Thunderstorms are God’s way of telling us we should have listened to Gore about global warming.

Day seven already, the last one!

Got up early today, far too early; everyone else in the house was still asleep. Pottered round on Ben’s laptop, listening to music, reading stuff on the web, and finally figuring out how to move stuff from the computer to my cell phone.

Round 10am people finally started getting up. Was just about to fry myself up some hash browns when Ben suggested heading to Katipo cafe and restaurant on Bondi rd. In spite of my being such a discerning eater, I decided it wouldn’t be so bad if I forewent my hash browns to settle for their Kumara mash.

After breakfast, I spent the afternoon watching more nature docos, reading, and smoking far too much. By about 6pm the rain started to pick up, culminating in a terrifyingly spectacular thunderstorm that lasted well into the 8:30 movie, Kenny.

Kenny was great, very entertaining. Now though, it’s well over, and I’m tired as, so, off to bed for me. See you next time.

Cigarettes: far too many.

Eye of the Leopard was on again at 10, got Ben to watch it too. The animal world is so damn vicious.

I had planned to go climbing with Ben and Bob et al, but didn’t in the end. Spent the day watching movies, reading a bit, and generally vegging out.

We had Kate’s house-warming party (to celebrate her moving from the guest room to Steven’s old room) tonight too, consisting of copious amounts of alcohol, and drinking games; and less Irish accountants than I had expected. I put my contact lens in in anticipation of my virgin playing of Beer Pong, only to find that weeks of sitting unused in lens fluid has somehow managed to separate the lens into it’s two constituent parts: a rigid lens which actually does the focussing, and a softer silicone gel (I assume) base.

Thoroughly liquid, we began our pilgrimage to Fringe bar to continue the night (and keep our neighbours happy.) The trip was woven with struggles, evidently, as only about 50% of the party made it; due to road blockers of love, inebriation, and dress.

By about two am I was getting bored, tired and a little too sober; so I jump in a taxi and head home.

Work was really crap today, sadly. Had some interesting complaints, but I was feeling real shit all day with a headache building up from about 11am onwards (I ended up buying some Nurofen and a litre of Powerade as a cure; the Powerade was more to fix my semi mild alcohol-induced dehydration, but perhaps it helped the headache too.) As a result of my feeling crap I couldn’t think properly and seemingly simple things tended to take like twice as long.

Got approached by a girl trying to sign people up for donations, again. I forget what charity. She first asked like two months ago; managed to convince me as well, but as I was writing out my DOB she suddenly seemed a little disappointed. I’m too young to donate apparently (need to be 21–whether because of legislation or an organisation policy I’m not sure,) and to be honest, a part of me is thankful I have a reasonable excuse.

After work (and a couple Nurofen) I headed off to The Teacher’s Club, for De-Tension (HA HA HA) with Bob. It’s become somewhat of a tradition on Friday evenings now; play a little pool, drop back a couple happy-hour, $2 schooners. After that, we went and met up with Ben, Jeremy and Johnny at the Arthouse hotel on Pitt, a fairly classy place, low lighting and, I assume, reasonable incomes.

After literally 30 seconds there–enough to form first impressions about the place, just–we went off to Roof Bar (aptly named because of the rooftop terrace that constitutes about 40% of the seating space), eventually meeting up with Crystal and her work cronies.

A Jagerbomb and a couple SoCo and Cokes later, and I’m feeling good. Sydney is a beautiful city at nighttime, especially on a clear-ish night like tonight, with the skyline of lit buildings contrasting against the dark blue sky.

12:32am now (on the 21st :O !), time for bed methinks. I have a big-ish day planned tomorrow and need my beauty sleep. Of course, you’ll have to wait ’til tomorrow night to hear about it (or, in all likelihood, sometime Sunday.)

“Yesterday / Love was such an easy game to play”

It’s not quite April 19th anymore, but oh well.

Yesterday:

Up early, late to work. A train had broken down, so there were delays; not cool. Work was alright, cleared my desk again. Home by 6.

