I really ought to sleep, but you know how it is when you’re in the middle of something and you just want to FINISH IT.

I was working on updating my ‘About’ page, which is basically just a chance to tell the world a little bit about me. Or for lazy people to read without catching up on the thousands of blog entries that I will eventually write. Or those voyeuristic types that are watch and learn, but don’t want to be seen.

I bashed that page out in about 30 minutes, and then I had this hair-brained idea to whack a bunch of photos of me into a single block — a collage, if you will — of photographic loveliness (you can click it if you want to see it in more detail… I’m not sure why you would want to, but the possibility is there if you so desire):

I appreciate that some of the pictures aren’t aligned perfectly, and there are some jagged edges, and it could’ve been a whole lot better arranged… but right now it’s 4am, I’ve been up 18 hours, so it’ll just have to do!

Just before I sleep, I want to share this cute little link with you, as it’s rather fitting, after publishing the Australian penis monologue. In Australia, a man has recently been caught… smuggling pigeons into the country. It’s another case where I kind of wish I was making it up; but it is sadly not so. This guy shoved two poor pidgeons into padded envelopes and then slid them into a pair of tights, which he was wearing under his normal clothing.

But get this, the tale gets even more weird: custom officials also seized two eggs, some seeds and an ‘undeclared aubergine’. Holy shit, this guy is a not only a danger to himself but to all man kind!

A couple of days ago I told a blogger that goes by the name ‘Pink Jellybaby‘  that I’d like to re-do her avatar (which features a pink jellybaby under an cocktail umbrella, on a beach). It sounded like a lot of fun, tearing open a bag of jelly babies, and leaving only the pink ones undevoured. Tearing limb from limb, rending head from boy — a true jelly baby genocide.

But then I got thinking… why should I re-do her avatar? Why shouldn’t it be some other blogger’s? Maybe another blogger has an even greater name with even more interesting possibilities for an avatar or logo.

So I’m going to hold a competition, to see which blogger gets their name (or blog’s theme) interpreted by me, the photographer. If you blog about emo relationship problems, I’ll create some kind of morbid montage — but if your blog is about shiny, happy things (what are the chances?) I’ll try my best to embody that in a photo of… happy things!

I don’t quite know what form the competition will take, but I’ll try to get it finalised for later today.

Oh, I’m also working on some cool bar of photos that will scroll across the top of my blog… I’m sure you’ll notice it when I get it working. Happy Friday!

In a truly embarrassing turn-up for the books, it seems my blog didn’t have comment-response notification turned on.

All this time, I had been replying to comments on the assumption that my blog was spitting out emails to tell you about them.

What a let down! What a GYP! I can only apologise. Imagine how many of my thoughtful and witty responses have gone ignored. Make sure you subscribe to comments in the future!

To make amends, here’s a photo of me as Nana the dog, in Peter Pan (it’s a lovely goose-egg story, which I’ll tell you all about, I promise!)

Oh, and don’t forget to read the sad, sensitive tale of my first girlfriend… sappy Seb alert!

Say hello to Eric, my 13 year old blind cat.

He’s blind because of very high blood pressure, which detached his retinas or something. We tried medicating him but it didn’t seem to have an effect, so for the last 6 months he’s been coming to terms with being blind. From what I can tell, he operates on some kind of sonar — he mews pathetically, and then waits for someone to respond, and then walks towards that person. That’s basically what he does all day: meow, human meow, walk, sit on lap, purr. His whiskers stop him from bumping into things, though he does get confused if people stand on his normal patrol route — he walks straight into them (which is very funny, and I will try to photograph it!)

He’s actually mewing outside right now, lost in the middle of our huge garden, wondering where the house is… Perhaps I should call him…

Anyway… enough about Eric. I’ll tell his story one day — about how he ran away for 9 years, and only recently returned to us! — but not today.

TODAY… I am launching another competition. This is probably mostly of interest to other bloggers, but ‘Internet Power Users’ might also be interested. What am I giving away?

FREE WEB HOSTING!

I host websites — that’s mainly what I do to make money — and so I thought I could host one more: YOURS! This is your chance to win some free web hosting, managed by yours truly. What could you do with this offer of free hosting?

• A self-hosted blog! Wordpress or Typepad, or something else entirely — this is your chance to have a blog that’s fully under your control. Custom designs, funky widgets… anything is possible with a self-hosted blog!
• Lots of web space! Maybe you want to host some MP3s of your own music, or images for your blog layout, or funny cat pictures — now is your chance!
• A personal domain name! You could also buy a domain name (www.yourname.com) and use the web hosting I’m offering to set up a website.

