Tick Tock

A rare political (but brief) rant from Ben:

Later this year, there will be another election.

Australia considers itself a very forward-thinking country.

But how can democracy truly work when residents have to choose the lesser of two evils? When both leaders of the two leading parties STILL consider certain groups to be second-class citizens AND give the old "thumbs up" to the religious community to continue to discriminate against their fellow man, there is definitely something amiss.

I would love to say to politicians four simple words:

"You could be amazing."

I rarely spout out about political stuff as I am shockingly ignorant when it comes to the finer detail, so forgive me.

Ben's next post: something about kittens.

Sprechen Sie Mit Mir*

A good friend of mine wanted to make a concerted effort this year to learn German (we shall call my friend 'D' as he's a bit Internet-shy, bless him - temptation almost makes me want to refer to him as 'Cynthia', but I am simply not that cruel). As it is often better for one's scholarly devotion to be accompanied by a fellow student, I said I'd join him in his venture.

Some people have asked me why I want to learn German and, to be honest, I don't really have a perfectly good reason; but why the hell not, eh?

After all, I do like German cinema, bratwurst, stollen and Moritz Bleibtreu... and although Hitler was an absolute ****, I cannot help but develop crushes on tall, blonde blue-eyed men.

So, armed with our Hugo CDs and guides, we promised each other (D and I) that we would do some 'homework' over the weekend and meet up this week to go through the first chapter together.

Why on Earth does the man on the CD sound slightly Indian?

I thought that I should make an effort for our first night's lesson, so I decided to cook something German for dinner. Gute Idee!

Thank heaven for Google!

I initially searched for German recipes online and came across many mouth-watering delights, but I was very conscious of my own personal "battle of the bulge", so I started again and typed in the three words HEALTHY GERMAN RECIPES.

Well! You can imagine my shock when I found what no-one else on Earth has ever found before... the END of the Internet!

There were no search results, just the following message...

With deep fear of falling off the edge of the Internet, I retraced my steps and played it safe.

I ended up making a German potato salad with onions, bacon & cider vinegar which I served warm alongside some pork schnitzels with a seasoned sour cream sauce over the top. A delicious way to begin the evening, don't you think?

Note that alongside the German guides, there is also a German edition of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, a gift from my friend Chris. I hope "D" didn't think there was a hidden message in this...

The meal went down well, much to my relief, and then the learning could begin.

We sat listening to the first lesson on the CD trying to repeat the various sounds and practised saying the German alphabet over and over.

I think the evening was a great success. We both got the hang of the German alphabet really quickly (so much so, that I found myself reciting it in the old familiar 'Alphabet song' - UK version) and we both get quite a grasp on the different vowel sounds. Admittedly, my ear is not quite as sharp as others, so some sounded the same, but I will learn over time.

If I didn't have someone to do this with, I doubt I would have the discipline to do it on my own. We'll see how the course progresses.

I doubt I will be able to come up with a delicious German meal every week to accompany our endeavours, but I certainly look forward to grasping the language to a point that I can watch Das Experiment with the subtitles off.

* 'Talk To Me' in German! Clever, eh? (Well, only if you CARE about me using songs by Beverley Craven as blog titles...

Fun, Fun, Fun

As I approach this latest blog entry, I am debating heavily as to the structure. I feel as if a non-linear form will make more sense. So, for the time-being, let's pretend I am David Lynch.

Friday morning was the last day I took my anti-depressants. Part of me feels the need to lie and say "I ran out and have to get a new prescription." but as I am a terrible liar (you'll notice me flush, my voice go up two octaves and my toes turn green - the latter only when I am parading barefoot) I find that the truth is easier to reveal despite the recriminations that are heaped upon me immediately afterward. Yes, I cannot deny it; I wanted to come off them.

