To start with, the battery on my MacBook Pro had swollen, to the point where it would cut out randomly, and the whole computer could not sit flat on a desk. It was annoying, though hardly prevented me from working – most of the time I’m at my desk, so there wasn’t much issue with running plugged in. I finally got sick of it, and headed into the local Apple Service Centre to swap it out under warranty – only to find that Apple is well aware that their batteries swell, and consider it “normal operation” and wouldn’t replace it under warranty. Disappointing.

The solution was a new $200 battery that work was kind enough to purchase (it is, afterall, a work machine), which meant I no longer had to remain tethered within two metres of a power point to work, and could once more enjoy the freedom of sitting on a couch. Or the bed. Or in a cafe. That was Friday week ago I picked up the new battery – and things were fine and dandy.

The following Tuesday evening, I had the laptop plugged into the TV, and was packing up for the night. Positive I’d unpluged both cables connecting sleek, aluminium laptop to hulking, ugly plastic behemoth, I started to pull the laptop away from the TV. Only to find one of the cables hadn’t detached, and subsequently ripped the laptop from my hands and pulled it upside down onto the ground. Which would have been fine – the harddrive had locked like it was supposed to, preventing major issues, and everything was working fine.

Except a split second later, the other end of the cable pulled the TV down on top of the laptop.

Annoyingly, the TV was fine – nothing wrong with it. I picked it back up, set it down right way up, and everything worked fine. The laptop, on the other hand, did not fare so well. The new battery took the brunt of the damage (and now has a 1cm deep dint in it), but the weight of the TV combined with the force of the impact did manage to bend the whole chassis, as well as completely smash the screen. Sheepishly, the next morning I had to front work and show them the damage, but as I (as well as a number of other staff) work from home regularly, everything was all fine.

Now, I type this on a brand new MacBook Pro – one of the shiny aluminium unibody ones. It’s rather nice, the battery life is freaking brilliant, but there are a few things i’m still getting used to. We’ll see how they go as things go on – and when my MiniDisplay Port adaptor finally arrives. I mean seriously. Why don’t they ship with the adaptors anymore?!

More to come later.

I’m not adverse to Autumn – in fact, with the mid-20-degree and bright sunshine we’ve been enjoying all week, I’ve been well and truly loving Autumn. Leaves changing, cool nights but clear skies, and the sun awake before me all are considered improvements upon the end of Summer. Monday and Tuesday saw me spending some time out in the backyard purely because the weather was so nice – something that I’ve not felt enticed to do for some time. Autumn’s meant that things outside can be done – our housemates have been gardening, we’ve thrown a 30th Birthday out the back, and I even get to sit and read in the sun. That may be coming to an end, however.

Across the laneway behind our building at work, Autumn has been kind on a certain house. Starting around the same time I started here, a major construction project has been undertaken in the back yard of the house that falls immediately behind our office block. Over Spring and Summer, the walls went up, the ceiling went up, but up until a few weeks ago, there was still no weather-proof roof over the structure – and I can imagine that the owner must be counting his lucky whatevers that the weather has been kind enough to finally have it roofed before Winter sets in for a possible lengthy stay. This project intruiges me no end, though – and I do miss the days when there was no roof or walls, and I could see just what was going on.

It started with a ridiculously oversied hole in the back yard. Initial thoughts were foundations for something, but as the hole continued to deepen, we realised that there is no way a foundation needs to go that deep. It remained dug out for some time, a clean, square hole in the ground, in the rough dimension of a cube – and for a long time we had no idea what was happening. One day a truck, crane and work crew turned up with prefabricated concrete walls, and before the day was over, we realised that a room was taking shape underground. Nothing more was thought until the roof of the room – at ground level – was poured: all that was left was a single small manhole, with an equally thick concrete manhole cover. Almost immediately the double brick walls started to go up – and our thoughts ran wild. Bomb shelter? Secret room? Dungeon? Whatever the purpose of the hidden room, it became clear obvious that part of its design is to remain out of sight.

