Hieronymous the Anonymous

Mr Rigby

H has a dog. Or just about. Was frustrated in my search for a dog in the months leading up to this. Can be pretty hit and miss. You want a chocolate brown Lab but you don't know for a fact what what's coming until the litter is delivered. And that's what happened to me, too far down the waiting list or no chocolate labs.

Yesterday I had a look again, and lo and behold found some puppies for sale, chocolate brown Labs, exactly what I wanted. It had only just been posted, so I was quickly on the phone organising to check them out. I've down that now. I visited this afternoon and was swamped by these beautiful puppies, and their very affectionate Mum.

I didn't know which one to pick. In the end I went for the dog that got to me first. He had a beautiful soft coat, and wide spaced green eyes. I paid a deposit and arranged to pick him up proper next week. I stopped off on the way home and bought a big bag of puppy formula. Tomorrow I'll go out and buy a bed and a bowl and all the rest of the paraphernalia.

People have been asking me, what am I going to call him? I've been answering, I have to meet him first to know. I've had a few names in my head, Chauncy and Shamus and Boris, but I think I'm going to call him Rigby. He looks like a Rigby.

Extending the olive branch

I finally sent an email to Paige. I guess it was always going to happen. One of my dreams the other night woke me. In the darkness in the warm night I realised I had nothing to lose by contacting her. And I realised - as I think I always knew - that my prejudices were unfair. I had no right to judge her, or to dictate anything to her. With the last of the obstacles out of the way I wrote to her.

In the end what I sent was very simple. In the night as I went back to sleep high words came to me. When I put them down on paper the next day they seemed wrong. I wrote something that felt false, as if it did not reflect what I felt. I scrapped all that and starting again wrote a simple paragraph and sent it off. It was a pity what had happened I said. I was sorry for that and took my share of the blame. In particular I was upset that our problems had caused her friendship with Becky to end also. I told her that both of us would love to hear from her (I had consulted with Becky), but understood if that was not possible. And that was it.

Afterwards I felt a sense of relief, as if I had fulfilled some obligation on my part. I had cleared my conscience by extending to her the olive branch.It was up to her to respond, or not.

She hasn't responded as yet, and I actually doubt that she ever will. If she does it will be this weekend at the earliest, but more likely weeks away. And her response may be indirect. Not an email to me, but perhaps an ambiguous message shuffled along between our mutual friends.

I am more hopeful of Becky. Becky was the unfortunate victim of the crossfire between Paige and I. She did nothing wrong but be friend to me: Paige could not cope with that. Paige promised to come back to her when she felt better, she emphasised how she wanted to be friends still, but when nothing had happened still a month after Paige left Becky sent her an angry email. She was angry at being treated this way having done nothing wrong. She felt wronged, left out, isolated. And that was that - Paige never responded.

Becky spoke to me earlier this week. It was her birthday last week, but she told how a friend of hers a couple weeks previous had received a text message from Paige on the occasion of her birthday. Even when things were good this person had not been that close to Paige. Later the relationship degenerated further in the general rough and tumble of the events last year: without every confronting the other, they each thought the other was telling tales of them. And so when this friend received the message she was greatly surprised - and chose not to respond.

Becky got no such message on her birthday. She didn't care that much, it just seemed a little odd. I thought about it and figured that Paige was attempting to get close to Becky through this friend. There seemed no other explanation. I could understand that. I'm sure she would like to be friends again with Becky. I'm pretty convinced that she feels remorse and embarassment, and maybe some guilt, about Becky certainly, and possibly me too. She's scared though, and having painted herself into a corner, a little bit lost.

In the end this is what decided me to contact her. I wanted to give her a way out. I wanted her to know that we didn't hate her and that she would be welcomed back. I felt I had to do that just to be fair - I didn't want her going around thinking otherwise. It's okay, let go, come back. This is the 'right thing' I've been contemplating for the last month.

It would be nice if Paige and Becky make up. Becky is a strong girl, but Paige is a little lost I think, and somewhat isolated having shed so many friends at once. That's what I told her - that true friendship is too precious to lose so easily.