Most importantly, for the technophobes out there, I’ll help you set things up. Show you the ropes. Get you started.

How do I win?!

Unlike my previous contest, this one’s really easy. You just need to leave a comment of any kind.

What’s the catch?

To win, Eric has to like your comment. I will print out every comment and place it on the ground around Eric — he will then choose the winner by sitting, laying or chewing one of your comments. Obviously, if you tell me an awesome story, it’ll be quite a big piece of paper. If you just leave a comment with ‘Pick Me!’ it’ll be quite a small bit of paper, and less likely to be sat on!

Perhaps, if you’re enterprising, you could send me your own comment on a postcard imbued with the smell of cat food or catnip?! On the offchance that Eric isn’t completely blind maybe he would be drawn to a particuarly loving, heart-felt comment? Or a colourful drawing in Paintbrush/Photoshop of a lovely female cat?

Of course, I will photograph (or video) the entire ‘decision-making process’, ala American/Pop Idol. I might even dramatise it a little for your viewing pleasure.

You have a week to enter this competition and I’ll remind you throughout the week with cute photos of my blind cat Eric.

This competition is open to everyone, though I’m sure Eric will respond better to regular readers of this blog, as I’ve told him all about you guys — he’s a great listener. Feel free to tell your friends about the competition, though you might want to keep it to yourself to increase your chances of winning…

Imagine that scene in Rocky. You know which scene I mean — the training one. Dancing, prancing, skipping and shadow boxing, the famous fanfare perfectly punctuating and accentuating each of our hero’s moves. Only it’s not a a boxer, and it’s not a punch bag. It’s not Stallone — it’s Eric, our runty-but-lovable blind cat training for his big day — the day that will soon be upon us — the day when he will choose a competition winner.

Though blind and old, Eric still wakes up every morning and attacks the world with gusto! Since I told him about the competition on Friday he’s eaten almost nothing and hardly slept. Every time I go down to the living room, he’s there, pacing around, practicing his paper-sitting skills. He can hear the page-turning of my book from 60 paces. At night, when I’m in bed reading, he comes scurrying upstairs, flying headlong into my bedroom door. Thunk. I should probably sleep with my door open…

Being blind, he doesn’t even have to give up when the sun sets. When other cats are moseying on home for dinner, strolling through the cool, evening air, Eric is still there, pacing, choosing the right piece of paper to chew.

The problem is, despite his passion to please, and nail his first ever ‘job’, he’s simply not very good at it. In fact, he’s just fallen asleep between a pink and white piece of paper.

I’m going to set some basic ground rules, to make sure the decision-making process is fair and just. I also need some redundancies in place, in case he fails to choose a winner.

The Rules

1. Eric will fast for 24 hours before the event. To heighten his senses, Eric will not be fed for the day preceding the event itself.
2. Eric will be kept in solitary confinement for 24 hours before the event. Again, to improve his sensory response, Eric will be kept in a small, locked shoebox before the event begins. To pick the right winner, Eric will need to be truly honed in to his sense of touch: his whiskers and the pads of his feet. His sense of smell and taste will be heightened.
3. All entries will be no larger than 10cm square. Some particularly enterprising individuals have sent me entire essays detailing why Eric should choose them. I’m impressed, but it goes against the spirit of the thing, damnit! I’ll just print it out in a tiny font, double-sided.
4. Gnawing will be accepted. If Eric fails to sit on a piece of paper, gnawing a piece of paper will also constitute a ‘victory’ for that competition entry.
5. Sit or shit, it doesn’t matter. After much thinking, I’ve decided that defecation would also constitute ‘conscious cognitive choice’ as far as picking a victor. You all know how picky cats are about where they do their business, so if Eric poops on your paper, you’re a winner!
6. If sitting, shitting and masticating fails… In the event that Eric fails to choose a winner (by falling asleep, for example — sleep doesn’t count, it must be a rational, coherent choice by Eric — not apathy!), the comment closest to Eric will win.

I think that just about covers it. May the best man or woman win (and go and enter the competition, if you haven’t already — it’s a quick and easy way to score free web hosting!)

Oh, and because I just love to indulge the few of you (OK, the majority of you) that just dig cat photos, here’s Eric relaxing after today’s rather grueling trial run.

It’s probably best if I leave you to interpret the photo.

Only 4 days left to enter the competition!

Good Day readers! This is Floreta from The Solitary Panda, taking over Seb’s blog for the day.
When Seb asked me via Twitter (shameless plug: @solitarypanda) to write a poem about him once I had reached 100 followers, I knew that I owed him one! What better way to share with you a poem about the man himself than through his blog?