I know everyone says that you cannot go 'Cold Turkey' with these things (what does that mean, anyway? May I have some hot mash and picked beetroot on the side?) but that's why I planned to do it just before a long weekend. If anything dramatic happened, such as me running berserk around Docklands waving two pork pies and a copy of 'Lady Chatterley's Lover', then I would have enough time to recover. What I wasn't prepared for was the nature of the symptoms. It certainly didn't involve semi-erotic literature or pastry covered snacks with jelly linings.

This weekend, I have experienced the following:

* Vertigo

* Diarrhoea

* Dermal Itchiness

* Brain Shudders

* The feeling similar to having drunk 18 tequilas and a pint of Red Bull.

Not only did I endure these physical symptoms, but I also had dreams bordering on the lunatic. There was a full moon this weekend, but I see that as a mere coincidence. My dreams were long epics attached to more epics followed by further epics; all with seemingly decent story-lines, albeit laced with surreal plot twists and the occasional Non Sequitur juxtaposed with random sexual imagery. (See why I am thinking "Lynch"?)

Anyway, with all this in mind, I have made an appointment to see my (beautiful) doctor tomorrow afternoon.

(I wish...)

Now... let's jump back a step or two and see why I wanted to come off the anti-depressants...

Firstly, there was the number one issue. I didn't actually feel that different to when I began the course way back in August.

Secondly, I was developing some horrible side-effects!

* Unreasonable Sweatiness

* Decreased Libido (not that that should be a huge issue *sulks*)

* Tremendous Weight Gain

* Extreme Tiredness BUT... with:

* Insomnia to boot.

Aren't anti-depressants supposed to make you feel better? I had to buy NEW CLOTHES for God's sake! I am not a woman. Nor am I a particularly good homosexual. I don't LIKE buying clothes. The one thing more boring and awkward than buying clothes is going shoe shopping with a woman!

"Please, please don't write in saying that's sexist... it's not." (Thank you Alan Partridge!)

The only clothes I ever like to buy are retro 1940s style suits with two-tone shoes and snazzy braces. Not exactly the formal wear for a rotund mutant walrus whose pit-stains could put out bush fires.

Before I go on, let's step back again to discover why I was on anti-depressants in the first place:

* I was living in Brooklyn, Victoria. Imagine where Satan would go to commit suicide.

* Low self-esteem

* Lack of self-worth

* Lack of decent finances

* Hatred of my physical form

Now, with those in mind, can anyone see how the side-effects of the pills would make me feel any way better?

NO! I thought not. If my body becomes more hideous and I have to spend money on clothes in order to go out in public, then I am not exactly going to be a happy little bunny!

If you have managed to hack your way through the jungle of tirades, lists and garbled analogies to this point, I congratulate you. I expect at this juncture, you would like a conclusion! Well, hold onto your perky bobble-hats, my friends, for here it comes...

I don't think medication is for me. (Why can I hear raucous laughter?)

What I need is good friends, a bit more exercise and a couple of million dollars. That's all!! Not too much to ask, right?

I shall ask my doctor about all that tomorrow.

If not, I'll settle for a hug

So, that's my story. Opening myself up and putting my heart on my sleeve. It's what I'm good at.

Some people don't like me sharing in this bloggy manner, but I find it deeply therapeutic. I guess it's the theatrical side of me acting as my defence mechanism.

Ta-Da!

Afraid of Letting Go

This morning at work we received a notification from our HR department (I beg your pardon... "The People Team". Yes, seriously...) regarding a certain health and safety issue. It read:

After conducting an audit it is concerning to note that only a third of employees are holding onto the handrail when walking up and down the stairs. This is to ensure your own safety and the safety of others in the building. Please be reminded that all employees when walking up and down the stairs must hold the handrail. If you are unable to hold the handrail please use the lift.

My first reaction was "What the Fuck?" and then a feeling of despair crept across my mind. Then, once I shook off the depression, I became a little bit angry due to the whole 'conducting an audit' bit. Seriously? Has someone been watching our every move? Friends may have heard me say it before, but I like to say "The devil makes work for idle hands... so he created HR."

(I should point out that the people within our HR team are actually quite lovely - I am criticising the world in which we live, not the individuals...)