I don't expect for myself, and I understand that. I'm very much the complicating factor, the cat amongst her pigeons. Strangely that doesn't concern me that much. I've done what I think is right. And waking up this morning wondering if she had replied overnight I realised a big part of me hoped that she hadn't. This was revealing to me. I know where I stand here and now, and in a big way that makes it simple. If she were to respond then I don't what I'd feel, but where I'm sitting right now it feels like a can of worms I'm afraid of opening.

The new president

Back in November I did what I suspect millions people across the world did: I watched as the results of the 2008 US election unfolded online. I was at work. I did some work too, but one eye - and often two - was on the variety of websites I was tracking the election results on. Impatiently I would refresh, looking to get the latest news, keen to hear of the result. BBC Online turned out to be the best of the sites, and it soon became clear that there could only be one winner. He was an overwhelming winner too, and for the majority of those watching, a pretty popular winner: Barack Obama.

There were stirring scenes from the US that night as Obama claimed victory. This was the most compelling election campaign for many a year, and probably the most important for a generation. It was a contest that captured the imagination of people across the globe, and I think for the first time in many years, ignited hope of a better, brighter future.

I was one of those international followers hoping for a victory to Obama. Had it been a world election Obama would have won in a landslide, such is his appeal outside of the States. Still, there was a feeling of relief when he was acclaimed the victor.

Yesterday was his inauguration. I see a record 2 million people crammed in to watch the event live in the parkland before the US Capitol. That's a pretty good indicator of the popularity of the man, and how he has changed the political landscape.

This is the important thing about him, I think. That's why I would have voted for him had I a say. There have been many better credentialled presidents than him; few, if any at all, have inspired such a mix of hope and optimism. He is the agent of change that the world needs in these difficult days. He is a unifying force, the lightning rod for making change, for actually making things better. There is much invested in him from people all over the world.

Maybe that's all that's needed: a break from the past. A new start. Psychologically at least, the impetus that expectation and optimism brings with it. There's more to it than that though. This is important. We have the fresh voice, the new face, a refreshing attitude, and a man who has broken with tradition - the first black president - that is symbolic of all of this. Now the change has to be enacted, and all that optimism and hope harnessed to power it forward.

My night dramas

I find it remarkable that after years and years of very rarely remembering my dreams that I now wake each morning with nightful of dreams still vivid in my mind. For the last two months it has been such, and it shows no sign of abating. I wonder if this is significant. It is as if a door that previously closed has no been jammed open. Revealed to me are the night dramas that have doubtless always been there, but hidden from view behind that door.

I would like to report that I am experiencing epiphanies as a result, but the fact of the matter is that most of my dreams seem nonsensical. Many are ridiculous or are typically surreal. There was a dream the other day where I am sitting have a crap while carrying on a conversation with some colleagues. I seem unembarassed by this until I need to wipe my arse. Only then do I become self-conscious.

In another dream someone does something wrong. I tell them off, say something. The other people in my dream, unaware of what this person has done - who is now playing innocent - believe I have been unnecessarily harsh and unfair. They turn on me. I try to explain but they will not listen.

In another I am a leader again, but on this occasion I have a dream run.

Last nights dream was different again. In it I become friendly with an attractive brunette woman. We meet and instantly hit it off. We share some intimate conversations and become close confidantes. We have fun though too. We play fight sometimes, or roll on the ground, or speak in funny voices. We tumble into each other easily and comfortably and it is all sweet. Strange thing is though is that she's a lesbian. She has a girlfriend, and everything between us, though close, is purely platonic.

By this time of day I have forgotten most of my dreams. When I wake I am aware of all the dreams I have had through the night. At times it feels like I have dreamed all night. And this every day now, one extreme to the other.

Need to know

There is one thing I need to figure out.

I saw a show last night. Before hand we had dinner. Sitting in the restaurant I glanced outside. I was in Paige's neck of the woods and I feared that we would bump into each other. I had just explained that to Donna when I looked outside again and saw her boyfriend. Or who I thought was her boyfriend anyway. All of a sudden I felt my stomach fall away.

I couldn't understand it altogether. A lot of this confuses me. For the next hour I was subdued. I stewed on it, wondering what I felt, why, and what it meant.

