Countdown

You know how people divide reality up into little, easily managable chunks? Geography splits up the political world, political tries to pretend like no-one can sit in the middle-ground between socialism and capitalism, and then all the politicians flood there.

The most common one, though, is time. People break down jobs into small chunks, telling themselves they're half-way through this bit, call it two-thirds, so give it another hour and I'll be finished into the corner, and that'll be the job done... etc.

Well, I'm starting that. It's the little things, but... 'I only have to sit in the Gosport Rush Hour Exodus 12 more times'.

That's right, May 9th is approaching rapidly, at which point I move off the peninsula, and into a new house.

Normal service will, of course, not likely resume any time soon after that :)

Long Time, No See

OK, so it's been even more than six months this time... and yet it doesn't seem like it.

Lots has happened, and nothing's happened... nothing changes, despite all the bits and pieces, you know? We're moving, next month (9th) and we're taking the f*~?ing dog with us.

Yes, we got a dog. It wasn't exactly behind my back, but I wasn't overjoyed at the prospect, and my reluctance has been proven right. It's past the pissing and shitting on the floor stage (largely), and even past the chewing things up (generally) stage; but it still stinks, and the house stinks with it. It lies on you when you're trying to relax, drops on the lead for the playstation controller just as you approach the corkscrew at Laguna Seca, sticks its wet nose on your thigh as you typing late at night... it's just a complete pain in the arse, and I despise it with the sort of passion I typically reserve for SS Concentration Camp commandants.

That out the way... I've gotten back to roleplayinggames.net (Woohoo!) and got in touch with some old friends (Sid, Molly, Chris, Bonedust... too many, too good). I've still not finished Judgements/Re-evaluation (it's getting closer, really!) but I have finished Light and Dark... and not yet started the sequel.

I've ventured into the shallow waters on the coast of MySpace and Facebook, but it was vast and cold and deep and I don't have any water-wings, so I'm just staying by the shore and paddling until someone comes to pick me up :)

So, what's this for? Because, let's face it, no-one really cares about any of this. I resolve to write here at least once every three days. Why? I don't know.

I need to write, regularly, if I'm to get any better at dealing with the sort of malaise that's made writing Judgements take nearly three years now, and this is one way to do it, I suppose.

More to come... either in three days, or in six months.

Dog's Dinner

So, Mrs Muse wants to get a dog.
She spends all day at home during the week while I work and the kids are at school, so it'd be company for her, but that's not her primary motivation.

See, she's seen tv and news reports about the wonderful way some autistic kids react to dogs. I've seen them too, there are some amazing transformations, and I'd love to see the kids reacting that well.

But there're no guarantees, and too many costs.

See, it's not just their house, it's mine too, and I couldn't live with a dog. They smell, and they shed hair everywhere, and the dribble on you, and they shit on the carpets... I try to look at it as a balance of the benefit to the kids against the inconveniences of having a dog, but I know myself better than that.

I have to look at it as a balance between me being there for the kids or the dog being there for the kids, and I hope they're better off for me than for Fido.

I hope.

So, writing's been slow this week, because I've been working on something a little different. I don't know what it was that inspired me, but I've been putting a little web-comic together.

It's not the world's best, but it's a little bit off the wall, I think. If you'd like to take a look, here it is http://www.geocities.com/moghal_steve/squirm/squirm1.html.

Potential Costs

M27/A3 junction this morning - 50 mph limit as there's roadworks, and all the lanes have been narrowed, and some foreign trucker lane-wandered into my nearside wing mirror. Lovely.

Don't know what it's going to take to fix it, as it's chucking it down here, and I don't want to annoy myself even more by standing out in the rain to find out - the mirror's not cracked, but whole unit's hanging in pieces from the wires at the moment.

Great start to the day.

And another six months goes by, and another chunk in which lot's has happened that seems reasonably trivial on reflection.

The kids continue to be kids, although their clothes have changed. Work continues, life, generally, continues.

Last year of OU study has begun, and a degree awaits. The project isn't going, perhaps, as well as it might, but if I don't pass that I can opt for an unnamed, non-honours degree. It would be a shame, but it's a comforting thought when I get the poor marks back.

Work continues to be work - involved and often busy, and still a fairly steep learning curve, but I'm beginning to get on top of it. I've (we've) passed our ISO9000 audit, which was fairly easy, and an APACS and two VISA audits - more tricky. The big one, though, is coming in August - MasterCard!!!

And writing's taken off. I finished 'Light and Dark', which snuck up on me suddenly, and I'm working on getting to the end of Judgements now - which is going well. Don't know where I'm going to go from there, we'll have to see.

Germany

Wrote this on Friday, finally got around to posting it today.

So, work took me to Germany today. I’ve been here before – the same town, even, Gutersloh – but I was only seventeen back then, and I flew by military transport to a British military base, and then back again. Not exactly immersed in German culture.

Europe’s big on standardisation, trying to get everyone following similar sets of rules for everything from border controls to allowable curvature of bananas (once upon a time). So it’s always slightly frustrating to get somewhere and realise that they don’t use three-point plugs for electricity. Everything here’s waiting for someone to plug a razor into it, it’s mental.

