Why is the baby making that noise, she'll ask, taking it personally... I'm quick to comfort her and explain that Marlo is not crying at anyone in particular, it's just that sometimes it's sad to find oneself sitting in a pile of their own shit. - Heather Armstrong, here

Oh, how I love dooce.com.

Dear Apple,

I've been seeing little smiley-type icons appearing all over the place while using my iPhone, so I asked someone what they were. Turns out they're Emoji, icons that are already built into each and every iPhone but are hidden on Western handsets. I figured I'd activate them, for shits and giggles, and searched in the App Store for them. I found plenty of companies wanting to charge me, but apparently no kind users who had made an app that simply activates them at no charge.

Until I searched online. Why decline the submission of an app that simply activates a feature you chose to hide? For money? That's pretty darn low.

I, like anybody willing to do a quick search, did not pay.

Yours in irritation,
Ben

Gay love to coachbear for this one.

I let my beard get really long because he liked it. I quite liked the way it looked, but it was such a distraction. I often referred to it as "the playground on my face" because I'd constantly be playing with it.

Today I bought a pair of hair clippers. What do you think?

So there's this dance radio station I like to listen to, and I had it on in my car the other morning (I decided to drive to work because I've run out of stuff to read on the tram, screw global warming). Only, where I live the station's frequency seems to be ethnic music (straight out of ethnia), and it's not until I get closer to work that the station changes to dance music. Somewhere in the middle the two stations fight for airtime and if you're inching along in traffic, as I was, it makes for some very interesting mixes.

Think Bollywood meets Giorgio Moroder.

My 28th B'day

I seem to be too busy with the business of living my life to have the inclination or time to write about it. But I'm still managing to get some happy snaps! Here's a couple of Flickr sets for you, my 28th birthday was closely followed by a week in Tasmania. Enjoy! (Click the pics to see the sets)


Tasmania '09

Dear Journal,

I have shit to tell you. Like, tonnes of shit. Great steaming piles of the stuff.

Let's talk. Soon.

Ben

I have boob-sweat. At work. In the friggin air-conditioning!

I'm neurotic. I'm obsessive. I overthink everything and have difficulty with everyday situations. Basically, I'm crazy. But... I'm perfectly sane.

I've just started reading a book called Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robison. It describes how people with Aspergers (a mild form of Autism) have difficulty relating to those around them due to an inability to respond to verbal and body-language cues. For instance, the expected response to, "I just had my hair cut" might be a compliment or comment on the new look, whereas a person with Aspergers might respond, "I'm thirsty" or "I like cheese". It's completely involuntary, the person with Aspergers does not realise they have just changed the topic completely and basically killed the conversation, they just lack a certain ability that others take for granted. I can relate.

I vaguely remember being tested for Aspergers about a decade ago. Well, Aspergers and a bunch of other things, after I'd badgered a school counselor long enough that they finally agreed to try to figure out what was wrong with me. After all, there had to be a reason why I had so much difficulty making friends and conversing with others, and why I was constantly depressed. I had to know what it was and how I could fix it. I was so shattered when she found nothing. I think that was when the first suicidal thoughts started.

I never did get a diagnosis, or explanation, but I did find some fantastic prescription pills that keep me happy. And I think I'm finally starting to understand that we're all a little nuts. We, each one of us, have problems. I think that this is important to remember, particularly when I see others making friends and conversing with others without difficulty.

The man I lost my virginity to is being charged with the murder of a man in Sydney's gay district 17 years ago. I'm not entirely surprised.

Dear iPhone,

I know we haven't been together for long, but I really feel there are some things I need to tell you.

These are the things I don't like about you:
iTunes. I knew long ago that I hated iTunes, but having to sync with it in order to move files just plain pisses me off. Give me a goddam interface that gives me some control - a normal window would suffice. But then, I really should have expected this kind of thing from Apple.
I have to buy ringtones? I wish death by syphilis upon the jerk who came up with that idea. I have hundreds of songs, why must I buy ringtones when any one of these would do? Had I known about this little "feature" prior to purchase there would have been no purchase, that's how much this chaps my ass.

Conversely, these are the things I quite like about you:
WiFi. I have to say, this is a brilliant feature, I wish years of great sex upon the person who though of that. Although, I kinda wish I'd known this before I signed up for a huge data plan that I barely use.
Apps and gadgets, particularly the ones made by users, are tres fun. I love the fact that I can identify music just by pointing my phone at it, and the electronic shopping lists are dinky-yet-useful.
True internet on the go. Seriously, nobody likes that WAP bulltoot. Why use intarweb lite when you can have the delicious full fat variety?

