Internet, I trust you more than anyone
The title is true, but not because I’m an idiot (or not just because of that, anyways). I went to three different fish shops, and each one told me vastly different advice. The internet also gives me vastly different advice, but it’s pretty easy to find (a) a consensus, and (b) one that correlates with what I’ve observed.
My neon tetras are stressed. They’re not as pale as they are at night, but they’re not as bright as they should be. I’ll be focusing on the pH level to fix that (and possibly also buying more fish once the pH is respectable – like all nerds, they need a large group of their own kind to feel secure).
My danios should not be fighting (I KNEW it!) A lot of people consider them “peaceful” fish, which is directly opposed to this guy: http://www.aquarticles.com/articles/breeding/McKane_Zebra_Danios.html who also says that they fight when their school isn’t big enough. My tank is only two-thirds full at the moment (I’ve been VERY slowly adjusting the water) so I’ll see if they settle down once there’s a full 15.6 litres in there. If not, I guess I’ll buy more. He also recommends NOT putting them with anyone who has decorative fins (like, obviously, the Siamese fighting fish – which is usually the first fish everyone recommends to put them with) which, since they’ve bitten him at least twice, is clearly good advice. Other than that, they and the fighter are fine, so I’m happy to see how things work out once the tank is full. It’s not life-threatening behaviour. If necessary, I can put the fighter in a separate tank – but I think he enjoys having room to move.
That web site also describes NORMAL aggressive behaviour between danios (which I’d long since called the jocks of the aquarium):
Typically, the display fights involve nothing more than two male danios staring at each other and straightening their pectoral fins. It will last for about twenty seconds until one of the danios gets scared off, forgets what it is doing or simply gets bored.
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In other news, I think I’ll go with a Lord of the Rings theme for the naming. The fighter is, obviously, Gandalf. The danios are the warriors – Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn (although I think one is female, because she hasn’t been biting anyone. . . I’ll research that a bit more – or just call that one Legolas, since no-one is REALLY sure about him). And the neon tetras are hobbits.
Fish Politics
I have three types of fish: a siamese fighting fish (which isn’t interested in smaller fish), two neon tetras, and three zebra danios. (I wrote about them all yesterday at http://twittertales.wordpress.com.) I’m constantly worried about them, and I miss them when I don’t go and say hello every few hours. Presumably both effects will soon wear off.
The danios are bullies. Two have been fighting each other (definitely biting – and jerking as they are bitten) and at least one has bitten the fighting fish’s tail more than once. The neon tetras are much smaller, and they’re the only ones that don’t seem happy (despite their relatively peaceful existence), but I think I now (thanks to Google) know how to help them (it’s a pH thing – and they want more of their own kind, which I’m happy to do).
I haven’t seen fish fight before. Being accustomed to cats, I just want to reach into the tank and give them a good slap.
Playing “House”
What disease do I have? It’s terribly mysterious.
Generally, I get sick when I visit Indonesia. That’s food poisoning. But food poisoning goes away. This thing hasn’t.
Diagnosis fail.
Must be giardia! But, after an allergic reaction to the medication (and the whole “not getting better” thing) it turns out two tests have come up negative for giardia.
Diagnosis fail.
I feel like rubbish, I wake up nauseous, I’m getting hormone headaches, and my belly is expanding like I’ve stuffed a pillow under my shirt. But no, I’m not pregnant. This is pretty clear since I’m menstrually regular, I’ve taken FOUR pregnancy tests, and CJ is nauseous too – last I heard, pregnancy is non-infectious. (Plus I’ve just switched contraceptive methods, so naturally my hormones are mad at me.)
Diagnosis fail.
Stomach cancer? Nah – stomach cancer doesn’t hit suddenly and viciously, then get much milder. Also it’s unlikely to have jumped from me to CJ. And I’ve no family history of cancer. Plus it’s not something you “pick up” in Indonesia.
Diagnosis fail (much as I half-wish my giant belly was cancer rather than chocolate).
My fun theory of the day is sulphur poisoning from the massive stinky cloud around Mount Bromo. CJ and I visited it the day we both got sick (also altitude sick, but that’s something that I’ve had and recovered from before), and spent about three hours in the rain nearby (ie the rain carried the sulphur onto our skin, plus breathing it in).
