Saturday’s a beach

Apparently washing and blow drying your hair before going to the beach is a thing. Maybe it is. I don’t even know how to use a hair dryer.

Soon it’ll be some slip, slop, slap and I’ll be rinsing myself into the Pacific ocean. Hope the fish stay away.

Baby’s first time. #nofloaties.

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Quickly now.

Couch Sunday. Eating leftover Swedish meatballs in brown sauce. Baby sleeping. Rescheduling beach trip until next week.

Netflix and sweat.

Couch spud

Mornings somehow have become longer but shorter. Getting up daily around 6am would previously have been quite a challenge, but also rewarding in the sense that I’d get 2 hours of time to myself before preparing for work. Now the baby somehow makes time fly past, even when we’re not doing much but playing and failing to put him to sleep. It’ll be 8:30 before I even look. Still fun, so far. Probably more fun for me than Marika, as she’s stuck doing most of the heavy lifting. It actually is heavy lifting now, since he’s gaining 300-450g per week lately. Catching up after being born small, I guess.

We haven’t really established much of a routine yet, kind of don’t care but also kind of looking forward to it.

I’d write more but he’s decided sleeping isn’t for him right now… Better check in.

It’s Christmas again

Hello darlings. Merry Christmas. This year Marika and I made our own gift for ourselves and our families – a baby boy.

He alternates between being wrapped and unwrapped like a hand-me-down present. He also occasionally leaves a little surprise behind in his nappy for us. We wouldn’t change anything for the world.

My gift to Marika this morning was letting her catch up on some sleep while I held the little fellow. Job done.

So we’re doing Christmas at our place for the first time. Only my parents and Elina & Meelis will be attending. That’s 7, not too bad for a small flat such as ours. I’m hoping the weather stays moderate so we can enjoy the balcony and our shade umbrella. I’m also hoping the barbecue doesn’t run out of gas, since I actually haven’t started it after the first week of January this year. Keep your fingers crossed for yet another Christmas miracle.

Still working where I’ve always worked, but now I’ve transferred roles to become a project manager. Did a certification and everything. Going alright so far. No one wants to read about work though, right?

I’m currently signed up to about 4 online courses for further certification. I have no idea how I’ll get through them, as I find it quite difficult to study with videos. Having live teachers and courses has spoiled me. Having also developed a short attention span over the years doesn’t make it any easier. Still, if I get through them I’ll be pretty chuffed with myself… Although they have very little to do with project work. Maybe 25% of it. Yep.

Marika is on maternity leave until sometime next year. I’m partly jealous but also sympathetic. Child-rearing housewives are effectively single mothers for half the day or more, and it’s tough. I’d probably still take that deal if I could produce my own milk.

So yeah, I’ve now got a few decades of kid stuff to go through now. Already started playing Christmas songs through the flat even though they’re painful and sonny boy is too young to realise what’s going on. Sacrifices, right?

See you all soon.

Sympathy for the blog

Well, holy cow.

I sporadically check my [this] site (narcissist, a lot) and typically just shrug and feel bad about not updating as frequently or as passionately as I used to… The action is fruitless yet I can’t repel the initiative until it’s done. It’s my own site – I know I never do anything with it, yet I check it as if I expect something new to have occurred. It’s like opening an empty refrigerator every hour when you’re bored and expecting a new, delicious food to appear out of nowhere, patiently waiting to be consumed: no matter how many times you try you’re met with denial, self-pity and defeat.

Yes, back in the LiveJournal days things were rosier and friendlier and more conversational and, well, raw. I’ve (semi) often reflected upon how often and candidly I would catalogue my general life experiences (to an embarassing degree, usually). (I even self-critique my use of bracketed asides. I can’t help that. I’ve always found it difficult to only write about one thing at a time when my mind naturally wanders. This is probably of zero interest to you, dear reader, but it’s important for/to me to jot this down. For some as yet unexplained reason)

Regardless, those days have, sadly, long gone for this blog. I do miss them. Somehow they felt simpler. More like an actual journal of thoughts and feelings that I unabashedly shared with the world. Or the web, at least. I guess that it’s still mostly private though if this page only gets 10 hits per month. Even if those 10 hits are probably some form of spam bot. Hi.

