Anecdotal evidence

I'm a naughty, naughty melatonin user

Mon, 28 May 2012 12:45:00 +0300

Melatonin is now a scheduled substance. I’m allowed to buy only one container a month, and I have to write my name, address and phone number in the book every time. Yes. IN THE BOOK. A paper book that sits on the pharmacy counter.

Because what? Because they’re worried I might overdose on the sleepy hormone and get really really sleepy? Because writing my name in the book will cause such shame that I will rethink my druggy ways?

I mean, it totally makes sense - there have been so many cases lately of people getting stupidly high on melatonin, and combining it with other dangerous drugs like vitamin B, and sugar, and protein. (NO THERE HAVEN’T.)

Also, I can really see how writing their names in that paper book at the local pharmacy is going to help those naughty addicts. (NO I CAN’T.)

And no, apparently I don’t have the option to get an actual prescription, thereby legitimising my habit (a habit strongly recommended to me by both of my doctors, by the way), because melatonin is only Schedule 1. No, instead I am forced to ask the lady behind the counter for my melatonin, like a child, and then write my name in the Book of Shameful Drug Addicts… LIKE AN ANIMAL.

Which means it would actually be more pleasant all round to get a prescription for sleeping tablets. I’m sure that’s already crossed the minds of the people who made this new law. Perhaps even before they made the law.

I think you can see what I’m implying.

So, expect chocolate to be scheduled soon. We really need to keep an eye on all those unhappy women self-medicating with Lindt balls. Because they really ought to be buying expensive anti-depressants instead.

The world makes me a little angrier every day.

tomorrowville: Hey, I’m Mary Timony. While Carrie sings, I’m...

Wed, 23 May 2012 22:40:16 +0300

tomorrowville:

Hey, I’m Mary Timony. While Carrie sings, I’m just gonna space out over here and tear it the hell up with my guitar playing like it’s no big deal, that cool with you? Yeah, I’ll probably even do some tapping up on the neck while I just kinda float around in a cloud of awesome. It’s all good.

21-year-old me suddenly has some very pressing questions for 35-year-old me, like “What have you been doing for the last 14 years?” and “Why is your guitar covered with dust?” and “Where have your calluses gone?”

Listening to old reel-to-reel tapes of my late brother playing...

Sat, 05 May 2012 19:43:41 +0300

Listening to old reel-to-reel tapes of my late brother playing drums in his school band and someone must be cutting onions nearby.

From Back to Work, episode 64 - How to tell if you're eating a galette

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 22:45:11 +0300

Merlin: You ever had a galette?

Dan: I'm not sure.

Merlin: I don't think you can have a galette.

Dan: How would I know if I had it?

Merlin: Uh... it would taste really good and it wouldn't have elk.

Acquisition poem

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 21:55:04 +0300

First they came for FriendFeed

and I did not speak out

because I’d forgotten I had an account.

Then they came for Gowalla

and I did not speak out

because I preferred Foursquare anyway.

Then they came for Instagram

and I did not speak out

because I was not a hipster.

Then they came for me

and there was no-one left

so I didn’t have to share my billion dollars with anyone.

The sixth stage

Sat, 07 Apr 2012 15:48:23 +0300

I found this amongst my old drafts this morning. I wrote it in January 2010, two years after my brother had died. It’s about the lingering sense of loss that remains, I presume, forever.

I think one of the reasons it gets harder is that you begin to realise that this is the rest of your life. In the first year, you’re still living with shock much of the time - even when you think you’re fine. But in the second year, you become aware of the relentlessness of reality. He isn’t coming back. Christmas will never include him again. There will be no more phone calls. No more shared jokes. You will never be able to call him up and tell him that you’re learning to play drums (I think he would have been so proud).

This barrenness, this hole where his charisma used to be, this sadness that always lingers, this unfulfilled longing - this IS the rest of your life. And all you can do is be pragmatic about it, and tell yourself, “I will ALWAYS cry at Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I should stop doing Christmas. I will ALWAYS feel sad and empty at airports, but that doesn’t mean I should stop travelling. I will ALWAYS wish that we’d had more time, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t make the best use of my own time now.”

Learning to describe the thing

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 15:15:22 +0300

rianvdm:

Yesterday I learned just how difficult it is to communicate something so that it is interpreted exactly how you mean it. It reminded me of this quote from C.S. Lewis, and how I haven’t even come close to describing the thing:

If you become a writer you’ll be trying to describe the thing all your life: and lucky if, out of dozens of books, one or two sentences, just for a moment, come near to getting it across.

I’ll keep trying though.

I think this may be the very thing that has kept me from writing for such a long time - my fear of not being able to describe the thing. Perhaps it was easier to write when I was younger because I didn’t know nearly as much of the breadth and depth of the things I was writing about. It seems to me that the more you know of a thing, the harder it becomes to describe it in a way that seems truly authentic to you.

And yet, as I’ve started to write again (nothing for publication, just putting words on a page for now), I think I’ve started to lose my fear. I’m getting comfortable with the idea that it’s okay to fail, as long as you keep trying.

And you know, if CS Lewis - someone I’ve always admired precisely for his ability to articulate complex, nebulous feelings - could acknowledge the difficulties of describing, then I really ought to cut myself a bit of slack.

Competition time

Mon, 17 Oct 2011 18:37:06 +0200

Because the only thing that’s keeping my mind off the surgical horrors that await me tomorrow is being silly about the whole thing, I’m now going to turn it into a competition. A guess-how-many-bubblegum-balls-are-in-the-jar kind of competition. Except that there aren’t any bubblegum balls. Because it’s a hospital. And they frown upon that sort of frivolity.

