Tuesday, 77 September 2007
@ 10.09 pm
Late in the Day
So, on goes a little Supergrass, and all of a sudden it's ten years ago, we're about two months into the awesomeness that was Xanadu, and all that we've really got to do is drink, watch music television, and play Quake II for the next 18 months. Truly, halcyon days of youth. By this time, I reckon the carpet had probably been cleaned after the flat warming (lesson learned from that particular party: it's not a good idea to have the keg in your bedroom, or, indeed, any room with carpet), and Tim's hangover may have subsided just a little. Actually, probably not the latter. Or the former for that matter. It was a pretty filthy flat.
Slight aside here, but this was back when Ben not only didn't drink, but couldn't understand why people would want to, especially given the possibility of a hangover such as Tim had the days following the flat warming. Ah, how times change...
Hmm. While that first paragraph was actually just going to be a cunning segue into talking about the MBA, there is one story from Xanadu that has probably never been committed to print yet: that of Tim's foot going through the wall in the upstairs lounge (the bit under that wall heater outside my bedroom next to the Crude Busters ("Fighting for the Crude of Justice!") alcove) on the very first night of occupancy. I think he may have been playing pager hockey or something. (We were so cool. Actually, anyone remember the pager craze? Anyone still have one of those little books with the three digit codes? Anyone remember the sheer inefficiency and annoyance associated with a communication device that only went one way?). It sticks in my mind as for some reason it actually really seemed to upset him. Maybe it just confirmed once and for all that he was a big munt, and there was nothing he could do about it. Or maybe he/we still cared about not destroying the flat. That certainly passed.
I don't even know if that story was worth telling, but now it's been told, and I can get back to that cunning segue...
Speaking of being in it for the money, the MBA is going well, With "good enough" grades in the second term, and what seem to be a whole heap of excellently cool courses in the third, ranging from a laid back chat about politics first up on Mondays, through to a full on, no holds barred, Belgian-psycho-linguistic take on International Contract Negotiation at the other end of the week. Even more cool, I've had my project confirmed by my sponsor company, and everything seems to be moving along at an incredibly fast clip. It's exciting, and it feels about right, like a decisions been made somewhere along the lines, and it was a good one. (In fact, looking back, perhaps the decision was made long before I knew it. 13 December 2004, me: "So, life is good, and I think I know what I want to be when I grow up now. But I'm not saying, cos it's a feeling that never seems to last." This was written after doing a two day, project management course. And here I am, doing a project management course in a full blown MBA. Weird.)
There's also the potential of being involved in another research project in my area, with potential Marsden Grant goodness, and I've started working at the NCRE again half a day a week (they're applying for a grant, right, and I'm not even exaggerating a little to say that the background reading for the application process alone is about an inch and a half of paper high - pretty much an entire ream - which doesn't fill me with a huge amount of joy). Plus there's the possibility of helping Ben Wilson out with playing music at his work Christmas dinner thing, which would count as doing possibly the scariest thing that I had promised myself I'd do before the end of the year - performing! Which is doubly good as it gets me playing more as well, at last.
So life is full and good, and after having an excruciatingly unbalanced second term, I'm hoping that the third term will be busier, but in the end, much, much more fun. You can quote me on that in three months' time if you like.
In other people's news, James and Teena have bought a house! It's quite a nice house as well. Actually, it's a frickin' awesome house, and don't let them tell you any different, and just as soon as they figure out how they're going to pay for it, I'm sure there'll be the requisite house warming. And in the spirit of "growing up is good" that this whole blog was supposed to be about, James and Teena, if you're reading this, don't put the keg in the bedroom, even if it seems like a good idea at the time...
In considerably less good news, my Mum is in a medical centre somewhere in Peru getting x-rays and having drips and generally being fussed over due to a combination of rainforest travels, high altitude and a persistent cold/flu/thing. So if you've got any good vibes to spare, sending them halfway round the world would be muchly appreciated. I'm sure she'll be ok, she sounds upbeat in her emails, but the more fingers crossed the better, I reckon.
And finally, as this blog has blossomed something wicked in the writing of it, while everyone seems to be linking to the video of Pavarotti's trademark Nessun Dorma video on YouTube, I'm going to link instead to my own personal, no doubt totally uncultured, favourite... what an amazing voice he had.
Wait, one more thing. I've just found this link from an old blog of mine. I laughed, you might too. What To Do When You Enter The Room.
