Hmm…

Saturday, 1st January 2022

As promised, this is being moved and the online diary continues, right here: https://psychaesthetic.dev/

So bookmark the above link and start going there instead 😊

Friday, 31st December 2021

I helped some chick working in one the shops in the arcade below Coles right after leaving work this afternoon: I’m just walking past the locked door they keep the bins in, when I see this girl I have never spoken to, with her key in the door trying to unlock and open it – but the door was stuck shut for some reason.

I’ve slowed as I’ve seen her try the first time, then taken a few extra steps before stopping to watch her try again and fail.

And again and fail..

And again and fail..

And again and fail..

She’s pulling the key out and turning it around, putting it back in, trying the door, wiggling the key then trying again and I can see she’s getting frustrated but now she’s got the added stress of some arsehole standing a few meters away just watching as she loses to this door.

This all took place in only a few seconds, but I realize I should either do something or walk away, so I ask “You want help?” to which she replies, ‘Oh, no, it’s.. it’s just, ugh.. stuck or.. it SHOULD just.. ugh..’ and so ignoring her babbling, I walk back over to her, grab the door by the handle, lean lightly back to get a feel for how much force I’ll need, then rip the fucker free with one good pull.

She says thanks and sounds pretty happy, but I’m already walking away when she says it so I say she’s welcome as I leave and that was that, but my point: I love being randomly helpful – especially when the person I’m helping isn’t expecting any help from anyone.

By person, I mean woman of course because I would never stop to help another man do anything: the only two possible outcomes to helping someone of the same gender is to feel (1) like I’m being condescending in offering help to someone who doesn’t need it or (2) disgusted by the fact they do.

Why it’s only ever women.

The young mother I helped a few weeks ago with her pram down the steps at Lawson Station: I’d actually got to the bottom of the stairs and was about to walk off, when I’ve looked back up and seen her kinda nervously lowering her pram with the baby inside down – one step, another step, another step..

*clack*…

*clack*…

*clack*…

Seeing this caused me to have a momentary mental flash of what it would be like to have to take that fucking pram everywhere I want to go – my god what a hassle – so I’ve walked back up the top the stairs, grabbed the front of the pram and carried it down with her – 3-4 seconds and it was down on flat ground and rollable again, and again I’ve just continued on walking away straight after it’s done.

She was pretty beamy too and for two strangers I was surprised to find we were so perfectly coordinated: first go and we didn’t even look like dropping the pram and baby in it, at any point.

It is just SO much nicer to help someone you barely know – who doesn’t expect anything – than someone you’re obligated to constantly help.

Speaking of helpful: I’mma bring-in one the eyes I drew for you Amanda, to stick well, wherever but preferably on your office wall so I get to still see it.

Helpful, insofar as it’ll provide you with a better focal-point for your office than the cracks in the spak-filla and peeling paint maintenance will never bother to fix, or a focal-point for your home if you really feel like taking it away..

I didn’t know which one until I glanced at ’em both again: the second eye actually looks like yours though I’ll have to soften the eyebrows before bringing it in – which won’t take long, but yknow there’s that, netflix, podcasts and the site all vying for my focus.

I’ve also gotta choose a day to bring it in that’s either Sunday or a public holiday: since it’ll simply be in an A3 plastic sleeve I don’t want to be just carrying it around for an hour before I come to work and on the above mentioned days the first bus into town stops right out front the hotel at 09:18 or so and I can walk it up without risk of smudging the very soft 8B pencil that shades the darkest areas,

Whether Amanda *expects* that or not, she’s been remarkably easy to get along with lately so I feel like rewarding her for it: just when you could’ve cut the air with a knife between us, I realized *I* am being far too much of an arsehole for anyone to get along with anyway, among other things – so I stopped being an antagonizing bitch and started behaving myself again.

Tell ya what, fuck all these ‘additional’ public holidays caused by the real days falling on the weekend – it messes everything up from shops to transport to, well that’s really all it messes up but that’s enough to annoy me.

Whatever anyhow: food and website – or food and Netflix.

Or food and Netflix while coding website.

Certainly no getting pissed or staying up until midnight like I might’ve seen as worth doing at age 6 and though I thought about buying a bottle of Drambuie and getting pissed, I then immediately thought about the hangover and the fact even if I drank in ‘moderation’, it’s still effectively poisoning myself for the cheapest available high and the pretense that’s something to spend time or money pursuing evaporated in my twenties.

I also have to work in the morning, so tonight will be like any other night: relaxing, eating and playing with the technology I love.

Actually, I’ll fix the drawing tonight, now, and take it tomorrow: it’s just up there on the wall looking down at me and procrastination now will only mean procrastinating again tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow..

All I gotta do is lighten the eyebrow and hair around the top and cut-out another plastic sleave.

Thursday, 30th December 2021

Okay the themes and everything else have been also fixed now, so Saturday I can start using my own software for this diary again: anyone reading this now, switch to the new one and go to https://psychaesthetic.dev/login/ to login – you can literally use any word you like for the username and password boxes too; Guido will automatically assign unknown logins a guest/lurker account and I’ve set cookies to last 10 years because I fuckin hate having to type my shit into login boxes repeatedly myself too and you’ll get the best stylesheet if you’re logged in.

I’ll create a cartoon avatar for Guido, eventually so he can be a visually present character like that Microsoft Office paperclip, but much less annoying.

Right now, I have to create noodles with that sexy fermented soy sauce, fresh spring onion, garlic and red onions plus sesame oil and cooking sake, among other things.

Wednesday, 29th December 2021

9:31 PM

Alright I’ve fixed it: https://psychaesthetic.dev/

Rather than trying to think up another word to do with diaries and writing and recording thoughts and all that shit which REALLY isn’t as easy to fit in a single word as you may think, I just grabbed myself a .dev version of my existing domain, then pointed the fucker at the directory the diary platform/software is currently in.

Spins me out, in a quiet kinda way, when I consider the fact I’ve had this site for over ten years now: even times I’ve left it to sit idle and ignored for months on end, I’ve never been able to handle the thought of losing it.

What it is, I remember those first few baby steps of the internet back in the 90s, when it was only dial-up and even when you connected online, there was fuck all to see there really, compared to now with dial-up Bulletin Board System’s being much more active and used more regularly than the actual net, because the net was comparatively expensive and relatively boring.

Whatever PM

11 rooms today: 5 full rooms and 6 stay/occupied/service rooms.

I cannot express how my stomach was killing me all day – bad enough to consider calling in sick – but I didn’t call in sick, and got em all done by 2:00PM, though probably would’ve done them half an hour sooner if I’d not been so focused on the cramping or whatever it is.

And yes: I was super softly-softly, knocking twice and waiting and everything but there was only one guest actually in their room and he’d already come out specifically to tell me he didn’t want his room serviced today – Room 36 – and making a point of telling me he’d stayed at the Carrington several times over the years, that he loves what they’ve done with the Traditionals’ bathrooms and that he just wants water if that’s alright, telling me two would do.

I listened to him waffle about what a fanboy of the hotel he is, agreed and said “Yeah, I guess” an awful lot, then gave him four bottles.

