Happier times at Batemans' Bay     

Silky at 10 Weeks

Last week, my sister told me that Silky was very sick and might not get better. She had stopped eating and couldn’t drink. She was also coughing up blood. So on Friday I set off to Sydney to perhaps see Silky for the last time.

Silky came into my life about 10 years ago; my sister had adopted Silky from the Canberra RSPCA when she was 10 weeks old. She told me that she wasn’t sure what kind of dog she was looking for but she fell in love with Silky at first sight. There were a bunch of puppies in an enclosure – a pile of small furry bodies barking, nipping and rough-housing with each other. A solitary puppy stood to the edge of the action, watching the fight intensely and barking out occasionally like a referee. My sister was struck by the intelligence and steadiness the dog displayed and decided to take the dog home.

As a stray, Silky had uncertain origins. People wouldn’t often ask me what sort of dog she was and I’d reply ‘She’s an Australian Cattle Dog mixed with God-Knows-What’.  She definitely had cattle dog in her, but she wasn’t as proportional or sturdily built as most cattle dogs. She had a barrel like body that balanced on thin spindly legs – giving her the unfortunate appearance of being a barrel on matchsticks. Regardless of her genetic origins she was an energetic dog who certainly displayed a lot of the cattle dog traits – acute hearing, tireless energy and tendency to herd.  

Silky spent her first few years living in Canberra with my sister and her then boyfriend. They soon decided that another dog was needed to have as a companion for Silky when they weren’t around – enter Ber Ber (meaning ‘Bear’) stage left. Ber Ber was a Pomeranian X Maltese who got such a name because when she was a puppy she looked like a little bear. She also has the dubious claim to fame that when she was a puppy someone mistook her for a rat. As university students they spent a bit of time at home and could take the dogs out for walks and give them the company she needed. But their lifestyle soon changed and they could no longer take care of them. The options were to surrender them to the pound or get someone they knew to take care of them. My sister convinced my parents to take care of the dogs up in Sydney, where I was living at the time.

All my life I had wanted dogs and now the opportunity just was dropped onto my lap. Finally I would be able to have dogs around the house!

However, my parents weren’t so enthused. My father likes animals but had never caught onto the modern way of raising pets; my mother was terrified of dogs. So began their new life in Sydney – from inside much loved companions to outside charity cases. As time went on, my father grew fond of them (thought they still had to stay outside for the day, and sometimes in the garage and weren’t allowed inside the house proper) and my mum found out that dogs weren’t all that bad and grew to love them. But the major problem was that the dogs needed to be exercised regularly and have adequate company. They never got enough of that – I tried to take the dogs for walks regularly but my father, whose childhood experiences growing up during the revolution have forever scarred him, felt that the outside world was a much too scary place for anyone to walk their dog. So walks happened rarely and as a result the dogs got too excited whenever they went for walks and would strain at the leash.

Life went on, and I moved out of home to go to university in Canberra. I came home occasionally when I had time or the inclination and in those instances the dogs generally got a walk. This was no-where near enough. But my parents worked and were too busy, or too tired, or the weather was too hot, or the weather was too cold. There was always some reason why the dogs couldn’t be taken out. So they spent their days in the backyard fenced off from the world at day, and in the back room under the stairs away from people during the night.

I think it’s not too farfetched to say they lived like prisoners did. Yes, they were fed well, and yes there were some games played sometimes...but the vast majority of their time was spent waiting for people to come to them and let them know they loved them.

You may say that this was cruel of us. That we’re not fit to be dog owners – and I would have to agree with you. Just loving animals does not make a good pet owner – responsibility does. Being aware of the animals needs and making sure that you can provide those needs does. However, for these two dogs the choice was already made to adopt them into our lives way before any thought of the future had been made.

Silky was not a great dog. She barked incessantly, she chased things, she chewed, she dug, she could understand commands but only obeyed when it suited her. But she was a great someone. When you looked into her eyes you saw someone, not just a dog, look back at you. She had so much love in her heart, and I’m ashamed to admit that we never truly returned that love. As my friend would say, love is action – not words. I can make excuses all day about the bad circumstances but the end result is this – two dogs had come into our care and we could not provide for them, and they suffered as a result.

