So, apparently, Spanking fetishes make men happier Get out of town! Bloody hell, I know I am surprised.

I loved this quote:
"In women, BDSM was most popular among under 20-year-olds and those who had a partner they didn't live with. There were no age or relationship trends in men."

And this: "In fact, says Dr Richters, men into BDSM scored significantly better on a scale of psychological wellbeing than other men. "This seems to imply that these men are actually happier as a result of their behaviour, though we're not sure why," she said."

My question is, what kind of a survey was conducted to get these results?

It's still (just) the 11th here. May the memory of their sacrifice long burn in our minds and motivate our actions.

Lest we forget.

Even though I'm not leaving for another month or so, I've already had to say goodbye to some friends and family here in Sydney who I won't see again. It's been weird, to say the least. I've never been a big fan of goodbyes - I find them important, but hard to handle. And these goodbyes have been especially difficult, given the gravity of the situation. I mean, I'm only going away for six months, but, well, it could be more. As in for good. Dropping off the mortal coil sort of thing. It all sounds terribly dramatic, and I don't mean it to be, but it's the kind of situation I'm ill prepared for.

Without even thinking about it, I've been finding myself taking greater notice of the details of ordinary life. Wondering what I'll miss the most (apart from the freedom, of course). Just grasping life. It's an overused cliche, but it's true - you never know what you have until it's gone.

I just feel lucky that I live in such a great country.

I kind of flipped out today. Nothing major, but unusual for me. I tend to keep my own counsel on political discussions, but today I couldn't manage it. I was talking to someone about Australia becoming a republic. Or rather, they were talking at me about it. Anyway, this person said if they became President, the first thing they would do would be to ban people holding multiple passports on the grounds that if you have more than one passport, you cannot be loyal to Australia.
I lost my cool at this point (it had been a long day) and said angrily "I have multiple passports, but I am prepared to - and about to - lay my life on the line for this country. How can you possibly question my loyalties or motivations?"

But then I've recently realised some people don't know me as I thought they did. C'est la vie.

Bad signs:

My "to do" list is growing by the minute, and yet already there are things crossed off that I can't remember doing.

My "to do" list is multiplying (I think it's malignant) - and I can't remember writing any of them.

My mother is adding random items to my lists. This can't end well.

I can't understand the 'mil-speak' on my dental form. My soft-civvie dentist has no hope.

People are already avoiding my phone calls. They must telepathically know I am about to task/ask/beg.

I am rambling incoherently.

I have just five short weeks to organise my life. Already I am starting to see the cracks in this plan... I am not sure I can physically pack up my life in that short time, though my mother seems to think this will be an easy feat. Apparently, she has not seen my apartment recently - I am adamant that 'stuff' breeds while I'm not looking. I mean where did all this crap come from and why have I kept it?? Unfortunately, I think my packing escapades will pretty much be me throwing stuff into boxes to deal with at a later stage, rather than using it as a useful chance to sort and purge, then pack. Months from now when I unpack it will be like I'm unearthing a lost civilisation, wondering what all the implements were for and why something was so sacred it was carefully maintained when all it looks like is a three year old supply of ATM receipts.

I wrote my will today. That was a weird experience - there was lots to consider that I'd never considered before. As a young woman I'm not exactly in tune with my own mortality. Resultantly, while I don't feel at one with the concept, my solicitor reliably tells me that now I've written a will nothing will happen. It's like heading out in the morning with an umbrella only to find a perfect day. I figured it wasn't my place to argue with the logic, and I get the feeling it was as much for his benefit as mine.

So, my life has been a flurry or organisiation. Or attempted organisation. In truth I haven't gotten very far, partly because there's only so much I can do while on leave, and partly because of the incredible helpfulness of people like the Tax office... I was more than a little surprised when I called them today to discuss deferring my next lodgment and was told I can't enter into a discussion on that until my tax return is due. I tried to point out the foibles inherent in this piece of logic, but was shut down at every turn. Consequently, I've not yet figured out how to avoid a late lodgment - and I don't think absconding to the Cayman Islands is a goer, either.

I went along to the Canberra Philharmonic Orchestra's production of Les Miserables on Friday night. Les Mis is, hands down, my favourite musical, so I was all set for a good night. And I wasn't dissapointed in the slightest. The cast were excellent. Kudos to them all. It was an excellent production and featured some very strong singers - the lady who played the part of Eponine was especially good in my opinion. Tres bien.

I also saw ACT Chief Minister John Stanhope there. He was taller than I expected. Apart from that, he wasn't that exciting, to be frank.

Today I have trotted around Queanbeyan looking for houses (the fun never stops in my life). A couple of possibles to explore further. Apart from that, I ate a dodgy curry last night so have spent most of today on the couch dozing in front of the Olympic highlights.

Speaking of the Olypics, what the heck happened to the Canadian mens hockey team? Sheesh. Granted, when the teams were announced I wasn't too impressed but who am I to question the choices of the Great One? Very dissapointing to watch, and I'm sure the boys feel pretty bummed about their performance, too. It's a real pity - I was hoping for another sweep like at Salt Lake.