Then–and this is where things get interesting–Bob lures me into going out with him, Jeremy and Johnny; my usual Thursday plans for “quizzin’ it” were thrown into the wind. We were going to a singles party…

We arrive at The Victorian Room about 7:40ish. A sign on the footpath outside the Cellar next door advertises ‘Cult NZ Wines’. Knowing Ben’s affection for Neudorf, I run in to check if they stock it; they do–$34 for their Savignon Blanc. Mission accomplished, I head back to the footpath, to head to the real party.

We move toward the door.

“Are you on the list?” a man asks, clipboard in hand. Nope. “$30 entry.” We pay and are handed a piece of coloured card by his helper. “Find your match!” she says.

Your SONG name is
YESTERDAY
Which PERFORMER sang your song?
FIND YOUR MATCH!

Bob’s goal for the night is to party with The Village People…

The atmosphere is very relaxed, casual; much more so than in a normal bar setting.
<!–
In a normal bar setting, groups tend not to mix all that much, and females tend to be a little more stand-offish when approached, assuming that if any male talks to them it’s in the hopes of getting a little action (which is probably a fair generalisation, especially with younger people.)

Here though, the aim is very much different. People seem more relaxed, I guess the aim (for both male and female) is just to get talking and swap phone numbers, rather than bodily fluids.
–>17 cigarettes.

• Slept in, accidentally. Got to work far too ‘late’. Worked hard to kill the surplus, and clear my desk (mostly), left later than I have before. Got approached by two people during the day wondering if I could spare a cigarette; one jokingly implied she’d expose her breasts in payment (I think, wasn’t too sure I heard her right). Had 9 cigarettes today, probably have one more before bed. Tuna & cream cheese sandwich; and home fries (badly cooked, still not used to ceramic) for tea.
• 2327: Out.

0639: And off.

0648: And off.

0653: I wake up. Properly. I am so damn tired; I have already decided that 7:30am is a little too early for work today. Especially considering I still have a bunch of blog post to finish writing.

0756: I finish the post. I’m well and truly running late now; and to makes things so much better, it’s begun raining.

0921: At work now, had a cigarette prior to coming up. I was out of shower and dressed by 8:30am. Ben hung around; we walked to Bondi J station together, stopping at Starbucks to buy breakfast. My desk is full. I think, in fact, this is the most work I’ve had to do since I started here. I start sorting while finishing my chocolate croissant.

1015: Three complaints down. Weak effort, I tend not to be super productive this time of morning normally. However, the five hours of sleep last night is probably not helping. I run downstairs for another cigarette.

1027: Back to work.

1041: One pile of complaints are done. I’m going to run downstairs to grab a V or something, then start on the next pile.

1143: Cigarette break time again. I’m working a little faster now.

1230: Lunchtime. I have the same as yesterday: Chicken Cashew with Fried Rice and a Coke. Again, I jump on Google Reader for something to read.

1354: Time for another cigarette. I’ve only managed to enter two complaints since lunch; a product of their size.

1528: Another cigarette.

1639: So damn tired (still). Home time.

1744: Home now. Watching a documentary on CI about the mob in Atlantic City. Grabbed the mX well before getting on the train, first standing outside smoking and starting the Sudoku. Walking home, I grab another coffee. They were closing, but seemed happy enough to accommodate me. Finally, a good coffee: hot but not cooked. I get home. Fisher and Paykel have delivered a new part for the big fridge. I’m quite impressed; Ben only called on like Friday or Saturday. I go outside, have another smoke and finish my coffee, then go watch some TV.

1817: I heat some Sunday’s chicken curry for tea.

1925: Mythbusters just finished. Feeling quite drained; figure an early night is in order. I’ll put some washing on after this cigarette, then begin typing this up.

1942: Talk to Sam by text. He wants me to move to Europe with him. I can’t help but be damn tempted; I’m feeling sort of like I need an adventure.

1956: Washing’s in now. I fire up Ben’s laptop and check my email and feeds. Then start typing up the day thus far.

2102: Current notes finally typed up, will add more before publishing.

2119: I put the recycling bins out. My washing is done; if I get it on the line soon hopefully at least a shirt or two will be dry for tomorrow.