Dogs require a lot of care and social interaction. Our modern lifestyle is rarely suited to the task of raising a dog. So for anyone at all who is thinking about getting a dog, think about why you are getting a dog. Don’t get a dog because you feel lonely and need someone to give you undying love. Because you will get exactly that – undying love and devotion. But if you cannot give the love back in your actions by caring for them, keeping them well exercised, occupied and socialised – then forget it. You are dealing with a living creature, you can’t send it back once you’re sick of it, or bored, or find it just too hard.

On Friday 18 July 2008 Silky was put to sleep. She passed on around 6.40pm after the decision was made to put her to sleep. Her kidney’s had failed and she wasn’t responding to treatment. Her once, soft and silky fur had become dry and dull. Her eyes showed she was still there, but was in much pain and confusion. A diligent dog throughout her life about her toilet habits, she had to suffer through the humiliation of losing control of her bodily functions as she could not stand or adequately control her bowels and bladder. It was hard – it always is to say good bye to a loved one. We were all there – my sister, my mum, her life-long companion Ber Ber, my boyfriend and I. We all were there to say our last goodbyes.

I told her what was in my heart. I told her that we all loved her, and we had wonderful times together. I told her she will be missed, but that it was time to move on. Above all I told her that she had nothing to fear, and we will all be fine.

Goodbye Silky. I love you always.

Wow...

No I am not dead yet, just been a bit busy with everything.

Here’s a quick summary of the things that have happened since we last spoke:

1.       I got hella busy with uni work; >.<

2.       I had a panic attack and started applying for jobs left right and centre; X(

3.       I got a new Job!! :D

4.       I hate my new job :(

5.       My doctor, dentist and physiotherapist says I need to relax as I have acquired myself a misaligned jaw – courtesy of the stresses of my new job.

6.       I am looking for a new job.

Barrels of fun my life is at the moment. But I have a few things in the works and I might escape the place on my original plan. Fingers crossed ;) I’m feeling pretty good about that prospect, still life can catch you unawares so i have made other plans.

On the bright side, despite my crap job I seem to have passed all my subjects and am being admitted sometime next week. Imagine that, me, a solicitor >.< It’s still pretty surreal to me at the moment so I’m not feeling very excited or anything.

Speaking of Surreal, someone I know announced their engagement the other day. I kind of knew that was what was afoot but seriously...I still can't beleive it. I have some reservations but I wish them well.

His feelings reminded me of this comic...which sums it all up pretty well.

Well when I have more energy I will post some more :)

It was my birthday recently…and all my high school friends bar two forgot it was my birthday. I chatted to a few of them on the day too…including one of my closest friends who also forgot.

I have to say I’m surprised I’m actually not cut at all. Maybe that indicates personal growth.

Or perhaps it more accurately points to the fact I have had birthday celebrations for DAYS prior to the actual day and am all partied out :)

Anyhoo I have found this rather amusing link about interpreting women’s facial expressions. I think it’s an amusing read – ladies scroll further down and have a look at interpretations of a man’s facial expressions.

In other news, L is finishing up her trip here. She was guilted by myself and my partner in crime to be is Oz for our birthdays (since she’s NEVER been to one!). She leaves tomorrow and we will miss her dearly.

~Puddles

Here’s an interesting article, apparently a new study shows that first born children are more intelligent than their younger siblings. This also applies to children who are born after the eldest child died as babies. The end result of both scenarios is that the baby spends more time alone with their parents during the crucial early stages, and spend time teaching and looking after their younger siblings and may contribute to higher intelligence. Further supporting that nurture is the dominant force in this case (rather than nature) is that when the study examined twins they found barely any differences at all in intelligence.

So there. For EVERY eldest child I’ve ever heard bitch about being the eldest, and how your siblings got all the privileges and how hard it was for you, bitch, moan, etc. You get to be brighter and have a head start in success.

We always knew you guys were smart asses.

~Puddles

P.S. Article reproduced below.

First-born never give up their advantage

WHEN it comes to being bright, it pays to be first in the family.

New research shows eldest children tend to be more intelligent than their younger brothers and sisters, because of the way they are raised.

