The life and times of Ravey

A glimpse into madness

Thoughts on News and Humans.
I don't often read the news; one can only hear about the latest antics of Robert Pattinson so many times before becoming cynical about the media. Boredom has a way of making even that sound enticing, so, after my twentieth game of online backgammon, I wandered over to google and typed in news.

Most of it was the usual rubbish, but two articles in particular stood out to me. Neither of them really met the "new" requirement of news, but were both news to me and certainly provided fodder for my malnourished brain. Both articles featured people living in third world environments - one was uplifting and inspiring, the other confounding and depressing.

I read the depressing story first, so I'll start there. Essentially it was a brief mention of people being eaten by packs of wild dogs - in Australia - and it not being deemed worthy of mention by mainstream media. Now, for anyone who is somehow unaware of this and still capable of reading, Australia is not actually a third world country. It is in fact a first world country, and as such, wild dogs really shouldn't be permitted to freelly roam parts of it and attack humans and eat them at will. And it doesn't happen in the coastal suburban, city areas. If, by some freak happenstance it did, it would be all over the news in an instant and the animals in question would be put down.

However, the incident in question happened in an Aboriginal township in the Northern Territory - and the problem is not merely one of wild dogs. Official people could go and kill the dogs this time - but it doesn't stop the problem from happening again. And it's why such a horrific incident doesn't get reported - not, I think, because the rest of Australia is racist and just doesn't care what happens to Aboriginal people - but because it is not out of the ordinary.

I do not consider myself to be a racist person in any way, shape or form. Physical appearance is not an attribute by which I judge people. I know that sounds like a preface to a racist comment, and to some people it might be, but I felt the need to establish that. I just don't understand how ANY society of people can just sit in squalor and allow themselves to be eaten. I think that the feeling of racism from white Australians is mostly born out of contempt. It is very difficult to respect people who simultaneously demand assistance from the government while doing nothing to help themselves, and resist "interference" from said government. There is a place in Townsville where emergency services - including fire and ambulances - simply won't go after night.

I think it's a very complex problem with no clear answers. I think it would be difficult, once born in such an environment, to rise above it. Feelings of resentment and entitlement are very easily taught to children, as are a dependence on drugs and alcohol. Yet I don't think it's right to simply remove children from that environment. I dislike knowing that this sort of thing happens in my own country - which is another reason I believe these stories don't make it to the news. It makes people uncomfortable to hear about. Out of sight, out of mind. I would rather not remain ignorant though, even knowing that there is nothing I can do to change this situation.

There is nothing I can do, but surely they can do it for themselves? Most villages, even primitive ones, when faced with a threat can gather resources to combat it. I believe this is the most damning thing in the eyes of other Australians. There seems to be a prevalent attitude of "suck it up" amongst the older generations of Aussies. If you want something done, stop whining about it and do it yourself. Anyone deemed incapable of such a feat is viewed with contempt. I'm not saying this attitude is right or wrong, but it's understandable and it does explain a lot.

The next article I read, while set in an actual third world country and is thus comparable, is the polar opposite. It is the story of an uneducated (at the time) Malawian boy who found some diagrams in a book he couldn't read explaining how to build a windmill. He then built a windmill out of spare parts he found, for his entire village. The boy (man now) is named William Kamkwamba and if you're interested at all, he wrote a book - The Boy who Harnessed the Wind.
I found his story remarkable - as Jon Stewart comments, he's like a real world MacGuyver. And such a direct contrast to the story and circumstance I was reading about earlier. This is a person worthy of respect and esteem - someone dealt a shitty hand in life and manages to rise above it. It reminds me that no one is culpable for their fate but themselves. That while humans are capable of shocking depths, they are equally capable of dazzling heights.

In short, this man's story has somewhat restored my faith in humanity.

It is going to work. I have an outline that is workable and working and wonderful. Now all I need to do is write it all out and I'm done! The first draft anyway but still! =D

The stuff of nightmares...
Blaaagh. It is 2am and I just woke up after having a really horrible, creepy nightmare. I can't get back to sleep because Alan is snoring and I'm too thoroughly creeped to sleep on the lounge just yet, so I've decided to write the details down while they're still reasonably fresh in my head.