Now, April winds down and Winter fast approaches. On most days there are work utes and trucks coming and going, with tradesmen working on the project. As the walls and roof have been added, it’s become clear that the above-ground portion is a double garage – sans doors for the meanwhile, but the openings on the front make identification easy. What still makes my mind run in circles is the fact that most days when there’s utes or tradies working there, there never seems to be any activity on the exterior or interior of the garage or ceiling – yet from the comings and goings, from the different utes, from the trucks picking up the scraps, it’s obvious that a fair amount of work is going on. And it’s all happening in the secret underground room.

It’s part of my morning ritual now. I get to work, usually the first or second to arrive, and get my laptop set up at my desk. As it starts up, I head to the kitchen to deposit the day’s lunch in the fridge, and to make myself breakfast. When I’m done, usually with a bowl of cereal in my hand, I go to the window and adjust the venetian blinds so that I can look down at the new garage, and wonder what’s going on. When the day is over, I drove out along the laneway, hoping to steal a glance through an open gate to see more of the interior of the garage. Yet nothing I ever see gives me any answers. It always leads to more questions.

It’s 8am, and I’m sitting in a surprisingly-crowded waiting room. The building is an old weatherboard house that has since been converted into a pathology collection lab. Bedrooms are now treatment rooms, the lounge is the waiting room, and thankfully I’ve never been here for anything more serious than a blood test to find out what the rest of the house has been fitted out as. Plastic chairs and a single reclining armchair are crammed in against every wall, and a television sits powered off in front of what would have been the fire place.

I’m the youngest person in the room by a good 30 years, a fact which is made clear as some of my fellow pathological donors look at me with some degree of curiosity while I pass time on my phone. I’m not an addicted texter, but I am getting a headstart on my morning online catch up. There are all of the tweets that have occured between now and the late hour last night that I switched off the laptop to read. I have to check who has what on their mind, particularly the late-night facebookers or the international contingent of my friends. There’s news headlines to browse, and click through on anything interesting or pertinent. I’ve been going for a good 20 minutes, and yet I still get the odd look. They’re amazed that I’m not entertaining myself with the year-old trash magazines littering the single side table.

This morning routine of mine doesn’t change much from day to day: whether I’m working or at home, at some point in the morning, I spend that time catching up on the world. The reason why I do it is something that still elludes me in its entirety – though it’s something that Beth and I talk about every now and then. Part of it comes down to my semi-news-junkie status, or to my self-proclaimed need to be plugged in and aware of what is happening. But I wonder just how much of it is purely habit, from years of waking up and switching on the computer before anything else. It’s been seven years now that I have spent with my laptop (or desktop for a while there) as an important part of my morning routine – all the way through uni, it was one of the first things I would do after rolling out of bed, beaten only by the biological imperative to empty my bladder. After graduation, and as I started working evenings and nights, the timeframe shifted but the priority remained – first or second action for the day, but now any time from 11am – 1pm. In those days it was often mirrored by a similar session before I went to bed, plugged into the world and keeping up with everything. Now it’s purely mornings due to the other things in life – I now have a wife whose company I enjoy a lot more than my laptop’s, and a job that involves me working while the sun is in the sky, and as such the time for me to be plugged in is while Beth sleeps, and the rest of the world rises.

I thought being and early riser and getting to the collection lab would benefit me today, but I was wrong. Even arriving a minute or two after opening, I’m number 10 on the list, with all of the regulars already in and seated before me. They are regulars, I’m not simply lugging them in a group – they all know the nurses names, all the nurses know them by name, and it’s even as far as the conversations between nurse and patient asking about family members by name. It worries me to think that they have to come here so often – more so that I may end up this way. Which is why I’m here in the first place – now is the time to get things right, to lower my cholesterol, to lose the excess weight, and to be fit and healthy. I know all of the much-bandied facts – the longer I leave it, the harder it will be, the greater my chance of serious illness and the higher my risk of heart disease. Yet before I knew that something was imperically wrong, I lived in a form of denial that I was still reasonably fit and healthy, didn’t get sick much, and didn’t lose much by way of quality of life. How much three months of losing 19.5kg changes your mind.