Going through the emotions, I eventually arrived at incredulity and amusement. I spent the morning clinging on to things melodramatically, cheering when I arrived at the bottom of the stairs unharmed and then sending amusing pictures of people falling down stairs by email to my friends and colleagues.

Maybe they should supply us with grappling hooks and harnesses.

I never want to be the person who writes on the comments section for online newspapers with cries of "Political correctness gone mad!" or "Nanny state!", but I do worry... I worry that the human race has become so obsessed with pseudo-precious legalities, molly-coddling the over-sensitive and protecting the morons. It makes me think of one of Edina Monsoon's rants:

"...we're not all stupid! We don't all need nurse-maiding. I mean, why not just have a Stupidity Tax? Just tax the stupid people!"

Although Edina is an absurd comic caricature, she makes a bloody fine point.

Just this last week there was an article in the news about a man who was told to change his T-shirt on an aeroplane because it was worrying other passengers. It read the immortal line:

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die."

IF this poor chap WAS a terrorist, I doubt he'd be advertising it on his T-shirt.

The media is incredibly guilty of creating this panic-striken society with its sensationalist headlines and fear-mongering articles - all for the purpose of ratings or sales. We've all been witness to those current affair shows which try to make us believe that everybody else is out to get us. Every man in the park is a paedophile. Every foreigner is a crook. Every teenager is a thug.

Oh, I seem to be digressing again! Sorry about that.

To summarise: Dear world, please stop patronising us. We're not uncoordinated, gullible morons. Thanks.

Footnote. To cover my OWN backside, I ought to put some sort of disclaimer saying "These are the thoughts, rants and mutterings of Ben Ripley and are not shared by this, that or the other, waffle, waffle, waffle." Oh, get a grip, people!

Hope

So, this is what 2013 looks like? Fancy.

Yesterday, I wrote my blog summing up the previous year (as I have fallen into the habit of doing so, ever since I started this jolly little blogventure) and it is fair to say that there was a lot of grumbling and moaning. This post has more of a positive leaning. start as we mean to go on, right? "What-o!" and "Chin up!" etc.

Let's look towards a new year of possibilities, changes and experiences...

#1. I hope Fizzgig gets better soon. She did turn twelve a few months ago, so she is no spring chicken (or spring cat) but I do worry about her compulsive licking. It has been nice spending a lot of quality time with her over the past week, but I worry that when I return to work full time, she may become distressed again.

#2. I hope something good happens for me financially during the next year. Sure, a lottery win would be just perfect right now, but I wouldn't say no to a job with better pay. Not the easiest thing to obtain in these current economical climates, but I can try to keep an eye out for something.

#3. I hope I can lose this bloomin' weight. As I live so close to work, I no longer walk for an hour and a half there and back each day - unless I took the really LONG way around. The walks I used to do between balaclava and Camberwell certainly helped me to shed the kilos previously. I am useless with gyms as I am so self-conscious and paranoid that I am terrified that people are watching and judging whilst thinking "That's right, keep jogging, fatty!". I will try to eat less, drink less and walk more. I feel gross at the moment.

#4. I hope I can eventually find love. I have been single for eight years and I know I am not Quasimodo's uglier twin brother, so I don't quite know why I continually fail to attract the right gentlemen - or even the wrong ones for that matter. I am deeply flawed, but I expect there is somebody out there who is astonishingly tolerant and caring (and hopefully look like Ryan Kwanten, Joe Manganiello, Philip Olivier, Lee Pace or Danny Bhoy.)

#5. I hope I have a great time when Mum comes out to visit. (I know I will, I just thought I'd throw it in here!)

#6. I hope I can somehow manage to get back to England at the end of the year for my brother's wedding!

#7. I hope my friends have a much less stressful time than last year. It seems like 2012 was behaving like a frustrated middle child and seeking attention by kicking and screaming.

There. That's a fair bit of hope. Bring it on, 2013!

