Leynos no Daibouken

Just been thinking. I'm not a terribly interesting or exciting person. And I can't say that I've ever done anything substantially useful for anyone.

That's not going to change, unless I do something about it.

About the only thing I do with any reasonable level of competence is programming. So I think that therein should lie my goal.

Within the next year I should contribute to, or develop from scratch, one piece of software in such a way that it will deliver a measurable and positive effect upon n peoples lives (where n > 10).

Worth a try, I think.

I will:

1. Stop apologizing for things that are not my fault
2. Stop getting so defensive when someone confronts me about something that is my fault
3. Stop hiding in bed when I could be doing things
4. Stop obsessing over people I hardly even know
5. Stop eating so much chocolate

Goodluckwiththat

A lot has happened in the past month. Too much to really write down on my lunchbreak (which is what I'm trying to do).

Living with someone takes a lot of getting used to. Especially if you're new to it all. It's worthwhile though.

Good things that happened:

I saw the Phantom of the Opera silent movie with live organ accompanyment at the Usher Hall on All Hallow's Eve with Scottie and Angus. That was lots of fun. It sounded like the organist was having fun too.

Firbush was great too. I've got some photies somewhere, which will be up in due course. I'll let Paul tell you about it. The half-day's sailing I managed to partake in was fantastic. A light breeze on a crystal clear loch.

I finally got to eat at the Queen Street Cafe during my lunch break. With Sam, no less. Yay.

We've been shopping at Ikea, Habitat and BHS for goodies for the flat. There's still a lot of junk that I brought over when I moved in, but we're making progress in sorting everything out.

Not so good things that have happened:

My Dad died two weeks ago. Basically, things have been a mess. My sister has been sorting most of it out, and taking care of my Mum. I hope I've been helpful, but I wish I could do more. The funeral was on Monday. A very sad day.

My Dad was really the person who held the family together. There was so much more I whish I'd asked him. So much more I sish I could have done to help him and my Mum when he was still alive. He taught me so much about life, but there was so much more he had to teach. He was a great cook, and a great father. He was respected at work, by his friends and loved by his family. Even his clients came to the funeral.

His death was totally unexpected. Just about the last thing I expected to happen.

I'll miss him.

Since everything must stop for the Film Festival, I delayed my birthday celebration until September 1st. Well, that's it all over now. I'm 26. Woo.

Thanks to everyone who turned up, despite the abysmal mess I made of the planning. I can't express this well enough, but you being there means the world to me. *sob*

I got lots of nice presents, some quite unexpected. A bottle of Aberlour whisky and a box of Haribos from my parents, eau de toilette from my sister, Filmhouse vouchers from Angus, and sushi from Lu and Michael.

No one's ever given me sushi for my birthday before. :)

Lots of people bought me drinks too. Cheers for those.

JakN was also great. I'll probably get throttled for saying this, but it was like being back at Dogma. I've never felt so at home as how I do when I'm dancing to techno on the main floor at Studio 24. It's my own personal heaven.

As far as precursors to holidays go, this one turned out to be rather messed up. There was cinema and packing involved. It would have gone well, but some creep with sticky fingers had other ideas.

Mission: Impossible III

Well, that was disappointing. The people who made this film did not, as far as I can tell, understand at all what made the first Mission: Impossible film so much fun. To clarify, I haven't seen the original TV series, but I'm a big fan of the Brian DePalma film. I love its ridiculous plot that is just too convoluted to follow. The bemusement I felt at its brilliantly contrived safe cracking sequence and the sheer incredulity at the final helicopter chase that follows a train into the Channel Tunnel are almost singular experiences that have rarely been bested. M:I3 has none of this. Well almost.

The twenty minute segment where Hunt's team stage an abduction inside the Vatican comes close. In fact, it may as well be a lost section of the first film that accidentally found itself inserted into the third. The over the top almost completely redundant planning, the improbable gadgets and the impossibly suave sense of style are all present and correct in what proves to be an oasis of cool in a bland and undistinguished action film whose creators seem to mistake crass fire fights for dynamism. The visual flourish of this sequence is an anomaly in a film whose detailing is lost in a field of murky grey and black.

I wanted to like this film, I really did. The fundamentals are there: the tech porn, the intrigue, the larger than life characters. As witness to the latter, Philip Seamour Hoffman could probably have carried the film if he'd actually been given something interesting to do. Time and time again, however, it all falls flat on its face. For example an assault on the protagonists by a Tankbuster-like drone aircraft could have been a tense and highly visual setpiece. Instead, it comes across as tepid to the point of tedium. Sadly, this battle is the film in microcosm, mapping out what continues as a wasteland of missed opportunities.

