Away
The last couple of years I’ve been averaging about 3 to 4 out of town (out of Auckland) work trips a year. Not really a hardship, but hardly a walk in the park either.
Learning
I’ve flirted with the idea of going back to school a couple of times and realised later that I wanted to do this because I find it hard to learn in a non-classroom environment. I can pick up a lot of things like graphic design for example which has become my main career, and lately there’s basic video-making and photography, but it’s always been a case that’s more about passion and necessity.
It works for now, but I know that there’s so much more room to learn about these things beyond what I currently use them for- in spite of my constant complaint that I’d rather write instead.
I probably have to accept the fact that this IS my life; that there’s probably no novel down the road, and yet the thought of 25,000 more images in lieu of that terrifies me- and makes me sad 😢
What to do in the time of pandemics?
Just stay at home really and probably not spend too much money. Maybe we need this. Maybe this is the (soft) reset humanity needs to see exactly what its priorities are. And I believe these are mine, or at least something better to do than twiddling your thumbs.
Toni is 19 and in the blink of an eye, I'll be 50
I should be panicking but it’s not my birthday. And I never panic- not over stuff like aging or climate change anyway. I panic when I can’t decide between last year’s Ultraboost 19 at $100 off or this year’s edition in the cloud white variant. I panic when I can’t have bacon next Saturday because I had bacon two weeks ago. I feel that the world is ending, but I know that it would wobble along for quite a few decades along still and while I don’t give a fuck what happens to me, I have this ache in the pit of my chest, for my sibling’s children and their children at what they’re going to face.
But what can we do?
Well, let’s celebrate for as long as there’s someone to continue the family line, we’ll do everything in our power to ensure that they get far in life, achieve their dreams, find happiness and more importantly, become kind and compassionate people.
Friday night
Away for work (in images because...)
They don’t call it a town, so what do you call it then?
There was an adequate supermarket with just four aisles, a pub (of course) and restaurant, a small museum because it seemed that every place no matter how small had one, a nice cafe (at least) and endless fields of hops. The population was apparently 250, with about 50 or so transients working the hop fields (so someone said at the pub-restaurant where we had dinner the day we arrived). We waited for that awful meal for about 40 minutes but it was too hot to complain. We heard a smattering of languages from groups of men of a range of ages, all caucasian, their downy forearms and sun-burnt necks sporting a uniform coat of dust and huddled over pitches of lager. Would you hit on that, I asked S (we always asked her this question because S had been unattached for quite some time), nodding my head at a lanky Russian in a staind wife-beater singlet. Too thin and probably has gonorrhoea, she replied bored. How about that one? (a young Spanish guy with a perpetual grin and very white teeth). S sighed and then moaned, is this it?
Spam Fried Rice
I actually don’t remember when I first had Spam.
First of all, there was Ma Ling Luncheon meat for the longest time and 555 which was more flour and filler than meat. To make the Ma Ling or the 555 go a long way, you cubed the meat and did an omelet. I do this for Spam on the rare occasion I have leftover rice which I always have when I cook rice, because isn’t it stupid and a waste of energy to cook just one cup?
The problem with the Russell Hobbs is that it pressure-cooks the rice so you end up with rice closer to ‘malagkit’ rather than the basmati it’s supposed to be; but that’s my theory anyway or maybe because my rice to water proportion is 3 cups rice and 4 cups water.
But I like it either way and soggy rice re-heats better anyway in the microwave.
I fry the rice with a tablespoon of curry, chilli flakes and sea-salt. I cook the eggs and cubed Spam separately and add them later when the rice is cooked- which because it’s soggy, never really separates. And if you have a good non-stick wok, you could keep stirring forever hoping the grains will separate, so I normally just stir for about 15 minutes.
I eat it with a lemon juice and a splash of Kikkoman; tastes better the next day too.
Do I have ADHD???
This is the usual drill on a weekend or a day off: I pick a task to start (normally on the laptop of course) like writing or designing something; then I go to make coffee, see that the sink is dirty and I start fixing up the kitchen; with hands wet, I realise that I need a new rag, so I go down the 1st floor, see that there’s a pile of laundry and start doing laundry; I then I remember I need to sort last week’s pile so I do that; mid-way through folding and thinking of my current projects, an idea for an intro pops up; I abandon the clothes and go back to my work-station.
I basically get about 90% of stuff done in the end, but I feel exhausted; or that I feel I should’ve focused the majority of my time on one specific task. I’ve Googled if there is such a thing as adult ADHD and apparently, the symptoms describe someone like Donald Trump 😂:
Impulsiveness
Disorganization and problems prioritizing
Poor time management skills
Problems focusing on a task
Trouble multitasking
Excessive activity or restlessness
Poor planning
Low frustration tolerance
Frequent mood swings
Problems following through and completing tasks
Hot temper
Trouble coping with stress
And guess what, aside from the occasional poor planning moment, I realise I don’t suffer from any of these symptoms at all.
Saturday
I tried out the DJI Mavic Mini for the 1st time today and I felt anxious.