Sulphur poisoning can cause intestinal upsets, and hormonal stuff too.
Sad to say, fun though the concept is, sulphur is something the body has naturally, and would probably have self-regulated by now. Still, a fun theory, don’t you think? That the national park made me sick.
In other news, I strained muscles in my leg falling down the stairs yesterday.
Also yesterday, I had a fun car accident (the kind where no-one is hurt and the car has no important damage). Aqua-planing is a little bit like flying, and strangely calming.
“Huh. I’m gonna crash now. May as well relax and hope for the best.”
I feel like there’s some kind of metaphor for life in there.
PS The metaphor for life is probably, “GET OFF THE FRIGGIN ROAD YOU INSANELY BAD DRIVER.”
SkyFire
SkyFire is a word familiar to every Canberran.
Every March, the radio station FM 104.7 hosts a massive free fireworks event that can be viewed from all around our main central lake (acting like a huge natural amphitheatre). Cars fill roundabouts, traffic islands, and every scrap of dirt for kilometres in every direction. The shores of the lake sparkle with glow-sticks in blue, pink, yellow and orange. People gather throughout the day, and picnic in one giant mass as the sun sets.
Fireworks start at 8pm, and traffic is deadlocked for an hour before and afterwards.
Skyfire is a scary thing for a mental such as myself – even going to church is scary (because there are “lots” of people – perhaps one or two hundred). I spent a large chunk of yesterday with a stress-headache, lying in bed wishing I could calm down enough to read the excellent book sitting beside me. I thought about giving it a miss this year – but I think that every year.
We left around 6:30, surprised and pleased that a friend visiting town was able to come with us (that helped me considerably – she is someone I consider “safe” along with perhaps ten others on earth). We’d already stocked up on a ridiculous pile of lollies (Maltesers, Mars pods, natural confectionary party mix, and Lindt intense orange – plus our friend brought Starburst fruits and red frogs), which is always good for calming me down, especially when the thing that’s scaring me is that I’m meant to be happy.
The sunset last night was beautiful – one of those ones that fills the sky. There’s been a lot of smoke around Canberra lately because of backburning (burning fire-prone areas so if a fire happens it dies out for lack of fuel), but that just made the sky prettier.
We settled down on a grassy slope at the lake end of Anzac Parade, looking across to the many 104.7 barges, and Parliament House (and more crowds) on the other side. This is a particularly good area for families, with a festival atmosphere, some extremely sought-after public toilets, shops selling greasy deliciousness, and very few drunkards (they tend to gather near the exclusive VIP area, making the most of free performances – Vanessa Amorosi performed this year).
The family in front of us was playing cricket, and the family behind us was attempting to join glow-sticks together to make hula hoops. Both overlapped onto us frequently, but that only added to the feeling of being part of one giant picnic.
It’s both extremely expensive (for the organisers) and free (for everyone else, except the VIPs) and it’s just a brilliant and expertly-designed event.
The concept behind the event is that the fireworks are programmed to be in sync with a soundtrack designed during the previous year (including lots of recent hits, very heavily leaning toward the happy and party-like). We didn’t need to bring a radio, because very powerful speakers were set up everywhere.
The first song was “Feeling Good” and the fireworks built slowly to crescendo at the chorus.
Later on they had a “Lady Gaga” medly (fairly short, since they left out all the rude bits) and they used shaped fireworks that exploded in cubes (no reason but freakish to see), sunnies (for the lady herself), and faces for “Poker Face”. When she was singing, “Let’s Dance” they used fireworks that move in random directions after the initial explosion – like dancing fireflies.
On another song (the “End of the World” I think) it has a line about, “Look up and see the stars exploding” and they used all yellow and white fireworks for that bit. Later it had fireworks that fell in hundreds of tiny comets – all with their own flaming tail.
It’s a freakin’ brilliant night, and I love three things:
1. Poor people (including poor families) get a seriously good night out.
2. Everything is done well (it’s planned for over a year).
3. Once, in the distant past, someone sat in a room and had an idea. . . and SkyFire was born from that small moment.
Driving away took a while, but everyone was very understanding (stopping for pedestrians and ignoring normal road rules to let cars in who would otherwise have been stuck for hours). We did see two accidents on the way home, but no-one was hurt.
