Where To? Where From?

I've always been obsessed with doors.

Not with the different shapes, different materials, different colours, different fixtures - though those things are all lovely and also interest me - but with doors as portals.

The idea of a shape or item that stands between one space and another always presented a huge array of possibilities.

I used to wonder if it was possible to pass through a door, close it and when you open it again, find it looking out into a completely different place, possibly completely alien to the one you just left.
This of course led to wondering whether the room you were in still existed on the same physical plane of reality that it had originally and whether therefore you could return to the place you left by exiting via the window instead of through a door that may then strand you in a place you'd not be able to return from.

As you can imagine I wasn't a difficult child to keep occupied.
All you had to do was leave me to my own devices and I could spend hours theorising ways to keep track or hold of your original world, like Theseus using Ariadne's ball of thread to find his way out of the Minotaur's maze*.

Any book, movie or TV show that involved any kind of travel or access to such different dimensions or locations were therefore insanely interesting to me.

Sliders, The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe by C S Lewis, Stargate, Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, The Weather Witch by Paul Stewart, The Fionavar Tapestry series by Guy Gavriel Kay, Goodnight Sweetheart, all of those crazy ABC kids shows that involved the characters stepping back in time or travelling to the UK or Canada** possibly whilst also stepping back in time...

I'm also pretty sure that despite my lifelong fascination with such portals, that if I found one, I would not have the guts to step through one.
Or if I did so by accident I probably wouldn't do so twice in the event I managed to get back to where I came from.
What can I say.
I'm a giant wuss.
Then again the curiosity and the fear of missing out on a once-in-a-lifetime chance would be warring with my terror of being trapped forever in an alternate reality or time.

I expect it isn't a choice I'll ever need to make but, y'know, never say never.

And never look at doors in quite the same way again either.



*Except I wouldn't douche-ily abandon somebody who saved my life and ensured I succeeded at an impossible task. I'm looking at you, pretty much every man in every Greek myth ever.

**You know, countries we just happen to have relationships with who also like weird shows like that and want to cross-market/co-produce their kids shows.

One Or The Other Or The Other Or The Other

I'm not very good at having 'favourite' things.

Mostly because I have this wandering memory and if it's been a while since I've seen/read/heard/experienced something, I may not think of it when the question is asked.

I have lots of things I love and am enthusiastic about but if you ever ask me point blank what my favourite book, movie, band, TV show or celebrity hairstyle is I simply will not be able to answer you.

I'll be able to give you a short list in each category of things that I like but I can't elevate one above the other, I don't grade them on a bell curve.

I don't know, maybe these things don't resonate with me on the perfect level they do with other people which allows that level of passion or maybe I'm more aware that the passion I feel for a particular book, show, movie, author, style of dog Halloween costume is partially influenced by its newness and novelty and I'll have to reevaluate my feelings in 6 months time to see if they hold up.
Whatever it is, I'm not good at favourites.

Even seasons.
For the most part, people seem able to declare at least their favourite season without even stopping to think about it.

Even here I struggle.

When it's winter, winter is my favourite season.
The wonderful bracing contrast between the warm inside and the cold outside and how satisfying it is to be inside looking out and knowing how warm you are, or outside looking in knowing how warm you're going to be.
All the scarves, jackets and gloves.
The warming food.
Reading in front of an open fire when you have the chance.
The crazy frost patterns that mean you have to fiddle around with water and wipers for minutes before you can drive to work.

When it's spring, spring is my favourite season.
The new growth.
All the animal babies.
The smells in the air.
The rain.
The touch of cold that still hangs in the air.
The hints of warmth creeping in.

When it's summer, summer is my favourite season.
The sunshine.
The picnics.
The BBQs.
The swimming.
The joy of air-conditioning and cold drinks on sweltering days.
Christmas with the family.
The long days and warm nights.

But autumn, autumn is my favourite season all year around, even when I'm playing at the other seasons being my favourite season.
As the days shorten, a crispness begins to creep into the air and the deciduous trees begin to shed their leaves.
As you get to mix and match the best clothes of summer and the best clothes of winter without having to shed two layers every time you walk in the door.
As the urge to eat harvest-type foods pops up.
As the outdoors becomes more invigorating and the indoors becomes more comfortable.
As your pets start pretending that they love you more than they usually do so they can start poaching your body-heat in preparation for the thermal-vampire routine they'll take up in winter.

For some reason although spring is perched between the two more extreme seasons in exactly the same way, autumn appeals to me more.

So I guess I have one favourite thing.
For now.
Until I get distracted.
And forget again.
And remember again.
Every single year.

But unless I need to answer thee these questions three my inability to commit to or remember my favourite anything on a reliable basis shouldn't actually kill me so I doubt I'll lose any sleep over it.

Instead I'll just stand out here taking deep breaths of the brisk Eucalyptus-scented air and feeling - almost impossibly - aggressively peaceful.

One, Two, Keep A Few, Ninety-Nine, One Hundred

I know I have some habits that could be considered mildly compulsive.

I like the colours of clothes pegs holding up one item to match.