Later we had drinks at one of the bars on the city square. I was much brighter, effusive even. We came back to this situation. Donna gave her take on things. She was not surprised at my reaction. I nodded my head at that, though it did not feel like me. We talked it through.

I think I said at some point I would like to reconcile with her - just so it was ok between us, no mysteries, no hard feelings. Let it go and get on with life.

And yet I swing from one thing to another. I think to myself that if I saw her again I would up to her and ask how she was. Be normal. And yet I'm afraid of that, seriously. I don't know what to expect, from her - and from me. I swing from wanting to reconcile with her to wanting nothing to do with her ever again.

This is what I have to figure out. What I really want, and why? And know, honestly know, what I really feel for her.

This is so unlike me. Normally I know myself better.

There's one other thing. One memory keeps coming back to me over the last few weeks.

One day I go to visit the HR manager in the office he shares with Paige. Though Paige and I are very good friends I am always careful to keep it under a lid in the office. This is for her as much as for me. When I enter on this day though she lights up. Before I say a word she is up on her feet greeting me with a smile. Excitedly, like a girl, she brings out the things she bought at lunch for me to see. "Look at this...and this..." and all of it with naive, happy smile on her face, the joy of a girl sharing her happiness with someone dear to her.

I was polite. I so wanted to go to her and to respond as I felt, but I was aware of her manager sitting there watching this. I was surprised too. You have to know that there is something guarded about Paige. I got under her guard without even knowing it, but I was the exception. For her own reasons she does not normally give of herself that freely. She can seem closed to many, even distant. And yet here she was like a teenage girl playing up to me, undeterred by her manager there beside her.

I don't know what I should have done different. I was not rude, merely restrained. And yet it is this moment amongst a multitude of moments that keeps coming back to me.

Tell me, what do I feel? What do I want?

Keep on keeping on

Very busy days. Seems a strange thing to write considering I'm not working, but each day I find myself at my desk doing one thing or another, and before I know it the day is over. Yesterday I got so caught up that I didn't leave the house.

None of the work is productive at this point. Much of it is purely administrative: setting up my accounting software, speaking with the ATO, finalising my terms of engagement, setting up my different advertising and marketing options. Besides that I'm making calls and sending emails. I've started writing my white papers - there's a lot involved in that. Yesterday I spent much of the day organising my office filing. There is something very satisfying about this activity.

On the back of this I have experienced an unexpected surge of creativity. Perhaps it is not altogether surprising. My work has a creative aspect, and I that has been to the fore in putting things together. You turn over the soil and things grow. And so my creativity has gone beyond the immediate needs to become all encompassing.

I lay in bed at night and review what I've done and think about what I have to do, before my mind turns to my imagination. There are stories in my head, always stories, but not always ripe. Now for one of the few times in my life everything appears to be in sync.

In the past if I was switched on for one thing then generally it was at the expense of something else. And so if I was soaring at some work project then my writing life was barren. Or if I was heavily involved in some romantic interlude then other parts of my life might be treading water. I always used to believe that there was only so much creative energy going around, and if I was using it in one area then it was unavailable in others.

I am going through a fertile phase of my life. I feel an abundance of energy and imagination and even intelligence. There appears no end to it right now - which I hope is true. There is so much in me. I've always been aware that there is a lot in me, I've been fortunate. Rarely have these endowments blossomed like this at the one time.

It has been a fascinating 6 months. Not all good, not on the surface anyway, but I have to wonder if I would be experiencing this right now if not for those challenges? I'm convinced I would not be.

I don't believe in fate. I like to think that everything happens for a reason, but that posits a higher intelligence, and I don't believe in that. If things happen for a reason it is simply because you have made good from bad. Everything changes though too. Much as the likes of me like to expound that we are masters of our own destiny, it is undeniable that fortune occasionally revolves on the head of a pin.

Every choice you make changes possible outcomes. Every situation thrown at you demands a response. It is that response that dictates the course you take.