2351: Late, near bed time. I really want to get this published before midnight this time, so brief summary. Had two cigarettes. Put my washing out (yay). Watched 3 programs on TV: How to get a husband (or something), about a woman going on a number of dating exploits; COPS Mardi Gras, an episode of Cops, set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I couldn’t help but look out for police misconduct; and then a show on A1 about Tommy Caldwell and Beth Codden (perhaps Caldwell now, too) and party climbing in the hills of Kyrgyzstan, being hunted by terrorists. That’s finished now. Ben has expanded some energy on finally getting Civilisation 3 for his mobile phone. Now, I’m off to drink some Apple juice and have yet another cigarette, then brush my teeth and go to bed. Good night.

0609: Alarm. I’m not feeling too tired today, decide that only one snooze cycle is needed. I proceed to spend the next seven minutes in bed regardless.

0618: I throw some clothes on, and carefully step down the stairs: my feet are like teflon on the carpet at this time of morning.

0619: I turn the espresso machine on, get it warming up. I find the milk frother by the sink, it’s been rinsed–probably last night, probably I was last to use it–but, there’s still some cooked milk stuck to the bottom, there always is. I look for the paper towels. It takes me a minute or two: someone has put them in the cupboard under the sink; a new place. These kinds of delays–while not long–irritate me to no end. Could talk to Bob about it (I suspect him because that was the first place he’d looked the other day) but, I’m easy, it’s really not worth making a fuss over. I’ll remember next time, under the sink will be place no. 3 for where the paper towels are hidden.

0626: Took me far too long to make my cafe latte. I grab a cigarette and head outside. Sip my coffee, smoke my cigarette–first of the day.

0638: Cigarette done, I head inside. Gulp down the rest of my coffee. The racks of clothes drying outside catches my eye, I remind myself to do some washing–I’m not sure I even have anything clean for work today.

0641: Rinse cup, sit it down by the sink. Shower time.

0657: 16 minutes. Not too bad. I’ve organised my mornings so as to only be in the bathroom once in the mornings. Now all that’s left is to get dressed and go. I begin to dry myself.

0701: Getting dressed is quite a challenge today: three ill-fitting t-shirts; 2 polo t-shirts that get all out of shape and will look terrible by about 11am; and 3 ugly shirts is all I have to choose from. I decide on a pair of far-too-dirty jeans, and an soon-to-be-out-of-shape polo. I have a single pair of socks to choose from–all the rest are in need of washing. At least some decisions are easier.

0708: As I plod downstairs, I’m tempted to put a load of washing on. Then I remind myself that I’m already running late for my (voluntary) 7:30am start, and dismiss the thought. Dressed now, I start gathering my things. I run outside to grab a lighter off of the outside table. I have a choice of sixteen lighters exactly (Bob counted, I’m still a little unsure of his rationale), I pick the big blue on, my usual. Belt on now; I grab my hair product and run to a mirror (in the bathroom, whoops) and “style” my hair; then start shoving my stuff in my backpack.

0715: Out.

0730: On the train now, it departs in 5 minutes; it’s now clear I’m no where near making work on time. The walk to Bondi Junction station was pretty uneventful. The guard at the Synagogue on the corner said “Hi”, I returned the gesture, being sure not to stop and chat, I’m still not interested in his “business”. Getting to the station, I was pleasantly surprised that my ticket was still valid. I grab my second coffee of the day, along with a chocolate muffin–breakfast–at the platform cafe. The coffee is too hot, too bitter. Although, I can’t really complain, their business is in being fast and OK, not slow and great; churning out multiple coffees a minute for all the execs who need a caffeine hit before they get to work.

0740: Stopped at Kings Cross. A guy gets on; stares a me just a little too long. I look away, a signal – “Sorry dude, I’m not your type.”

