Life Goes On

Benefit of Death
Friday, Nov. 05, 2004 - 12:46 p.m.
A couple of weeks ago I received a letter from one of the Super funds left by Wayne. There are two payable death benefits and in September I put in applications for these on behalf of David and myself.

The letter said that they have recommended that $55,000 be placed in trust for David when he turns 18. There are two more weeks left for people to lodge objections to this but for some reason I feel as though no-one else knows about this one? Wayne has two other sons who are 17 and 19 now. I know they are aware of the other death benefit (expected to be around $58,000) but it looks as though the $55K will go through for David. This will be a huge relief for me. I assume that I will be able to apply for some of the money each year for schooling and other needs... then when he is 18 the remainder will give him options - he can choose his University, or go overseas for a year, or open a small business, or buy a car. If this goes through it just means that it will be less pressure on me when he's a teenager. With his Aspergers, it is expected that he will stay at home longer. Due to their social difficulties, Aspergers boys are less likely to jump at the chance to move in with a bunch of mates! *wipes forehead in relief*

Assuming this goes through, it will mean that Wayne's life was not in vain. He is more value dead than he was alive.

t.

I'm still alive! :P
Friday, Nov. 05, 2004 - 10:54 a.m.
It's been an odd week. I have started walking with ms-do at 5.30am. She is such a task master - making me do all the big hills - but it feels great. Consequently my whole routine has changed. I'm sleeping quite a lot during the day and I go to bed earlier, knowing that I'm up early.

David and I went to see the new Quentin Tarantino movie last night. It was all in Mandarin with subtitles but David loved it and was still talking about it over breakfast this morning. He doesn't usually watch "M" rated movies - has no interest in horror or blockbuster action movies - so this was new for him. He really seemed to gain the main concepts and appreciated the attention to detail that is typical of Tarantino.

It's also been a tough week financially. I knew I was going to be short but it's been a long time since I was actually short of food :(. David had pasta every night for dinner simply because that's all I had in the cupboard and his school lunches were very basic. I ate sandwiches for most meals and just drank water when I was hungry. Pay day today, thank goodness. I used to ask my parents for some money when this happened but I know they are paying the full mortgage on their new unit while it's vacant. I was able to borrow some money off a friend yesterday but I hate doing that. Anyway, crisis is over thankfully.

That's about it. I'm a little tired, hence the lack of entries. There are jack hammers outside my window which I hope go away soon... or maybe they're in my head.

t.

Tuteledge in the Art of Bob
Monday, Nov. 01, 2004 - 1:20 p.m.
** GLENNJAMIN - DON'T READ THIS ENTRY **

SMS from me to kuinip at 2.45am this morning:
Curse you and your four cups of fucking coffee! I've masturbated twice already and still can't get to sleep! Thought you should know.

SMS to me from kuinip at 6.15am this morning:
Have you figured out how to do it right yet?

Maybe she's offering to tutor me. ;)

t.

The Sound of Music
Monday, Nov. 01, 2004 - 1:01 p.m.
Background to the awaited CD Compilation

I met P online about 4 years ago. I think it was mid 2000 but it may have been late 1999. We were both stuck in loveless marriages - I was at "We're separated but living together for the sake of the kids" and he was at "She won't have sex with me anymore now that she has the house and kids".

I worked at a place with very lax internet security and managed to use chat services to talk to him during the day. After a while, this extended to occasional phone calls. We initially connected on a purely sexual level but moved to an intellectual/friendship level over a period of time. He was, as one stage, the unfortunate recipient of the Wayne Factor on one occasion which understandably dampened our communication for a while.

Fast forward to last year. I received an email in answer to an ad for an FB and recognised the email address as the same - I had changed mine. Wrote back surprised and delighted, however he explained that he had a instinctive feeling it was me and had answered accordingly. Having both left our marriages, we continued our communication in a safer environment and then gradually drifted apart again thanks to family and work commitments.

I received an email from P last week, catching up on news and asking if I would like another CD compilation (you thought I'd forgotten about it didn't you?). P is a musician and works as a "sound person" (don't know the correct term sorry) for a radio station. He has the most amazing ear for music which not only enables him to pick fantastic songs for me (usually from unknown bands that I grow to love) but just the order that he puts them in flows like a river.

I am not creative. I never have been. It doesn't bother me because I'm so good at other things, especially logical tasks. So without being jealous, I admire all the creative people I know. ms-do and kuinip are brilliant artists and P a musician. I can sit and watch video clips for hours and am always fascinated by the ideas they come up with, their extension of imagination, and often wonder how it would be to live with a creative brain for a day.

When the CD compilation arrives, I will post the track list. Probably won't be able to comment on any of it because I won't know it ... yet ... but after a couple of listens I will be able to provide three descriptive words for each song and within the week will be able to name the song when it first starts.

P is the type of person I can see sharing a couple of glasses of red with; discussing life, love and universe; I would never have to change or select a CD to listen to because his amazing musical ear will have that sorted. Sounds like a great evening to me.

t.