Delicious Mutants
I love mutant lollies.
When natural confectionary jelly beans are left in the sun, some melt and some go hard, and they tend to stick together in clumps – excellent!
Even better, perhaps, are those moments when I bite into a Malteser only to discover it’s 90% hollow. Very cool.
The thrill ride that is my life
Reasons I am currently over the moon:
1. We cancelled the rego on my dead car today. . . which means that we’ll get MONEY, YAAY!
2. Last night I watched a talk on the future of gaming (and why Farmville, wii, etc are so effective) and was inspired to incorporate a whole lot of interaction (and genuine prizes) into an official author website for myself. I’ll expand the twittertales blog to include a pirate game, a personality test (I put up a draft today at http://twittertales.wordpress.com ) and a place to inspire people to achieve all manner of goals (similar to NaNoWriMo, with the pretty pretty graphs telling you that everyone else is failing, too). I really really want to use all the features myself!
3. I work as a private tutor, often driving up to 50 minutes to do one hour of work. My ever-changing schedule is always of intense interest to me (which student lives close to which other student, which student gets home earlier so I can start at 3:45 and thus get home fifteen minutes earlier, which student gets grumpy if I teach her before dinner, etc) and I’ve been trying for over a year to gently shift the majority of my client base closer to where I live. I just lost two weekly students – which is sad and a little scary, but they were both located very far away, and on the same day. Which means I had an empty space (both bad – no money – and good – potential for better locations). Then, today, I was offered two new students – both of whom live (a) close to me, and (b) close to each other. So I may actually get ONE DAY a week that doesn’t cost me over $10 in petrol just to go to work. I’m so excited over this possibility (it’s yet to be confirmed) that I bet I have trouble getting to sleep tonight.
Yep, it’s really that exciting. To truly express my delight, here’s a friendly glare from my OTHER cat:
Ae Good Dae
Today was a great day. I’ve barely written at all this week (it’s been a little too exciting for my liking), but I found myself seated in front of the computer within an hour of waking up – and I kept writing for four hours (coming perilously close to finishing the third draft of my NaNo novel). Plus it was what I call “real” writing – as opposed to finding markets, or researching. Yay!
I also vacuumed the whole house, brushed the cat, took out the rubbish (and the recycling, and the bin), studied advanced mathematics, organised bills, and ate a whole lot of candy.
At about that point I could feel myself starting to freak out over the student (of maths) that I had this afternoon (for subjects that I’m woefully unqualified to teach – which they know, but don’t mind). I had a lie down, and tried to stay calm. That took two hours.
On the edge of tears, I went to work (she has a maths test tomorrow). Other than the hours of crippling fear, this was all good news. The family always pays me cash on the day, and this was a much-needed extra lesson. Despite how “exact” (shall we say) our finances are for the next 48 hours, I DID go and get petrol on the way, instead of running out somewhere along the 25-minute route.
The maths lesson went astonishingly well, and also much longer than expected. So I was able to (a) put the petrol money back in the bank ready for tomorrow’s bill, (b) buy nice food for dinner, (c) buy me more chocolate.
And I was still home in plenty of time to watch “V”, “The Good Wife”, “House”, “Bones” and “Castle”. Mmmm. . . Sunday TV.
I also didn’t wake up feeling sick this morning. That was pretty darn exciting. Wacky side effect of the day: green urine.
Engineering My Nightmares
Sometimes I have nightmares. Often, they’re pretty good stories (one inspired me to write a full-size young adult book – in two weeks). Other times they come with real emotions, and that’s not good. I’ve had more nightmares than usual lately – the kind where I wake up frightened and/or grieving – which is either part of my Flagyl allergy, or a more direct side effect of simply being sick for so long. That, and being a mental.
But lately I’ve developed bizarre strategies for “solving” my nightmares.