0745: Town Hall station. My destination. I bite the bullet; it’s quarter too now, I’m already fifteen minutes ‘late’, may as well make it a solid half-hour. I head topside and lean against the alcove outside the building and light a cigarette. That’s two, if you’re counting. A man I suspect is homeless walks up to me, asks to buy a cigarette, starts talking about something else, I hardly hear him, perhaps he mumbles worse than I do. “Just have one” I say, opening the pack towards him. “Mind if I take two?” I pause, “Sure.” He talks some more, leans in, “Listen, you don’t have some spare change? I need to catch a bus.” The smallest I have is a fiver, and I don’t give out cash anyway. “Sorry, mate, no.” I wondered how he planned to pay me for a cigarette in the first place, and then another interruption: An Asian man, he’s about my age, perhaps one or two years older. He’s dressed in business attire: white shirt, open collar; black suit jacket and pants; and a diamond (faux, perhaps) studded earring; looking very fashionable. He’s holding a two-dollar coin. “Could I buy four smokes off you?” You have got to be kidding me? I hesitate: I just gave away two. “It’s OK if you don’t want to, it’s fine.” he adds. “You can’t afford to buy a pack?” I ask. “Trying to cut down,” he says, walking away now, “Cheers anyway, mate.” Taking my question as a decline.

0756: Time to go up.

0807: I spend the first few minutes of my day pottering around, firstly greeting people then sitting down to read The Sydney Morning Herald while finishing my muffin. My desk is mostly empty: the only work I have to do is printing. I grab my axe and begin my killing of trees.

0930: Printing done. Just under an hour and a half, fairly timely. In that time, a bunch of complaints were dumped on my desk; awaiting entry. Only a single ream of printing this time too; it seems I greatly over-estimated how much there was to do. We use 80% post-consumer paper throughout the office (for those who were wondering,) so one ream equates to only about 100 sheets of new tree killed. Time to hand the printing on, then down to the ground floor for another sneaky cigarette.

0944: Complaints to enter, more substantial work to do. Fun times.
1057: Three more complaints left–there were ten in total–and time for another cigarette. Maybe I’ll take a couple bucks down and grab another latte too.

1114: Coffee is crap. Again. Too hot, overcooked. I used to love that coffee shop. It still seems to be as busy as ever; but the coffee has definately gone downhill; it’s so inconsistent now, fantastic one day; too milky and too cold the next; hot and bitter the one after that. Perhaps I should stop going there too.

1156: Just finished my pile of complaints when another couple dozen got dropped on my desk! The other temp leaving has meant I have about double the work, it seems; now I’m actually working.

1208: Complaints are sorted–seriously speeds up the entry process when there are less things to think about directly for each complaint–now, cigarette time.

1230: Feeling totally drained. Probably a combination of lack of food mixed with my morning hit of caffeine wearing off. Time to run downstairs and grab some food, I think.

1305: I had Chicken and Cashew with Fried Rice, and a Coke. It’s my current favourite, had it every day for the last three weeks now. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll try something new. I spent my lunch half-hour reading my feeds, nothing particularly interesting to report. An abstract-ish blog post about an article on respectable female characters in games (basically, “there aren’t many, there should be more” I think was the gist of it.) reminded me of my need, obligation even, to play Fahrenheit.

1324: Two more complaints down. I’m feeling mildly better now, the food has set in. Off for another smoke, and then I’ll dig in and try to clear these piles.

1342: Cigarette and toilet break later, I’m ready to get down and Get Things Done.

1447: Whoo. Quite a productive hour. Time for (yet again) another cigarette, then it’s home time.

1506: Leaving early today, documentary to see. I clean up my desk. Had to get an important file out “ASAP”. And now? Home time.

1511: Gone.

1524: Fina
lly on train. Spent the last ten minutes on the platform, waiting, reading mX. Now it’s time to do the Sudoku.

1535: Train was on time; at Bondi Junction station now. Wasn’t able to finish the Sudoku, that can be a task for home. I decide to forgo buying this week’s train ticket today, it’s too early, today would be counted on the new ticket.

1549: Kate’s home too. She has to take the day off to see the doctor.

1555: Outside for first home cigarette, Kate’s out here too. We chat a bit, then I stub out my cigarette and head inside to see my doco.