Important influences may include the benefits of having a younger sibling to explain things to, or extra one-on-one attention from parents early in life

The study, of almost 250,000 Norwegians, was able to resolve the nature-versus-nurture debate over intelligence and birth order because of its unusual design: it included young people whose older siblings had died as babies.

These people, who had been reared as an eldest child, performed like first-borns on intelligence tests, scoring more than two points higher on IQ tests, on average, than younger siblings.

Petter Kristensen, of the University of Oslo, said this would not have been the case if a biological factor, such as environmental influences in the womb, played an important role.

It showed IQ was "dependent on social rank in the family, and not birth order as such", he said.

It has been known for more than 130 years that first-born men tend to be more successful but some studies showing first-borns were also more intelligent have been criticised as flawed. A University of California psychologist, Frank Sulloway, said the new study, of 18-year-old male conscripts, published today in the journal Science, was conclusive.

A University of Queensland psychologist, Professor Pat Noller, said eldest children also had "a lot more exposure to parents on their own in those early months", which could influence their intellectual development. However, she said that in her research on twins' birth order the IQ difference was small and unlikely to alter important life events, such as the kind of occupation attained.

I took this photo a few weeks ago but was pretty lazy to upload it to the page.

As people are aware I still haven’t uploaded my Japan trip photos. Basically because there are too many and I am lazy to resize them all.

Anyhoo, these pictures were taken by moi at a bus stop near where I work. I was waiting for a bus one cold autumn day when I noticed something written on the sidewalk. Thinking it was some sort of profanity or one of those dumb ‘I the insignificant being was here’ things I ignored it. I successfully ignored it for about 20 minutes when something about caught my eye. It had a ‘+’ symbol on it. Odd. The only time I see the ‘+’ symbol these days are from role playing books…so I investigated….

Clearly there are some graffiti nerds around.

I like their style.

~Puddles

I just found an article that encapsulated my childhood.

This is rather astounding. This man wrote in the space of a few pages my entire experience as a child. He crystallised all the anguish, frustration, and muddiness of my formulative years and put it all very neatly into words and sentences that described how I felt.

These thoughts and musings of my childhood remain. I just have had more time to wrestle with them. And over time they’ve become less of an overwhelming mass of formless ideas and more solid and manageable. I won’t say they are coherent – I’d like to think they are, but I couldn’t really explain how they are coherent…which probably means they aren’t.

Most days I manage to carry them around – shaping and moulding them when I have time. Some days though they get out of hand, and I become rather sullen about the world around me and find little or no meaning in things.

The article is about existential depression and gifted children. I don’t think of myself as particularly gifted, but I certainly think a lot. I think so much that sometimes I feel my mind buckle under the pressure. Thinking isn’t only isolated to the gifted. It just means that if a person thinks a lot, they are prone to exploring ideas and learning. 

It also makes an interesting suggestion about relieving the negative effects of thinking so much. Hugs. That's right hugs. I remember not being hugged a lot as a child. I didn't particularly liked being touched. It was just a personal space thing. And when you're not used to people intruding on your personal space...well you know. Then mid-way through high school a particularly touchy feely (read doesn't have much concept of personal space) friend of mine decided to brave the waters and hug me.

I remember being surprised. Then feeling awkward.

And after seeing that I didn't bite her arm off or freeze her soul she did it more and more often. And then when people saw that I wasn't the avatar of cacti others would hug me too. I don't think I appreciated it at the time, but her actions made some of the barriers I had maintained to distance myself from others came down. Thanks Pat :)

~Puddles

P.S. I have reproduced the article here :) it is a bit long but well worth the read.

P.P.S I like hugs! XD

Existential Depression in Gifted Individuals
James T. Webb, Ph.D.
Supporting Emotional Needs of Gifted

Dr. Webb is co-author of the book Misdiagnosis and Dual Diagnoses of Gifted Children and Adults: ADHD, Bipolar, OCD, Asperger’s, Depression, and Other Disorders

It has been my experience that gifted and talented persons are more likely to experience a type of depression referred to as existential depression. Although an episode of existential depression may be precipitated in anyone by a major loss or the threat of a loss which highlights the transient nature of life, persons of higher intellectual ability are more prone to experience existential depression spontaneously. Sometimes this existential depression is tied into the positive disintegration experience referred to by Dabrowski (1996).