I would probably be more of a fan of the place if I like, EVER got to even sit down there: all these people flapping-on about how great it is or mincing back and forth examining the Victorian design – they don’t look at how Maintenance workers have simply slopped paint all over the antique wall vents, or applied paint so thickly on window frames those windows are literally painted shut; they don’t see all the cracks and hear how everything in the building creaks and groans like it’s about to collapse.

We do, and as nice as the Victorian vibe admittedly is, we see it all so often we don’t pay it any mind at all after a while.

After a while, you start seeing the cracks or shoddy workmanship that’s gone into every rushed repair and I lost count how many wall fixtures are just fuckin’ broken or spin around on the wall because nobody’s bothered to do anything about them.

I even brought a screwdriver in myself to tighten some the glass shelves in the bathrooms I cleaned, because I got sick of them sliding out the wall brace and almost shattering and it the Colonial rooms last week, I completely removed a corner shelf in a shower made of glass that was literally held in it’s clips only by gravity alone.

It is a nice place overall: it’s just, you see more of the dodgy the more you’re there and find guests standing in awe of the ‘magnificence’ of the hotel, kinda strange: I mean every time it rains the power in half the fucking hotel flickers DARK and LIGHT and spas on the top two floors leak water into the walls, causing electricity to short-out in random hallways.

Still, after a while you start liking the dodgy bits – whether you want to to or not.

Like em until you finally get electrocuted dead one day by a leak in the wall, anyhow 🙂

I should edit and correct my grammar, but I don’t really give a fuck: I’ve bought another domain with a .dev extension, but it’s not pointing to /sandbox/ like I want it to, though I’ve also changed so many settings between my domain provider and server hosting it’s no wonder it isn’t working.

*…

Tuesday, 28th December 2021

Today, Amanda ‘talked’ to me, about my servicing of guests and – specifically – the way I’m knocking on doors: she said there’s been several complaints about my knocking then immediately shoving doors open and honestly, she’s right – I have to stop shoving doors open with my foot.

You’re right Babe: I’ll be, softer, in my approach to servicing stay-over guests.

And yeah Amanda is being nice and easy to get on with, so of course she’s “Babe” again: it’s a general term of endearment for/to any Australian, that can be used to reference any woman who’s attractive, cute or hot – I mean I guess you CAN call any woman Babe, but obviously it feels like bullshit if you’re trying to say it to someone who’s fat and ugly.

Amanda is neither ugly or fat – she is quite eligible for the title of Babe.

Last week I kicked a door open directly into a guest who was silently standing on the other side at the time like a fucking creep so when I’ve called out “Housekeeping” then heard nothing and opened the door right into her, the old woman’s grunted and I’ve replied “Oops, sorry!”, the guest in question opened the door with a very unattractive expression on her face to find me standing there with a mouthful of banana – asking whether she wants anything.

So, I cannot fault our Babe for telling me to calm down when servicing occupied rooms – she is correct: I could improve my room-side matter 😬

I’m not trying to appear rude or aggressive or abrupt, I’m just SO accustomed to guests being out in the middle of the day doing whatever so the rooms are nearly always empty and I’m focused entirely on getting in to get the room done so I can get on with the next one.

The woman I shoved the door into: I got the impression she was already a malcontent before I came along, though that probably didn’t make her day either.

So, softly softly I will do it in future and did this afternoon while Amanda was just down the hall filling my cart/trolley watching me, and she stated my quieter approach was “MUCH better!” which it was, course – I’m not a retard; I can be quiet when I try 🤨

Speaking of soft, my hair is like baby duck feathers today..

I also forget that guests staying at the hotel might not be in the same mode we’re operating in: we’ve been up since 6:00AM, been in work-mode for hours and are in a rush to get shit done – guests can be hungover, tired from doing their tourist crap, sick or even asleep when we knock and still others are just cantankerous, snippy old farts with one foot in the grave who’re only too happy to direct their anger about their lives being almost over, at me, or anyone.

I do hope Amanda likes Salt & Vinegar chips: everyone on earth seems to prefer that flavour; I sure do – the vinegar (actually citric acid, but our taste-buds don’t know the difference) cuts through the fatty potato perfectly and I can’t tolerate the taste of plain salted chips anymore and I’ve never liked the artificial taste of chicken, BBQ or whatever other flavours they come in.

I had to buy 2 for $5 of those snack packs this morning or pay $3.50 for one, so I gave her one six-pack and kept the other for myself when I first got there this morning.

I need to get up and move around, maybe make coffee: it’s strange, but after being on my feet continually moving and sweating half the time I am all day long, I find that when I get home and in front of the keyboard – when I’m finally sitting down for the first time since 7:30 AM each day – I start feeling suddenly sleepy: the longer I sit here not moving, the more that sleepiness starts to, well, actually, it’s a really nice kinda sleepy, but it’s too early to let it creep up on me just yet.

So caffeine..

Matter of fact, it could be a little energy crash from the caffeine tablets I’ve been taking throughout the day – now I think about it: since I don’t have time to fuck around making coffee at work, I’ve taken to just taking two 65mg caffeine tablets every – whenever – two hours or so throughout the day; this gives me the caffeine I’d get from drinking actual coffees without the inconvenience of actually having to make or drink them.

That may be the source of the four o’clock sleepies.

And why I’m kicking doors open all day without waiting to see of anyone’s behind them – too much caffeine perhaps 🤔

Monday, 27th December 2021

Bought myself ice-cream for the first time in living memory: two tubs, just to be sure – one of strawberry and a tub of classic vanilla – the vanilla was mandatory to go with any fruit I might want it with and the strawberry, well that was an afterthought – but fruit and ice-cream will definitely be dinner tonight.

Honey Gold Mangoes with Classic Vanilla ice-cream – dinner, of, the gods.

I didn’t want the banana, but the top broke to expose the inside so it had to either be eaten now or binned later.

I think Samantha might have the warm & fuzzies for me.

Like, a week ago when she was supervising on one of Amanda’s RDOs, I’m in the middle of cleaning one my rooms while Sam’s standing in the doorway talking to me when I ask her whether anyone’s absent – since I seemed to have a few more rooms than usual for the middle of the week – and she tells me everyone’s here yada yada, then I ask her how the new chick’s goin’.

Sam tells me she’s doing find and yada yada, when I cast my standard semi-gloomy prediction about another trial-cleaner probably not sticking around, then tell her the new chick’s young enough and pretty enough to have her choice of much easier jobs in a tourist town like this, that she’ll bounce once she realizes how hard the work actually is.

A throwaway observation I’d practically forgotten before I’d finished saying it – and now, suddenly today she just spontaneously starts on at me about it in a way that was playful and taking the piss, but also yuh like, the fact she’s been holding onto that for a week now before randomly ribbin’ me about it hmm.

Curious.

I mean, if I swap places and imagine any of the women at work commenting about someone else being attractive, I can’t imagine any fork in that scenario where I’d give a single shit, let alone chew on it for a full week before bringing it up to take the piss.

Unless I was mushy for the chick who’d said it: that’s the only factor that would make me sensitive – like our Samantha seems to be – at all.

But anyhoo, snap back to now: I need another domain name to register for the sandbox/diary, but all the good, easy combos of the words “sandbox” and “diary” are already, gone 🙁

OH MY GOD.