It started out, weirdly enough, with WoW - I was a freshly nerfed Death Knight who for some reason wanted a challenge, so I went out to this weird jungle temple hill and sent a challenge to the retribution pally who lived on top of it - who was at his top strength right now. The temple hill did this weird realignment thing and stone dwarf heads moved in and out a bit, then the guy came down.

And instead of fighting straight away, instead of just killing me outright, we talked. Now, right after this point I think we switched roles in the story and he became the death knight, and I'm not even sure I was a paladin, just kind of a nub who went up and hit his duel button I guess.

He took me to his hilltop lair (a sure way into my heart if ever there was one) and proceeded to alternate between threatening me with imminent death and this weird, creepy kind of flirting.

At about this point in the dream I became two characters - the girl flirting with the creepy death boy, and another girl reading about the story on one of those gory murder victims website. She was also checking myspace occasionally, which had no impact on the story.

To further confuse matters - the original girl had a twin sister. None of these people had names by the way, so I'm going to call them sister a(the original) and sister b. So I guess sister a had some chores or something, because it became necessary for sister b to "take over" and pretend to be sister a and go visit the dk boy to keep an appointment with him. Sister b found the dk boy creepy in the extreme and not at ALL attractive, and wasn't very good at hiding this, much to her sister's distress. The dk, not having quite decided whether he wanted to kill her or not, let sister b in to his circle of trust, by introducing her to his previously sole confidante. This woman was a creepy old hag who was even more blood-thirsty than the dk boy who MAY have been his mother, his lover, both, or even just a mentor. It was all kind of hinted at, but never made clear.

Sister b could not hide her distaste at the hag (AND NEVER SAW HER IN THE LIGHT) which upset the dk, until sister a came along to smooth things over. Sister b then went off with her handsome boyfriend who appears only briefly in this tale, apparently solely to be handsome, vaguely self absorbed and someone for sister b to go out with and canoodle on one fateful night. Dun dun dun.

Sister B turns up at the cafe place where my other self, is reading all about this on the interwebz. Don't ask how this works with continuity, because it's a DREAM. She is using the computer next to this other me, until her handsome boyfriend arrives in which case she runs off to kiss him.

Sister A, on this night gets the task of staying home with her mother and younger siblings to look after them. Her mother is lying on the couch, while sister a busies herself with getting the children to bed, etc. The mother is fairly old, and not looking at her best - in fact she looks fairly awful, like she's sick and is getting increasingly irate, yelling at Sister A to do things or to get out of her way and other vague threats. Knowing that her mother often has a violent temper, and that she seemed to be in one of her 'moods', Sister A does her best to keep the brood of younger siblings out of her mothers way.

At some point, the mother starts to vomit blood, or something red into her handbag and then rushes into Sister A's bedroom to write a warning letter, stating that if she didn't get out of her way tonight, she might kill her. Sister A doesn't get to read this message until it doesn't matter. The mother goes back to the lounge, her mouth red from the blood-vomit where her baby is sitting on the lounge, waiting I think for Sister A to come and either change its nappy or put its pajamas on. The mother gets very angry at the baby, ranting and screaming and is about to hurt it when Sister A comes along and intervenes. At this point she can see how far gone her mother is, and hurries the children away.

The mother rants and raves, then gets up and decides she needs to shut away her children in the closet where they can't be hurt. Or rather, where she won't hurt them. There is a brief flashback to her as a child shutting things that were precious to her away in sealed shoeboxes before going upon a rampage and destroying everything else in sight. In a similar way, now she is shutting up her children in a wardrobe that looks very much like a giant shoebox. Sister A and the siblings are all scared, but Sister A does her best to comfort them. As the mother is closing the lid, the mothers brother turns up to the apartment (Sister A had called him for back up earlier in the evening) and attempts to bring the situation under control by sending the mother outside. He is then talking with the children, trying to find out just what was going on here. I think the uncle might have been a police officer, OR he brought one with him.