Finally, some 45 minutes later, my number is called, and I walk into what was previously a bedroom to have my blood taken. I was here a few days earlier ago what turned out to be a false start – I’d forgotten that I am supposed to fast for up to 12 hours before having the tests, and now 12 hours after eating or drinking last, I’m starting to feel it. I’ve even forgone my morning coffee that I enjoy on the drive to work – and sitting in a waiting room for 45 minutes hasn’t helped. The nurse readies the needle, I turn my head and try to quickly distract myself with other thoughts: I hate needles. Up until age 15 or so I was fine with them – all of my primary and high school vaccinations didn’t faze me, yet now they get to me for some reason. The needle goes in, and I can feel the tip of it wiggling around slightly inside the vein – whether that is physically possible or not, I neither know or care. I’m just thankful that it’s only one vial, and it fills relatively quick.

A cotton wool ball is taped over the entry point, and I’m sent on my way. I know I’m going to be somewhat of a wuss about it (though only to myself), and won’t be surprised if my arm hurts, but as I pass the next several regulars waiting in the converted lounge room on the way out, I tell myself that at least I don’t have to come back every week. And hopefully this test will bring back some good news.

I’m awake by 6:32am on Sundays; it’s a work day for me. The alarm goes off the same time it does when I work in the office, and while I could easily adjust the time for these days when my office is four steps from our bed, I choose to get up at the same time, and get a head start on the work. A 6:30am start instead of the usual 7:30am means I finish an hour earlier. And on a weekend, with a wife, dogs, housemates and (every second week) family, it’s nice to have that extra time in the afternoon. Three hours into my work however, I need a break. Beth told me she needed something from Woolies, so I don the thongs and walk out the door. Again, I’m struck by the quiet. Even the singular car driving our road is quieter than it would be during the week.

Inside the supermarket is another matter. There are tired faces, but a lot of old(er) people are there doing their groceries. Sunday lunches and Sunday dinners all seem to be on the menu, as I look at people’s trollies and baskets. Almost every customer in the store is congregated in one of two places: the fresh produce and meat area, or the checkouts. Beyond the rather bleary-eyed staff, I appear to be the youngest person in the store. On occasion, I would be one of those people stocking up for a Sunday dinner. Every second week we have dinner with Beth’s family – her parents and sister & brother-in-law. They’re a close family – the fortnightly dinner is not the only time we see any or all of them, sometimes it’s a few times a week. However I don’t need to cook anything this time – dinner’s at her parents’. Instead, I’m purchasing the essentials. Ecualyptus drops for Beth’s throat and a packet of denta-stix chews for the dogs. I hadn’t planned on buying them (I had originally been looking for tyre shine for the cars), but I saw them, and decided they could do with a little treat. Not that they don’t get treats every day, but this morning they’ve been good.

My essentials in hand, I make my way through the self-serve checkouts in record time (sub-30 seconds) and begin the 50-second walk home. A white van driven by DJ Flash (as the license plate proclaims) pulls up and parks as I walk past. An elderly, white haired man gingerly steps out from behind the wheel, and makes his way slowly to the entrance. As I walk home, the one dog owner not enticed by the trail by the creek walks on the opposite side of the street from our house, and I hear Maydog and Zahli up on the balcony start to bark. Close enough to home, I tell them in no uncertain terms that they need to go INSIDE and thankfully the comply. Not before I realise that Zahli is on the roof of the garage, not on the balcony. She stands there with nothing but a 5cm high lip around the roofline keeping her from walking right off the edge. It worries Beth when she’s up there, though I’m less concerned. I’ve seen Zahli too scared to jump off my lap while sitting at my desk because it’s to0 high off the ground.

Inside, it’s back into the cave. I’ve moved over to Beth’s desk as I tend to do on Sundays, utilising her 22″ monitor to extend my desktop real estate. The girls wander off and find different places to curl up and sleep. They along with Beth, seem to have the right idea for Sunday mornings. I on the other hand, get back to work.

