Some of my best thoughts and revelations occur, like I suspect most people in the shower...which might explain why I have often been tempted to put in a waterproof board and some wax pens so I can actually remember these deep-insights* without the need for nakedness, shampoo and soap. (Not that such things are often a bad thing ~grin~)

All of the Blokes of the Pub now, or will soon, reside once more in Asia: 40% of them are married to women of this region, one is getting married soon which life the percent closer to 65% and another is about to make his home in Shanghai (returning to this part of the world after a hiatus elsewhere), and one is too old to get married and anyway his wife won't let him...mmm.

Not a very deep-insight I grant you, but something I had never really considered before, and given that I am in denial as to my own attraction to the charms of the little lotus flowers ~grin~......I had admit it gave me pause, mid shampoo scrub to think, to ponder, and laugh...

Is it simply a matter of geographic demographics? Or is it something else? (thinking, although it cannot be proven, may be occurring at this point as I type...may be? ~grin~)

Either way, I had to laugh when I watched this. (my first Video link**)

* We all know that the moment we get to a state in which we are dry enough to either allow fingers to fly across the keyboard or to utilise pen and paper without either electrocuting ourselves or creating a soggy mess the thought will have vanished in a haze of drying.

** The sure sing of a blog that is dying is an increase in links that feature Youtube/Google video files, the blogger having found an actual life is attempting to live it while remaining loyal to readers and so straddles the fence with increasing inane and "fluff" posts in attempt to placate all and appear that they have not altered their online connection...what usually happens is they get a splinter in the arse and the Blog dies anyway.***

*** No, this is not an indicator that I will be disappearing from this space, but I do confess to being actively engaged in a new activity that is stifling the depressive creative writing gene...its called living, and I am currently enjoying it. ~grin~

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Some Very Big Bones

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Shower Realisations, Yellow Fever

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

It's interesting - girls reactions to other girls. I wonder if young boys have such a relationship with males in the public eye. Apart from Daddy, do boys idolise other men while growing up? Do they want to grow up to look like another man, say Justin Timberlake or The Rock?
- M asked

Justin Timberlake...erm...No. Justin Timberlake writhing around onscreen with Scarlet Johansen...Yes.

Prior to certain teen years all boys really think about are trucks, guns, hitting things, having fun, breaking things, building stuff, making noise, sports, friends and are generally too busy with the actual task of growing up to actually idolise any one individual. Sure we project movie star roles into and onto the games we play* but as far as adoration goes it is limited to those males in our immediate sphere or those cats in roles we think are cool. Thus at that age we still think fondly of policemen, we love the idea of being a fireman, the army looks cool and after Top Gun we all wanted to be Tom Cruise but only so we could fly jets really fast** and of course being an Astronaut*** is of course the best (think: Han Solo and it had nothing to do with Leia and everything to do with "the hunk of junk")

After the deepening of the voice the sprouting of body hair and the dropping of the scrotum boys still don't really idolise other men in so far as we wish to be them, we do however feel very envious of their ability to either get, or have women we find ideal. Interestingly this is something that probably never changes...the jealous twinge when we acknowledge the desirability in another mans partner, is something that all men,in time, learn to control, we do not how ever (I think) master it, since it is always there...we look at another guy and wonder "how did he get so lucky?" or defensively "what does she see in him?" while also acknowledging that "they make a good couple" and that "she would be better with us" ~grin~ But then envy is a bit muddled up like that.

Also during this period and even into later manhood, we don't so much as "worship" a man per se, but I think we often admire or rather aspire to certain characteristics that are exhibited by men around us or witnessed...the sad thing here, is that once these influences were real, they were our fathers, our uncles, the guy down the road or across the street...but today this doesn't happen, single parent families, geographically isolated communities and a fear of "strangers" has locked boys inside and now they grow up with the electronic babysitter, lost on a server in WoW or observing male rituals from TV shows/movies designed to make money and with no care of the lessons they impart to us...