What there will be, however, by this time tomorrow, is a fairly long cut on my upper thigh. Of course, in my excitement, I didn’t think to ask the doctor exactly how long it would be. You can see where this is going, right?

The prize:

One photo of your choice from capetowndailyphoto.com, printed on canvas, and posted to you, no matter where you live in the world. Well, there needs to be a postal service in your little village; that’s the only proviso.

The challenge:

Guess how long my cut will be. The closest guess wins the prize.

The rules:

You’re only allowed one guess, so make it good.
Guesses should be in metric units. I realise that this will cause some of you a little confusion, but Google is there to help you. Or Wolfram Alpha, if you prefer.
Make your guess as precise as possible. That said, I’ll disregard any units smaller than millimetres. Because that’s just ridiculous.
You can answer here on Tumblr, or on Facebook, or on Twitter. If you answer on Twitter, use #robohip as the hashtag.
The competition ends when I say it does. This is because I have no idea when I’ll get to see the cut, and whether the nurse will even be amenable to measuring it for me. Frivolity, you see. They frown upon it.

So, without further ado, how long do you think my cut will be tomorrow?

My pre-surgery playlist

Sun, 16 Oct 2011 18:02:39 +0200

My pre-surgery playlist:

Click on the title to see the songs I’ve carefully selected for before my surgery on Tuesday. I present them for your amusement, and also so that you can suggest other relevant tracks I might have left out.

Some of the songs on my playlist contain an obvious reference to walking or running or feeling young again or having my hip chopped open, while others are inspiring happy-making songs about how awesome life will be after the operation. There are also a few that are simply very special to me for one reason or another, and have absolutely nothing to do with any of this. It’s my playlist and I’ll include soppy songs if I want to.

Now, anything you think I should add?

biorhythmist: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WE’VE BEEN WORRIED SI.. WHAT...

Wed, 12 Oct 2011 21:38:29 +0200

biorhythmist:

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WE’VE BEEN WORRIED SI.. WHAT IS THAT SMELL? ARE YOU DRUNK?

Extra features to make my hip awesome

Tue, 11 Oct 2011 21:16:48 +0200

Since I’m going to all this effort of getting a new hip, I figure I might as well make it worth my while and have the doctor include a few extra features. So I asked my Twitter friends for some ideas today. Here’s what they came up with:

a pop-out holster of sorts, to hold a whiskey tumbler (Nathan)
a Wolverine-style weapon (Randall)
turbo boost and an airbag (Jo)
auto-swing for occasions requiring social dancing (Anna) and auto-shimmy for use during belly-dancing class (Jo)
a 5-terabyte bluetooth drive (Destry)
a joke tattooed onto the joint, to amuse and/or confound future archaeologists (Sipho)

I’m quite keen on a few of these (the bluetooth drive, most notably), but Discovery says they don’t cover this sort of “experimental medicine”. Luddites.

Edheads.org - Virtual Hip Surgery

Tue, 11 Oct 2011 14:27:43 +0200

Edheads.org - Virtual Hip Surgery:

Now you too can do hip replacement surgery! This fun, interactive game lets you measure, cut, saw, hammer, stitch and staple a hip JUST LIKE MINE. Yay! (This has rather cemented my decision to be sedated during my operation.)

"The only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work and the only way to do..."

Tue, 04 Oct 2011 13:47:01 +0200

“The only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work and the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking and don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it.”

- Steve Jobs, 2005 Stanford Commencement Address. (via pauljacobson)

animalstalkinginallcaps: MY MACHINE WORKS, DAVID. MY MACHINE...

Sun, 18 Sep 2011 20:54:30 +0300

animalstalkinginallcaps:

MY MACHINE WORKS, DAVID. MY MACHINE WORKS, AND WE ARE ABOUT TO HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT DISCUSSION ABOUT YOUR IMMEDIATE FUTURE.

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN YOU HAD ME DECLAWED, DAVID? BECAUSE I DO.

The Offline Social Network (HUNGRY BEAST) (by...

Mon, 16 May 2011 13:18:17 +0300

The Offline Social Network (HUNGRY BEAST) (by abchungrybeast)

I’m off to get a bunch of captcha flashcards printed.

And I should know. One day, not too many years from now, I shall...

Fri, 31 Dec 2010 22:28:19 +0200

And I should know. One day, not too many years from now, I shall have my awesome bionic hip, and then you’ll all be jealous.

Waxing nostalgic...

Fri, 31 Dec 2010 22:09:02 +0200

catalogliving:

After lighting the wicks, Gary listened with a heavy heart as the squirrel and porcupine discussed their plans for that night.

I’m not sure I’m going to be able to finish this...

Sun, 14 Nov 2010 10:56:39 +0200

I’m not sure I’m going to be able to finish this enormous portion of Coco Pops.

I mean, there must be at least 40 individual flakes in there!

thememegeneration: Indeed. I have been saying for YEARS that...

Thu, 04 Nov 2010 17:15:00 +0200

thememegeneration:

Indeed.

I have been saying for YEARS that we need adult-sized playparks. Not theme parks (I mean, those are awesome too, but not relevant to this discussion), but PLAYparks. With adult-sized jungle gyms and slides and merry-go-rounds and jumping castles and swings and see-saws and stuff.

All I need is an investor. Give it some thought, people with money.

Living the stereotype

Fri, 29 Oct 2010 21:00:40 +0200

Me: Still on your call? Want to listen to podcasts in the lounge, but the cable's unplugged and there are like 50 million identical sockets at the back of the hi-fi. :-(

Him: Plug into front.

Me: Ah.