Existential depression is a depression that arises when an individual confronts certain basic issues of existence. Yalom (1980) describes four such issues (or "ultimate concerns")--death, freedom, isolation and meaninglessness. Death is an inevitable occurrence. Freedom, in an existential sense, refers to the absence of external structure. That is, humans do not enter a world which is inherently structured. We must give the world a structure which we ourselves create. Isolation recognizes that no matter how close we become to another person, a gap always remains, and we are nonetheless alone. Meaninglessness stems from the first three. If we must die, if we construct our own world, and if each of us is ultimately alone, then what meaning does life have?

Why should such existential concerns occur disproportionately among gifted persons? Partially, it is because substantial thought and reflection must occur to even consider such notions, rather than simply focusing on superficial day-to-day aspects of life. Other more specific characteristics of gifted children are important predisposers as well.

Because gifted children are able to consider the possibilities of how things might be, they tend to be idealists. However, they are simultaneously able to see that the world is falling short of how it might be. Because they are intense, gifted children feel keenly the disappointment and frustration which occurs when ideals are not reached. Similarly, these youngsters quickly spot the inconsistencies, arbitrariness and absurdities in society and in the behaviors of those around them. Traditions are questioned or challenged. For example, why do we put such tight sex-role or age-role restrictions on people? Why do people engage in hypocritical behaviors in which they say one thing and then do another? Why do people say things they really do not mean at all? Why are so many people so unthinking and uncaring in their dealings with others? How much difference in the world can one person's life make?

When gifted children try to share these concerns with others, they are usually met with reactions ranging from puzzlement to hostility. They discover that others, particularly of their age, clearly do not share these concerns, but instead are focused on more concrete issues and on fitting in with others' expectations. Often by even first grade, these youngsters, particularly the more highly gifted ones, feel isolated from their peers and perhaps from their families as they find that others are not prepared to discuss such weighty concerns.

When their intensity is combined with multi-potentiality, these youngsters become particularly frustrated with the existential limitations of space and time. There simply aren't enough hours in the day to develop all of the talents that many of these children have. Making choices among the possibilities is indeed arbitrary; there is no "ultimately right" choice. Even choosing a vocation can be difficult if one is trying to make a career decision between essentially equal passion, talents and potential in violin, neurology, theoretical mathematics and international relations.

The reaction of gifted youngsters (again with intensity) to these frustrations is often one of anger. But they quickly discover that their anger is futile, for it is really directed at "fate" or at other matters which they are not able to control. Anger that is powerless evolves quickly into depression.

In such depression, gifted children typically try to find some sense of meaning, some anchor point which they can grasp to pull themselves out of the mire of "unfairness." Often, though, the more they try to pull themselves out, the more they become acutely aware that their life is finite and brief, that they are alone and are only one very small organism in a quite large world, and that there is a frightening freedom regarding how one chooses to live one's life. It is at this point that they question life's meaning and ask, "Is this all there is to life? Is there not ultimate meaning? Does life only have meaning if I give it meaning? I am a small, insignificant organism who is alone in an absurd, arbitrary and capricious world where my life can have little impact, and then I die. Is this all there is?"

Such concerns are not too surprising in thoughtful adults who are going through mid-life crises. However, it is a matter of great concern when these existential questions are foremost in the mind of a twelve or fifteen year old. Such existential depressions deserve careful attention, since they can be precursors to suicide.

How can we help our bright youngsters cope with these questions? We cannot do much about the finiteness of our existence. However, we can help youngsters learn to feel that they are understood and not so alone and that there are ways to manage their freedom and their sense of isolation.

The isolation is helped to a degree by simply communicating to the youngster that someone else understands the issues that he/she is grappling with. Even though your experience is not exactly the same as mine, I feel far less alone if I know that you have had experiences that are reasonably similar. This is why relationships are so extremely important in the long-term adjustment of gifted children (Webb, Meckstroth and Tolan, 1982).

