andcurve.weblog - The weblog of Kevin Teljeur. Somewhere within all the noise, there is a note you need to hear.

Somewhere on the thefreedictionary.com entry for this word ‘normative’, under piles of advertising for buying normative stuff and italian things for some reason, is the explanation for what this word means. Check it out. Alternatively, you could look it up on Wikipedia. I really should do a post about what I think of wikipedia, but in a nutshell, it’s a sort of mix between encyclopedia and general knowledge free-for-all where anybody can be an expert on anything at all. Unless someone even more determined decides that they know more about it than the previous person, rewrites the previous entry and dedicates their lives to ‘correcting’ any changes; and yes, there are people who do this and get fulfillment from it, and while I believe in personal freedoms I do think there are people who need to get a good hiding every once in a while in order to give them a bit of perspective on the world.

Anyway, I got ‘normative’ from reading the draft of a paper from Connor Upton, who is exceedingly clever but needed some perspective (without the hiding) from me on how much sense his paper is making (which is in fact a lot of sense, but don’t tell him that). It’s now my word of the moment, which I’m going to find new, creative uses for which are to a greater or lesser degree completely inappropriate: “Oh honey, you are have with me the great sexes, I have so much the enjoy from it. Are you also like with it?”

“Yes, yes I think it was quite a normative experience”

Me in a somewhat normative state. I’m also in the kitchen, which I’m going to rename ‘Office 2.0′ which is cool-sounding and helps me forget about food which can’t be a bad thing. This photo is about a month old now.
As you can see, I haven’t been getting about too much recently, and the incredible, voluptuous Eastern women in my head are becoming increasingly easier to please (while I’m getting more and more bored of them, in turn). I probably shouldn’t have shared that, but then again I made that up, I lied to you, my faithful reader. Yes, it’s becoming an abusive relationship already, and we should seek help.

I’m feeling pretty vacant at the moment. There was quite a lot I’d hoped to get done this weekend, including writing more stuff for this site, but… Well, last week took it out of me, I guess, topped off by a fun but grueling game of footie on Friday night. It was the first of the season so, as you can imagine, everyone was carrying around a lot of spare tyre and the like, but I really did seem to come off the worst of the lot, ambling around on the pitch as if I’d eaten more or been locked in for the whole week and half of Christmas, force fed on Stollen. As usual I started powering up later on in the game and running more, just as everyone else was winding down; I’ve started to see that if I started my warm up 30 minutes before the game instead of 10 minutes into it, then I might get more out of the game itself. I have common sense and Annette to thank for that observation, and I’ll start next Friday with this clever new approach. And eating less.

After the game I called to Garret and Nora, where Ian Cuthbertson and Aoife were tucking into some incredibly old cheese, and I was kidnapped. Ian is basically the human manifestation on Earth of Satan himself, with a liberal helping of Mr Spock. If you don’t believe me, meet the guy, and you will see in his eyes the uneasy alliance between calm logic and the eternal damnation of all mankind, being transported to his ultimate end by drink driving. That might he was trying to achieve it by mixing Kahlua and sour milk, which we were having none of, in spite of his insistence that there was nothing wrong with it, but it really did look like a bad idea. I mean, had I been in Ulaanbaatar then I suppose I might accept that as being something of the local culture and try it, but… It was Garret and Nora’s sitting room, so no. Spockbertson, drink it yourself. The kidnapping amounted to Garret hiding my shoes so that I couldn’t go home. That was ok, they have a nice futon, and it meant I could play a good prank on Garret in the morning. Heh heh…

Saturday would have been a shoe-in for the most apathetic day ever, but luckily I agreed to go out and catch up with Caroline (and John and various people from his house too – John, Lena, Coll, Anna, and Anna’s infeasibly large bosom) so that went on until the early hours. The ‘two in, one out’ drinking rule is back, which is good; basically, I drink no more than one pint if I’m drinking in a bar, and no more than two if I’m in, for example, someone’s house. Really, it does work.

Today I cycled in the Phoenix park. You know, it really is very big, it’s easier than you might think to get lost or disorientated in there. Maybe they could have a new series on RTE called ‘Disorientated’, where a bunch of people from all over Ireland get stuck in the middle of the Phoenix park, and have to fight for survival…

I chatted to Tee for a bit on Friday, and we’ve had the odd internet chat too. It was great, but I really do miss her. It’s hard, but of course it could be a lot worse and ultimately we’re both happy with what we’re doing which was always the point. Check the site out, she and the girls put up lots of photos recently and they’re worth seeing.

On the subject of ‘happy with what I’m doing, generally’, I’m actually not really. Or am I? Hmm… I have a clearer shape to the 2006 Plan For The Year, which is a lot like the plan for 2004, and 2005. I’d better just do those things or I’ll find that the plan for 2009 still looks like the plan for 2004. I’d better stop being apathetic and get moving before I find that my zimmer frame has seized up…