Yes, I realise that for now it’s merely a representation of what some people think the future may be like… but I cannot wait until that time is here and now.

(via Unpluggd)

I now want to work at LEGO, purely to get my own.

Check it out. (via WIRED)

If my legs fell off, would they let me work from home every day?

1. The basics – I am 23, work full time plus my own business, am married, have a puppy, and am a photographer.

2. I’ve never actually completely ever finished one job and started afresh in a new one – every work transition has been drawn out over a couple of months of starting the new one while still working the old one, etc. In fact, in my current non-self-employed job, the transition from when I started working 1 day/week up to 5 days/week has taken over 14 months.

3. My puppy Zahli on the most part is a perfectly well behaved dog. She doesn’t bite, she doesn’t destroy things other than her own toys, she eats fine, all that kind of stuff. But she barks. Knock on the door or ring the doorbell, and she’ll bark until you’ve said hello to her. That said, she knows certain people who come around enough, and will happily wait in silence until they’re in. And don’t get me started on the two new dogs that moved in next door in the past couple of months.

4. Beth and I live with another married couple, and for some reason most people cannot get their heads around this. Please understand that the house we live in is perfectly suited to such an arrangement – we live downstairs, they live upstairs, we share a kitchen and laundry, and have our own living spaces. That said, we love our housemates to the point where when neither of us are doing anything, or are having a night at home, invariably all five of us end up sitting around together. In fact, we often hang out when us or they come home.

5. There are five of us living in this house – said housemates have a 3month old baby boy, who is the best baby you could possibly ask for. His name is Max and I take great delight in being Uncle James, and that he smiles every time I see him.

6. I recently weighed in at as much as 130kg (as of 2nd December). After heading to the doctor to enquire about a solution to the stomach cramps that persisted after a bout of gastro, I found I had high cholesterol. Currently, 2 months later, I weigh 115kg, and am proud of myself. I also blame my job for the weight, as I weighed around 118 before I started there.

7. I aim to keep losing the weight, and get things as they should be for once. To that result I’m off sugary things and saturated fats – as well as eating a lot of fruit. I also started running yesterday for the first time, and it was the first time I’ve run since high school compulsory athletic events. Scarily, I enjoyed it, and am doing it every day on my lunch break.

8. I choose to get up at 6:30am every morning, leave for work a bit after 7am, and start my work day at 7:30am, when I could quite easily not start til closer to 10am like my boss. For those of you who know me pre-Beth, you’ll know that flies in the face of my then go-to-bed-at-5am sleeping habits. But it means I beat the traffic, get work done without other people distracting me, and get to finish for the day at 3pm.

9. Beth has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. Meeting her and getting to know her over the subsequent weeks was an insanely exciting and incredibly happy time, as we both kinda knew from the start where it was headed. Knowing that it was going to happen while still getting to know each other made all the things we did, all the days we hung out, all the time we spent sitting on the couch watching crappy TV and talking over the top of it that much more special.

10. I used to be a lot more arrogant. In fact, I used to be fairly arrogant. I used to think that it was more born out of being confident (perhaps overconfident) in all situations, and taking pride in myself, my acheivements and my people skills – but the fact is, it was purely arrogance. And while I’m not as actively outgoing as I was, and don’t relish making conversation with new people quite as much as I did (without that arrogance to hide behind), I much prefer the person I am now.

11. Being a photographer was not something I ever dreamed of doing. From a young age through to high school and even the beginning of Uni, there was the desire to be a pilot, a physiotherapist, an IT dude, an aerospace engineer, a paramedic, a cameraman, and even right down to such specifics and a gaffer or grip. Yet looking back through my life so far, I see how I’ve ended up as a photographer, and am grateful to be able to draw on some of those other things I dabbled in to hopefully make me a better photographer.