The following is a vlog performance of the poem entitled “An Ode to Seb”.

[Make sure you are seated comfortably, and remove any tight clothing... -S]

[The complete text follows, for any historians that might be recording this fateful day, Sebastian immortalised in song... and dance) -S]

An Ode to Seb

When I laid my eyes
Upon that Mythical
Beast
Half beard I saw
the Walrus
Yes, the Walrus was Paul
But damn if he
Didn’t look like a Beatle
With his moptop-ish
Long hair
And big
Brown eyes
Staring back at me like
Paul or maybe
George or
Paul and George all rolled into one!
(I’d totally do Paul and George in one!)
The Fab Seb
Making geek girls scream for
More
In his Space Shuttle
Galactica style
A little healthy
Dose of
Exhibition
Never hurt anyone
I mean
I need a Geek
That can help me
Fix my computer parts
And know how to
Take control
Of my video game
When I can’t beat the boss!
I need a Geek
Who can take pictures of
Mother Nature and then
Mother Nature personified
In actual Female Form
I need a Geek
Who can talk quantum physics and the
Pythagorean Theorem
And then demonstrate
Real world application
Menage-a-trois style
I need a Geek
Who can wrestle me for the remote
And then not even care about the remote
Because I’m so hot he can’t
Dare resist my
Horizontal moves
I mean DAMN
I’m horny
And I’m taking it out
On this poem
An Ode to Seb
I mean
I need a Geek
Who can c0de my template
With sexy syntax scintillating me
Serendipitous sardines
In a Sea of
Bumble Bee Tuna
There are bigger fish
The Fab Seb

[If you like her poetry (or her flair), go and read more at her blog! Or go and listen to my dramatic readings of her poems! -S]

Did you know that the Jewish Sabbath is observed from sunset on Friday, until 3 stars are visible on Saturday night? How quaint is that? I can’t find the reason why, but if any better Jews than I are reading, please educate me!

Anyway, this will be a blog completely devoid of original content, because I’m resting. Instead, I’m going to talk about the blog itself (aptly named ‘Sebastian’, so it’s kind of like talking about myself…)

Just to get the ball rolling (because, apparently you liked that photo of me from Poland a whole lot more than I did), here’s another, far-more-seedy-looking photo from the same cafe — AND my friend (not Mike) trying to imitate me. He must’ve thought I was posing or something… that’s just how I naturally look, damnit!

Quickly then:

• I added the ‘Poland‘ gallery, and also made a few updates to the other galleries (though they’re too numerous to mention, you’ll just have to poke around).
• I’m cutting up pieces of paper and writing names on them. Meanwhile, Eric’s stretching, limbering and warming up. I’ve been rubbing various pieces of paper into his nose for the last few days, trying to accustom him to the smell — a bit like those dogs at airports. Only he’s a cat. And he’s blind. (Well, a blind dog might make a really good sniffer dog actually?)
• The Guest Blogs category has finally started to fill out.

And in more detail:

A few of you will have noticed that ‘Guest Blogs’ has been sitting there, in the side bar, wallowing in self pity. Well, this week it became the proud owner of Floreta’s fantastic ‘Ode to Seb‘  — a dramatic, shimmyfest of epic proportions — but I don’t want to stop there!

I have lined up a couple of guest bloggers that, in theory, are going to have regular ‘columns’ — some friends of mine that are too busy to maintain actual blogs, but want to write!

So what? Well, a) hopefully you’ll be seeing some interesting but alternative content over in the Guest Blogs category (don’t worry, I’ll tell you when it goes up) and, perhaps more importantly, b) if you want to guest blog, the space is available to you.

If you want to write under a pseudonym, or if you just want to get away from the normal format of your blog, this could be a fun opportunity! Perhaps you want to write about something too sensitive to publish under your own name? Or write about something that would alienate those that read your blog?

Or maybe, you don’t have a blog, but you fancy your hand at writing?

I’m not saying I’ll publish anything, but as long as it interests me — or educates, or sates my curiousity — I’ll probably put it up! If you’re interested, email me or use the contact form.

Right, now I’m off to film a certain blind cat as he wanders around and hopefully sits on a damn piece of paper.

Hello! This is Eleni of RPG Called Life doing a guest post for Sebastian. The story behind why I am doing this guest blog is long and complicated, but luckily it is the story this post will tell. Given the nature of the story, this post might almost fit in with Seb’s series about geeky guys–something like “How to seduce a geek over the internet”. The geek in question, of course, is our own dear Seb.