A particular way of breaking through the sense of isolation is through touch. In the same way that infants need to be held and touched, so do persons who are experiencing existential aloneness. Touch seems to be a fundamental and instinctual aspect of existence, as evidenced by mother-infant bonding or "failure to thrive" syndrome. Often, I have "prescribed" daily hugs for a youngster suffering existential depression and have advised parents of reluctant teenagers to say, "I know that you may not want a hug, but I need a hug." A hug, a touch on the arm, playful jostling, or even a "high five" can be very important to such a youngster, because it establishes at least some physical connection.

The issues and choices involved in managing one's freedom are more intellectual, as opposed to the reassuring aspects of touch as a sensory solution to an emotional crisis. Gifted children who feel overwhelmed by the myriad choices of an unstructured world can find a great deal of comfort in studying and exploring alternate ways in which other people have structured their lives. Through reading about people who have chosen specific paths to greatness and fulfillment, these youngsters can begin to use bibliotherapy as a method of understanding that choices are merely forks in the road of life, each of which can lead them to their own sense of fulfillment and accomplishment (Halsted, 1994). We all need to build our own personal philosophy of beliefs and values which will form meaningful frameworks for our lives.

It is such existential issues that lead many of our gifted individuals to bury themselves so intensively in "causes" (whether these causes are academics, political or social causes, or cults). Unfortunately, these existential issues can also prompt periods of depression, often mixed with desperate, thrashing attempts to "belong." Helping these individuals to recognize the basic existential issues may help, but only if done in a kind and accepting way. In addition, these youngsters will need to understand that existential issues are not ones that can be dealt with only once, but rather ones that will need frequent revisiting and reconsideration.

In essence, then, we can help many persons with existential depressions if we can get them to realize that they are not so alone and if we can encourage them to adopt the message of hope written by the African-American poet, Langston Hughes:

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die,
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams.
For if dreams go,
Life is a barren field
Covered with snow.

- Langston Hughes

References

Dabrowski, K. (1966). The Theory of Positive Disintegration. International Journal of Psychiatry, 2(2), 229-244.

Halsted, J. (1994). Some of My Best Friends Are Books: Guiding Gifted Readers from Pre-School through High School. Scottsdale, AZ: Great Potential Press, Inc. (Formerly Ohio Psychology Press).

Webb, J. T., Meckstroth, E. A. and Tolan, S. S. (1982). Guiding the Gifted Child: A Practical Source for Parents and Teachers. Scottsdale, AZ: Great Potential Press, Inc. (formerly Ohio Psychology Press).

Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy. New York: Basic Books.

Hello everyone,

I have been to a few weddings recently and as have a lot of the people I know, so it seems romance of the permanent kind is in the air.

I am astounded every time by how much these things cost! The average cost for a wedding is $39 000. I hear the bride's dress can cost up to about $10 000 so there's a chunk of money gone already. I can think of better ways to spend that sort of money. While I appreciate that it's a special day, doesn't it seem a little overboard? Shouldn't we be putting that money towards I don't know? A house? A car? Lawyers to draft the pre-nup? Maybe I am cynical (this is highly possible) but I don't think that a wedding really should be half your annual salary.

In wedding related funness - I hang out with some colossal nerds (I love you guys, you know that) and I happened upon some sci-fi themed weddings. Of note was this Star Wars wedding celebration and this Star Trek Klingon wedding.

Enjoy.

~Puddles

Today I screamed.

 It felt good.

~Puddles

Apparently bees are succumbing to a strange phenomenon and are ‘vanishing’ from hives.

And the thing is, while normally abandoned hives are raided almost immediately by neighbouring bee colonies for honey, in this case other bees won’t go anywhere near the abandoned hives for weeks.

The fact that remaining dead bees are full of a foreign fungi, bacteria and other organisms sounds too similar to Resident Evil for my liking.

~Puddles

I was reading another blog and the blogger happened to mention a particular saucy dream she had.

Which got me thinking about any particular ones I’ve had.

Only one I could come up with was where I dreamt I was sitting on an ottoman with my friend (now boyfriend) in front of a fire (more sexy) holding hands (less sexy).

And that is the extent of my dirty sub-conscious it seems.

Speaking of dirty. Any of you seen that video for ‘My Humps’ by the Black Eyed Peas? Did you find it atrocious? Are you offended by the video? Isn’t it all kinds of trash?

If the answer is yes, you’ll enjoy this.

