thought dump

I’d really like a penseive. (God damnit, autocorrect, no, I do not mean ‘pensive!’) One that was perhaps a combination of magical and muggle technology would be ideal. I could use a wand to pull certain threads of thoughts out of my head and put them into this device that would translate them into the words I want to express to other people. Or no one. 

The one thing I always wondered about a penseive, though, is that is you have taken the thought out of your head does that mean it isn’t in your head anymore? Because I don’t recall it ever being specifically said that it’s more like a copy of a thought but it does seem like people are still aware of thoughts even after they’ve taken it out for putting in a penseive but then on the other hand Dumbledore talks about being able to organize his head better by taking out some thoughts that he wasn’t using or something. Can’t remember exactly, been a while since I read and do not have the books on hand.

So anyway. I have wanted a few times recently to sit down and relieve myself of some thoughts but one thing or another meant that it didn’t happen. So today I am going to do a bulk thought cache dump. (Imagine how much more efficient brains could be if that were really possible.)

1. Anzac Day. I’m not a fan. And this is pretty much the most un-Australian thing I can say, except for perhaps “Steve Irwin is a dickhead.” (Relax, I thought he was as cool as everyone else did.) The problem I have with Anzac Day is not the sentiment of it, it’s the… publicness of it. People talk about dawn services and marches and this event and that event to commemorate the service people of our past and it is heavily implied that if you are not doing one (or more) of those things then you are an ungrateful, unfeeling, selfish asshole who doesn’t care about the sacrifices of the past. And that annoys me. Because I do care. I just don’t care to do my caring in the middle of the night with hundreds or thousands of other people. And I think it’s a little bit like religion, or faith, which I also don’t want to do with other people at a set time every week or year or whatever. My appreciation is in my memories of sitting on the lap of an old man and examining his hands with the innocent curiosity of a child, running my fingers over the scarred skin where his index finger should have been, but wasn’t, because it was blown off in the war. In having to consciously look at his face to notice the scarring and the eye that was different, because to us he was just silly Uncle Gary who would not go in the pool with us because he did not like wet water. But every now and then you see those things and remember that war is serious business and many people lost lots of things.

It seems like the marches and services and stuff are more so that you can make sure people have seen you doing something and they know that you appropriately appreciate the freedoms we have rather than actually appreciating and enjoying them.

This entry has been a saved draft WIP for about a week. Everything gets interrupted. My train of thought gets lost, then when it is found again it is not always in the same condition it was before.

So, anyway. Cars. Have been being vexatious this last week or so. We essentially have three of the things (one is technically Allan’s but he is in a different country so he does not need to use it right now.) Something went bad with Horatio (Daniel’s car.) So he started using Allan’s instead. It had needed a new battery and to be registered which we did. This car does not have a name. (When Allan first got it, some suggestions were made but he did not seem keen on any of them and he didn’t think of anything himself. I don’t think he realises how important a name is for a car’s sense of identity.) It was all going nicely and Horatio was on “the list” to be fixed when we had money and Richard had time. My Neville is faithful and he is very good to me. He needed a new battery recently but that was reasonably simple. But then last week something went fucky in the blue car so Daniel had to take Neville. One day while he was at work someone decided to steal Neville’s number plate. They only took the rear one but the front appeared to have been fiddled with too. I don’t understand why someone would do that except to be an asshat. It’s not like they can be of any use what with plate recognition and stuff. So someone just wanted to make our lives annoyed and inconvenienced. It is reasonably simple to go to Qld Transport and get new ones but it’s just annoying, not to mention costs us $26 for the privelige. 

thought dump

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