Take Lost: Is the lessen that to get the girl (the prize in many an adolescent and even adult male life) one should aspire to lead, to help, to guard life as per Jack, or to take from others, to free-load and to skirt the law like Sawyer? I think we all know that while Kate feels drawn to Jack, its Sawyer that gets her g-string in a twist.

I think...that men, as they are making the transition (if they ever do) from boy to man do not so much admire other men and aspire to be like them but rather, look askance on other men and count their qualities that we do not wish to posses.

We do not see their virtues and desire them, we see their flaws and desire not to have them.

* Which means all cowboy games include at least one Clint Eastwood and at least one John Wayne. ~grin~
** Years later we saw Risky Business and we all wanted to be Tom for a completely different reason, can we all say after me: Rebbecca DeMornay ~yum~
*** It was a sad day in 1982 when I realised that the sad reality that Australia did not have a Space Program and short of defecting and becoming Russian I was never going to get into space, that this was a realm jealously guarded and reserved for Americans.

Note: I know Top Gun came out after Risky Business, but thats only true if you count in years rather than audience maturation and the all important puberty. ~grin~

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: From The Red Book

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, On Being A Man, Men, Wisdom

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 12 comment(s)

Tucked away on the side of a pseudo mountain (ie: big hill) in the leafy northern suburbs of my nations capital only a stones throw from the War Memorial is a little campus in which all the students carry guns. This very selective college was where, for no other reason than it seemed like a good idea at the time, a young Indiana barely able to shave toddled off when the powers to be in his state felt that he had done enough to graduate from High School.

The first two things, forced into his mind and memory were this:

1. You NEVER EVER jack on your mates. And,
2. "The battle of Kokoda took place over the rugged Kokoda Trail during the period July-November 1942. The initial Japanese advance from Buna on the north coast of New Guinea surprised the Australians who were forced to fight a difficult withdrawal over the Kokoda Trail to Imita Ridge (48 kilometres from Port Moresby). At this point, the Australians took the offensive and forced the resisting Japanese back over the Trail to Buna."

The time between then and now is quite large if measured in years, but in all that time and distance I still remember those two very important things. And as those at home wake to remember those fallen to give us that which we have and hold dear, I too will take pause and recall those brothers I knew while under arms.

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Memories of those who had gone before

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, ANZAC, Remembrance

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 2 comment(s)

she said yes date
[ google results here | results led here ]

Don't you just hate it when they do that...I mean the nerve of some women for actually yes to spending some little one on one tie with you? ~grin~

Ok take a good hard long look in the mirror...look for longer...nope longer then that...she said yes to a date with you, that means one of two things:

1. She is a conniving scheming gold digging free-loader,or
2. She really likes you.

Fortunately the number of women with membership to the first club is very small, unfortunately there are even less with membership to the second group. ~grin~ But still given that you took a long look in the mirror and you still can't see the reason or logic behind her saying yes, I want you to point your eyes in the direction in which you believe your maker resides and give thanks, because somehow this woman has seen something you and the rest of us can't. Hint: They do this all the time*...usually while giving you a knowing smile.

But I will assume that this reader was more interested in what steps he should take now...and for that I have only one piece of advice...

She likes you...from this point on all you can do is fuck it up. And you will fuck it up...but hopefully, maybe, given the right advice and her level of like you might only fuck it up a little bit and not completely and totally, which is the more usual option exercised by most men.

So here is Indy's First Date Strategy, your goal is simple, to put her sufficiently at ease, to make her laugh, to let her enjoy herself so that at the end of the date the thought of seeing you again is not one that makes her physically ill, and possibly one she looks forward towards, there are only 5 rules, they are non-negotiable...pay attention, there might be a test.

Groom. If dinner make reservations, if drinks, know the nearest good places to eat. Ask questions. Focus only on her, not the waitress. Ask more questions.

See isn't that easy. Now go and most importantly have fun. Oh and one (ok two) last things, don't get drunk, and if you like her back, don't fuck her on the first date, the second is ok, but not the first, but by all means kiss her...in fact kissing her is encouraged. ~grin~

* Secretly I think its because they like to see us confused and unsure of ourselves.