Strangely enough, the older I get the more difficult I find it to commit to a routine. Even for breakfast. My “internet experience” has gotten a lot smaller and I find myself only browsing the same handful of sites regularly. I have a lot of pages bookmarked for legitimate reasons but I never really find myself caring/energetic/curious enough to bother both checking and reading them. That is, I might randomly click on one once a month but then decide I can’t be arsed reading their updates. I suppose that’s why this blog has no traffic either.

Anyway. I’m a bit drunk writing this (when else do I ever update?) but even then I sound like I’m on a pointless whinging ramble.

Let’s document some facts (sorry, I know I always end up doing this and become dismissive during it). Someone may be interested in it some day. Maybe I’ll have great-grandchildren who give a shit what their previously 32 year old, dead, great-grandfather felt and thought one Wednesday night.

Marriage is good (hi Marika).
Work is work but things are spinning around to what I kind of want… so that’s good overall.
House is good.
I’m still not a handyman.
Another school reunion is occurring this year. I hope it’s good.
My bowling is very inconsistent.
My patience for games is down.
My poker is dead.
During the week I can’t wait for the weekend.
During the weekend I have no idea what to do with my free time and generally end up sad or drunk in soft-depression for wasting it.
I’m (99% of the time) sticking to my latest P90X3 routine which is keeping me somewhat fit and strong. When I run/jog however my heart feels like it’s dying. I guess I’m fit for sprinting.
Our bar is afloat.
I’m polishing off all of our remaining whisky and red wine (almost single handedly) because I want to get rid of it. In an efficient way, kind of.

Meh. Long enough.

Pardon me, dear. I kind of forgot about you.

Seriously. I forgot this was here for a while. It’s ok now, I think. I’m here. It’ll be alright now.

Life? Life’s been ok. Thanks for asking. Since my last update I believe I’ve gone back to that KFC once, maybe twice. It’s been a while. Both times were reasonable experiences but not up to the standard of the first one. I haven’t had much to eat today so far and mentioning the dirty bird is making my stomach grumble. Let’s move on, shall we?

Tonight we’re going to see the Dead Kennedys for our second time. It should be fun. Last time was a few years back at the Manning Bar and we both really enjoyed it. Not sure what to expect this time around but if it sounds as good as the previous gig we’re in for a treat. The major dilemma I have is deciding whether to drive in and not drink or get drunk and train in. I better check the set times.

One big news item in the gap between posts I suppose is that Marika’s sister got married. We spent 3 weeks back in the isamaa and managed to catch up with shitloads of people, really, before and after the wedding. Even during the wedding actually, as they used the same photographer that we did. Small world, small country.

The other big news is that we bought into a nifty little bar. Yep, Marika and I are publicans. Well, partly. It’s in Estonia and we’re not, so we can’t get sloshed on our own supply unfortunately. Maybe that’s for the best. Anyway. Cool, right? Yes. It’s only relatively new but already popular. Now we just need to take over the world.

It also means we should probably get a real accountant. I even started dabbling in the stock market, although I don’t really intend to invest much. It’s just a curiosity at this stage. Accountants sort all that shit out for you. I think. The website says they do.

Life achievements:

  • We’re well past both year 1 wedding anniversaries. Go team.
  • Air conditioner has been installed in our apartment (pending strata approval, oops).
  • Fly screens have been installed in our apartment windows (pending strata approval but I mean come on) but not on the sliding doors because the doors are retarded and might need to get re-done.
  • I just set up a Sonos sound system so now we can have multi room audio. Well, currently it’s single room plus the balcony if we want but let’s see how far down the rabbit hole we go.

Honourable mention: both Marika and I are able to do proper pull ups now. We’re strong enough now that any risk of injury is more likely to be from the bar falling out of the door frame than of us dislocating our arms from their sockets.

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Home!

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Work!

On a whim I pissed away a respectable chunk of change on getting some blank keycaps for both of my Duckys. Now I have a colourful yet indecipherable range of input devices to the amazement of all.

Yes, mixed and matched. Sorry if the aesthetic offends anyone.

Apart from these kinds of distractions I don’t really have a lot going on. Both of us are working and I for one don’t have any holidays left. Marika still has a million because she gets spoilt by her company. I’m still jealous.

Maybe I’ll tell you how the concert went next time.