I like to write journal items in blue ink, fiction or lists in black ink and diary/planner items in pencil.

I like even numbers.

That's essentially it.

They're not rules, it doesn't bother me to break them but I prefer to have things match when convenient.

I was a little worse when I was a kid.

I would actually go out of my way to avoid cracks in the pavement, not because I really believed that stepping on them would break my mother's back but not quite willing to take that chance.

All that said, every now and then I'll do something a bit odd and not know why.

Like this.


This is 197 cider bottle caps.

One day a few years ago I left a cider cap on the draining board next to my sink overnight.


The next night when I had another cider I put the second cap next to the first.


They were joined by a third.


I swept them into a plastic container to get them out of the way.

And then for some reason I just kept adding to them.


I didn't drink more often or more beverages in order to add to the pile, I just added to the pile when I happened to have something to add.

Over a few years, a few summers really, I kept my caps.

And then one day I just stopped.

I really don't know why I started.

I don't know why I stopped.

I don't know why I kept the collection for a few months after I stopped.

It's particularly perplexing because I don't keep collections of anything else.

I didn't care about it in any significant way at the time and it doesn't bother me to pour them all into the bin now.


It's just something I did and now I'm not doing it any more.

So if you ever worry that you're a bit weird, don't worry, me too.

Dot Dot Dot Dot Dot Dash Dash Dash Crash

The other day I was driving down the highway when somebody coming the other way flashed their lights at me.

I don't know about any of you folks living in other countries but in Australia when someone flashes their lights at you it means one of five things:

1. There is a kangaroo or other animal near the road.
2. There is something else obstructing the road.
3. There is a police car, speed camera and/or booze bus up ahead.
4. I'm a big douche who is messing with you.
5. 'The fifth one' which I'll explain in a minute.
   

So anyway, this person has flashed their lights at me.

I'm already doing the speed limit and I haven't had anything to drink so if it's police presence they're warning me about, I'm not worried.

But just in case it's an animal or obstruction, I slowed down to give myself more time to react.

After a certain number of kilometres when nothing had presented itself I assumed that the light flashing had been to announce a Reason 1, that had resolved itself by the time I got there, or due to a good old-fashioned Reason 4.

This morning I realised that I had forgotten Reason 5, when parked facing a glass door I noticed that I had a headlight out.

The thing is, everybody always seems to forget about Reason 5*.

I know I've flashed my headlights at people because one of their headlights is out, in the hope that when they get home they'll check and confirm this fact.
And I can be fairly certain that in most circumstances they've done what I've done and continued pootling around with their busted headlight until they've managed to catch a glimpse or somebody in a position to do so has mentioned it to them in person.

I started wondering if we could devise and disseminate some kind of national-wide system of flashes that would allow us to differentiate between Reason 1 to Reason 4 (the response to which is simply to slow down**) and Reason 5 (the response to which is to get a new headlight as soon as possible as to avoid potential trouble with the police).

But multiple flashes of lights can be difficult to manage in the time between approaching and passing another car, or may not be fully visible depending on conditions.

So I started thinking about devising a system that would allow you to flash just one headlight, thus clearly indicating that you have noticed the other driver has one headlight out.

Maybe you could flash one headlight to indicate busted headlight, flash the other to indicate obstruction on the road, and flash both to indicate police car.

The more advanced and ambitious of us could develop a sort of car headlight Morse code.

But how would the electronics and controls of these wonderful new cars need to be altered or redesigned to achieve this goal?

And what if you're flashing your lights at somebody for Reason 1 through Reason 4 and they assume it's for Reason 5*** because you have a headlight out?

Then of course you might end up with cars running off the road or into the back of each other as they squint and try to follow or remember the significance of various blinking patterns.

Hmm.

Maybe I should just remember to check my headlights.

Occam's razor and all that****.



*Reason 5: Your headlight is out.

**And in the case of Reason 4, to feel miffed about it later.

***Or possibly don't see it at all, depending on which headlight you're flashing.

****I can't think of Occam's razor without thinking of Dr Standish from Douglas Adams' The Long Dark Tea-Time Of The Soul.

Take No Prisoners, Show No Mercy, Leave No Witnesses

I know everyone has their own ways of dealing with stress and troubling emotions.

Some people exercise.

Some people drink.

Some people knit.

Some people clean their weapons* or do maintenance on their car.

Some people turn on the TV.

For whatever reason, I clean.

When I get super stressed out, I roll up my sleeves and attack.

I guess it might be something about not wanting to think about whatever is making me sad/anxious/angry because whenever this mood grips me, I acquire an intense focus that allows me to power through tasks that I usually have to drag myself into doing and there is no room in my brain for anything else.

It's also good to know that even if I'm using the cleaning as a way to procrastinate or distract myself, I'm doing something practical.
There's a tangible real-world effect.
I've achieved something that improves my surroundings or situation in some concrete way.

If you did an undergraduate degree in psychology, you could probably also argue that being able to organise and control your external environment may help you to begin attempting to organise and control your life.
Or help you deal with the fact that you have absolutely no hope in hell of managing to organise or control your life, at least at this point.