I had no idea 6 months ago of the challenges I was about to be faced with. And midway through that period I was floundering badly. But somehow I found something. For me it was an insight. That insight led me back to myself; and it also enabled me to let things go. I had been fighting things - and then I realised that it was not worth the fight.

This is where I am now. I don't expect this fortuitous period to go on forever - though it would be nice. I'm confident of my future even while I'm uncertain where it will lead me. That confidence comes from knowing who I am.

Over drinks last night I tried explaining it to Donna (I feel like a bit of an evangelist with all this). I may fail, but I will come back. And I will have failed giving it a go. And in the meantime I'm going to do all I can to make the most of this time.

Moments to remember

It's not a particularly hot night. Though it was a warm day it's nothing like the hot days we'll get. And though it's comfortable enough to get around in a pair of shorts you wouldn't really say that it is a classic summer evening. And yet that's what it feels like to me.

Me sitting here writing about this is testament to that feeling. For the last couple of hours it's been dark. I've reclined on the couch watching some of my favourite TV shows I had saved up for this. The lights were off, the only light came from the images on the screen. The TV glowed, the light dimming and brightening as the scenes changed. The light seemed to have a life of it's own. I watched feeling as content as I have for a long time, and for no good reason I could figure.

Writing this now memories come back to me that may go some way towards explaining what I'm feeling, and why I'm feeling it.

For a few moments I pause to recollect some of the summer days when I was a kid. For some reason I remember Sunday nights best. I remember on some of the warm and balmy evenings we would shift the big Rank Arena 26" colour TV onto the front veranda, and watch it sitting under the sky. I remember watching the Carol Burnett show.

Many years later I am now a big boy. I was alone and that is exactly as I wanted it. It might have been nice to share, but the bigger risk was of distraction or, worse still, of being oblivious. That's exactly what I didn't want, though my thoughts were not nearly as ordered as that.

I reclined on the couch and I watched my shows and it was just perfect, the shows were great, the flickering light in the dark room was great, the pleasant temperature was great, and everything that ran through my head, the thoughts about what I'm doing and observations on the show and mixed in with the snippets of distant memories seemed just great too.

What was this? Perfect, simple moments? Or the realisation of the promise of these moments? Or is simply delight at being alive and being able to appreciate this? Everything was simple, but it was more than that.

For the moment it is in me. I want to stopper it up. Tomorrow the sun will come up and it will be a new day. I want to hold on to the now though. I feel enlivened by it. Thinking before about which book I might read in bed I cast one aside after another: I wanted to read something bright and good. It is how I feel, and how the world seems tonight in it's quiet warmth.

And so I sit here trying to describe what I experienced without really knowing what it is myself. I am trying to explain to myself. And I want to hang onto it. That's why I'm writing here rather than going to bed to read. I don't want this to slip by unremarked. I want to put it out there: how good this can be, how simple and good.

And lucky I am to recognise and to know it.

Phew!

Pity the poor folk living in Gascoigne Junction, wherever that is. The coolest day they've had in the 12 days of this year so far is 44 celsius - today was 49. Phew! You'd want air-con.

In Perth they've had 15 days in a row with the temperature over thirty, and more to come.

In Melbourne it's been mild, un-summerlike. That's about to change in the next couple of days with temperatures in the high-thirties. Guarantee it'll be blistering by Australia Day.

Hang loose and produce

It's a pretty day. I spent most of the morning and into the early afternoon doing some of the necessary things for the new venture: drawing up my terms of engagement, sending a few emails, making a few calls. In the background the washing machine is on, and between jobs I put the clothes on the line.

Sometime in the afternoon I got a call from Whisky. What're you doing? he asked. I'm working, I told him. Forget working he said, you can do that later. Get out in the sunshine, enjoy it.

I have to write some white papers for my website, but they've been bottom of my list. Have to be done though, and so I took his advice. I cracked open a bottle of sem-sav and poured myself a glass. I exchanged my t-shirt for an Hawaiian shirt I never wear (for good reason). I opened up the French doors leading onto the front courtyard and dragged a comfy chair into it. I set my iPod up, playing my chill mix, and then sat down in the warm sunlight, beneath the unending blue sky, and began to write.