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed:The Next Scene

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Wisdom, Questions & Answers

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 8 comment(s)

"wala wala" blogspot g-string
[ google results here | search led here ]

While I have often been to, and can often be seen enjoy a quiet bevy or three in that socially respected enclave known as Wala Wala (or “The gutter" as E@L refers to it), and given that the female fashion often on display and worn with such ease would suggest that the presence of g-strings is not just the stuff of legend but is in fact, fact, I can clearly see why this search may have resulted in a “hit” to my little corner of the web.

But until it was pointed out to me on Saturday night I was not really aware that my sacred watering hole was actually a den for bloggers, and that many of this counter sub-culture gather there to regale each other with tales of daring-do and to imbibe cooling ales, and tasty (if somewhat fattening) deep fried concoctions.*

So I guess now it all makes sense, in a twisted mathematical search algorithm kind of way…but then if one gives it some serious thought, as opposed to a passing flight of synapse fueled whimsy, doesn’t everything? ~grin~

* I recommend the deep-fried cheese filled Jalapeños.

what does it mean if he hides a platonic friendship?
[ google results here | search led here ]

Erm…well basically it means it’s not platonic, or rather probably not as platonic as he, and quite possibly she, would really like it to be. ~grin~

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Your Mummy? ~grin~

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Wisdom, Questions & Answers

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 4 comment(s)

There really is something about the taut expanse of tanned skin revealed from between the ending of a crop top and the beginning of a low slung pair of shorts that just makes you want to touch...to pull the owner, whose dedicated hard work has sculptured such a toned area, towards you, to feel your hand on the area, while with the other you cradle the small of her back and crush your mouth to hers, tongues entwining, passionately dragging a moan of increased arousal from between her lips...feeling her sag from tension now relaxed as she gives into the kiss and the moment.

FUCK ! (and yes it deserves the capitalisation)

I really need to find a new place to workout, before my imagination leads to an embarrassing situation ~grin~ And while it helps pass the time while doing cardio...I just know that the quickly thrown smile in my direction was because, yes, she really could read my mind...

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Template Envy

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, The Gym, Fit Women, Imagination

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 9 comment(s)

...being a little, and a not so little kid:

Lego.

I remember them as being mostly red, bricks, for the simple reason that a Christmas gift from my Aunt had been made primarily of these pieces and the size of the kit could be correlated to the apology she was offering to my Dad for her nearly decade long absence...

...the construction pieces of imagination...winter holidays spent trapped indoors by rain and cold, table cloth spread over the floor to make the picking up easier, and keep Mum a little bit happier.

Pirate ships, not made like current kits with dedicated pieces only serving a single purpose, but with the slow attention of imagination with bricks of 1, 2, 4, and 8 sized bumps, with boards and old Lego Space aerials as swords where the more deliberate pieces of today were not available. Lego existed in our imaginations, could we adapt the pieces we had to capture what we could see in our minds...when watching a John Wayne movie at 12 o'clock on A Saturday saw a flurry of bricks as we tried to build a Western Town and have our own gun fights at the "red-brick" corral. Maybe I miss the innocence, the hours spent with my brothers, limited by how we could configure the pieces, the time just lost...playing, something that I think that is the saddest part about "growing up".

Wandering through a Lego store recently I was amazed at the individual nature of the figures, of the specialisation of pieces, of the singular purpose that many of the bricks are moulded for, and sadly the limit these would have on the bending of themselves to the building imagination of young children.

And while this might be a marketing dream, the link of toy, and book and/or even Hollywood movie I can't help but see it as a bad thing even as I can't help but admire the lines of the modern Lego Pirate Ship.

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: The Joy Of Blogging

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Growing Up, Childhood, What I Miss

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 6 comment(s)

If there is one thing I have learnt* its that as I get older my willingness to compromise and in doing so share both myself and my space has gotten alot smaller...and maybe not so surprisingly, so has most people I meet of a similar aged nature. Years of doing things "my way"** in "my time" and in a manner satisfactory to me has resulted in a set of learned patterns and behaviours...some are conscious some are just they way I do things since I was never shown and therefore muddled through the learning on my own, or I was shown and I took the process and adapted it until it worked for me.