P.S. Having written a number of posts using Kirsty MacColl song titles and then Swing Out Sister song titles, I am now moving on to Beverley Craven song titles.

That's the Way it Goes

I stare at my keyboard wondering where I ought to begin. Maybe with an apology for not updating since April! Well, an awful lot of things have happened this year that have steered me away from blogging for a while. I lost my impetus and focus. Let's hope I get that mojo back in the upcoming year.

The curtain is falling on the show that was 2012. For a lot of people I know, I can't imagine a standing ovation from the audience as it did not live up to the promise of the hype.

This is not going to be the most entertaining post as I will be writing about some negative aspects of the year initially. You may want to skip. It's just therapeutic for me...

The beginning of the year saw me lose a lot of weight - I got down to 77kgs - however, it was not all due to walking and weight-watcher frozen meals, alas. No, stress was a factor. My weight is often affected by stress. I can either react by binging on food or do the complete opposite. I thought the weight loss was a good thing, but a number of people told me I looked ill. The stress came from a friendship that deteriorated and died and ultimately made me question myself, my behaviour and my demeanour. Having said that, I had great support from other friends who encouraged me to realise that I was, actually, quite a decent person. I thank them all for that. Enough on that subject as I could easily go into greater detail and regret it later. (one day, maybe...)

Look at me when I was skinnier!

Secondly, as reported earlier in the year, I had to move out of my lovely apartment having lived there for eight years. I moved out almost eight years to the day that I moved in. This move was one of my biggest mistakes. I moved to an area called Brooklyn (no, not that one!) and, despite being a large house with a garden, it was a nightmare. The locale was an absolute dive with drug deals on the street corner, fights on the buses and burglaries de rigueur. Each night on my way home from work I would be worried about being stabbed on the bus or find my home invaded. Once again, I was stressed, but this time I began binging. During the Australian winter, I managed to stack on the weight I had lost the previous summer and a little bit more for extra comfort.

I went to see my doctor when I was feeling extraordinarily low and he prescribed me some anti-depressants. The first batch didn't work and just turned my palms into sweat sprinklers. We changed to a stronger medication which dried up my hands (that wasn't attractive!) but my body soon became used to them.

If this wasn't all stressful enough, work decided to move offices. The location wasn't a huge problem with me, but the whole 'Open Plan' aspect made me deeply unhappy. Cries of "You'll Adapt!" on numerous occasions did nothing to allay my fears and it seemed that very few people gave a crap about how this change would affect me. 'Open Plan', I believe, is a nasty trend that some evil bastard/bitch in HR once came up with and every company decided to leap onto the bandwagon because a pamphlet was once written saying that it increased work productivity. I say bollocks to that. It may do for some businesses, but one glass slipper doesn't fit every foot. We are a publishing industry where people need privacy, quiet and focus. But who am I to say? Anyway, the move happened and I have become tense again. Rant over.

Me in my Old Office...

My New Office "Space"...

Anyway... When my (beautiful) doctor saw the state I was in and I explained my situation, he not only prescribed the drugs, but also suggested I move again. I took his advice and immediately went out to find a pet-friendly, secure apartment in the city - bugger the cost. Eight weeks after moving to Brooklyn, I moved out. I found an apartment in the city which was asking twice the price in rent, but I knew I would be safe and happy.

Then, once I felt settled and the work and home moves were complete, I received some more bad news. My aunt Jane had passed away. It was very sudden and deeply shocking. I felt so distant from my family. When my grandfather died, it was very sad, but it was not unexpected. Losing Jane was an intense feeling. I simply could not afford to return home for the funeral and that made me feel worse. However, the support and contact I had from my family was incredible. They kept in daily contact by either phone or email and the planet did not seem quite so large for that period.

During this turbulent time, Fizzgig (my beautiful baby girl) developed a nasty rash on her back and she began licking it to the point of bleeding. Once the infection cleared up, she continued to attack the area compulsively. She has been on a variety of medications and calming influences, but she is still not completely back to normal. It has been costly and stressful, poor baby. :(

My beautiful girl...