Pity I don't get paid for this, but this is the way to go. Very productive. I might advocate it to my clients as a productivity tool - hang loose and produce. Has a ring to it.

What I'm listening to now

There's an awful lot of crap music these days. I caught one of those video hit shows on TV the other day, counting down the chart hits. Listening to it I thought this is the sort of music I don't listen to, and the sort of music I don't want to listen to. It's no accident.

I guess I sound like one of those curmudgeonly old fellas complaining how things were better in 'my day'. I was complaining to someone the other day what slackers generation Y dudes are in comparison to us worthy gen X'ers. So I guess that's the way of things, whether you like it or not you bring with you the golden imprint of your time.

Okay, so I've put that out there but, jeepers creepers, music was better in my day. Or least it seemed to have more substance (and here I deliberately turn my head from the dispiriting sight of the New Romantics). A lot of it was more substantial then, it meant more because it was grafted for, in Oz anyway, there was more meat on the bone because most of it emerged from deep passion followed by years of struggle. It came from inside.

These days much more music seems manufactured. Is manufactured, in fact. Mainstream music anyway, but that's the point really. Once upon a time it seems to me the top 40 charts were much more eclectic. Sure, there was always some crap, but there was also a lot more room than there appears these days for 'authentic' bands. Unless you're an established headline act these days very little of of this music that makes it to the charts. It remains underground, played on the edgier radio stations only, and followed by the knowledgeable few.

I spoke of Miley Cyrus the other week expressing a cynical admiration of her, but she typifies what I mean. It's a business these days, it's a formula to be followed, the business plan aimed at winning the hearts and minds of the audience - teenage girls. Even much of the boy rock is fabricated - how can Nickelback ever be taken seriously?

I caught some Bruce the other night, he was singing Hungry Heart. Now that's a great song, but I can't imagine it being written these days. Though it's not a particularly dated tune, the whole process that made it seems of another time. I listened and sang along and wished there was more of this being written these days.

Which is not to say there isn't any decent music. There is, plenty, and some of it's great. It's just that for this set of ears attuned to another era you have to sort through a lot of other stuff you don't want to hear to find it.

Any case, there is a bunch of music I've been listening to lately which crosses over musical eras. This is what I've been listening too since Christmas.

Coupla Aussie bands playing the sort of Aussie rock that never seems to change, heavy on guitars and attitude. Don't You Know Who I Am? by the Small Mercies; and Whole Lotta Love by The Androids (they're the band you had the I Want To Do It With Madonna song). Lot of energy in this music, good stuff.

Listening to some Gomez too, particularly How We Operate; some Mogwai both old stuff and new. Mogwai have a very distinctive, occasionally discordant, very compelling sound that is more than ambient.

Speaking of ambience I've discovered Clint Mansell (ex Pop Will Eat Itself) and his film music. Very brooding, atmospheric, orchestral. He wrote the music for The Fountain, Requiem for a Dream, Smokin' Aces, and some of his music appeared in one of the Lord of the Rings films. Lux Aeterna and Dead Reckoning are my two favourite tunes.

To change the tune completely listening to Duffy. That's a great voice, and a style that takes me back to an era I was barely alive in - the era of Dusty Springfield and Cilla Black and Julie London. I grew up with my mum playing that singing and often singing those songs while cooked or did something else. Mercy is a great song, and Rain On Your Parade has an interesting retro styling to it that works. She'll be around for a while to come, and I reckon I'll be listening to her much more than the Beyonces, Mileys and Kylies of this world.

Now Latin! This has a sex vibe, man, get's you cooking. This is by a Spanish band I'd never heard of before and had a lot of trouble tracking down the tune, Manuela by Negritos.

Otherwise, some random Pogues, and would you believe some ELO? Was mucking around with my iTunes and they came up. I loved them when I was a kid I'm unashamed to admit. Much of their music seems very much of that period - the mid to late '70's - but listening to it again today some great music.

Sweet Talkin' Woman has to be one of the most perfect songs of it's ilk. Great hook, great production, just infectious. Then great songs like Mr Blue Sky, Strange Magic, Rockaria, Evil Woman, and a whole lot more. For me this is feel good music.