What is it about driving- whether it be a car or a damned drone- that makes me anxious?
The long weekend
Something is wrong with my wrist. It feels like something in it is broken, pinched or both. I don’t even remember having a moment when I may have injured it.
I could lift a dumbbell and do push-ups, but the motion of brushing my teeth or drying my back with a towel, hand bent backwards, hurts. I’m seeing my GP anyway next week so I’ve been advised to have it logged and if I need an X-ray or a specialist then hopefully, he’ll recommend something.
So lately, I’ve been trying to use my left hand more. I figured that why should we agonise over something that’s broken when we have a perfectly okay alternative? Well…it’s harder than you think 😂.
Movements you take for granted such as brushing your teeth, vacuuming or peeling an apple become a struggle for precision with your non-dominant hand. I know it’s wired, but if it’s your own brain, can you really not crack it?
#StillTrying
It's like Christmas!
I mean work bought it, but still…
The Nikon Z6
Blah
I have a $2,000 new iPhone with supposedly upgraded imaging/camera capabilities but four shots later, this container of Nutri-Grain high protein cereal still looks like dog biscuits. Or little square turds.
And I’m exhausted. No one knows though, no one can tell. I am warm, friendly and efficient on the phone. I feel I can save someone’s life over the phone if they happen to be right on the ledge of a building and ready to jump. You’ll be fine, I murmur. Everything’s going to be fine.
By 2pm, the Nutri-Grain has revealed its true nature; in spite of the high protein it claims to have, it is nothing but sugar. I’ve burned it all off and I feel like I’m dying. My veins seem emptied of blood and I feel light-headed. The person over the phone that I’m in a meeting with thinks she’s being efficient by deliberately not believing in what I’m saying. After the meeting finishes, she starts to say goodbye and I hang up before she could finish, the fucking bitch.
Lunch options after 12pm are scarce; Burger King (vomit), the Z fuel and service station (pretentious craft artisan pie & overpriced sandwiches) and the cafe across the road run by an Asian guy with the squarest shaped head I have ever seen on a person. I choose the cheapest (Asian guy’s cafe).
There is nothing left in his cabinets save for a chicken kebab, a spicy chicken nugget in the shape of a lightning bolt and some sandwiches. I pick the first two along with an egg sand-which.
At 4pm, I feel even worse. I feel like I want to vomit. The 4pm summer sun outside looks like noon in another country like maybe fucking Saudi Arabia. Nothing is worse than a stomach-full of shitty, greasy food in the summer, inside an artificially cooled environment.
Four-thirty arrives and you hear the shuffling of people getting ready to go home.
See you tomorrow for the meeting a colleague calls out. Yup, see you tomorrow I reply, cool, calm and as happy as a goddamned cucumber.
(PS: I did vomit when I got home, crawled into bed at 8 and called in sick the next day)
Hooked on images
I’m so dependent on images to prompt me to write something that unable to find anything suitable, I can’t seem to think of anything to write. It’s like being physically blind.
Reading back on my diary entries, I also struggle to remember the context of something I had written. My mind’s eye tries to picture those visual triggers and unable to recall them, it seems like I’m reading a stranger’s thoughts. This is serious, no?
Starting tomorrow- NO PHOTOS for blog entries. For as long as I can.
You need to walk untethered, like you used to.
You have to be fit
Your clothes are sorted; your schedule is tight; you’ve brought great lunches (and bringing home your lunch box everyday instead of leaving it at the office). You’re holding steady..but you feel like shit. And it’s nothing major (you hope not), like an oncoming stroke, or God forbid, some heart problem (you never know).
You just feel like blah.
And meh.
You go for a run and feel slightly better, but it seems that you need more, so much more.
Stuff you do research on instead of taking 2nd-hand advice: what to do with coffee grounds
I received one of these inexpensive, starter barista-style coffee machines as a Christmas gift which was perfect because the last couple of months I had been yakking on and on about how banal capsule-coffee had become; the taste was predictable; that I wanted something more organic & robust; yadda, yadda, yadda.
And so Christmas came and we set it up; I got specialist beans from Starbucks (the machine had its own built-in grinder), Koffee Kult and Kokako and made my 1st cup- which was a fail, because the beans were ground too coarsely and no water was going through. We went through three attempts and got coffee so strong, that 10 minutes after drinking it, I could actually hear my own heart beating.
Long story short, from what I can tell and I am not by any means a coffee connoisseur (I adore Starbucks for one), the coffee made by it and the one from my current Nespresso, seem the same.
And I’m not really complaining, I actually don’t care.
What I do care about is how it takes me about 8 minutes to make a cup of coffee, from the grinding, the heating of the milk and to the cleaning of it; which is why I’ve still kept and continue to use my Nespresso for those days when 8 minutes could be better spent elsewhere.
Apparently, you should avoid discarding the grounds the drain so I’ve taken to collecting them in a glass jar which at the moment, is just about ready to be emptied.