~Puddles

Hiya peoples

Welcome back Ian, nice to hear you have a nice trip. I expect to see some photos soon :)

Okay, so I read an article today in the Sydney Morning Herald. The author could not fathom why another woman would even dream of comparing a mother leaving early from work to take care of a sick child, to another person leaving early to take care of her sick cat.

Now this article annoys me. And the more I read it the more it truly pisses me off. Pet owners are often very attached to their pets. They love them as they would another family member or even child. And this is because a pet is part of the family. It’s not fair to discount the relationship between human owner and pet. Just because the pet is not human doesn’t mean the relationship is any less meaningful. In many cases people often share a deeper bond with their pets than with other human beings.

The author of said article even says at the end of her article.

We all have family of some description and have to drop the ball to pick up some of our other life. When a colleague has to tend to sick parents, catch a child's speech day or look after a partner in trouble, don't we help him or her because we can?

Obviously she doesn’t think that a pet is a part of the family. Just because she has never felt the joy of sharing a deep meaningful connection with a pet she shouldn’t dismiss it. That’s like someone discounting the bond between a parent and a child just because they don’t have children.

And to add insult to injury she also says this in the article

If she felt her workplace would look poorly upon her if she went home early to look after a sick loved one, I would have seen her point. But to really believe that you are making a valid point with a cat as the ace up your sleeve, well, it's as ridiculous as believing there is anything appealing in a man who uses the expression "tag and release".

A SICK PET IS A SICK LOVED ONE. Understand this. Get to terms with it. Because it is true.

If a pet is really sick and needs medical attention and care, why can’t someone leave work early to look after them? Isn’t this person going to be just distraught at work thinking about their sick friend? Do we want to keep a person who is preoccupied with something else at work? Is this conducive to a friendly and happy workplace? I think the answer is clear.

The author also says

… doesn't it serve our interests better to make sure that employers see that we all have lives that extend way past the office lifts?

I absolutely agree with her on this point. But she should probably consider opening her mind a bit more. Whether she thinks it’s valid or not, and whether or not she has or will ever experience this is not the point. Pet owners know the relationship between a person and their pet is real.

People should be able to leave early or take a personal day to look after a sick animal. I wouldn’t go so far as to give separate carer’s leave for it, but I think that supervisor’s should understand that if another being needs your care when it is ill – be it human or animal.

Now, now, many will argue “But won’t this be open to all sorts of abuse? People will hear their cat sneeze in the morning and say their cat is deathly ill and rush off home to nurse it” Well that is true. But a person who would do that, would overreact or outright lie in relation to their children as well. That rests on the personal integrity of the person.

It doesn’t matter whether the sick one is a child or pet, if the circumstances arises that someone you care about needs care, then you should be able to give it. Enough said.

~Puddles

P.S. Here is the article copied and pasted for your reading enjoyment :)

Catfight over the kids

Jacqueline Lunn
April 20, 2007

I was out to dinner with a group of women and I nearly fell off my chair and cut my cheek open with the broken zipper on my fake Prada handbag.

During the lively discussion that canvassed everything from bikini waxes and chin hairs to the horror of baby doll dresses on anyone who isn't a baby doll, a woman who has no children compared going home from work early to tend to a sick child with going home early to sit with a sick cat.

It was the second time in a week I had been hit with this analogy (another in a women's magazine), this comparing a feline with a human being, and I thought "Either it's me and I am going crazy and having that same bad dream where I am buying a pair of pink duck pyjamas from Sussan again, or the universe is going stark raving mad."

She said, "I love my cat and I could never say, 'I need to go home early to be with my cat.' But other women can go home to sick children."

Yes . . . because one is a human being and one is a cat.

I was in a large group and I didn't know my fellow diner that well. If she felt her workplace would look poorly upon her if she went home early to look after a sick loved one, I would have seen her point. But to really believe that you are making a valid point with a cat as the ace up your sleeve, well, it's as ridiculous as believing there is anything appealing in a man who uses the expression "tag and release".

Perhaps people have forgotten that we live in a society. That, if someone is weaker, sicker, needs help, then someone stronger, more able, helps out. Whether that human being is eight or 80, don't we look after each other? That sometimes you have to do more than I do because I can't, and sometimes I will do more than you do because you can't. Isn't there a bit of give and take?