One of the TV shows that Seb has made it clear he watches is the new Joss Whedon series Dollhouse. He likes the show, though not nearly as much as he likes its star, Eliza Dushku. You may have noticed a series of “Dushku Day” posts over the past several Saturdays in which he inserts strategic screen shots of her and gushes about how sexy she looks, the words typed out by his drool as it hits the keyboard. But even we girls can see how she’s attractive: beautiful features, lovely brown hair, well-toned body, sexy outfits. And she’s all the more attractive to geeky guys because she’s the star of a sci-fi show. It’s a bit frustrating, really. How is a girl to compete with the likes of Eliza? Most of us can’t really compete with her, but we can use her to our advantage–her, and her socks.

Let’s go back to the March 27 episode of Dollhouse and Sebastian’s post about it the following day. In his post, Seb raved about the socks Echo (Eliza Dushku’s character) was wearing and, more importantly, the way these socks in combination with her cute short skirt showed off her legs.

In the post comments, Seb’s readers debated what these lacy accessories covering Dushku’s legs should be called–tights, pop socks, hosiery, fishnets, over the knee socks, knee-highs, leg-warmers, pantyhose, and stockings were all suggested. Thanks to an Entertainment Weekly column that allows readers to write in and ask where clothing or accessories in a movie or TV show come from, along with a reader named Kelsey who was just as intrigued by Echo’s socks as we were, I found out exactly what these mystery accessories were. They were “snuggly pointelle” over-the-knee socks sold at freepeople.com. Unfortunately, the ivory socks that Dushku wears were out of stock, but the black ones were still available. The conversation between Sebastian and me in the post comments can be summarized as follows:

Me: Hey, I found those socks!
Seb: How about I buy them for you so you can take pictures and then I can ogle at your legs all day!
Me: Um… sure.
Seb: On second thought, I’m too cheap.
Me: Fine, save the money for someone you’ve actually met; I’ll buy them for myself and take pictures.

[Journalistic integrity is something that happens to other people. I'll let the libel go... because of the next photo. -S]

My luxurious, long, soft, shimmery socks arrived in the mail soon thereafter. Now that I had the socks, I had to keep my promise to take some pictures of me wearing them. But what should I wear with the socks for my “photo shoot”? Truth be told, I had neither skirt nor shoes to go with these socks, but these items could be obtained. The question was, what does Seb like (in addition to Eliza Dushku’s legs)? Let’s see… geekery, short skirts, pointe shoes, and the color pink. Using my pointe shoes solved one of my problems, so all I had to do was find a pink miniskirt, and then I was all set.

Prior to my photo shoot, I sent Sebastian a teaser photo with just the socks and the pointe shoes hanging on the back of a chair. Quite innocent, really. He responded–and I quote–”Are yoou tryin’ to seduce me Misses Rawbinson…?” The only proper response was this:

Would you like me to seduce you?

[This was possibly one of the best emails I've ever received. -S]

I think he rather liked that. Whetted his appetite, and it got the ball rolling for me. I had already decided my outfit would include the socks, a pink miniskirt, and pointe shoes. But what poses could I do to display these accessories? What would most get a geek’s attention?

One way to seduce a geek is by playing into his geeky fantasies–in this case, by mimicking Eliza Dushku. In the opening credits of Dollhouse, there are two clips in which Dushku is wearing the (ivory) socks. In one, we see her legs as she walks into a room, dropping her coat on the floor behind her. In the other, we see a close-up of her legs as she rests one foot on a low table and pulls up her sock, and between her legs in the foreground we see her looking out from a mirror in the background. These two photos are my attempt to recreate these clips. The latter was considerably more difficult, since I don’t actually have a mirror and my nascent Photoshop skills can only do so much.

“la la la la la, la la la la la…” (Dollhouse theme song)

[Watching the intro to Dollhouse will never be the same, thanks Eleni. -S]

Another way to get a geek’s attention is to show off your own inner (or not so inner) geek. Here, I model my xkcd shirt (the “I’m not slacking off, my code’s compiling” shirt that’s supposed to raise your programming and swordfighting skills to 18). Because geek girls are awesome, right?

If all else fails to entice your geeky mark, you can always pull something less geeky and more basic…

So there you have it, my crazy geeky photos. Seeing as Sebastian’s birthday is coming up next week, I guess I can call these photos my birthday gift to him. Hope you like them! By the way, Dollhouse’s exciting season finale airs tonight. It’s going to be a good one!