Now some of these behaviours are, I have been told, endearing, charming, even loving...and I am sure equally some are bullish, pig-headed, chauvinistic, infantile and plain inefficient. Some are intrinsic to the "who" I am at the moment, some are or were the "who" I was in years past and some are intrinsic to the "who" I will always be, some will change either because I observe a better way to do it, or a motivating factor prompts me to alter a pattern***. Which is a nice way of saying I, like everyone else, is stuck in a character rut of their own making, but one in which very often can be changed...

But...

...when it comes to space, time, devotion of energy and the general non-selfish attributes that go along with sharing, does one get too old, too jaded, or does one get to a point in which the benefits of such are not really worth it and are nothing that can't really be met by other people and things? Do we get to a point where sharing is no longer a real option? Do we get to a point where selfish "us" and thoughts of "I" really are the most important thing? That guarding the "me" is our first reaction? And while one of the first societal concepts a baby learns is "I" and very often one of the first words after "mum" is "mine" (especially in the face of siblings) we hope that a "sharing culture" is somewhat developed by the time we move out of our larval stages...but do we regress? Do the experiences of those years following teen result in a more selfish individual if the time is not shared? Does career focus and "waiting to settle-down" actually lead us to a place where settling-down becomes harder, because we know ourselves so well, that we do no wish to accommodate another?

I suppose the question is can you have a healthy monogamous relationship that still allows for space? Is it possible to have both? Or is one sacrificed in whole, or in part for the other? Can you have your "space" and eat it too?

* Well hopefully I have learnt more than one, but then again maybe if I have learnt just one thing then its not such a bad thing either.
** Random Frank tribute. ~grin~
*** I fall for some woman who hate something about me, as a guy we are conditioned to just accept that women will want to "improve" you and therefore, in order to have regular sex, I and most guys will try (and in all likelihood fail) to change it. But hey, at least we are willing to try, which is a lot better than those on both sides of the gender fence who say "this is me and if they don't like it, tough shit!"

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Some Silly Trinket

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Change, Relationships, My Way

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 12 comment(s)

Sorting through a pile of digital photos, deciding what needed to be on the computer, and what could be resigned to the back-up drive I realised photos really are in the taking, and not really the looking...

And while the hit/miss rate is much improved with digital photos the excitement of developing, of flipping through them excitedly or with trepidation is lost...no longer do you wonder if your eye and the film captured the moment as you saw it, since with a quick click and a button push you have instant feedback and you know...and failure simply means a retake.

Now instead of photo albums we have digitally arranged folders that we never look at, gather far less dust and occupy less space in our lives...

...but it it the same?

Is it merely a facet of the digital age that one has shifted the joy gained in the experience from one of destination to one of journey? And save maybe a dozen or so framed shots that are memories made public are not the rest always best kept between the ears and in the synapses rather than on fading, browned and crackling paper...

...or will future generations lose the value, the experience faded and obscure people captured in scenes of hopeful happiness...

Has it always been the taking of such that meant more or the record they hold of a moment never to be repeated and existing only once?

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: What OF Love?

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Memories, Photographs

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 7 comment(s)

Is the initial spark in love always there?
[ google results here | search led here ]

The above was a search that led someone here, then M asked (here),

Does love happen from a spark, a connection, a something that tells you - this is something special here or can it just happen over time..like building a house brick by brick?

Eileen and I were talking and I asked her,

Can a relationship build over time...you wrote Steve off, but now you are saying he is growing on you....can a relationship really start that way?

But she had already answered: Umm, Steve and I are going out again. He's growing on me. A little.

...and she admits that even from the word go she was attracted to him physically just not on deeper levels.

So can a man grow on a woman? Or can a woman grow on a man?*

And while I really have no idea about the first question, and honestly doubt he can, I do however admit I am stumbling a little in the dark on this side of the topic and my thinking is very much coloured by my beliefs and experiences from the other side...can a woman grow on a man?