Working mothers don't look at having kids as a get-out-of-work-early pass, then sit back and drink Cosmopolitans, smoke a Havana and watch Desperate Housewives while the single girls pick up the load in the office.

Every working mother I know is so conscious of the perception of her commitment that she puts in hours when kids are in bed, on weekends, on days off, before the day begins.

As in any group that has more than Jesus and myself as a member, there's bound to be a couple of bad eggs in the mix, a few that take advantage of the kindness of others.

But doesn't it serve our interests better to make sure that employers see that we all have lives that extend way past the office lifts?

We all have family of some description and have to drop the ball to pick up some of our other life. When a colleague has to tend to sick parents, catch a child's speech day or look after a partner in trouble, don't we help him or her because we can?

Or do we get resentful, keep a tally and take it home to the cat to discuss over a bottle of wine and some Snappy Tom?

Hi everyone

Today has been a pretty bad day.

My boyfriend’s cat passed away this morning. He hadn’t been eating for the last 48 hours and was showing clear signs of being in pain. He wasn’t going to get any better, so my boyfriend made the tough decision and decided to put him down.

We all went to the vet to see him off and he went very peacefully. He had a good 14+ years to him. I figured out that he had just reached his 100th year in cat years this month. So he made it to be a centenarian before his body gave out on him and he shuffled off the mortal coil.

So heres to you DC. You were a much loved cat and will be missed dearly.

Don’t worry about your human; I'll take good care of him.

Don't worry about the body you left behind either; it was holding you back anyway.

Don't worry about what the future holds for you; for I am sure it will be wonderful.

~Puddles

WOOT!  It’s the incredible edible internet! Been a while since I did a post, but it’s not my fault! I swear, it’s cause I was sick last week (let’s just ignore that I haven’t posted for a few weeks now).

I am much better now. It was some sort of gastro bug – not pleasant. I had been running a slight fever on Easter Sunday. I felt pretty crap on Easter Saturday but I was in denial about being sick. It was EASTER for crying out loud. But at Easter Sunday lunch I could barely eat anything and I felt really sick. So I made my excuses and went home and napped. When I woke up I had to fess up that I wasn’t just tired, but was in fact sick. So of course, no hoeing into my Easter chocolates. Instead I had to eat minimally and stay in bed and rest. Meanwhile keeping minimal clothing on so I spent most of the time freezing and with wet towels on my head and shoulders. Yuck. So I think

I felt better on Monday – oh so wrong. In the morning my fever had subsided but by late afternoon I felt nauseas. And by 7pm I thought to myself that I have toughed it out enough and should go to hospital. My lovely boyfriend took me to hospital and waited with me and held my hand, and generally looked after me. I went in at 7.30pm and left at 12.30am. Yes that’s right. I had to wait 4 hours to see a doctor. The sad part is that isn’t uncommon. The actual consultation took ooo 15 minutes and it was obvious that he wanted to shoo us out the door the entire time.

I think I got most of whatever it was out of my system while I was at the hospital. I used the bathroom liberally, and stuff came out both directions. This of course prompted me to alert the triage nurses because I was thoroughly dehydrated after the first 2 hours. They gave me a shot, to stop the vomiting, then some stuff called ‘HydraLyte’, which is essentially frozen Gatorade popsicles. And let me tell you, that stuff was great. The drugs did its work and by 11pm I was feeling less nauseas and more hydrated – but still very weak. This was because I was tired. I wanted to sleep, and hospital waiting rooms are not comfy. I debated about going home, but boyfriend stopped me. He said we should wait and see the doctor so we know what’s wrong. I had to agree with him. In the end, the doctor just sent me home with a few wafers to stop any reoccurring nausea and told me to rest. So…..well, it gave me peace of mind anyway.

Oh and to prove that Canberra is indeed a small place I bumped into two of my friends at emergency. One of them had food poisoning. It took her 4 hours as well to see a doctor. In addition, my boyfriend also saw someone he knew there. Canberra is really really small.