The internet advises the following on how to get use them
Interruptions on the preekend
‘Preekend’ is defined by the Urban Dictionary as ‘the time period that starts after lunch on Friday and ends when the weekend starts. Usually in this time period it is particularly hard to focus on work tasks and it is more likely that people are chatting, shopping online and/or doing other non-work related activities.”
Which is just about right because working for only 37.5 hours a week (officially), I find that because I leave work at 2pm or earlier on Fridays, I sometimes already abbreviate my day- (I still work a lot) by doing tasks I know I’d finish by lunch and move longer, more complicated ones to Monday. And I would either work through lunch or have a shorter one so I could leave without rushing at 1 or 2pm.
I don’t mind 40-hour work weeks (or more), but to be able to get off early on Fridays means you can get stuff done you normally would apply annual leave for like doctor’s appointments, facials, shopping and other non-work related stuff because obviously, you’re off from work- welcome to the preekend!
Caught this word watching the 1st episode of the HBO show ‘Succession’ which is a family fighting control of their family empire.
The cast of HBO’s "Succession”.
We grew up hearing of families fighting over money and inheritances and my mom would point out to us that we should count ourselves lucky because we had nothing to fight over 😂.
When I think about it I could say that if we did, we would be different- that we grew up strongly instilled with the reminder that acquiring and maintaining wealth literally came with a price, and that if you wanted to pursue it, you paid that price. But maybe I’m just saying that because we grew up not really having to deal with how to divide $14 billion dollars.
Preekend dinner
Anyhow, champagne and caviar or ethically-sourced grade 12 Kobe beef dinner aside or whatever the rich eat these days, we went to the Auckland Night Markets in Papatoetoe for dinner. The last couple of months, I’ve been doing Connie’s Korean Bulgogi stand and ordering nothing but the pan-fried pork belly with noodles.
The pork is braised I think in some broth before the liquid evaporates and then it fries in its fat. The vermicelli is cooked along with it and when they serve you a portion, they ladle into it this sweet, sticky broth to finish it off.
The Morning Routine
In an ideal world, my perfect morning would be:
1. Waking up at 4:30am perfectly refreshed
2. A light, 5 minute stretch and a drink of lukewam, distilled water
3. Brewing myself a cup of black coffee I relax in the lounge..
4. ..while I read the NY Times…
5. At 5:30, doing four sets of push-ups and dumb-bell presses before..
6. Having a shower, followed by..
7. ..a 15-minute facial prepping…
8. Then off to work, 15 minutes ahead of everyone else
But in reality, this morning was like
1. Snoozing the alarm when it went off at 5:30. I had this awful dream where I went on the ferry without paying.
2. Coffee in the lounge, with a quick scan of the NY Times before being distracted by Instagram (I still have our company account which I’ve created and maintain).
3. Taking too long doing facial prepping and forgetting we needed to get out of the house at 6:30
4. Taking the train and thinking of breaking this awful morning routine by having a small breakfast at Burger King, writing a blog post and being creative and shit.
5. Arrived at Burger King and it was closed- it apparently opens at 7am.
6. 7am comes and the goddamned fucking store is still closed, so I just left.
Start of the working week
We have to eat, pay our mortgage, prepare for retirement, buy another $5,000 Apple product 😅.
I had to clear about 160+ emails from one work email address alone so I thought it best to avoid the back-to-work-gossip-catch-up fest by working from home on Monday. And while working, I managed to click on a site showing what the the Year of the Rat was going to be like. I was avoiding this, pretending that a decade hadn’t actually passed but then I saw that the start of the decade was heralded by the rat sign- MY SIGN!
I’m not into specifics (you will find great fortune this year) or abstractions (this year will find you more lucid and open) but I’ll gladly take positivity and put it into my head. There is nothing to lose by moving your work station just because anything north facing this year at least for me, augurs bad fortune.
Besides, how am I going to do great, creative work (again, foretold by my sign) this year working on a small table?
Moved my home work station away from its north-facing area
My work station at work (!) and yes, you can never have enough iMacs.
Danish actor Claes Bang as Dracula
Interruptions: Dracula, Netflix
Like any person dead-set on staying as youthful as long as possible, I find the idea of being a vampire quite attractive. But what kind of vampire though is the more important question; the eternally melancholic vamps of Anne Rice? The millennially inclined Twilight group penned by Stephenie Meyer? Or maybe the historically immersed creatures from A Discovery of Witches?
None of the above- I think I’ll pick Count Dracula from Netlix’s new adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Neither brooding nor silly (like going to high-school!), this Dracula is literally like me bingeing on so-so Netflix series, skipping and fast-forwarding through the boring and predictable parts (of life). Instead of spending the next 100 years learning and practicing painting or the violin, or German and fourteen other languages, he simply drinks the blood of someone who knows these things and voila, all of these skills and talents are absorbed.
For why wait, even if you did have all the time in the world, when you can have something now???
I look at my desk and my lists- write, paint, read, design, cook, learn- and think, goddamn it- will I seriously get everything done??