1603: Eye of the Leopard

1608: Adbreak. This Diary of my Day (as I’m calling it currently) has already taken up six A4 refill pages of notes. I estimate I’ve probably spent an hour scrawling my day in here; I’m not looking forward to the moment I need to start typing this up.

1650: Adbreak. ‘Legadema’, as the young Leopard is called, has learnt how to hunt Monkeys, just like Ma used to. I’ve fried myself up some Breakfast for dinner. Eggs, Bacon, Baked Beans; all on toast.

1656: Adbreak. Legadema has learnt how to hunt squirrels. She’s killed over 300 in the last couple of years of her life. They’re hardly a meal for her; the narrator has made it clear it’s more of a game, a hobby, than for food.

1717: Yet another adbreak, this time with cigarette!

1804: Crystal rings, she’s bought a couple of sofa beds on eBay. She wants me to help get them back here.

1813: Crystal home. We jump in Kate’s car. The sofas are at a unit in Vaucluse. Crystal says that Ben wasn’t exactly thrilled that he had to pay.

1911: I rode home with the guy, in his truck. To help him if we got separated from Kate’s car; although, it’s literally three turns from his place to ours, and we don’t get lost. We have a nice chat. He and his wife have just had a child. Their first, I assume–their place didn’t look furnished for baby. They’re moving to Cairns, he’s from there originally. He says that Byron Bay is nice, although it gets mad there around Christmas and Easter. I make a mental note to visit, sometime.

1923: The sofas look OK. The colour could be better, however.
1930: For those who are counting, I’m on my second cigarette while writing this little recap.

1935: I’m going inside; time to test the new couches.

1944: The couches are fairly comfortable. No clouds in heaven type thing, but they’re reasonable. Mythbusters is on.

2056: Desperate Housewives now. This show is far too far along from when I last watched it, finding it hard to follow the story lines. Another cigarette.

2137: Final smoke of the night. Getting kind of tired of this experiment now. It’s also fairly demanding in terms of writing: I’m onto the ninth page of this notebook. We’ll see if I can keep it up for the entire week. I mean, who really wants to know all these mundane details of my life, anyway? At any rate, it’s getting late–for me; recall I have to be up at 6am–and I still have to type this up.

2143: I begin my walk upstairs. I’m stopped by Crystal looking at the massive array of photos she has on her phone. She runs me through a number of fantastic shots of her manager, a female, making out with another girl. “Who’s the better couple?” she jokes, alternating between one of the manager gazing deep into her partner’s eyes; and one of Ben Broad and is girlfriend, Heidi, sitting on the couch, smiling at the camera. I make my bed and look around my room. Time to type this behemoth up.

2220: Finally, Crystal is off the laptop

2230: I begin typing it up.

2245: Introductory post finished, I begin typing up today’s notes.

2340: Roughly 40% through. Ben’s home now, he’s restless, noticed I’ve borrowed his laptop. He comes up to chat.

2349: Ben commandeers the laptop. He’s looking for a version of Civilisation for his cell phone.

0019: No longer the 16th now. Ben resigns his search, frustrated. So damn tired now, I continue on.

0109: Waaaay past bedtime. I’m damn near falling asleep now. I figure I’m about 70% complete now, I think my earlier estimation was wrong. I close the laptop and settle down for bed. Change my alarm to 6:30am instead.

0112: Put down pen, shut off lamp and close my eyes.

“No loitering. None.”

So, I’ve decided to do this little experiment, see.

For the next 7 days, I’m going to write down everything I do.

That’s right, I’m going to take notes of everything^[1] I do. All the mundane minutiae that constitutes (sadly) the majority of my daily life, in a Twitteresque fashion.

Why? You may ask. Why am I doing this little experiment? That I’m not entirely sure of. However, it’s an experiment nonetheless, and although I have no defined hypothesis in mind, I do believe (hope, in fact) I will come to some interesting conclusions at the end of all this.

Today is April 16th, 2007. Day One of The Smoker Diaries.

1. When I say ‘everything’… There are of course, some things which I’m not 100% committed to sharing with this blog which will, stay private