And then I think – but they only have one system. And it’s the same system I saw in Denmark last week, and in Poland a few months ago… but we use these plugs for razors, and other plugs for other electrical items. Maybe that’s mental.

Anyway, drove through (literally) a wind-farm on the way here from Dortmund. Technically they’re fantastic, of course, and eco-friendly. I keep reading reports from people saying that they’re a blight and an eyesore, and we shouldn’t have them – generally got the feeling they were nimbys, but I’d never seen a load of them in one place to say. There was one in Denmark, last week, actually, but only one. This was a genuine farm.

My instinct has always been to think of people who’d want to go see the Dutch windmills, but wouldn’t want to see these, much the same as they’d quite fancy a steam-railway past their back garden, but not a diesel electric one.

I was right, they look fantastic. Graceful, quiet, sleek style. No belching fumes, no constant scurrying activity to keep it fed, just silent service in steel.

And then, on the taxi ride in, there was a tank. A German tank. On a German military low-loader. Fair enough, you think, it’s Germany after all.

And yet I couldn’t help but think of German tanks plowing down the road, Russians and Americans and British on their heels, making headway towards the fall of Berlin. We’re three-hundred miles from Berlin, sixty years too late (fifty, if you’re French) and it’s being towed by a truck. My heartbeat went up, though, and although it wasn’t panic I was aware of the tank, in a way I’d not been aware of anything else since I’d landed.

It’s almost like I’ve been conditioned through child-hood to fear German war machinery – all those films as a kid, all the tales of war on the television and on video, from the Sullivans (which was Australian, after all) to Where Eagles Dare. I’ve always thought of myself as rational – I still do – but part of that has to be making sure that I’m aware of when sometimes things provoke an irrational response.

And the welcome from the Germans who are running the factory I’m visiting has put my mind to rest on that count – open, friendly, welcoming, and their English is so much better than my German.
Danke Schon, Deutschland. Tchuss.

Quiet Day

A quiet day. So why am I posting? Habit, I want to start posting regularly and - if possible - frequently.

Mrs Moghal made cakes yesterday with the kids - it's half-term - we sat as a family and played games consoles last night... all in all, it was a picture of domestic mediocrity, and I don't get to say that very often.

I did make something of a start on my OU project, reading up on project management and what to chose as a report topic, so I'm on my way now.

M.

TV induced autism

Listening to the news on the radio this morning, and it appears that watching television is even worse for you than they thought - not only can it cause obesity and low IQ, but it can also apparently cause Autism.

Now, I could be a cynic, but I never saw how watching television could cause obesity. Surely, obesity is caused by having an energy input significantly larger than your energy output, and sufficient fats or oils in that input to store? No? Now, watching television can certainly contribute to the sort of sedentary lifestyle that leads to obesity, but that's a situational link - if kids sit on their beds and read all day we'll have the same effect, but no-one's going to allege that books cause obesity (unless you eat them, maybe?)

Low IQ? Isn't that more an indictment of the quality of programming rather than the mode? If all you let kids read is comics and Sun newspapers, they're going to be stunted too. Improve the quality of children's TV, encourage them to think a little, and low IQ will be less of a problem.

It's the last one, though, that really gets my goat. TV causes autism? Really? Now, sitting at home glued to the boob-tube might stunt kids socially, but that's a far cry from making them autistic. Autism is an inability to interact in a common social fashion, not a lack of experience in doing so. As well accuse television of causing paralysis, because some kids that watch TV a lot can't run very well. Autism's a mental condition, a psychological state from birth to death, not the upshot of pasty-faced lethargic blob-children who stuff their face on crisps because their parents leave them to be raised by proxy and Pokemon.

Taking stock

I've been in a bit of a funk for about a week, now, what with a number of little things. Nothing like last year, thankfully, nothing that significant - which just made it all the more irritating. Work sent me to Denmark on Valentine's Day, which ended up being a complete waste of time, I've not really made any significant impact on my university work for this year, yet, and my writing's been slipping lately as well.

So I sat in a dim, rather depressing hotel room in Billund and took stock. I teach kids once a week - nothing spectacular, more supervision than direct teaching, but they enjoy it, and it gets them working out. It's good stuff.

I write, and (literally) hundreds of people are waiting for the next chapter. Would they pay me for it, maybe not, but they're willing to write a note and let me know they're waiting. Presumably, then, it's good stuff.

I got my university results back from last year, another pass. Not as spectacular a result as other years, but for having come through a cancer scare to get it - and passing on my own merit, not needing a concession to do it - I'm happy; it's good stuff.

I have a reasonable job, I suppose. Not thrilling, but something of a challenge, even if I'm not honestly putting as much into as I could (and should). More importantly, to me, I earn well. In 2002 the average wage in Britain was £23,607. * Figure four years of inflation takes that to somewhere around £25,000 (probably). I'm doing better than that. It's good.

In fact, on balance, I'm pretty bloody good. I'm faithful to my wife, we bring up two challenging kids to be happy and the 'experts' tell us they're advancing better than most - most of that is the kids, of course, but we give them an environment to thrive in. Frankly, I'm pretty damned good.

I feel better now. It is good.


* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Average_worker%27s_wage