Also during the year, I felt myself become a little detached from some of my friends and I can only hope that these problems are merely temporary. We shall see.

OK. Enough of the doom and gloom! If you have been skipping, you can stop and rejoin the party!

Let's take a look at some of the highlights of 2012...

At the beginning of the year, my Aunt Jane and her partner Nigel came to visit and we went on a fabulous wine tour. This was the last time I saw her, but it gave me such marvellous memories.

I may have lost a couple of friends along the way, but I have made a number of new ones through work or through play. I have been far more sociable than I have ever been before. I have to keep an eye on this new habit as it whacks me hard on the wallet.

The double move did see me having a massive clear-out. I hired a skip and chucked out a lot of junk I had been hoarding for so many years. It was incredibly cleansing for my soul.

One of the best things about 2012 was the birth of my friend Nola's baby, Reid. This joy came at a price, it meant maternity leave took her away from being my colleague, but I am so happy for her.

This picture was taken on her last day at the office - look how thin I was! Gosh!

...and this is me with baby Reid!

As ever, I spent a lot of time reading various books for work and for pleasure and I watched a lot of films and TV shows (not a lot changes).

The Walking Dead continued to impress. We said goodbye to the grand dames of Wisteria Lane in Desperate Housewives and welcomed new characters to community service in Misfits. Doctor Who improved slightly after last year's garbage season, but not quite as well as I had hoped. I have higher hopes now that the Ponds have vacated the TARDIS...

I have seen some good films, but my two favourites of the year have to be The Artist and Skyfall.

My favourite book of the year has to be This is Life by Dan Rhodes.

So, in less than 12 hours, 2013 will be upon us! Will I be able to make the changes in my life that I failed to achieve due to various circumstances during 2012?

I am currently at a shocking 92kgs. That is the heaviest I have EVER been. I simply have to lose the weight. I am going to eat less and exercise more. (Edina: "If it was that simple, everybody would be doing it!")

As for work..? Well, who can say. There are changes a-coming and they may affect me without me able to stop it. That's the way it goes... Where's that bloody windfall, eh? Come on lottery, help me out.

Goodbye, 2012! You were a bit shit. At least the world didn't end though.

Making the Right Move

Once again, I must apologise for my lackadaisical approach to my blog of late. To be fair, I am sure no one has been holding their breath or going on a hunger strike until the next post came along, but I still feel the need to apologise.

Before I get to the crux of the matter, I think I ought to just go back a few weeks to fill you in on a few odds and ends.

Firstly, I had been through a rather stressful time at the earlier part of this year - something I shan't go into as I respect that it involves others and to discuss it in such an open forum would be distasteful (albeit, wonderfully cathartic!) Suffice to say, I lost weight, was on medication and back seeing a psychologist in order to sort out this silly old brain of mine. Sometimes I think my head is filled with sentient neurotic kapok rather than actual brain tissue. Anyway, struggling to get back to my normal routine and try to relax again, I decided to have a week off over Easter. Well, I had a lovely time! I was baking (lemon drizzle cake, various pies or creating ultra-strength salsa) and taking trips to see friends.

Firstly, the Thursday night I 'broke up from work', I caught up with my friend Tim (who is an amazing artist - he has an exhibition soon - I'll have to tell you about that later!) and we had fun playing with my marble-run (as you do) and watching Clue and The Last of Sheila (two of my favourite films ever.

Here's Tim going back to his childhood... Sorry about the old red-eye, Tim!

Good Friday, I caught up with some old friends and met some new ones at a lovely picnic in the Botanical Gardens, Melbourne.

(Lovely Old Friends)

(Lovely New Friends)

On the Saturday, I was nursing a mild hangover for the majority of the day but I still made a lovely Lemon Drizzle Cake for two of my best friends, Rohan & Vanessa, who came over that evening to hang out, eat and have a laugh.

(I can never get these cakes to rise in the middle - still, it was very yummy.)