Simply...I don't believe she can...if his interest level in her is not present I doubt this attraction will grow, regardless of her "personality" or a growing friendship...I think for men that unless there is a sexual interest in her, she will forever be "just a friend"...and I can't help but think the same is equally true in reverse...

...but then I wonder at all those couples who were friends first, did "feelings" just grow? Or did they deny and suppress the attraction from the outset, playing at a facade of friendship one that was simply acted in a role of "smoke and mirrors" or as a method of ego and maybe even heart protection? Was the truth denied? Or once more is it further proof that life is just all about timing?

* Is it me, or does this sound a little too much like a fungus rash that you really want no part of? ~grin~

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Me Speak, You Listen

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Relationships, Timing

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 14 comment(s)

Quick Pairs of Shoes Count: 28...thats 56 individual pieces!

Even if one removes the climbing shoes, the soccer boots, three pairs of sneakers and three pairs of thongs and a pair of Jesus Sandals, that still leaves me with 19 pairs of shoes...WTF? Worse is the fact that looking at them all there is at least 2 pairs that I have worn only once or twice since I parted with cash for them...which suggests that they would be better off on someone else's feet and not taking up space in my wardrobe.

Wild thoughts: is that too many? does it say anything? does it matter? and do I really need to have that many pairs of shoes? Or worse the fact that I am thinking about this means that I either really need to get a life, or at the very least get laid. ~grin~

I recall reading somewhere that a woman really needs only 5 pairs of shoes (comfortable flats, pumps, stiletto sandals, knee high boots and sneakers)...and while it may be either sacrilegious to suggest LESS SHOES, ~grin~ I have to wonder whether a similar essential list can also be compiled for men? They also say that the first thing a woman looks at is you shoes, so while this is a very SITC thing and probably a very shallow way to size someone up, and I am not entirely sure or convinced that all women use this method of assessment, but the obvious fact that I am alert to it means it has some validity if not credibility. So therefore I can acknowledge the importance shoes play in increasing one's success in the game...yet...erm...I still baulk at the number...twenty-fucking-eight!!!

It simply seems like an extremely high number...and one that I should do something about, since I am not, or at least I thought not, someone who would be termed a shoe whore ~grin~

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Body By Surgery

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Clothes, Shoe Whore

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 25 comment(s)

I have to find a new place to live.

A $1700 rental increase means that I need to find a new place to call home, a new place to put down some roots, and most importantly a new place to convert into the perfect babe lair. ~grin~

But mostly it means I need a new place to store my shit, keep the near daily rain from my head, and store my $400 dollar shirt ~grin~ and it would be a real bonus if it was close to a half decent bar. ~bigger grin~

Years ago I listened to some sagely advice from someone who had trod this path for a far longer time than me...and from those words I took one piece of advice...no matter where you live, the faster you have a home, the happier you will be...the faster you have your refuge, your "fortress of solitude" the easier the bumps, the easier the struggles, the easier it is to retreat and lick your wounds before venturing into battle again...

This move will mean a smaller and in all likelihood older place, in a complex with no facilities, especially if I want to move closer to downtown, it will mean trading two spare bedrooms, for possibly only one, it will mean I may have to sell some of the furniture that I have filling this apartment, it will mean the hassle of packing, moving, then unpacking, it will mean having to hang all my pictures all over again, and go through the creative hassle of visualisation, of planning a space to combine with what I have, what I offload and maybe even what new things I gather...

...it will be a total pain in the ass (PITA), but one that I am looking forward too.

...now if I could just find a place that I could see myself in...and preferable one in which my next door neighbour is a swimsuit model with an open door policy and a casual attitude to clothing ~wink~

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: The Hot 10

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Home, Babe Lair, Fortress of Solitude

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 14 comment(s)

Overheard...

A young girl (must have only been about 11) looking at a young boy, informing him of the facts of life...

"It's a girl thing, we can tell if a guy has been crying even if it was hours ago..."

His look of disbelief belied his young years, so she followed up with...

"...you wouldn't understand, you're a boy!"

And never has a truer statement been uttered...he was a boy.

