Five Things Redux
Thank you, tipofdoom:
1. Just where does all the wah come from?
Deep inside, baby.
Not sure. I can tell you what it's like for me, but I can't say how it's any different from anyone else's creative process. I have a constant monologue going on in my head, a stream of silent observations, thoughts, and explanations to myself. If you've ever caught me staring into space, that's what I'm doing. Writing is essentially an outlet for that; putting pen to paper - or hands to a keyboard - give that stream of thought a medium in which to express itself, and channels it in a particular direction.
It may also arise from the direction my life has taken. I've always been a writer and creator, in one way or another, and I spent three years at university training in how to organise my thoughts and write them clearly and effectively; but I've gone on to a job which has nothing to do with this. Some parts of my job involve writing - reports and training documents - but I don't really use these skills otherwise.
2. You're clearly proud of your Australian heritage, how is it living outside of that Country? Particularly in a nation which historically has does not have the greatest of records with them?
I do find it strange, for reasons entirely unrelated to my feelings for my home country. I am an outsider here, in myriad small ways: children's TV programmes no-one else remembers, junk food you just can't get here, turns of phrase that make people look at me strangely. It's not always in my face, but I am regularly reminded of it. I identify strongly with Britain, but am conscious that I don't belong. But then, as much as I love and am proud of my country of birth, I was always an outsider there as well, the child of two English immigrants, with an accent that most natives considered effete, bookish and awkward in a country that idolises sporting accomplishment.
As for Britain's record with Australia, it's worth remembering that Australia was a British colony, and to a great extent still is. The penal colony system arguably generated a resentment that the current Australians have inherited, but it's as much a subject of pride as anything else, and even if our progenitors were convicts, they were after all British convicts. Consider also the Ten Pound Poms, whose descendants (including myself) are now a major part of Australian society; to us, Britain was a home we left willingly to go to a land of opportunity, not an oppressor who sent us away as slaves. We've always been friends and allies with Britain; even the nuclear tests, although many current Australians are very unhappy about them, were conducted at the Australian government's invitation. Where we're different from the British, that difference is part of how we identify ourselves, so even then we're defining ourselves in terms of Britain.
3. How did you and Tamsin meet?
Tamsin's older brother, Justin, was in the roleplaying society at my University. As there was no such society - or much of anything she was very interested in - at her own University, Tamsin tagged along with her brother. Naturally, I was engaged to another woman when we first met, and she hooked up with one of our mates - he's still in the Bar Llyr, actually - right at the beginning of the year.
I subsequently broke up with my fiancee and started dating someone else, then Tams and her bloke broke up and she started seeing someone else, then I split up again and started seeing someone else again, then Tamsin and her bloke broke up and she went to Australia and New Zealand for a year and a half, etc., etc... by the time we were both single and in the same country long enough to see romantic potential in one another, we'd already been friends for more than five years. It was an interesting way to go about things; we were already very comfortable with each other by the time we got around to it.
We fell into bed after an evening of wine, were an official item a little while after that, got engaged a few months after that, then got married almost two years after that.
4. We're in the kids in siberia?
Good God. Dan Thomas and I were filking pop songs with CP-inspired lyrics, a year or two after starting playing; he came up with the immortal Human House-Slave (to the tune of Teenage Dirtbag). Kids in Siberia was one such adaptation. I think I performed it once for the Jhereg and got a few chuckles, but never again. I think I remember half of the first verse.
5. Do you regret breaking my X-bow?
Regret? Like, do I pine for a world in which I didn't break your crossbow, and fantasise longingly of what might have been? No.
I am sorry I did, for what it's worth. Forgive my big fat clumsy ass. I did offer to pay to replace the broken component, and you told me not to worry. Does it still bother you? Do you still have the bow? I can get in touch with Skian Mhor or whoever made it and ask about a new crossbar?
1. Just where does all the wah come from?
Deep inside, baby.
Not sure. I can tell you what it's like for me, but I can't say how it's any different from anyone else's creative process. I have a constant monologue going on in my head, a stream of silent observations, thoughts, and explanations to myself. If you've ever caught me staring into space, that's what I'm doing. Writing is essentially an outlet for that; putting pen to paper - or hands to a keyboard - give that stream of thought a medium in which to express itself, and channels it in a particular direction.
It may also arise from the direction my life has taken. I've always been a writer and creator, in one way or another, and I spent three years at university training in how to organise my thoughts and write them clearly and effectively; but I've gone on to a job which has nothing to do with this. Some parts of my job involve writing - reports and training documents - but I don't really use these skills otherwise.
2. You're clearly proud of your Australian heritage, how is it living outside of that Country? Particularly in a nation which historically has does not have the greatest of records with them?
I do find it strange, for reasons entirely unrelated to my feelings for my home country. I am an outsider here, in myriad small ways: children's TV programmes no-one else remembers, junk food you just can't get here, turns of phrase that make people look at me strangely. It's not always in my face, but I am regularly reminded of it. I identify strongly with Britain, but am conscious that I don't belong. But then, as much as I love and am proud of my country of birth, I was always an outsider there as well, the child of two English immigrants, with an accent that most natives considered effete, bookish and awkward in a country that idolises sporting accomplishment.
As for Britain's record with Australia, it's worth remembering that Australia was a British colony, and to a great extent still is. The penal colony system arguably generated a resentment that the current Australians have inherited, but it's as much a subject of pride as anything else, and even if our progenitors were convicts, they were after all British convicts. Consider also the Ten Pound Poms, whose descendants (including myself) are now a major part of Australian society; to us, Britain was a home we left willingly to go to a land of opportunity, not an oppressor who sent us away as slaves. We've always been friends and allies with Britain; even the nuclear tests, although many current Australians are very unhappy about them, were conducted at the Australian government's invitation. Where we're different from the British, that difference is part of how we identify ourselves, so even then we're defining ourselves in terms of Britain.
3. How did you and Tamsin meet?
Tamsin's older brother, Justin, was in the roleplaying society at my University. As there was no such society - or much of anything she was very interested in - at her own University, Tamsin tagged along with her brother. Naturally, I was engaged to another woman when we first met, and she hooked up with one of our mates - he's still in the Bar Llyr, actually - right at the beginning of the year.
I subsequently broke up with my fiancee and started dating someone else, then Tams and her bloke broke up and she started seeing someone else, then I split up again and started seeing someone else again, then Tamsin and her bloke broke up and she went to Australia and New Zealand for a year and a half, etc., etc... by the time we were both single and in the same country long enough to see romantic potential in one another, we'd already been friends for more than five years. It was an interesting way to go about things; we were already very comfortable with each other by the time we got around to it.
We fell into bed after an evening of wine, were an official item a little while after that, got engaged a few months after that, then got married almost two years after that.
4. We're in the kids in siberia?
Good God. Dan Thomas and I were filking pop songs with CP-inspired lyrics, a year or two after starting playing; he came up with the immortal Human House-Slave (to the tune of Teenage Dirtbag). Kids in Siberia was one such adaptation. I think I performed it once for the Jhereg and got a few chuckles, but never again. I think I remember half of the first verse.
5. Do you regret breaking my X-bow?
Regret? Like, do I pine for a world in which I didn't break your crossbow, and fantasise longingly of what might have been? No.
I am sorry I did, for what it's worth. Forgive my big fat clumsy ass. I did offer to pay to replace the broken component, and you told me not to worry. Does it still bother you? Do you still have the bow? I can get in touch with Skian Mhor or whoever made it and ask about a new crossbar?