At any rate, things get a little blurry here, but the mother's exit from the (did I mention they lived in a treetop?) apartment co-incided roughly with the return of Sister B from her date. We know this because there is a loud bang or something, a scream and then a crash and everyone rushes outside to find out wtf just happened.

Sister B is dead, harpooned into the water below. Sister A is devastated, especially when a few witnesses from earlier mention seeing the dk boy talking to her just moments before her death. Everyone's suspicion is naturally on dk boy - except for Sister A, who knows he might be capable, but doesn't think he would do it. At some point, she discovers that her mother is the same person as the old hag who the dk hung around with sometimes. Her mother is ranting and raving about the dk, but some of the things she says aren't in tune with a mother who just lost her daughter - she is mentioning ungrateful louts and all she has done for him, and hussies and carrying on about getting what they deserve.

Further examination of the evidence leaves no mistake; the mother, in her fit of rage, had come out here and seen her daughter after a date, standing close to the railing and talking to the dk boy, the mothers precious little secret. Jealous, and already sick with some disease that caused her to madness and violence, the mother took a nearby harpoon gun, and shot her daughter in the back, toppling her into the depths below. I think the dk had *just* left when this happened.

With all of this in the open, and faced with the horrible truth about her mother, the uncle and cop disappear to do paperwork or something and Sister A confronted her mother who ranted a little further about how she had worked hard at the boy (the dk) to craft him into a weapon, an outlet for her madness how he had been her perfect dirty little secret until Sister B (or so she thinks) stole him from her. Sister A reveals at the last how it had been her all along, and not her sister. Her sister had traded places as a favour when Sister A couldn't make a meeting. Then she calmly pushes her mother out of the treetops to her death in the river below. When the men come back outside, she tells them that her mother couldn't face her deeds and had jumped.

Then she disappears to go find the creepy dk boy she has a crush on for no good reason. He admits to speaking to her sister, and discovering that it wasn't her, had left. He had seen his "mentor" kill her, but had been too far away to do anything and so had left the scene. Sister A confesses everything, DK boy expresses disgust at mother/mentor's actions and seems to be at least somewhat redeemed if still a little creepy/obsessed with death.

And then the me at the internet cafe is finished reading the web page, and goes back to checking myspace.

The end.

(no subject)
Argh, I'm fucking BORED. Seriously, just bored fucking shitless. I want to do things to interact with people but at the same time, the notion often makes me sick. I... am just completely over the bullshit that this entire civilisation is comprised of. I'm sick of being fucking polite. I'm sick of LYING. It's like the entire world is shit-scared of being honest. Sometimes I wish I could completely remove humanity's ability to be deceitful. Just because of the... pure chaos that would unfold. Yay anarchy.

I just... I sit and observe a lot. It's what I do. And humans are massive hypocrites, and I am not an exception which drives me nuts. Sometimes I want to... purge the humanity out of myself. I think I'd be better off.

I don't know how to solve my dilemma. I think I'm having some sort of identity crisis. I don't know how to reconcile who I am now, with who I used to be, nor who I want to be. It's like having my own brain and being able and willing to think for myself renders me incapable of fitting into society. By firmly holding on to my identity and refusing to conform to other people's ideas and ideals, I'm being forced out. You don't fit, you won't fit, so we're going to push you aside. I hate it but I don't know how to change it without changing myself. Without giving in.

As it is, just to ... survive, to get by AT ALL I am forced to play along, shift, blend in. I hate yielding even that much. I utterly refuse to lose my morality, my sense of self, my way of thinking. I don't want to adopt other peoples. I like being my very own custom brand, thank you very much. I like developing who I am on my own, my own way. That's not to say that I don't have common values with people; that would be silly. I just want to choose which ones to embrace and which ones to not by myself. I don't mind changing my mind, I DO mind having it changed for me.

(no subject)
I can be such a condescending, arrogant twat sometimes.

Thoughts about dead things...
Today I went to a funeral. There, a thirty-five year old man was placed in the ground, and a seventeen year old boy was mourned.

He was my cousinCollapse )

A chance encounter...
I encountered a child in a shopping centre yesterday and it really disturbed me.