Such a pain in the arse to find domains that aren’t taken and are good: took me like, two weeks of solid thinking of different word combos before I finally wound-up just inventing the word psychaesthetic (and I don’t give a shit if it’s out there being used by others today: *I* created the word back in 2011 or 2012 and there was NOBODY using it for the first few years), so I s’pose I’ll need to create another cool as shit word for this online diary platform – if I want a secksee URL that’s not being used already.

Mmm.

I need a pencil and paper to write word combos..

Not only I have ice-cream and mangoes for dinner, I have four of those six packs of salt & vinegar chips: 24 snack packs, that is.. a balanced diet.

And yeah, I am well aware I committed myself to being committed to my artwork and I was going to draw EVERY, DAY.

But here we are – inventing a new word for a new domain for the PHP diary site platform I’ve started.

It’s not a choice either: I mean the only other option is to go through EVERY script and file to find all the path names I’ve written throughout /sandbox/ and change all of them to reflect the root directory. Well, I mean I’m quite sure I used relative paths wherever possible, but still – a new domain allows me to point that directly at /public_html/sandbox/ as the root/home directory for that domain which is an awful lot simpler than fucking with every file.

Sunday, 26th December 2021

7:43 PM

I forgot to upload my dream girl when I spoke of her a few weeks ago: the model who does Alice so well I want to draw-up her interpretation just the way it already is – flawlessly feminine – and has been my wallpaper for weeks now with no inclination to change it, ever.

Regardless the photo she always just oozes personality: it’s right there driving the aloof, controlled facial expressions and posturing no matter what’s going on in the frame and yeah – long hair, perfect skin and an hourglass figure = physical perfection.

And never a tacky nude or sleaze in any of her photos: like she knows there’s no way to get back respect once she’s lowered herself to filth for attention and she knows she’ll get more attention fully dressed than any common small-town slut could ever hope for no matter how many times they get naked.

Still, Alice is my favourite of the lot so I am going to draw that photo – soon as I get time enough without distractions to settle-in and focus for a bit – if not simply to impress this chick on the other side of the planet I can talk to but never meet, who I’m positive won’t mind me objectifying her, let alone using her photos without permission.

I am – after all – just propagating beauty, which the world sure needs more of.

What else can I eat.. I’m still hungry, ish: I’ve had peaches and nectarines, eggs & toast and malteasers.

Nectarines..

More, nectarines.

3:06 PM

Fuck it: imma switch back to using the site I created myself, the features I was working on were just too exciting to forget about (like: automatic writing mood analysis, complete privacy control down to individual lines, the verminator ex-girlfriend blocker, console site control, theme-controlled displaying of light/dark content), because well, because I was coding all the PHP myself specifically for it to BE a diary, I got to add features and create functions from the ground up to make it better geared for diary writing and privacy control.

One massively important function I’ll have to create sooner than later, is a Publish() option that’ll export all diary entries and files (including images) to either HTML or PDF – so if I ever need to get the diary OFF the site to be imported somewhere else (or just able to be read), the site has the ability to strip all short-codes and other bullshit out of the source files and convert it to a readable format for download.

So maybe, publish(“2021”); can run through and read everything in that year, or publish(“2020”, “2024”); to compile everything from those five years into a plain English document with photos embedded throughout – or publish(“everything”); for, just that.

Or publish(“light”, “2020”); or publish(“dark”); or publish(“to:Amanda”); – you get the idea: of course the more granular control I create for the display of diary content, the more options there’ll need to be for publishing it and – also of course – these options will be able to be executed right from the console as long as I’m the currently logged-in user.

That’ll come later though – there’s more immediate things to be added or altered for now.

What I will do, is switch back to my own site and use this to document the process: once I’ve got menus and everything created and a way to export the diary entries into something that can be downloaded and moved if that ever needs to happen, then I’ll create a permanent URL redirect to my diary /sandbox/.

One the other cooler features I’d created already, was the ability to display writing ONLY to specific user(s): so I can, say, create an account for anyone – Amanda let’s say – then give her a password which would allow her to login and only display lines marked for her and the format was simple as shit, I would simply use a tag I make up at the start of every line that’s private to her and get_content() would ONLY read that line if the user Amanda is currently logged-in, like:

amanda:::Sheep are fat and taste SO good!

The entire diary in /sandbox/ is written with these tags in the source diary files, I’m already getting a bit complicated to be understood but it’s kinda like markDOWN, though I created it before I even knew markdown existed.

But not markdown at the same time: it’s like markdown created specifically for control over the privacy of every line of text.

2:30 PM

I am thinking mm..

This time around nine months ago I stopped using the site software platform I was creating from scratch, but you know I just looked at that again and remembered I’d got as far as allowing for a reader to choose what they’re shown based on the theme they select: choose the light theme, get more amusing/uplifting thoughts and writing, while the dark theme will display all my worst thoughts and angry outbursts..

It’s still running, right here – course it hasn’t been touched since I switched back..

https://psychaesthetic.com.au/sandbox/words/diaries/2020/

I also had created a couple unique server scripts that would scan everything I wrote and calculate the mood and emotional tonality of the writing based on how many of specific types of words were counted in the source diary entries – just click the line in the header with the wordcount on it and it’ll expand to show stats.

It was looking pretty good actually and most those additions took place around the time I was doing those two IT subjects with RMIT online, but what I couldn’t be arsed with was having accurate, automated listings of all my diary entries – so every month I’d need to manually go edit the PHP files to read the diary in from the new file, which was tiresome but also a nuisance to code an auto-listing.

Still, it WAS looking pretty good and functioning flawlessly: I even created my own login and cookie handling scripts from scratch and I’ve got this *itch* to return to that – my own website software – to use and fix and build on what’s there.

Friday, 24th December 2021

Ahhh, only four rooms today: course one was a 4-bed arsehole monster-room but I’m doing my work without being a pain in the arse in general lately and Amanda isn’t chewing my ears off about anything.

I always forget how open or closed shops are on public holidays and though I am pretty sure the supermarkets are at least open most of the day, I don’t understand why shops aren’t open normal hours – everywhere – in this day and age.

Penalty rates maybe.

Penalty rates make me angry 😠

Few days ago, I was going to just call Amanda and tell her “Not coming in Christmas day, because Christmas day”, but then I thought about it; then I gave her chocolates; then I realized: what the fuck – not only do I not have anything more pressing to do, I can’t remember the last Christmas I *did* have with anyone that was any more than pretending to fit in with other peoples families anyway.

The issue really, is I’ve never had a functional family to speak of – even as a kid I remember one of my uncles – Kevin – being the only fucker in the entire extended family who wasn’t a complete piece of shit: one – Danny – spent his entire life sponging off workers comp for a fake back injury, another – Patrick – was a junkie, a complete waste of space and a sponge who’d scream at old women, make a spectacle of abusing his wife anytime anyone was there to see and leeched off my grandmother until she died.

The one auntie I had – my mothers sister – was a chronic alcoholic who treated her own kids like animals, which at least half of them wound up being as adults while, what, the other two are – I think – the only cousins I have that didn’t end-up wasting half their lives in and out of jail and I could go on all night thinking about extended family-members not worth knowing – not one of them from my generation backwards were any more than degenerates and they were the only family outside that failure of a human being who thought having a child would fill whatever fucking hole she had in her sad, broken self.