I recently dreamed I was somewhere in Africa, doing charity work, when a natural disaster destroyed the whole area and everyone had to flee for their lives. I was already emotionally close to a number of children, and had a vehicle big enough to (just) fit them all. Everything was chaos as the nearby lake flooded, and people were so desperate to survive they didn’t care for anything but themselves. Many of the children I cared for went into shock, and no-one was looking after them. I wasted a lot of time searching for a particular girl who was wearing a faded floral dress (the kind someone would have thrown into an op-shop bin in Australia twenty years earlier). She was so terrified she hid inside an abandoned (and doomed) house.
Finally I found her, loaded my vehicle with all the children (all extremely docile, and unable to even understand me yelling for them to move across the seats inside the car so they’d all fit), and was about to drive away. All around me people yelled at one another in a desperate traffic jam as everyone but me drove uphill to safety. As I grabbed the last of the children, the girl in the floral dress snapped and jumped out of the car. She ran back down the road to her swamped village. I’ve never seen someone so frightened. She was like an animal. The other children simply stared, not even understanding what was happening.
Then I woke up – filled with horror, grief, and an overwhelming sense of futility and failure. It was about 2:00am.
That’s when a brilliant thing happened. I came up with a cunning plan. The emotions were with me because I wasn’t truly awake. Rationality wouldn’t help. But I could use my non-waking state to manipulate my subjective reality.
So I physically got out of bed and walked to the door – telling myself I was chasing the girl. Then I told myself I was carrying her back to the car, getting in, and holding her on my lap – as I went back into bed. I wrapped my arm around my husband’s real-life warmth and closed my eyes, telling myself the warmth was the rescued girl. She didn’t escape to drown: she was right here, in my arms.
And I fell back into sleep and drove all the children to safety.
It worked.
A few nights later I had what I think of as an anime-style nightmare, in which a black amorphous evil mass threatened to KILL EVERYTHING. This also, in my addled 3am state, was truly frightening. So once again, I used the real world to defeat the problem.
“You’re nothing but an amorphous mass,” I said – aloud. “You’re not even written well.”
This worked just fine. It also made my husband laugh in his sleep (not that he remembered anything later).
I like to think of this skill as a new-found superpower.
Blurk
I’ve seen the doctor again, and they want to retest me for Giardia (the first test was inconclusive). I don’t have to take any more Flagyl pills (since I’m allergic) but I was meant to go straight onto Imodium and anti-nausea pills (which I didn’t, because the habit of putting off any unexpected expense is too strong – I’ll get some tomorrow).
I improved overall since I stopped taking Flagyl, but I’ve now regressed to being roughly as sick as I was before going to the doctor (plus the still-fading allergic side effects). Sidebar: I also have small sores at the edges of my mouth, which usually indicates malnutrition. I remember I had them in early February, too. My diet’s not THAT bad.
Today is the 11th, which means it’s exactly a month since I was told the children’s deparment heads are discussing “Stormhunter”. I estimate they’ll reply 1-2 months from now. (Last time this happened it took two weeks, but that was a different company.)
I had another look at my records and realised that the company (a different one to the above two) that has “Farting my ABCs” once took eight months to reply to just the first three chapters of a book of mine. If they take the same amount of time on this book, they’ll reply in late April.
I think the main reasons creative types are so much more prone to mental illness are:
1. They’re alone a lot.
2. They don’t have regular pay.
3. They know their pay depends on luck more than it should.
I can combat this by seeing friends, by living off my husband’s regular-as-clockwork wage, and by giving myself as many solid and reliable things to look forward to as possible. (Instead of the airy-fairy waiting for publishers, which will probably end in tears anyway.) Tomorrow I’m going to see a movie, and on Saturday me and mine are going out to dinner for a friend’s birthday party. So yay for that.
And I’ll buy chocolate with my medicine tomorrow. A shovel-full of sugar makes the medicine go down.
Quitting While You’re Behind
My car is dead. D-E-D, dead.
Well, for two thousand or so I could fix it. But I’ve been through that at least once in the last twelve months (with this car), so I think not.
It’s sad to say goodbye to a car, no matter how much it costs to run (about $100 a month if I left it in the garage the whole time). I think this car was my husband’s first vehicle (other than a motorbike on the farm) so it won’t be easy to let it go. But it’s time.
Felicity Banks 