12. Beth never used to be ticklish, and it used to bug me as I’m incredibly ticklish. Get me started, and you don’t even have to touch me for me to be rolling around laughing uncontrollably. I take great joy in the fact she is now more ticklish.

13. I am secretly  proud. Not in an arrogant/showoffish way (I hope), but I do take pride in what I have accomplished.

14. I am almost daily frustrated at my inability to use my studio more. People photography is probably my first love in photography, and what I want to make my name doing, yet I so rarely actually get anyone down there in front of the camera for me to constantly practice my craft.

15. I wake up each morning and find my dog has gotten up from her bed, jumped up onto ours lightly, and very gently worked her way down under the doonah. The position I find her in each morning? Lying in between Beth and I, on her side, with her head either on my pillow, or inbetween both pillows.

16. I had an operation on my hip three years ago. I had torn cartilage in the hip joint, which made it painful to stand still for too long, or walk more than 10-20 steps. After the op, I wasn’t allowed to sit up for the first couple of weeks – either standing or lying. I got sick of that pretty quick. Funny thing is, when we were watching Bondi Vet a couple of weeks ago, when a dog had the same thing, they just chopped the top of the thigh bone off. Glad they didn’t do that.

17. I have on my desk a Tickle Me Elmo Extreme (TMX) and a What the Duck plushie. I can’t decide which I like more (prob WTD atm – but perhaps purely cos I’ve only had him for a few days). Elmo often gets raided for batteries when I’ve forgotten to buy in bulk for my flashes, and one has gone flat downstairs in the studio.

18. I never paid back my parents all of the money I borrowed from them for my first digital camera body. And while I have spoken to them about it, and we laugh about it now, it still haunts me.

19. I now regret buying my MX-6. And don’t look forward to trying to sell it. I just want it to be gone, and get my new car. I loved it. But it has to go.

20. People often think that either a) I’m less nerdy than I actually am, or b) I know more about computers than I actually do. Both are because I am only partly nerdy. And I can hide it well.

21. I read a fair bit. Nothing amazing, mostly just mind-numbing fiction, and not necessarily books I would want to own. But the thought of having a study with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books makes me far too excited.

22. I spend down time at work looking through design blogs that have furniture that I like, and contemplating whether I could reverse-engineer the pieces I like, and make them myself.

23. Something that seems to shock people, I am quite handy, and enjoy working with my hands. I do most of the handy-work around the house, have built small items of furniture, built a changeroom in my studio, gobos for the studio, and the wardrobe that Beth and I have. I have more ambitious projects I’m currently about to start on and cannot wait to start. I don’t know what it is, but my brain is just wired the way of making and building things. I do have my dad to thank, who spent a lot of time as a kid teaching me how to do the things he did around the house.

24. My dad is someone I admire incredibly, even though I never actually say it. He retired when I was 6 due to having Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and has never been able to work since. He’s suffered with it for basically as long as I’ve been alive, and as such I’ve never had a dad who would run around with me kicking the footy or things like that. I’ve had my issues with him (mainly when I was a teenager, and thought I knew best), but for the most part I appreciate what he has taught me and instilled into me. I entirely have him to thank for the fact that I’m a photographer, and that it is my dream job. I love that I get to talk to him now and ‘talk shop’, and then realise we’ve been yakking for a couple of hours. At some point, I would like to spend some time shooting with him, and have a great desire to digitise some of the things he’s shot over the past 50 years since he bought his first camera. And I love that he knows he can ring me in my office, and have a chat about stuff.

25. I am incredibly excited about the future. It literally keeps me up some nights, as I think about things, and try to plan some of how to make it happen. The long-term goals include working for myself full time, and Beth working with me. I sometimes wish I was 40 already, so I could see whether we’ve made it. I get excited by the fact that Beth wants to work with me, and I know that her presence and input will take the business further than I could ever have imagined on my own. The part of the dream that I’m not sure on yet, is whether I ever make the jump to start paying a non-family-member to work with me, but I do know that if I do, birthdays will be considered public holidays for each employee, and they’ll get a paid day off.