So Christmas for me has always been spent with the family of whatever woman I’m with, which means Christmas Days, lunches, whatever, have always equated to what felt like an invasion of people I don’t know at all – just watching the clock until these strangers are gone so the place returns to normal.

Toasted ham sandwich for dinner, maybe, sure I’m not sick of eating it quite yet and it’s easy.

Told Amanda today I no longer eat meat generally: not that I’m opposed to it for any ethical blabla, I just never think about it when I’m at the supermarket each day and never bring any home, but I also kinda hate the smell of seared meat all through the house.

In response that was, to her telling me people were talking about or organizing their individual bonus legs and my saying it’s pretty good ham – which was in response to my asking what’s going on because I could hear people talking in the doorways of the rooms they were doing ten minutes prior and wondered if something odd was happening: what I didn’t think to add until afterwards, was that ham is like coffee to me – long as it’s not gone bad from not being refrigerated or whatever, it pretty much all tastes like ham to me the same way coffee all tastes like coffee.

All that was in response to Amanda telling me she’s not big into ham, which I concurred because I’m not really either, but the most expensive kinds of foods are those high in protein – which meat is – so 5kg of protein-rich anything is worth claiming and taking home with her.

Even those hippy packets of vegan/vegetarian ‘friendly’ protein mixes like the fake mince or felafels – which I actually prefer over real meat now because they can just sit in the cupboard until I’m ready to add water and cook ’em – are pretty expensive for the weight of the packets you’re buying and though the fake mince does not taste like meat at all, it also doesn’t taste bad at all – it’s pretty versatile.

Protein = expensive relative to other food types, is the point though so anything with a lot of protein in it’s worth having.

Just thinking – completely out of it blue – that everytime I see Toni around town, she always looks better – both much healthier and calmer – than she did a few years ago when she was a pisshead.

Dunno what made me think of her, but yeah she used to be a shit-brained alco who would get off being as contrary and edgy as possible.

Now, she always looks, happier – whenever I see her.

Thursday, 23rd December 2021

Hmm..

Just when I’m starting to get all shitty and despondent about how how poorly the hotel treats its hardest working employees, I get a text from Lynette while I’m in town shopping, to tell me there’s a Christmas ham waiting for me in the kitchen if I’m free to come pick it up…

It weighs at least 5kg of course and there’s too much ham for me to eat, so I’ll chop it into sections, stick em in the freezer and just pull out a block at a time, I guess? It’s that or bin three quarters of it in a week’s time.

The Carrington are giving one to every employee as a Christmas bonus and while I’m well aware this is a relatively small gesture from the largest hotel in town, it still had it’s desired effect: restoring my attitude towards the place to a reasonable degree, I have to say.

Sneaky fuckers: I know a leg ham is a tiny thing to be giving – juxtaposed against a workplace culture of paying as little as legally possible, never paying a cent in penalty rates and not demonstrating any care at all towards those workers who do 90% of the work needed to keep the hotel actually operating every day – yet, it still did make me think better of the place.

I told Lynette I’ll be there in half an hour or so, then, I dunno I spose that little gesture from the hotel triggered my better nature which made me decide I’d grab some kind of small gift before I go up to get my bonus ham: course what else can you really give people you work with but chocolates and what other chocolates would I buy, but the ones I know are reliably excellent quality.

A box each for the two women who currently occupy the lions share of my thoughts or time.

Don’t know why they’re called ‘truffles’ – I think of fungus or mushrooms when I think truffles and these are just very high quality chocolate-filled balls.

Lynette because she always loves me and Amanda, well, I love her when she’s not winding me up or trying to grate on me – despite her rainbow of personality flaws – so she can do with a little smoothing-out and what better to do that, than chocolate that melts like butter on your tongue.

Now, I gotta go chop this shit up and freeze it; maybe have a sandwich since I’ve got fresh bread, though I’m not really hungry yet.

Fuck – I’ve got hiccups: I never get them god they’re annoying..

So I’m no ham expert but it tastes awesome to me, while the amount of ham going in the freezer in half-foot-square blocks is almost ridiculous: says it can be frozen for 2 months which is doubtlessly how long it’ll take to eat and now I think about it, the nutritional value of such a large amount of protein-rich food comes at a perfect time – my diet recently shifting to mostly fruit and grain the missing protein is now, well and truly accounted for. :pig-emoji:

I’d considered grabbing ham from the deli in Coles too but the lines everywhere today are fucking dumb: like, dumb enough that people were actually using the numbered tickets at the deli when I was there for the first time in, well the first time I can ever remember seeing people needing to use ’em – then I got a text to come grab a half a pig without having to line-up or wait at all 😉

I want to create some pretty curvy images to break up the dark grey and black and freshen the theme some.

I won’t because I’m a lazy arsehole with plenty of Netflix still to catch-up on, but like my family always said, it’s the thought that counts which really is the fucking dumbest shit to say: as if thinking about a thing ever got that thing done.

Several nectarines, two plums plus an apricot and a mango, for dessert.

I actually panic if I don’t have a choice of different fruits for after dinner – since I’ve grown so accustomed to eating the suckers – and while bananas were the only fruit I really bothered with previously, I no longer care for how plain and floury they taste compared to the others.

Especially nectarines: sticky little fuckers sure and though they’re rarely ready to eat when you buy ’em, after a few extra days to ripen they are, fucking, sublime little balls of juiciness.

Wednesday, 22nd December 2021

Brand New Cherry Flavor, is excellent: kind’ve like a mix between a 90s horror flick and a Tarantino film – it’s got that Hollywood Noir feel and manages to be pretty original in many of its, its things – like her vomiting kittens throughout as the curse grows increasingly intense throughout the 8 episodes.

News from the states like this episode of The Daily and – in particular – hearing the president wank on about ‘staying vigilant’ but as long as you’re fully vaccinated and especially if you’ve had your booster shot, make me wonder whether this entire pandemic has been all about drug companies raking-in trillions of dollars globally, you know..

I realize the entire planet wouldn’t just go along with a fake global pandemic purely to allow drug companies to raught governments around the world or at least that it’s not quite as simple as that, but honestly: two years of fear-mongering from officials and now suddenly everything’s open again – even for those too mentally ill to just get vaccinated – and everyone’s suddenly alright with this new variant being allegedly crawling throughout societies everywhere.

But then, it’s not like they’ve got a choice now, since they’d be facing massive revolts from the general population if they attempted to declare another lockdown after we all went out and got these dodgy-as-fuck vaccines on the promise everything would return to normal again, but just, fuck me; even NOW, I don’t know of *anyone* who’s grown seriously ill because of COVID-19 – at all.

Not just ‘I don’t personally know’, I mean I don’t even know OF anybody that someone else knows who’s got sick at all.

In two years, all I’ve heard of seriously ill corona ‘victims’ are people on television and in the news: it’s always somebody nobody seems to know personally.

Tuesday, 21st December 2021

There’s so little time in my daily routine y’know, I was trying to decide whether that’s a good or bad thing yesterday.