Friday, 5 AM

I'm woken by my phone. It's scotm calling. (It's not.) The person on the other end of the phone, who may as well be Scottie, given the three hours of sleep I've had, informs me that he's being chased down Leith Walk by a gang of Pakistanis. He sounds out of breath, and he's very terse. Not being in any fit state to make rational decisions, I agree to help. In retrosepect, I can see that it wasn't Scottie, but at the time it all seemed plausible enough.

Three minutes later, Narada phones. He tells me that he received a similar call. We're both worried now. Narada phones Scottie's Mum, and on his suggestion, I phone the police, giving them Scottie's description and his contact details. gominokouhai apparently got called as well. It seems the police actually visited his house after he called them.

With police cars scouring Leith, and not knowing what else to do, I went back to sleep with my phone set to ring as loudly as possible.

In the morning, I found out that someone had stolen Scottie's phone and called everyone in his address book with similar cries of distress. Scottie's mum had been understandably worried sick by the whole thing. I'd lost a lot of sleep and felt rather daft.

I hope the bastard who did this chokes on it.

The cold got worse. When I woke up this morning, it was actually painful to breathe. Which meant that I took the day off of work. Sadly, it also meant that I had to miss the final AASoc series night of the term. I'm going to be stuck wondering what became of Sousuke and Kaname. Oh well, I hope it won't be too long until I can see all you nice AASoc people again.

To make up for the missing series night, I watched some episodes of Paradise Kiss and Ghost In The Shell SAC 2nd Gig. Parakiss is showing quite well that what you think about someone to begin with seldom proves to be true in the long run. Caroline and George's relationship is getting to be rather fascinating stuff.

I also managed to finish a book for a change. Earthlight by Arthur C Clarke. Okay, it's only 160 pages, but it seems depressingly rare these days that I see a book through to the end. It's a novel that I haven't seen in current publication, and I'm rather puzzled why. There's nothing like a good bit of political intrigue combined with a revision lesson in high school physics. I suppose it retreads a little too much familiar territory, but I don't think I've read any other Clarke books about outright war.

Having a cold is always a good excuse for an Indian carry-out, and the Royal India in Corstorphine kindly posted us a menu this morning. I am pleased to report that their cooking is far richer in flavour than that of my local Indian, so no more will I be stuck in times of desperation without a decent curry.

My Dad liked his presents, so that makes me happy.

By way of celebration for his birthday, my Sister and I cooked a steak dinner under his expert direction. I'm pleased to say that I turned out what I think is the best rare sirloin of my life. Beautifully charred on the outside and deliciously red and juicy right the way through. The key being, he informed me, to fry the steak in a mixture of olive oil and butter. That one went to my Dad, of course, but he was kind enough to give me a taste of it. The roasted winter vegetables were tasty too. I never get tired of caramelized squash and shallots. Once again, we decided that champagne is a waste of money, as we all far preferred the £2.50 bottle of Asti that accompanied the desert. Maybe we'd think differently about a *good* champagne, but I dread to think how much a bottle of such a beverage would cost.

After dinner, we watched Curse of the Were-rabbit, and ate lots of stilton. When the stilton was all gone, my Dad served up the oysters he received from my Sister. Although I pride myself in being willing to experiment, fresh oysters are a dish that has so far eluded me (yes, it was fear). So, two oysters, downed with lemon juice, and I have another new experience to chalk up. As with sashimi, the taste was more about subtlety than anything else, but far from unpleasant. I really feel tho that I'd need to eat a fair few more before acquiring such a taste. Maybe next time I'll be feeling brave enough to chew on them too.

Around ten o'clock, I received a rather bizarre text message from a workmate friend. Apparently, a "gorgeous female" might be interested and I was to forward a photo of myself, which I duly did. A further message asked if I attended the Mission, to which I replied "when I can." A few minutes later, a final message arrived reading "Maybe next time," accompanied by a photo of an embarrassed looking brunette doing her best to hide her face. Smiles all round.

The following morning, Kinross was of course covered with a blanket of snow, and I had of course forgotten to bring any appropriate footwear. By noon, there was a good six inches, and it was still falling. Since my Sister was taking the train to Edinburgh at three, I left with her instead of taking the bus. My Dad drove us to Inverkeithing, and despite some treacherous looking motorway, the journey was free from incident. Back in Edinburgh, the snow was slush, and not really anything to be concerned about.

My Sister starts a new job soon, taking her off of the shop floor and into the office. I'm happy for her, and I hope that this will let her find the kind of work that she'll ultimately be satisfied with.

Since it's been more than a fortnight since I last went clubbing, I'm going to head for Neon tonight to stave off withdrawal symptoms. I wonder if I'll survive Monday at work with only three hours sleep. I'm going to miss the Listening Room tho, partly because I'm skint and partly because I need a nap just now, still suffering from a week of <6 hour nights.