It was a boy, and while he was not a young child he was definitely in his early teens. A child.

He was just in front of my partner and I at the checkout. Alone. This scrawny, freckled kid with cheap clothes, too-bright eyes and a defensive posture. He had a basket full of tins of baked beans, a loaf of bread and pet food. And all I could think was that I hoped he had a pet. Funny, sure but at the same time… horrible.

My heart went out to the kid as I wondered what circumstances had led to someone so young having to fend for themselves like that.

Now, I know that there are people, children included that are worse off than that. I know it theoretically. Which is entirely different from seeing it in front of you. It offends me, it offends my notion of humanity that people, that children are allowed to live like this. That they are put into situations where they must fend for themselves like adults. Without the tools that adults are given to fend with.

That child could not work; he is too young. If he has no parents the government – the APPOINTED and paid for government should see to it that his needs are met. And yet I see that this is not so. This, in a country that boasts of it’s superior welfare system. How then, must such children fare in countries whose welfare systems we consider inferior? And I am not talking about third world countries.

As I looked on, catching a glimpse into this child’s life, I felt guild. Guilt for not looking after him. For not reaching out and doing good. I may be righteously indignant on his behalf, but I did nothing to rectify the situation. Logic tells me that he may not have welcomed interference. The look on his face as he looked at our comparatively decadent food basket tells me otherwise. Logic also attempts to persuade me that perhaps I misjudged his predicament. It also reminds me that it’s not my job; that he is no relation to me and thus not my responsibility to bear. It brings up the fact that I am not in such an advanced situation myself. The same welfare system I upbraided is currently the only thing keeping me alive. If I were to give up what little I have, well, then I would have nothing.

And yet the guilt persists. I am angry at the world, at those running it, for doing such a piss-poor job. I am annoyed at the rich and powerful for walking by and not noticing the poor beneath their feet. Yet I do nothing to change it myself. I am shamed.

Perhaps we all should be.

(no subject)
Please, someone grant me the ability to force words out. I'm trying desperately but they just won't come. They're stuck somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind and I am failing to extract them.

I'm also becoming more and more incoherent. My mind is a jumbled mess; a tangled skein that I have no hopes of unraveling. Words. Thoughts. Start making sense. Please?

shut up, dead
So last few days I haven't gotten much sleep and have woken up with a pounding headache. This is through no real fault of my own, but because one of my neighbours has decided that its a fun idea to drill a hole in cement.

I have no idea wtf they're doing but they start ridiculously early in the morning and there is NOWHERE in my apartment where it is not painfully, obnoxiously loud. I can sleep through a lot of things, but the reverberating sound of a drill going through concrete is not one of them.

If this doesn't end soon don't be surprised if there is a news story about vicious bloody murders in Sydney.

(no subject)
I... I want to write things that would make people cry.

Not in a cruel, hurtful way. I want to write things that are so beautiful and heart-wrenchingly sad that they make people feel so strongly that they cry.

And isn't it funny how sad can be beautiful? Happy can be many wonderful lovely things, but poignantly beautiful is not one of them.

Except perhaps to the participants during the moment - but never the observers. You can't really feel other people's happiness the way you can their sadness. And there's just something about a tale that is poignant and unhappy and beautiful that is so perfect that it fills you and you cry.

I want to write something like that right now. I have stories, thoughts...

Maybe I will.

Yeah like the title says - this one's gonna be a ramble. Chaotic unorganised mess, cause that's about how my heads feeling.

Too much to say, and too few words to utilise.

I've been writing again - I guess that's got to be a good thing. Been doing it at work cause I'm bored out of my freaking mind. No, really. I've been buying crossword puzzles, doing them too quickly so I'm writing my own goddamn crossword puzzles - oh and songs and haiku's and whatever else pops into my intellectual stimulationly starved brain.

My job, by the way, is to listen to crappy sales calls and mark them down when they do things "wrong". I would like to state that I didn't get trained for this job. No, when I started out I was given two days of SALES training, then basically put on a computer and told to start marking. I mean, wtf.