And he would never, and will never understand the female mind...this is not a theory, this is not a faith based idea, this is a law, as universal as gravity and the existence of atoms...men will never understand woman. The inverse is also true...though women will utilise some pretty powerful distortion fields to believe they in fact do...when they do not.* ~grin~

But is this lack of understanding what makes it fun and interesting, or is it just part of the cosmic fabric designed to send men's hair grey and give women premature wrinkles? ~bigger grin~

* Which is somewhat ironic since men really are the simplest of creatures.

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Keeping A Man Happy

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Women, Wisdom

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 17 comment(s)

Ivy asked,

why do men find it so hard to date women who are more successful than they are? (see here)

My best David Attenborough voice over...

"Billions of years ago, cataclysmic events saw great surges in volcanic land masses coupled with gigantic gaseous explosions and within this impending chaos, life was born. Fast forward a few Million years and man as we roughly have come to understand the term was beginning to make his presence felt...and it is in this upright figure, man the hunter, man the provider, that we begin to see the rising of a disparity of the genders and perhaps more importantly the link of self esteem to the ability to provide, but ultimately it is all about the man feeling like a man, being seen as a man, not by women, but rather being judged so by other men."

To put it simply, a man needs to feel like and believe he is a man. And if given any choice in the matter, that for at the very least one woman and any associated family that he is THE man.

And for all the pyscho-babble bullshit that exists out there to try and explain the depth of that statement what means to the vast majority of men is simple, that HE can provide for his family and is therefore needed and valued, that he both has and exhibits some form of control over his destiny and therefore choices in his life, and that other men regard him as worthy and of having passed the trials that mark the passage of Boy and entry into the club called Man. All other reasons have there merit and some standing, but these three are the most important.

The first and second are most easily accomplished through fiscal success while the the third is also often achieved through the same it is a little more ethereal in nature and can be judged on who you are, and what you have done just as much as how many toys you have.

For the vast majority of men we learned how to be a man at the hands of our fathers, who became such in a time when men where the "bread winners" and thus we were educated to believe that the same is expected from us, even schooling taught us that it would be our lot to work, to struggle and to strive to purchase the fruits of labour that bring with it a more comfortable existence...it is our role, or so we are taught...and I think it is one many men cling too in the face of both changing gender roles and societal attitudes as a life-line to their masculinity, or at the very least the measure with which they gauge such.

But Ivy wanted to know why men find it hard to date someone who earns more than them? Simple, it robs us of our masculine identity...psychologically and physiologically man is suited to be the hunter, the provider, but the modern arena, where steak is purchased pre-wrapped in a supermarket and not run down across an open plain has changed the rules and dynamics, and the change, the threat to many a mans position is something he finds threatening, especially as society deems what you do, and what you earn as such vital benchmarks, even erroneously, to the mantle of success.

But Ivy really wasn't asking about money, though I am sure it is the measure with which the success she asked after is most often measured...instead she asked about pure success...and the male fear of the more successful woman...and that comes down to very easy reasoning,

Why do men not want to date a more successful woman...simple,

If she is more successful than him, what is her need of him? What is to stop her doing as countless men for generations past have done, and as age wearies cast him off as a useless chattel to be replaced by a younger model? Are we to be beholden to another for fiscal support, as we know women were to men? I have said in previous post or comment that above all else men need to be needed, we yearn to be wanted, we want to solve problems and make the world right for our partner...so when she can do all that for herself, what need is there for us?

So if a man will not date a more successful woman, he chooses such out of fear, insecurity and a desire to not see history reversed and visited upon him, but he also chooses such because his esteem is of such a level that it must be measured by money, and not by his deeds.

The answer of course Ivy, is to seek men for whom career is not the measure of achievement, to seek men who have tested their masculinity in other arenas, and feel no need to continue to do so using a yardstick such as wealth...seek someone who understands "that he who dies with the most toys, still dies.", and are secure in who they are, by self measure alone and not by the size of their toys.