We've had a conference at work this past week which was exciting but stressful. Organising, running and participating in the thing was bloody hard work and by Friday I was completely shattered. That may also have had something to do with going out every night with the delegates, but I'm sure it was just the early mornings, not the late nights that did me in. I think we presented a good image of Australia to our international counterparts, though.

I'm still a bit tired today, even after a weekend of sleeping and slobbing on the couch. Might be to do with not taking good care of myself - it's hard to find the time or energy to cook a decent meal when you spend so much time at work. But I hit the fresh food markets today and am all set with lots of good healthy food to eat. That should last until about Tuesday when I get home late from tae kwon do and decided I just can't be arsed so I order in.

I headed up to Belco yesterday to catch up with a friend and see his new place. Very nice, too. Seeing it reminded me that I do have to get off my but and organise finance myself so I can join the home ownership/"I'll be weighed down by a mortgage for the next 30 years" club. The place I like won't wait around forever so I have to get cracking.

Have also come up with a new analogy to describe work - the abusive lover. At first it's all a bed of roses. Then you start to see the warning signs, the little hints of a dark underbelly. But you love it so you ignore the signs. Gradually you get treated worse and worse but you keep going back for more. You become enraged (and yet slightly impressed) that it keeps coming up with new and different ways to screw you over but you still can't cut the cord. Eventually, it all ends in tears - or you become addicted to the pain. As I like to say, "it's all fun and games until someone is stabbed in the back of the head by and angry colleague."

But each night I come home to the warm embrace of the Winter Olympics (notwithstanding 7's less than impressive coverage of the event) and it's all ok. Particularly when the Swedes defeat the Yanks (on penalties, no less!) for a finals berth in the Women's ice hockey. Roll on the final - and let's go Canada!

Yes, I am a lazy bum, thanks for asking!

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Very Low
Sloth:	High
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Very Low
Pride:	Medium

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

I am planning a kick-arse Australia Day party in Syd-en-ey this year. It's going to be so mind-blowingly great my mind cannot focus on it (ie I have not worked out the guest list, the drinks list, the menu, the venue.. anything, really.) Any ideas, folks?

So I edited my links because, as Calvin wisely pointed out, one of them directed unsuspecting clickers to a porn site. Go me. I like the idea I am now somehow implicated in tarnishing the youth of today's world. Because, y'know, they aren't good enough at that themselves.

So, in a wrapup of my amazing life events, not only am I still gainfully employed but I've even been promoted a couple of times. Truly we are doomed. I do like the fact that my Government sees fit to a) employ me and b) let me defend it, but does not trust me to make long distance phone calls.

My countdown to the Winter Olympics has begun - only 38 sleeps to go! I had planned to take my accumulated leave at this time so I may watch the games in peace (or at least not have to crawl into work the next morning after all-night coverage) but events have conspired against me. Instead I must attend a conference, and not only that but I have to present a paper too. It's like I've been employed as slave labour or something - most odd. I have not been able to convince my boss that a paper on why the Canadian women's hockey team will vanquish all comers is a great idea, either.

Posting that last post made me think. (This is not entirely unusual, as I do generally have to think in order to function like an adult.)

What I meant was, is this blog - and conceivably, thousands, if not millions, more like it, merely a poorly-framed, non-scientific test of the thesis "if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?"

I mean, no one reads this shit I write. Not even I read it. So, does it really exist in anything other than a warped corner of my mind? And more importantly, perhaps, why am I still typing?

Yes, these are the big issues that occupy my deranged mind.


And you know what I really like? This spell check doesn't recognise the word "blog". Gold.

Hey, would you look at that, I do remember my password.

Incredible.

Why can't I see the two posts below on my computer and why doesn't anyone post here anymore?

Also- in my desire to procrastinate and clean, I found some of your books Nic. Actually, I found four. oops.

Toodles

Why can't I see this? I am trying to edit it so I can.....

And another thing that gets me about the mess environment: serving meals at weird hours. Like 1730. What's with that?!

No wonder I never signed up.

One thing that has always freaked me out a little with officers' messes is their determination to serve cordial with every single meal.

Not that I have anything against cordial, you understand, but it is a little disconcerting to see a burly military guy with a teensy glass of red cordial in hand...

Despite recovering form a cold and hay fever at the same time, I played another good game of soccer today. We absolutely crushed the opposition: 14-3. I would have felt sorry for them had I not taken an instant and vehement dislike to one of their players.

It started when she elbowed me in the guts about 15 seconds into my first quarter. But I didn't say anything about it, just nutmegged her and set up the first goal. Fair's fair, I think.

The clicher, though, came later in that quarter when I went for a header right in front of goal. In a not-so text-book piece of defending, she kicked me in the face instead.

Wench.

She didn't bother apologiseing about it, either. So I pummeled three colours of snot out of her.



Actually, I didn't. I just fantasised about it. I did take a contract out on her head though.

I have discovered the flaw in the bureaucratic dating model: it's too democratic. Clearly it won't work at all.

What I am planning instead, is a dictatorial dating policy. It's a simple concept and one I see no flaws with; if I fancy someone then there will damn well be reciprocracy of feeling. More than that, not only will feelings be reciprocated, but they will be acted on - and happily! There is no other option here. This is how a dictatorial system works.

See? Simple.

Now, to instutute this... I may need a concomitant "winning the hearts and minds" campaign.