Also, a side note (but hey I said this was gonna go all over the shop) I was told when I was hired, that pay rises are based on training - each time you complete a training module, you get paid more. The catch? There are no stinking training modules for my job. They're "working" on them. So I could stay here for the next ten years and still be making the same shitty pay I am now. It annoys me mostly cause I turned down other, higher paying jobs for this one cause I'd accepted this one first - first in best dressed policy, you see. -_-

Anyway, back to the other part of my rant. At first I was reasonably diligent in my work - then I caught on. It doesn't matter. If we mark them down, the reps just keep on doing it, cause they don't get in trouble for being bad. Some reps SWEAR to customers, and still keep their jobs. I mean seriously, what's the point? And since they don't change what they do it's really easy to mark em. Just skip to the point in the call where they always fuck up, and mark em down for it. If you've missed something else it won't matter cause you've picked up on something which means I was listening right? So I don't even listen to my calls. I play them and do my writing/whatever else to keep my attention. I check and see whether they get marked down in the past (if they never get marked down I just give em the benefit of the doubt) and then do my thing.

I had a performance development crap thing the other day. I got told they were pleased with the way I mark things. So hard not to laugh.

Anyway that part of my rants over.
I feel better.

So my main issue is job satisfaction - or lack of it. Now I know that I could get another job real easy, that pays more and will stimulate me in some manner. (Get your minds out of the gutter) Problem is, well, for one thing I don't really like working. No one does of course, but I'm really really slack. Most of that is that jobs get boring after I figure out how to slack off on the job. Minimum effort leads to me looking for something else to keep my occupied for my eight hours. So another phone job might tide me over for a year but shit, it's really not a career.

Now my dream has always been to be a writer. Which is all well and good, and since my current job is allowing me the time to write it kinda works out all fine and dandy. But, believe it or not, I'm not stupid. I know what the chances are of being a successful writer are - and it's not good. I don't really write for the money (hah!) I write for me, cause I have to. But I wouldn't mind being able to earn my living with it either. Two birds, one stone, y'know?

So I've been thinking about other kinds of writing - specifically video games. I like video games, specifically rpg's - and I don't know that I'd be any good at script writing. I can see that being sort of an epic fail on my part. Not good. But video games - well I'm pretty sure they don't even have university courses for that kind of thing yet. Still being a reasonably new type of employment. Now I know I'm not good enough with computers to really be a games designer/developer what have you - but I think I could do some quest lines and storyline type things. More, I think it would be awesome fun. God forbid, a job I might enjoy. Anyway, I poked around a little and saw that the best thing to do to get noticed for something like that is -gasp- write. Have a portfolio that I can refer potential employees to - that sort of thing.

So of course, I'm still working on my novel - and that'd be a nice reference for me when I finish it if it gets published - even if it's not all that successful, it's something to show. And when I get stuck on a scene, but am still bored out of my mind - I write other things. They'll quite likely all be related to my world, and I'll probably stick it all on a website some time.

I'm still dreaming, I know. But I hope this one's not such a big dream it doesn't have a chance of coming true...
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(no subject)
Ah jeezes, I'm finally in a new house, just got the phone and internet connected and have a new job - things are starting to look up again. So why do I find myself wanting to cry?

I feel full of all this built up nervous tension that I can't rid myself of.

I suck.

A slightly more private goodbye to Silklantern.
I know everyone is busy posting their big long goodbye's on silklantern at the moment - but it's been so long since I've been an active member of that community, that I don't really feel like I have a right to add my own lament to the rest's. For one thing, I'm not sure a lot of the current population would remember me - heck a lot of the oldies wouldn't either. It just wouldn't feel right. But here, in my own little private place I feel comfortable enough to say my piece. Sure, a lot less people will see it here, if any. But those that do are people who know who I am, and for the most part I'm sure will be experiencing similar feelings of loss.