Every day: wake up at 6:00AM – gives me 1h40m to walk out the door to get the bus into town; 7:50AM to 9:20AM – gives me 1h30m until I walk up to the Carrington and sign-in.

Then I’m there until – usually – 1:30 to 2:30.

Go shopping then go home, usually getting there around 3:00PM dinner, wash clothes, wash self, bedtime at around 10:30 – gives me my largest chunk of time, approximately 7h30m though in that time I’ve gotta do the above mentioned things in which really leaves me with only ~6h00m each night.

So for every 24 hour period, I get about 9 hours to myself, plus 2 days off per week.

Course I had just as little time cleaning schools but I was getting paid over $1,000/week for my trouble back then: now, I’m getting around half that for a job thats hours don’t really permit another second job, yet don’t pay enough for me to save or ever get ahead to improve my situation.

I suppose at least I get enough time to be able to sleep each night with the kind of work I’m doing, but there’s still a LOT more time and effort involved in the job than I’m seeing returned in cash incentive to perpetually do that job.

Saturday, 18th December 2021

JUST saw that beautiful creature in Woolies: watched her struggling with a grocery-bag packed with stuff too heavy for her to manage easily – just as I’ve scanned my first few items at the self-checkout machines I’ve watched her walk out, then saw how heavy the bag was and I seriously considered asking the Woolies chick standing there to just gimme a second, so I could go out and tell her I’d carry it to her car, but I dunno I didn’t – she was already outside the store now and with the line of people waiting to use the self-serve machines, it seemed a bit inconsiderate to just leave one machine half used while I literally leave the supermarket to chase after a woman.

So badly wanted to go help her though..

In other, less exciting news, Amanda’s on at me about towels – yeah, again.

She literally goes in my bathrooms ahead of me this morning and removes every towel. mat, hand-towel – anything I might want to use to wipe-dry bathrooms that’re wet from floor to ceiling; telling me I’m meant to be using these shitty little torn-up shreds of rags to do it.

So, SO petulant, immature and childish: I cannot fathom how she can not only do something so ridiculous, but also think herself clever for some reason for doing it.

She needs professional help: switching from normal to bitchmode every few weeks for no apparent reason is not normal at all and – when you combine that with the teenage mood-swings and high-school mole-patrol she has going on with the boyfriend all day -the reason so many cleaners walk out on her.

You would think Amanda were supervising a joint global consortium of the United Nations to eliminate world hunger the way she acts; not simply checking the rooms of a few cleaners in a small hotel the rest of the world doesn’t know exists.

Almost as if she’s bored because she’s superfluous – like if she was half as busy as the rest of us, she wouldn’t have time to mewl-on and on about stupid fucking shit because she’d have too much actual work to do and I will walk tomorrow if she starts on at me about stupid shit for the second day running, because I DO have too much to do to stop and argue about any dumb shit like that – let her do whatever rooms I’m not there to do – she can clean with a million shitty little rags all she likes.

She has got another new cleaner started in the last week I suppose, but this new chick is currently the most attractive/beautiful female in Housekeeping – without competition, which means she’s young and pretty enough to have a lot more options for work than any the rest of us there, which ultimately means once she realizes just how hard the work is, she will bounce into any of the dozen other jobs around town that pay more for easier, more meaningful work.

I give her one month maximum and she’ll just stop coming in the same as I will if a certain swamp-hag keeps pissing me off: it wouldn’t be the first job I’ve up and quit with most paying easily more than this shit ever will – sources of income are all around us after all.

I have determined too, that PINATA HONEY GOLD are the best mangoes on the shelf right now: they’re medium-large and big enough to get into; super sweet; actually have flavour; the flesh of the fruit is dense and doesn’t get too acidic around the seed, but just nicely tangy – $3.50/each @ Woolworths.

But tonight I’ve opted for the Mangoes right next to the entrance going into Coles: these are reduced-to-clear at only $1.80/per which was enough to make me make a point of grabbing some after work this afternoon, because any fruit that reduced is obviously marked down because they’re about to turn over and these mangoes are ripe enough to actually SMELL like ripe mango, though I haven’t tasted them yet, I will, because I bought those plus a little tub of double cream to go with em for dessert tonight.

Mangoes- case you’re not getting it – are my #1 favourite fruit: that fucking thing that squeezed me into this world never once gave me a mango to try my entire childhood; finally a Youth Worker who loved me – Deborah Smith – gave me one when I was 17 and I instantly loved the sweetness, flavour and lack of acidity – SO smooth for a fruit.

Know, I get angry just THINKING about the woman called herself my mother: that anyone could not only do nothing to prepare their child for the world or how to succeed in it – at all, ever – but all the standard experiences I missed out on because my cunt of a father left me with a woman who never did anything but shut herself away at home (and me by proxcy) so she could sit around feeling fucking sorry for herself..

Literally nothing more than an emotional vampire who fed off the sympathy of anyone who’d listen to her excuses for doing nothing and having nothing and accepting that bullshit, so my entire childhood was spent with nothing and nobody.

Fuck BOTH my parents: I don’t give a single fuck if either of them are alive or dead.

I also got fabric softener for my merino, for no reason other than to find out whether superfine merino can possibly get any softer with the extra soak/rinse in this stuff.

It can get softer!

So I’ve rung and hung my two merino shirts and while they’re not quite dry yet, the difference in softness is godamn night and day – like my superfine merino (which were already softer than cotton to start with) have been upgraded to cashmere, after one rinse..

And now..

And Chloë Grace Moretz is the actress whose name I – understandably – couldn’t quite recall: she’s a-grade beautiful, but it’s strange – with a horsey chin, a face that’s a bit too wide and other features that aren’t quite classically attractive, somehow her face just came together in JUST the right way to make her, gorgeous.

Like, any one of her features taken on their own aren’t particularly attractive, but the sum of all parts is almost magically greater than the components that make it ever could be.

Retrospectively: the reduced $1.80 mangoes from Coles are good, but not AS good as the Piñata Honey Gold ones from Woolies – they’re still king.

Friday, 17th December 2021

I’ve felt sick all day today because all the fruit yesterday – least I’m pretty sure that’s why – which has me kinda wondering.

All those times I would to go full piglet on ripe, luscious looking blackberries growing all around town, I would be practically doubled-over with stomach pain the very next day right?

We’re not talking about me just picking here and there either: I mean I’d spot a blackberry vine that looked dripping with berries then just hang at that bush until I’ve eaten every last berry on the fucker.

Next day – bloated, cramped stomach all day.

So fruit, must therefore be BAD to eat.

I always just assumed it had to be the fact our local council sprays all the vines every year with poison for whatever reason – that the poison was the thing making my stomach crack a full-on spastic attack at me, but now today, I’ve felt almost as bad yet ate no poisoned fruit at all yesterday – only a bunch of supermarket-grade fresh produce hmm 🤔

Or maybe not bad, but days when I only have a banana and a mango or something, my digestive system has no issues; days when I feel like going extra healthy by only eating fruit – and a LOT of it – my whole inside feels like shit the next day – I’m sure it wouldn’t after a while, but gawd how many queezy days would a person need to put-up with?

