Sayonara Oosutoraria

'Why is it that it is that you have titled this post in Japanese Ari-san?', I hear you all think.

Well my friends, that, quite obviously, would be because we're going to JAPAN!

Truediddly. In an unprecedented bout of irresponsible frivolity, Jesse and I have made a snap decision to spend a couple of weeks over Easter touring the land-o-rising-sun. We did spend a good couple of minutes deliberating the merits of the usual South East Asia suspects, but soon agreed that they were far too affordable; and, really, what could be cooler than communal baths, silky bathrobes and all-season socks and sandals.

Now, unsurprisingly, some sad, sorry and cynical friends have already taken the opportunity to point out that our lack of Japanese language skills may pose some problems. Bah! I flap my hands at them. My high school Jap studies are about to pay dividends, and then some.

Prepare to be amazed. For I can actually remember how to say 'Let's go to the beach by train.'* Aaaaand, I can, when pressed, interchange 'beach' with 'mountains'. How hard can it be after you've mastered that sort of bilingual gold? Hells bells! I've even read 'Memoirs of a Geisha'.

And watched the movie.

So bring it on ye friends of little faith.

Bring. It. On.

* For the record, that would be something at least reasonably close to 'Uma ni densha de ikimashoo-ka.' Yeah! Take that all you doubting Thomases who said that Geography was a more reliable subject for future success and happiness.

Reading Is For The Children

I am sure many of you will be shocked to know that I was a complete nerdburger when I was little. (Yes, even more than now.)

I was known to simultaneously read something like SIX or SEVEN books at a time. I look back now with the wisdom of my 20-something years and realise, woah, how completely mad that is. I also realise that I must have been a lot sharper and more enthusiastic then, than I am these tired tired days.

As goes the common tale, the daily survival of high school, uni and work, has caused reading for fun to almost completely drop off my agenda. Sure, I've read a few seriously recommended books (Life of Pi, The Lovely Bones). But they are little books. They didn't hurt my head when I read them.

To the contrary, I am currently reading 'Wild Swans : Three Daughters of China". And I feel like I've been hit by a brick.

Don't mistake my meaning though - I don't mean to run the story down. I'm sure the story is excellent. It's just that I've already invested an embarrassing number of hours into this epic book, and have only covered the intro, family tree, chronology, map and first two pages of Chapter 1.

I've no doubt this situation is a reflection on both myself and the book. But I tell you, I am NOT feeling the love right now.



I think I'll get some vids out.

Australia Says No To The Plant of Spiky Pineness

I have been most lax in expressing my distaste for that class of things and customs I have unilaterally labelled as being unquestionably wrong.

Ok, so raw eggs kicked things off, and I still back that. But the crazy heat of the Summer season has reminded me of another favourite wrongness. That is, fruit in savoury foodstuffs. Most notably, pineapple on any form of pizza, burger or other fast food delight.

And what is with the particular, inexplicable fascination pineapples hold for Queenslanders? Ok, so we grow most of them. But do Queenslanders just lose it over Summer? Is this the best taunting we have for Southerners?? "Ok, so you have some nice architecture, tasteful attire and serious multicultural diversity. But we have PINEAPPLE... on our PIZZA!"

I feel so dirty.

Countdown 2

My previous post referred to my counting down of the very last day of work before a luxurious couple of weeks off.

This post refers to the 350-ish day countdown until my next likely couple of weeks off.


Bingo. You guessed it. I've got the 'First Day Back' blues. I can only hope that my sleeping in through the alarm this morning, and subsequent noticeably late arrival at work, is not an omen of 2007's potential offerings.

Fortunately, I managed to ease myself into the office today with much discussion about everybody's new year resolutions. Amongst the zealous talk of healthy eating, outrageous fitness regimes and ambitious business plans, I was saddened to realise that I had no impressive or thoughtful response to the age-old resolution question when it was bandied my way.

I think part of the problem is that I'm genuinely uncomfortable talking up resolutions that I know, deep down, in my heart of hearts, I have absolutely zero intention of following. If memory serves me correctly, pursuant to my previous years' resolutions, I should, by now, be a multilingual supermodel with a seven figure income and a kitten petting zoo. Alas, dear readers, this is not the case.

And so, if I really must make a resolution for 2007, I would wish for a realistic one. Not work-life balance. Not cleaning the house every Thursday. But for 2007 to simply be a better, happier year than 2006 (which was a shocker).

If I can achieve that, then maybe, just maybe, 2008 may herald the year of the petting zoo.