It's hard to imagine who I would be if I hadn't stumbled across the NWT all those years ago. It is for certain, I would be nothing like the me I am right now. I would likely be some air-headed club-going 20-something whose biggest concern in life would be whatever happened on the OC recently. The type of person the me I am right now, disdains. I wouldn't be able to navigate the internet - that I learnt through friends met through silklantern. And thus I would never have met the love of my life - or any of the other life changing friends I've met online.

Alcyone was a big influence back in the day - I'm sure no one will remember her, except perhaps Jinie but she was the first person I RP'ed with who wrote more than a few sentences. Which is the only reason I learnt to do the same - she subtly taught me to be a better writer, and I will always be grateful to her for that. She also took me into the CR where I met the people who would have the biggest impact on my life.

Rapier and Ski are probably the biggest two to come to mind - before I met Rap, I actually had the gall to consider myself intelligent. As you can imagine, I was soon put in my place - but I never hated or resented him, the way a lot of other people did. He taught me a lot about being open minded, and accepting people for who they are. I shudder to think of the close minded little bigot I was back then, and I wonder how he could stand my company. But he always seemed to like me well enough, and I am grateful for that chance to grow.

Ski I met a lot later, but she has had no less an impact on my life for that. She's probably the best friend I've ever had, even if we don't really speak a lot to each other of late. She was always a blast to play around with in the CR - and not just SL's; I recall flitting to quite a few chatrooms with her in tow, looking for more victims people to talk to. She is also an amazing writer - I recall reading some of the things she had written, and just wanting to bury every scrap I'd ever written in a hole for fear someone might read it and compare them.

I saved all of the character bios I had, and it was a little sad and funny to remember them all, and remember the fun little threads I had with each of them. I remember playing Tinj with Jinie and Avie and escaping the Tower - actually, come to think of it, I don't think I had a novice character who didn't sneak out of the tower at some point. It's a tradition or something =P I recall blatantly flirting with all of the boys with Ravey - I'm fairly sure she did some sa'sara dancing and naked swimming with a few of them. And that doesn't take into account all of the things she got up to in the CR >.> I remember how much fun I had both creating and playing as Deke; either being a jerk in the CR (and eventually getting kicked for it>_<) or as a womanizing jerk in RP. Kavalia wasn't my character originally but was created by a friend of mine - still when she was passed into my care, it was quite enjoyable to play with the little darkfriend assassin. It's fun to be evil. And I even remember this old lady character I created but never played, who I intended to eventually become a cook in the Tower's kitchens who would be all nice to some of the novices and possibly a sympathetic ear. It never happened, but it was nice and nostalgic to remember all the little plans I had.

I could probably go on more and write up a big list of all the people who I met through or because of SL who had an impact on me in one way or another - but it's just too big. I might miss someone, and really they may not read this, but if they do they know who they are. Let's just say if you're on my msn list, you're one of them.

It's hard to say goodbye to a place that has had such a huge impact on your life. I don't play there anymore, and even my lurking is becoming less frequent - but it's something that has been a huge part of my life for a very long time. It has shaped me and made me who I am. It feels like my school burnt down, and even through I graduated a while ago, it's still a little sad. Cause no one else is going to have the oppurtunity for that impact on their life now. I know there will be other sites and I agree that it is for the best - it's time for everyone to move on. And I will probably drop by and lurk sporadically at the new sites too. But it wont be the same. Heck, it's not the same now, the site closing is really just kind of making it final and real. I am grateful for the memories and the friends, and I hope these new sites are able to impact people's lives in the same way SL has for so many people.

Thanks for the chance to shine.

and every other creation I may make in the future. I couldn't do it without you.

Deathly Hallows
For courtesy's sake I'm putting a cut here, since I'm sure you don't want spoilers.

Read more...Collapse )

(no subject)
So we're thinking of moving to Sydney... Pretty much decided on it actually. It's just there are no jobs here, and SO SO many down there... Plus I'd be closer to my friends and family and stuff. And I'm getting frustrated with work....I guess I'm just restless or something. Can't stay in the same place for too long or I feel like I'm stuck in some sort of rut. New job and new location should fix that; for a while anyway. I guess I inherited that restlessness from my mum. She could never stay still either.

Don't have time to say much more...just felt the need to throw out a short update.


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