Time for leisure

Today feels like one of those days. One of those days where I may end up regurgitating spicy dredgings.

I have nothing to do. The weather is half decent. I woke up early. I did the shit, shower and shave combo, sans shave. Made some tasty buttered “whisky marmalade” toast for breakfast accompanied by a lazy plain black coffee. You know the kind, when you just pour hot water over grinds that have been scooped into the bottom of the mug. Tastes just as good as filtered if you ask me.

coffee

Like this, but not as fancy or dainty – bigger and heartier instead (because I’m a man).

I started dilly-dallying around online, skimming over whatever pointless articles or forum posts or emails or shopping deals my browser could scour up from the blandest corners of the web. I was utterly bored and I knew it.

Well! A wave of motivation began to swell inside me. Partially charged by hunger, partially by greed and partially by the need to do something. Anything.

I decided to have KFC for late brunch.

I don’t know where the sense of urgency for the Colonel’s secret herbs and spices came from. I imagine the cravings I experienced were akin to those a pregnant woman might endure. My mind had wholly absorbed with purpose: eat some chicken.

I headed out, on foot, deluding myself that walking there rather than opting for  the drive-through would swing the pendulum of guilt and gluttony back towards equilibrium. I even consciously sidetracked myself to inspect the local community garden/church/graveyard out of curiosity. It was colourful and creepy. I tried to find more reasons to delay the inevitable return to my journey but alas, there was nothing and no-one else to peek at and judge internally. I had to press onward.

I trudged along the path in front of me, half willing, half reluctant. Why did I allow myself to begin this? Was I that weak? Couldn’t I have just had another slice of toast? Why didn’t I just have serial or at worst, a sausage roll from the service station nearby? Coming to terms with the death grip that my stomach and subconscious had over me was proving to be difficult. My legs were just puppet legs, being pulled along by an unseen force. My tummy grumbled and growled louder than my internal rational monologue could plead, drowning it out.

Up ahead, I saw something. Something big. Something standout. A beacon. A beacon of salvation? Perhaps. It wasn’t the Colonel and his short, black stick figure body, no.

colonelstick

I always used to think that his tie was meant to be his arms and legs.

It was the Happy Science church. Of Sydney? Unfortunately I could not be brought to spiritual happiness, as they had nothing scheduled for that day and were closed. Wretched El Cantare, teasing me and leaving me to suffer. Perhaps, in his universal wisdom, he wanted me to experience physical happiness this time? Would he lead me to a new awareness in the future? Only time will tell.

The cold, hard reality of my situation finally sunk in. I knew there could be no escape, no turning back. Not this time. Perhaps there never was hope? All of my resistance had proven to be futile. My will had broken and I had succumbed to the call. Was this fate after all?

Without thinking, my feet led me towards the electronic doors. They slid open smoothly and perhaps a little too quickly. I didn’t hear them shut behind me once I stepped inside. My senses became dulled. I felt like I was wafting through life, like a cloud or vapour in a soft breeze. Most of my memories from inside this Southern temple are just a blur, a dream.

I didn’t even need to read the entire menu. The Zinger Box stood out as if it solely was adorned in flashing red and green neon lights. My eyes were affixed to it as the cashier took my order. I merely pointed towards it, unable to make an utterance in my near-fugue state. The cashier didn’t even need to look. He knew what it was. I think he said something about “regular”, I don’t know how I reacted.

Within moments I was seated and devouring the most delicious portions of fried chicken I’d ever experienced. The crunch, the spice, the surprising (relative) lack of grease and slime made every bite a moment to savour. I could feel my stomach patting me on the back for delivering this non-nutritional treat. The salt from the fresh chips and the mayonnaise on the burger and the tenderness of the chicken all revitalised my essence. I attacked my serving ravenously, only hesitating to tear at the moist towelette packaging to wipe myself down.

A calm began to fall, draping itself over me like a security blanket. The mist in my head was clearing. I’d stopped eating. I was satiated. I cracked open the can of Pepsi Max that had somehow been there all along and slowly sipped it. I spent a few moments reflecting on what I’d just done. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be that person, but I was scared because I liked it.

The walk home felt uplifting. I saw things I’d never noticed before. It even felt like I was walking faster.

I knew I’d still be bored when I got home. That’s when I bought some beer.