Regardless I grabbed those little beef pasta pockets of ravioli plus matching spaghetti sauce and Cracker Barrel Special Reserve to grate over the pasta, for dinner – since my stomach has blackmailed me into something NOT fruit.

And yes: a normal, more balanced human-being would approach such a dietary improvement by slowly increasing their consumption of fruit a little at a time to allow their system to adapt: certainly that’s what I should be doing, but I am not balanced enough to approach anything that way.

I tell Amanda this afternoon that I dunno where all the runners for the beds have gone – which I don’t – and her reply was that she doesn’t know where they are either with, ‘They’ve all just vanished’ or something similar and I have no reason to doubt her and don’t care enough about bed runners to give it further thought, though it is weird: no you don’t need the runners to make perfectly presentable beds, but I’ve grown accustomed to them and now, finding there’s NOT a runner in the room or the cupboard in the room it’s kinda like well, not having cheese on top of your pasta, yet room after room I found no runners at all.

They’ve either been sent downstairs to be washed, or guests have stolen them but if the old ones aren’t found they’ll be replaced eventually, just yknow.

What SHOULD be taken downstairs to be washed DEFINITELY: those gold cushion covers in the Colonial rooms – those things are SO, SO dirty I genuinely feel they ruin my freshly made beds when I put them on, being literally covered in a film of grey like they are and I’m not even bitching or being snarky here – they just all need to be washed at once then they’ll be good for another, dunno, however long they’ve not been washed this time ’round.

It’ll only take a few days to collect all the cushions and wash the covers – guests only chuck em on the floor anyhow so they’ll live without them that long.

Since I didn’t take a photo of the day today, I’ll use this gorgeous little hand-carved figurine from an equally gorgeous chick, who draws and carves and does both well enough I might order one..

Watching “Joker” too tonight – to save the second season of The Witcher for my days off so I can stay-up late and watch all eight episodes at once, but this ‘pre’ joker movie isn’t mm.. it’s actually missing a lot of what makes the Batman movies mega-hits – I mean it’s just one mental dood who got fired from his shitty job as a dial-a-clown and we’re more than halfway through the fuckin’ film, so I’m not seeing how it’s going to get more, MORE, in time to save itself.

I mean Pheonix plays the part well and all, but he’s no Heath Ledger and the only really weird character trait we’ve seen so far is this ‘condition’ that causes him to laugh at inapropriate moments, which is really very jarring/grating/annoying.

I also see the remake of Carrie’s there with that foxy little bitch from Let Me In – Chloe Whatzaname – which probably would’ve been a better movie, but there’s no time left tonight for that too 🙁

WAAAIT! Hold the fucking phone!

The Joker has finally lost his shit and snapped – the movie is finally going somewhere, two-thirds the way through.

Thursday, 16th December 2021

I brought home a backpack full, stuffed completely, with fruit today – half a dozen different kinds of mangoes (only because I haven’t found which of them are best right now), Peaches, Bananas, Black Plums, Nectarines, I think that’s it matter of fact but I bought a shitload of ’em.

Oh and Apricots right.

None of the nectarines are ripe enough to eat at the moment and I commented to a chick also trying to pick fruit that’s ready ’bout how all the peaches and nectarines are way too hard – which she agreed with – so they’ll just have to sit on the window-sill until they’re finally soft enough to eat and I even eat berries regularly now, though never bother carrying them back with me: they get eaten as soon as I’ve bought ’em, usually in the B2 Level of the Coles carpark – a place I’ve spent so much time I feel absolutely comfortable and do all my best pacing and thinking there.

I gotta wash clothes and rebuild my atomiser anyhoo.

And mix more custard vape juice.

Can’t believe there was a time I actually used recipes to mix my eliquids: carefully weighing-out each flavour and contemplating their ratios to balance with one another to arrive at juice that was well, it was always vapable and more often good than bad – only the various tobacco flavours ever proved difficult to get mixed into anything anybody would want to ever vape.

Now, I guestimate the amount of 100mg/mL nicotine base to add, then guestimate one or more of the custard flavours I have, maybe add a squirt or two of complimentary shit like cream or milk flavour(s) or some Brown Sugar and that’s it: every mix turns out different and there’s no repeating any mix anymore, yet they all taste fine because it’s mostly custard(s) – adding one brand of custard to another is impossible to ruin, and custard is still the only juice flavour I want to inhale, well..

I have always prefered custard liquid, but the longer I’ve stuck with the custard the longer that flavour has become mentally associated with vaping for me, which means that now custard has become just as locked-in for my taste buds as Old Holborn tobacco.

And yeah I still smoke, but nowhere NEAR as much as I used to: with vaping being necessary at work every day, I’ve settled into accepting it and now – even at home – I’m more likely to reach for the vaporizer as the tobacco because it’s faster to press a button than roll a smoke and smoke it.

I am halfway through The Bundy Tapes – which contains more actual video/audio of Ted Bundy than I’ve ever seen – and it’s gotta be said: despite all the horseshit we’ve heard about him being histories most charming serial-killer, he was not even close to the captivating, smooth-talking genius the media made him out to be.

Certainly he ‘hammed’ it up for the cameras in court but – with the beady rat-like eyes, the beak-like nose and lips as thin as pencil-lines – almost every time he was on camera, the fucker came off as such a fucking cornball: always with that conceited fucking smirk, he really seemed to believe he would get away with killing a bunch of college chicks then fucking their rotten corpses, purely because everyone would love him too much to electrocute his dumb arse.

Gawd..

Of all the creepy serial-killers, Ted Bundy has never been the most interesting to me, but over the years I’ve just heard so many references to him being totally magnetic and well, he wasn’t – if I had only one word I could use to summarize him, it would be annoying.

Wednesday, 15th December 2021

Today, ALL the great unwashed, unvaccinated, paranoid nut-bags get to mingle with the rest of us: endangering themselves alone, since none of us have given a shit about the virus for weeks now we’re all inoculated and I mean sure there’s still an ocean of masks everywhere you look in supermarkets etcetera, but have a closer look at people inside and close enough to be breathing on one another: not so many masks going on in more confined places, which is super strange – like people don’t seem to mind being open to infection from people they know, as if they’ll become less sick from friends and acquaintances than strangers or something..

Certainly, almost nobody at the hotel has worn a mask for weeks now and the longer we all continue not becoming sick, the less anyone thinks about a mask: with the typical amount of visitors up from Sydney etcetera, those tiny number who didn’t get immunized are almost guaranteed to get sick sooner than later.

Don’t matter a shit though: another lockdown will be coming now case numbers are up to 800/day again and rising – for the omicron variant, or whatever the fuck it’s called – then again, no way they would dare right? After everyone went ahead despite their better judgement and had that fucking vaccine shot in our systems in order to re-open again?

I dunno.

Wouldn’t surprise me if they did.

I’ve got a basic idea how this improved resume will go too: like a facebook timeline, but much more clipped-down and shortened to be instantly readable – I’ll stick my number and email on the cover so there’s no need to flip through pages etc to find contact info yeah I know.

I have five artboards in an CMYK Illustrator document setup for print – easily converted to RGB for screens once it’s done – and it already looks pretty slick, though not slick enough: I want as little text as humanly possible while still conveying all the information necessary, with visual elements that make each page instantly discernible without over-shadowing the minimal amount of text/info itself.