Whatever the myriad of reasons, I find wading into a room fists first and cleaning the hell out of it incredibly satisfying and soothing.

There's a system.
There's a sequence.
And it's wonderfully physical so you can work off anything that's bothering you.

The Procedure

1. Clear off all the flat surfaces.
2. Clean them down.
3. Throw away anything that you cleared off the flat surfaces which isn't needed any more.
4. Use the flat surfaces to organise those things you've decided to keep.
5. Empty out the cupboards or storage areas.
6. Clean inside the cupboards or storage areas.
7. Throw out the dross.
8. Use the flat surfaces to organise those things you've decided to keep**.
9. Clean off the things you've decided to keep, if necessary.
10. Put all the things you're keeping back into the cupboards or storage areas in an orderly fashion.
11. CLEAN THE EVER-LOVING HECK OUT OF ALL THE FLAT SURFACES, VERTICAL SURFACES, FLOOR TYPE SURFACES, BUMPY SURFACES, ALL THE SURFACES!
12. Make a list of anything you may need to replenish or replace now that you've gone through everything.
13. Sweaty and dishevelled, stagger off for a cup of tea and a collapse before a hot shower and further collapsing, exhausted but content.
    

At the end of all that, I may have realised that whatever was bothering me wasn't so bad after all, or I might feel closer to being able to deal with it, or I acknowledge that whatever is bothering me is still a poop sandwich but I don't care for a while because check out this freaking spotless room and/or house!
And, honestly, some days that's good enough.



*Not with the intent of doing anything to themselves or others with said weapons, they just find the act of maintenance meditative.

**At this point you may need additional flat surfaces in the form of card tables or similar.

Soundwave!

Just to round out this summer of music, I also went to Soundwave!

The highlights of which I shall now sing!

• Introducing my friend to Stone Sour, which she immediately fell in love with, and hearing her describe Corey Taylor as punk-rock Prince Harry.
  
  
  
• Seeing a guy in a wheelchair crowd-surfing, wheelchair and all, when Queens of the Stone Age were playing and Josh Homme ordering the crowd to pass him up on stage so he could rock out with the band.
  
  
• Rob Zombie singing a weird little song about how the big lads in the crowd should hoist the little chicks up onto their shoulders so that the 'Zombie girls' could see that had grinning guys turning to offer their backs to girls throughout the crowd.
  
  
• Being completely bewildered by the clothing and masks on the members of Primus.
  

• Rocking out to Slayer and being glad that I hadn't been at the Sydney show instead where Slayer had to cancel because Tom Araya had an ear infection or something.
  
  
• I got to see Iron Maiden again! Iroooooooooooooooooon Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiden!
  
  
  
• Giggling like an idiot when Dimmu Borgir were on because of Dimmu Burger on Metalocalypse.
  
  
  

Iron Maiden!

Even though I've listened to a bunch of Iron Maiden, I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I went to see them live.

I was excited to have the chance as I'd only just started listening to them when they came out for their last tour and thought I might have missed out on ever seeing them live.
So when they put tickets on sale for this tour I jumped right on it.

I'd never really watched any footage or any video clips of any of their performances and I was figuring that maybe they would be winding it back a little bit as they've been knocking around for decades, throwing in a little less of the old stage acrobatics in favour of a bit more stationary posing and concentrating on their instruments.

Not. A. Bit. Of. It.

Bruce Dickinson jumps around that stage like a monkey who has managed to chug a couple of triple espressos and has then found some pills in a long-haul trucker's glove compartment.

Janick Gers was practically doing the splits up against speaker stacks, his long thin legs clad in tight jeans and topped off with an almost Skwisgaar Skwigelf-esque belt.

What you could see of Nicko McBrain was going completely mental behind the drum kit.

Dave Murray was doing this cute smile and nod as he bobbed around playing that wouldn't have looked out of place during a folk song.

Adrian Smith and Steve Harris were charging about like mad men, grinning the whole time.

One of the things I liked the best was the sheer range of people there.
The classic black shirted metal fans, people in bright colours, people in summer dresses, people in their work gear.
And the ages! There was at least two families I saw that had turned up with three generations of Maiden fans - the grandparents in their late 60s/early 70s, parents in their 30s and kids about 10 years old.
I saw one dad with his son on his shoulders in the mosh pit and the kid was going off tap :-D

Unfortunately for me I'd had a cold for a couple of days before the concert and just as my friend and I were driving into the city to go to the concert, I completely lost my voice.

I lost my voice!

Here I am at an Iron Maiden concert unable to sing along or roar with the crowd or respond in any way to Bruce Dickinson's cheeky banter!

It was so frustrating!

But even without my voice it was a fantastic night.
Surrounded by other people singing along and grinning and doing all the gestures during Two Minutes to Midnight, I felt right at home.

And if they come back I'm going again because my theory with tours is that every one might be the last one and if you like the band you do NOT want to miss out!



P.S. As we were driving to the arena we went right past Janick Gers taking a pre-concert walk and we yelled G'day to him and he waved and my mate almost lost his mind :-D