The following Tuesday, I went up to Shepparton (four and a half hours on a coach, thank you very much) to see some friends...

...and one of my accounts from work, Collins Booksellers on Maude Street. (That's me in between Helen and Joe, grinning like a fool)

I caught up with my dear friend Nola and met her baby boy for the first time and, oddly, I was quite good at soothing the little blighter with the aid of the Mary Poppins soundtrack. (And don't worry, his head isn't about to fall off, he was only stretching)

Friday was another baking day and I had my dear friends Adam & Louise over for nachos, rhubarb pie and the last two episodes of the wonderful Pushing Daisies.

Now, I am not superstitious. Never have been, never will be (touch wood) *boom-tish* - But it was on this very evening - FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH - that I received a telephone call from my landlady...

Yes, after eight lovely years of living in my wonderful, safe and ridiculously economical apartment, my landlady needs the place back. This came as quite a shock to me as I had this lovely neat little plan laid out. I was going to pay off some more debts, try and find a new job and then start to save up and eventually buy some property of my own - preferably by the time I am 40 (*laughs* then *sighs*)

These plans went out of the window; riven from me like a sacrificial baby from its soul-baring mother's side. It took a while for the horror (yes, a bit of hyperbole used here and I am well aware that there are people being tortured in dark cellars or being forced to watch Adam Sandler movies somewhere in the world, but all problems are relative, right? OK...) to sink in. I was grief-striken, dazed and somewhat unhinged.

Luckily, Adam & Louise were there with me to help ease the burden of the weight of the news and, as always, they kept me sane. However, I still had a lot of thinking to do and a lot of stress suddenly seared through my body like lava spewing from a volcano - only in reverse and, perhaps, a little less dramatic.

I had already planned a trip to Malmsbury that weekend to see my friend Mike and have dinner with Alexandra Tynan (AKA Sandra Reid), a woman who worked as a costume designer on Doctor Who back in the Sixties and basically designed the original Cybermen. OBVIOUSLY, I still went. I had met Alexandra before and we got on incredibly well, so when she suggested to Mike we got together for dinner, who was I to refuse?

So, off I went to Malmsbury and had a lovely weekend staying at Mike's beautiful home and having a superb dinner at a Turkish restaurant, Mr Carsisi in the nearby town of Kyneton.

Mike's beautiful home...

Malmsbury just being beautiful...

Me and Alexandra.

My lovely weekend was marred by this stress hanging over my head - not exactly the Sword of Damocles but maybe the Butter-knife of St Joseph.

Since then, my mind has been weighted heavily to one side, giving me an awkward look of someone perplexed. I have tried to focus on my work since returning to the job, but I have ultimately been distracted. I have scoured the Internet real-estate sites, visited a few possible properties and asked favours from a number of friends who are on the look-out for me.

Estate Agents are liars. Just like all sales people (*knowing wink to the audience*) they are full of bullshit. "Cosy" means "fucking tiny!" - "Refurbished" means "painted over the cracks" - "Spacious" means "We forgot to put up walls". It reminds me of an old Victoria Wood routine (most things do) where she says; "...they disguised a damp cellar by putting in a diving board and a changing room..."

The worst thing of all - and I really mean the worst - is getting all excited about a potential property only to come across the three deadly words of Satan: STRICTLY NO PETS!

Oh, for Bonnie Langford's sake; PEOPLE HAVE PETS! That's the nature of society. Especially for those lonely old buggers like me who repel other humans like Body Shop Ananya Perfume Oil (seriously girls, stop wearing it - it's GHASTLY! - Like garlic to vampires!)

Fizzgig is THE most important thing in my life. If she can't come with me, then I'll live on the bloody street with a pet-carrier. For crying out loud, it's not like she's going to be climbing up the curtains. With her body weight, she has enough trouble jumping onto the bed! (Bless her)

Anyway... that's the situation. I am looking to make the right move. Trying to find the right location, the right space and the right price. It's really not as easy as one would hope.

Wish me luck, everyone, for both me and Fizzgig...