There’s a FLY in here..

I HAVE to kill the little fuckhead..

Tuesday, 14th December 2021

Fucking bees are such drab, dull looking little motherfucks and they never sit still long enough for a clear photo.

Sunday, 12th December 2021

Waaait.

Wait now: I have not finished with the usual in-town daily shopping yawnfest yet, so cannot settle in to writing anything just yet.

I will say: I’ve just listened to this episode of SYSK about The Terracotta Warriors (it’s also in the sidebar on the right, right now) and there is always something just, fucking, epic, about some of the things people used to do in medieval times and how much effort craftsmen put into the shit they created back in the good ol’ days.

7,000 of these hand-crafted motherfucks this emperor demanded: to protect him in the afterlife.

Human beings were SO much more impressive before farming and the industrial revolution turned our species into lazy mindless fools.

I am beginning an updated resume: this time, I’m going to completely abandon the boring standard format – I want to use every available tool and demonstrate as broader range of abilities as I can possibly squeeze into – what is, really just a document.

But just because it’s only a document, yeah..

Resumes are SO fucking boring right? I mean people hate to create and update the fuckers as much as they probably hate having to read them: I want to create a document that’s fucking a-grade in every way and I’m not going to even bother using shit like MS-Word to create it, but Adobe’s suite of software including Illustrator and Photoshop plus inCopy – or whatever Adobe’s desktop publishing software is – to arrive at a resume that summarizes me completely.

The finished file will not only be stunningly beautiful and as original as I am, it’ll be well enough written to make it easy reading – balancing funny and serious – with the final version being both in PDF (for emailing and printing) plus an html site, or maybe even just a site: I can do so much more with a website than I can with a static PDF file mm.

Site or PDF or both though, the last time I updated this fucker was in 2019 and I can do a lot more than just clean like a deadhead without a personality, so I’ve gotta get that across quickly and succinctly in a single file capable of influencing someone.

With a 2019 resume I obviously need to update it anyhow, but it’s like mmm.. in a tourist town with SO MANY hospitality jobs, for me to update a boring list of places I’ve worked when I know how much presence I have, isn’t telling future employers anything at all about how good I am with guests and customers.

Hospitality is exactly the kind of work where having a personality matters and my own personality – driven by intelligence – is so unique and genuine, to not underline it as an asset to wherever I work is, dumb of me.

Especially now I’ve got a measure of how fake most staff are when interacting with guests, who really love people who talk like fucking robots: ‘Oh. Ha. Ha. I. Agree. Do. Enjoy, Your. Stay.’ – SO cheesy you can see guests cringe.

The fact guests genuinely like talking to me because I genuinely make them feel more comfortable and even laugh, is an asset to any hospitality employer and their workplace, no matter what part of the hotel I’m in and sure, in Housekeeping any fake, boring arsehole can get along fine since all they really need to do is flip rooms all day, but the ability to engage the very people who are paying to stay there and make them feel like someone genuinely likes them and makes them feel welcome, that – I would say – makes for an employee who’s more valuable to a hotel, regardless which job they’re being paid to do – especially since it’s SO obvious there’s SO few other employees who can naturally be so real and warm with guests.

You know, these Infusions Sour Cream & Herb flavoured Vege Straws are so fucking good: right up there with Cheetos Cheese Balls – I just cannot stop going once I start eating the suckers because they’re almost entirely made of air, so you never feel like you’ve eaten well, anything.

Even after a full bag.

Now, while I start mentally circling how to go about this new resume format: Netflix or Podcasts..

Oh and for all it’s marketing hype, Mindhunters really was a lot slower than the promo videos led me to believe: like 80% of season one seemed to be comprised of filler episodes – where nothing much was happening – with only two serial killers being interviewed a couple times all season.

I mean it’s alright, but I sure would’ve been disappointed if I’d had to wait every week for each new episode – only to discover I had to wait another four weeks for an episode of any interest to air.

The Witcher however, is fucking awesome: every episode managing to draw you in, even those without an actual monster appearance and/or slaying.

*…

Saturday, 11th December 2021

Yknow, I started watching Mindhunter at around three o’clock, so what’s that, eight hours straight and I’ve almost demolished the entire season in one sitting, but it’s about time for sleep so the last few episodes’ll just have to wait 😠

Also, I have found an artist – a Russian chick – whose work I just cannot help myself from returning to swipe through, even though I’m not a fan or follower of any artist, like ever, because it’s just not something I’ve felt any inclination to do and her artwork isn’t even technically anything at all to write home about: it’s just – something.

There’s something about her stuff..

First, a grayscale painting/drawing of hers, then a colour one..

If I’m perfectly honest her creations are too basic for me to really consider art in any classic sense of the word but I still love it.

She says it takes her around 30 to 60 minutes to scribble each one into being and they don’t look like much more time has gone into them, yet they’re all just, so easy to look at 🧐

I actually think her drawings subconsciously remind me of one the Zelda games – back in the Nintendo 64 era, which had a similarly whimsical design to its objects and characters and I spent long enough playing all those games to have an innate love for the aesthetic they’d deployed throughout the world I was immersed in for all those hours.

I, am starting to fall asleep laying here: the phone slipping from my hand and hitting the carpet with a soft thud a moment ago..

I also allocated the half hour or so needed to cut my hair again, finally, tonight, instead of only grabbing the scissors five minutes before I go out and cutting whatever tufts of hair are obviously sticking out and messy-looking.

Looks as good as it always does when I cut it myself and I truly cannot imagine why anyone would throw $30 in the toilet visiting a hairdresser who does a half-arsed job at best using some shitty, generic hair style while only half paying attention to what they’re even doing as they cut it.

Cutting it yourself, you get it cut exactly how you want – every time.

Friday, 10th December 2021

You were PERFECT today – the perfect co-worker, or supervisor, or whatever little title you want to give yourself.

You probably don’t even know what you did, and it wasn’t so much you did anything specifically: it was your attitude – no snark at all!

I am very happy with you!

As an aside: I spontaneously took this photo this afternoon to demonstrate how much better my beds have become over time, because this was no special effort – just another bed – yet they usually turn out as neat as this since, well if I’m honest: since Amanda showed me what I was doing wrong with the foot of each bed that made my singles look like a dogs’ breakfast every time I made one.

I got there this morning and since none of my checkins were empty, I started on two of my other rooms while I waited for guests to vacate.

As I’m up the back of the Traditional hallway starting on two of the bathrooms I see Amanda coming out the storage room opposite the bathroom I was also walking out of and she says, “Good morning Jason”

I say good morning back and for those few seconds her words are still bouncing around my brain as they’re processed, I realize: there’s something different about her vocal tonality this morning – something very subtle, but detectable.

Her good mornings you see, are usually just an automatic string of words she says half vacantly and without paying attention – much the way my “Morning” is set on auto and delivered to anyone I walk past and haven’t seen already on a given day.

This morning’s greeting was still not so different to that, but there was just, god, the slightest difference to how she’ll usually say it: it was less automatic and more focused – a little softer with a touch more warmth than I would typically get from her.