And then recovery. Every single bit of food I ate was a nail-biting scare – would I or wouldn’t I be able to keep it down? Good news is that I could, even though some made me a bit queasy. I ate nothing but mushroom rice porridge, peanut butter on bread and Gatorade for 2-3 days. This of course means that my body is seriously lacking in vitamins and minerals by Thursday…which would explain why I was woozy at work for which I was only there for 4 hours anyway. The bible is right in this respect, man can not live on bread alone.

The virus took me out for 6 days. I had assessments due, tight study and work schedules to keep up with. ALL of which had to be put on hold for me to recover. And you know what it’s like when you’re recovering from illness; you’re well enough to stay awake and sit up but not actually do anything except watch tv. Anything requiring you using your brain like study and work are out. Which explains why tv is ok. I have watched more tv in the last week than I have in the last 6 months.

But more importantly I had a wedding to go to on the Friday and I had to make sure I was well enough to go to that. I mean it had been in the works for so long and I was quite looking forward to it.

Luckily, I had recovered enough to attend the wedding which was lovely.

I have been meaning to write about seeing Weird Al Yankovic live when he played in Canberra. But when I try to type something up it looks lame. So here is a short summary of what it was like – IT ROCKED!!!!

Over and out

~Puddles

Riiiight.....

I just get back from lunch when my mobile rings. I pick up the phone and answer it - noting a second beforehand it's from a withheld number.

I answer it.

No response.

I say hello again.

I get something muffled.

I say hello for the third time.

This time I get a distinct moan and a 'oh baby' from the guy on the other end.

I hang up with a bemused expression.

I have to admit that while I have heard in general that this sort of telephone pervert exists I have yet to be the 'victim' of one. I put quote marks around victim because I don't think of myself scarred or hurt in any way. I am mildly inconvenienced and, if I think on a deeper level, scandalised because this guy has used me as part of some sick sexual fantasy. But then again, every time I walk the streets I could potentially be some perverts eye candy and be part of his (or her - let's have some gender equality here) sexual fantasy.

Still, I think phone pervert man here is more offensive. After all he dialled me up and thus made me answer the phone, eliciting some sort of audience participation.

Meh.


~Puddles

So….the Playstation 3 eh?

People have been asking me whether I’m getting one. And the short answer is no. I own a PS2 and I love it and its assorted games so the reason isn’t because I’m a rabid Nintendo or Xbox fan. It’s just that the deal we get here in Australia is pretty raw.

The PAL regions I believe are the last regions to be graced with the PS3. So we’ve heard what the other guys got before we get ours. Briefly, the PAL PS3

~Costs more. And not just like a couple of dollars. We are paying $999 for a PS3 compared to $630 in Japan and $740 in the US.

~No games I want to play. Seriously, they just haven’t released any titles that I think myself ‘That’s it I’m going to blow a grand on this thing!’

~Unexciting PS3 only games. These are Untold Legends: Dark Kingdom, Formula One Championship Edition, Genji: Days of the Blade, MotorStorm, Resistance: Fall of Man, Ridge Racer 7, Full Auto 2: Battlelines, Mobile Suit Gundam: Crossfire and The Godfather: The Don's Edition. I’m more of a RPG gamer who focuses on fun games with smooth game play – none of these appeal to me.

~Limited Backwards Compatibility. Okay, this flaw – along with the price ticks me off the most. For $27 they could have put a chip that allows backwards compatibility to the PAL PS3. But they decided AFTER advertising it as being backwards compatible. Even emphasising it as one of its best selling points, what do they do? They take it away. And then backtrack and say backwards compatibility isn’t that important. I think Sony Australia are channelling the Federal Liberal party with this move.

As I mentioned before I love my PS2 games and hope to enjoy them well into the future. Sony, like blind man in a volcano feeling the heat, senses this and has tried to appease fans of older PS games by making some games backwards compatible. They have released a list (after release date mind you) that tells you the older games that you can play on the PS3. However, just because you can play them doesn’t mean you can play them without problems. Most of the games I like either are absent from the list or playable with ‘noticeable issues’.

So this is why I’m not buying a PS3. Maybe I will buy one in the future but not right now. And even if I do get one I think I might get one from Asia or the US, even after shipping it still costs less and you have more to gain from it.

So screw you Sony – you short sighted egomaniacs.

~Puddles