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Waiting For Touch

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Dating, Relationships, The More Successful GF

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 14 comment(s)

Whenever I travel I usually drag a journal with me, which for want of a better name, and given the fact that its red in color I refer to as my "Red Book"...which has a poetic LOTR/Hobbit sort of symbolism too it which appeals to my inner geek. But like all journals there comes a time when the blank space in it is no more and a new one must be sought...and so I find myself the owner of a new Moleskine, of the type utilised by Hemingway...and since it is black, thus it will be referred to as my "Black Book", not to be confused with the concept of a "Little Black Book", which I don't have, but will confess that I possibly, just possibly, wish I did. ~grin~

So from the, not little, Black Book...

Staring from my hotel window, the overcast and grayed skies signal the impending rain, the dive boat moored off the beach at some unseen rock reminds me of so much that I have ignored and yet enjoyed. I can imagine the frantic wrestling with gear as divers prepare to spend a few more minutes of their life underwater...and it reminds me just as it reinforces something I have been meaning to do and yet put off for no real or valid reason...

There is something oddly comforting and at the same time chaotically organised about the anticipatory actions on the dive deck of a boat about to spew it's human cargo onto some poor unsuspecting reef.

There is an eager pandemonium, a rushed exhilaration that is fascinating to watch, and maybe since I myself have felt that euphoric "lets get wet" feeling it is now somewhat relaxing to watch the barely contained excitement of those taking their early plunges, where instead of a detached methodical preparation there is the rushed and chaos inspired mistake littered beginnings of those ready to test new skills outside the watchful and protective gaze of the now forgotten classroom and teacher.

Gear of all manner and make is strewn about in an area made more chaotic with not only the flailing of arms and the difficulty encumbered in actually getting into a wetsuit, but also by the pitching motion of the deck and the awkward proportions of the gear involved. There is the cursing that goes with stretching neo-prene over a body of different proportions than when it was purchased, the hiss of air as lines are purged and charged with life sustaining air, of course there are grunts as weighted objects are festooned about the body to serve a variety of purposes and lets not forget the slapping of the fins-on-land waddle as each awaits their turn to step from the air into a space where all the gear suddenly makes sense and has purpose.

One leg languidly dragging in the water from the marlin board, my own already assembled gear forgotten, I smile at one obviously eager yet nervous diver I have been watching prepare for what seems their first certified adventure...buddy forgotten in their eagerness, they stand impatiently behind another about to take a similar step...

"Have fun", I smiled, swinging myself back to standing and avoiding a swaying tank as I stepped behind the novice...balanced against the gentle motion of the boat on the ocean I reached up and turn on their air...

"And that will help ensure you get to come back to do it again.", I offered in help before stepping into the lessening chaos as divers splashed into the blue, I smiled at my own buddy and we made our own final preparations for the beginning of our descent.

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: One Of My Tells

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Diving, Life, Reflections

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 7 comment(s)

Being a single ex-pat is all about learning to live in an almost constant state of expectant or actual loss.

The nature of the label "ex-pat" means eventually most, if not all will move either on or home, and with their moving you, and even possibly they, lose someone who was a part of the fabric of your social world...

...so while I sat stuck in a slow moving cab navigating the traffic to Changi for my own brief respite homeward, I couldn't help but acknowledge with some sadness that the weekend about to pass will see my flatmate move on and with his moving our connection will change, and my return will see my abode in a slightly different light...

...and I will miss his friendship, the easy camaraderie, our social weekend breakfast debriefs and maybe even more so the simple pleasure of the company of another in my sphere.

Friendships are not usually entered preparing for there end and yet as an ex-pat it is an oft unspoken facet...and I wonder if the repeated experience, the cycle of loss has taught me nothing save to enter such relationships guarded and reserved? I also can't help but wonder if the expectant loss, or knowledge of the inevitability of such has affected friendships, and even my deeper relationships and still continues to see me enter such with tentative and cautious steps?

Last year in the Temple of Doom, Indiana unearthed: Nothing But Sand and Sunburn

Technorati Tag: The Dogs Name, Expat Loss, Friendships, Life

Lectiones Sacrae Ex Libris Indiana 06:00 11 comment(s)