You think I’m going to continue with other examples of how she was all warmer and kinder throughout the day, but nup: that was the only thing either of us said to one another all day, because all day, she left me to get on with my work – but that is what I want.

She didn’t keep appearing to check my board and ask me how much I’ve done; she didn’t harangue me about not being fast enough; she didn’t demand I clean in a specific way and she didn’t order me to prioritize rooms in the order she wanted them done.

Course, I have no objection whatsoever to Amanda being around me for whatever reason – none at all: what I hate, is when she stops by every twenty minutes to snark at me about how I’m working or yeah bossing me around – telling me I’m too slow or micromanaging me in general.

If she’s just there doing her own thing or refilling the trolly or to inform me of a guest changing rooms or arriving early or whatever: if she’s there to do or say ANYTHING that’s perfectly cool with me – long as she’s not trying to boss me around like her nigger.

Of course, I am more inclined to voluntarily submit to behaving like her nigga when she’s playing nicely enough for me to want to be more useful to her.

But she just left me to it and I’m sure it was at least partly because she just didn’t wanna deal with me but by the afternoon as I was doing my last few rooms, she’s asked me which room I’m currently doing and the interaction was totally relaxed between us.

Like, that was the first time today she’d even asked about where I’m at with my rooms: I told her I had only the one stay-over plus one empty room to clean, she said cool and I went back to doing them and mm.. hard to describe why that’s good, but it was and mostly because of the mode of engagement and the fact both her and I were calm – she wasn’t being snippy so I didn’t feel like being a pain in the arse to her 🙂

I didn’t make a point of finding her to tell her I was finished when it was time to go, but I did send her a text complimenting her for just being easier to deal with: told her that “happy-cute Amanda” suits her infinitely better than snippy and bossy and UGH..

I know, I almost can’t believe it myself: I am genuinely pleased with her and if she’ll just stay like this I’ll be loving her again in no time.

In less lovable news: I saw Dogmeat today at Woolies – this morning, like 8:30AM or thereabouts – for the first time since she insta-ghosted me after apparently being pissed about a text I sent like, two weeks ago or so.

At the supermarket this morning, she completely ignored me – even being three feet away – which can’t have been her simply being too deep in thought for her eyeballs to spot me: which is okay.

I mean one person doing the full-bitch /ignore-mode when they see you in town isn’t a big deal, though it did get me thinking about the circumstances Dogmeat’s in and how that kind of arrangement can totally fuck someone’s brain – attitudes, values and beliefs that aren’t even hers are without a doubt, just oozing out every pore of her skin and how she looks, acts, thinks and relates to other people yeah wow – just like, like nothing about her is even her anymore which is a very sad low to allow herself to sink to.

I won’t say anything about who Dogmeat is or even outline the generic type of ‘situation’ she’s in because, well there’s little point really given she’s basically sacrificed herself to misery and it’s the same state of existence happening to so, so many others, there’s not an Olympic stadium you could construct that’s big enough to fit ’em all in.

Sad though.

Sad for her.

And today’s incoming nutrition has been in the form of Nectarines, Plums and for dinner tonight two different kinds of mangoes – because, fruit – and I still don’t know whether it’s doing me as much good as I presume it’ll do me, but I’m still making a concerted effort to pick, purchase then actually eat these different kinds of fruit so we’ll see in some weeks I spose.

*…

Thursday, 9th December 2021

It’s the strangest thing..

Like my planets have snapped back into orbit or my own persona has phased back into sync with the Universe: suddenly, I am no longer bothered by those who cannot listen or hear or accept advise for the advantage it’ll give them: I have realized the reason certain people have vacuum-sealed skulls isn’t out of choice – every twenty-something has shit for brains at the same time they think they’re just killing everything they do

I did when I was that age: it wasn’t until I realized, people around me were simply being nice in telling me I was killing it which my immature brain converted into “YOU ARE GOD! NOBODY CAN DO IT LIKE YOU CAN!”

Really, they were just being encouraging and my bloated, unwarranted young-adult ego took that encouragement and turned something that was really just simple kind words coming out peoples mouths, into fact – purely because I liked what they were saying – when the reality of it was, that any of a billion other people could have done exactly the same shit I was doing just as well – if not much better – than myself.

It’s remarkable really: how we can adopt things people say as the truth when it works for us, when the truth very rarely exits anyone’s mouths in the first place and when it does, it’s usually a lot less positive than “Awesome job, you’re killing it!”

The conclusion I reached anyway – in my moment of better-natured understanding – is that while I’ve already started applying for other jobs, I’ll begin looking for one that pays weekend/holiday penalty rates rather than abandon Amanda completely: this will give me better pay on weekends and public holidays plus give Amanda a bit more of a chance to have a bash at pulling her head out of her own arse and maybe realize just how much she’s not realized so far.

The thing she most needs to realize, is for each of the try-out cleaners who have cracked the shits with her and walked, it’s not JUST those individuals she’s fucked it with:

For every cleaner Amanda manages to drive away, they go off and tell all the cleaners they know that working with her is a fucking horror story and since the people listening are friends, family and acquaintances who trust them, all these other additional people listen and won’t even consider applying for a job there.

It’s human nature.

It’s also much worse than I think she’s getting: in a town so small we don’t even have a set of traffic lights and with a local population of only ~7,000 people, there’s not that many cleaners to begin with and those who do live locally, well, there’s plenty of places in a tourist mountain destination for them to work – so it’s probably already at the point where everyone who lives in the area has already heard about Housekeeping at the Carro and the only source of incoming new workers is going to be the tiny, tiny number of new residents as they trickle into town – the tiny few who haven’t heard the talk around town yet.

And even then, these new locals moving here will start at the hotel, realize the pay sucks and the conditions aren’t much better before finding better jobs that at a bare minimum pay penalty rates, then even THEY are gone.

Still, she minces around the hotel projecting the attitude that cleaners are unimportant arseholes she doesn’t have to placate or even be nice to: like the four or five long-term room-attendants who have endured are all she’ll need to clean 65 rooms a day when nobody for four towns either side of Katoomba want to work there at all.

But don’t listen to me right.

Listen instead, to your little band of tape-worms, who suck arse like their life depends on it, only ever agree with you and wouldn’t DARE question anything: because existing in a closed loop echo-chamber of sad, mousey submissives mindlessly bleating praise at you like dumb sheep, that’s just exactly how you go about expanding your range and improving as a human-being.

Anyhow, word of mouth is a ridiculously powerful thing and works both ways: it’s not just for recommending cafes with great coffee, but warning people in advance of places to steer clear of: Amanda herself will recall one of the very first things I mentioned in the interview with her was that all over town I’ve heard from people that the hotel treats it’s workers like shit and to avoid the place – there’s plenty of better employers in town.

I gotta mix some fresh custard juice: takes at least a month in the cupboard to steep into anything worth vaping and I’m down to just ~100mL of Eggnog+Custard liquid; plus wash clothes for tomorrow; plus tidy; then I have to create a superior, updated resume because the one I’ve been using is from 2019 and I cannot keep just scribbling all over the old one.

What should I watch tonight…

OMG: Black Mirror – all 5 seasons!

Done.

*…

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