Others may complain about your unusual and sometimes difficult to use touch interface, but they're just being whiny bitches. I'd never admit this if asked, but I think I really like you iPhone, interface issues and all.

But seriously, ditch the silly ringtone/message tone restrictions.

Sincerely,
Ben

Well done. Really, well done.

"You want to go to the sauna?"
"No."
"Why not?"

Good question.
This question was asked of me today. Rain also called me the other day and asked if I was okay. See, Rain and I used to chat regularly on bearwww.com, so it wasn't surprising that he was the first to notice that I'd deleted my profile from the site (along with every other "hookup site" profile I had). I told Rain I was fine, and he and I were still good. I just didn't want to be on those sites any more.

Earlier that week, on my last date with Viron, I made a decision. I told him that I didn't see a relationship in our future. I told him he had taught me a lot about myself, reminded me what it was to have respect for myself and, most importantly, reminded me that rooting around is fun at first, but not necessarily good for you. But he's not the guy for me. Viron hinted that sex with him might be a possibility, but he didn't see the point and I didn't pursue it. I didn't pursue it.

It would appear I have lost my appetite for meaningless sex (alert the press!). I can hear all of my friends saying PFFT, but I think I may have finally gotten over it. So, hookup spots and profiles are out, gay pubs have lost their attraction, I'm even currently being fussy about who gets a date with me.

When did I grow up?

I'm reading the third book of Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Trilogy series, "Brisingr". In one of the chapters Paolini switches from Eragon's first person perspective (as he often does) to the dragon Saphira's. Saphira remarks that "two-legs" are prone to dithering and filling the air with inconsequential words. At this point I feel a growing need to write to Paolini and express to him just how spot on he is. This book, like so many other books by American writers, dithers far too much. Perhaps not as much as the previous book in the series, but it's giving it a red hot go.

I think Douglas Adams said it best in "So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish": It's guff. It doesn't advance the action. It makes for nice fat books such as the American market thrives on, but it doesn't actually get you anywhere.

Here here, Mr Adams. We all miss you.

I finally succumbed and bought a Nintendo Wii. It's seriously good fun. Georges was just playing Super Mario Galaxy, having a frustratingly good time battling a particularly nasty bug that requires a spin, fly, jump then butt-hurt combo to beat, a flying bug that fights back by dropping what at first glance appear to be exploding turds. After being hit numerous times he casually remarked, "Many bombs, it's like Lebanon."

There are moments in life when a little voice tells you that you shouldn't laugh. There are also moments when you don't hear it because you're laughing too hard.

Here's another one of those moments (which, incidentally, is Georges' all time favourite YouTube video):

I took my housemate De to emergency today. She was so bad that she couldn't walk from the car to the ward, luckily I ran into a couple of medics outside who pulled out a stretcher for us. I'm here to tell you it scared the shit out of me - I'm still wired hours later.

I called Georges to come and stay by her side while I moved my illegally parked car, and when I came back she was like this. Bright eyed and chatting to her sister on the phone. Whatever they gave her it worked a treat. She was soon wheeled away for a scan of some sort and she told Georges and I to go home, she'd be fine and her sister would be there soon.

Georges and I were out shopping when we discovered the "High Vibes" festival had taken over High Street (clever name huh?). I remembered a friend saying he would be helping out at a local gallery so I gave him a call. Turns out he and a friend were dressing people in medieval clothing and taking pictures. When I saw the friars robes I knew it was fate, and Georges was told that with his salt and pepper beard he must be king.

To see all the photos from our glamour shoot click on the picture below.

Georges moved in at the beginning of the month.
Since then we've become nearly inseparable. We live together, we eat together, we go out together, we've even done the horizontal cha-cha a couple of times. But we're not boyfriends, so quit asking!

When he first moved in it was fairly clear he wanted to get naked with me, but I told him that, although I also wanted to, it would make living together weird. When he asked me why it would make things weird I was totally stumped. I couldn't come up with a single reason. Since then our other housemate De has become a little jealous of how close we are, particularly when we're just relaxing on the couch casually leaning against each other and maintaining a certain level of physical contact.

It's nice, to have someone to be close to, even if he's not my boyfriend. It makes the lonely times easier and the depressing times less so. He also "sees" me like nobody else does. He asked me once, in his broken French-accented Lebanese English, "If you don't believe in anything and you don't care about anything, even yourself, what do you have to live for?"

It's strange how someone I met less than a month ago can ask me a question so personal and profound it makes me want to curl up and cry.