest is history.

I'm a metalhead from way back, but my musical tastes range through goth, industrial, trip-hop, gangsta rap, classical, post-rock, indie and rock and just about every genre you care to name, save for manufactured pop.  I appreciate musical skill, not marketing skill.

I've been diagnosed with major depression and borderline personality disorder, but I refuse to let them define me.  I was put on Zoloft at 16, and again at 18.  I cold-turkeyed in secret both times.  I spent years diving into my own head, and making all the mistakes.  I've come out stronger without drugs or psychiatry, and I manage day to day.  I won't let it get me down anymore, and my years living under that cloud are well behind me.

I smoked from 18 to 29.  jagwire hypnotised me to quit.  It's still a great feeling.

I believe that you define your own existence to an extent, and try to change those things in my life that don't work.  Sometimes it takes me a while, but I get there.

I could go on, but I've just done another 10 hour day, and I'm working all weekend.  I also get bored talking about myself.

If you want to know, ask me.

T

The benefit to having to stay home in case one of your automation scripts goes sideways:

I got some painting done for the first time in 2 weeks.  My Chaos Warrior is lookin pretty schmick now.  Just gotta do his axe and a couple of highlights and washes...

Woo!

T