[Best birthday present... ever. -S]

In an attempt to spice things up a little, I’m going to be podcasting a few blog entries — they’ll simply be an unabridged reading of the entry, possibly with a variety of retarded localised accents to make things interesting. I have no idea if it’ll work well or at all but I may as well give it a try — perhaps continue surfing the web while I read to you in the background? Forgive the vanity to your right… but I have to get my kicks somehow.

I can’t do a very good Italian accent, so don’t laugh! Fast forward to 3:40 if you want to just hear the ‘exciting’ bit with the shitty Italian accent, and a hint of Dan Brown-esque American storytelling…

Photographers have it easy compared to our painter comrades. We both deal in luminance and colour, tone, texture and saturation, but at the end of the day painters start with a blank canvas and nothing but the camera of their mind’s eye. Some painters will probably tell you that it makes their life easier, being able to create anything their imagination conjures up. Surely though, controlling the minuscule movements of mixing pigment and the brush itself is infinitely more difficult than raising the shutter on a camera. Then there are those that claim photography is harder — you can only work with what you’ve been given. There is some leeway of course: trickery of the eye and your ability to move props and pose models, but at the end of the day, that’s all you have: you can’t magic a dragon out of thin air.

Photography is all about working with what you’ve got. There is a small amount of knowledge that you need to know before you can operate a camera but we’re talking 3 or 4 simple equations — and the ability to push down a button. Point, and shoot. You can affect how much light enters the camera and that’s it. It’s because of this simplicity and the switch-over to digital cameras that we’re now swamped with thousands of photographers; you, your mother and her mother can be a photographer. It’s no surprise then that selling photos has also become a lot harder: there are more photos in circulation and thus it’s harder to be seen. You can still get lucky, but more than likely your only chance to make money today is as a stock or paparazzi photographer. Like almost every art form it’s one big labour of love: you pray that one day you’ll become the next Monet or Ansel Adams but chances are you won’t.  There are so few rich artists, it’s depressing.Whether it’s due to a lack of talent or saturation of the market I don’t know. What I do know is the one thought that courses through the mind of every person that’s made art their life-long dream: will I only be famous after I die?

To separate themselves from the pack, to stand out, artists try to be different. ‘Yet another photo of some daffodils’ isn’t quite as appealing as ‘Exploding daffodils in the bedroom of the woman that broke my heart’. Almost every photographer you’ve heard of or seen today will have been unique — that’s what it takes to not sink into the mire of boring, formulaic photographers, your voice forever unheard, your view of the world unseen.

It’s all about chasing the perfect photo. Like storm-chasers, train-spotters or groupies chasing the perfect tornado, rare train or celebrity photographers must try so, so hard to get the perfect photo.  Place yourself one centimeter to the left and you might ruin the entire photo. You might have to wait for a cloud to cover the sun to get the perfect light conditions, or even wait for the sun to be in the perfect position before you take the photo. A landscape could be completely average and nondescript at midday, but the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen at 5pm as the sun begins to set.

Photographing people is another beast entirely: the merest flick at the corner of a girl’s lips might make or break a photo. A glint of sun refracting off her eye could change the meaning and the impact. Is she breathing in or out; are her muscles tensed or relaxed? Even the greatest photographers of all time might take thousands of photos of the same  setup — as the years go by, the ratio of good-to-bad photos will improve but you’re still searching for perfection, and sometimes that’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Fortunately I’m a landscape photographer. I’m quite good at portrait work, I just don’t have the experience — and being a good photographer takes a lot of experience. Landscapes don’t go anywhere: the sun continues to rise, the clouds roll on by — you can keep practicing and practicing, with landscapes. With people… it’s a little trickier. One day I’ll put in the hours and chain down one of my photogenic female friends, get the lights out and go to town! One day.

So there I was in Venice, up a clock tower. It was 3pm and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Being the geek that I am, I phoned my dad and asked him what time the sun would set — 6pm, 3 hours away. Fine, I can wait 3 hours. I’ve got a book and a bottle of water. There are all sorts of pretty tourist girls swanning around that I can chat to, and take photos of (with their own cameras, of course!) Two hours pass, it starts to get dark, my pulse quickens. I dart around the tower, surveying how different Venice looks in the fading light, looking for the perfect angle for the perfect photo.

‘The tower will be closing in 10 minutes, please take the elevator back down.’

Shit. I smile and nod at the Italian, my mind quickly working through the available solutions: I wasn’t about to head back down the tower after waiting for two hours! It wasn’t a big tower, and there weren’t any obvious dark corners. I looked up and wondered if I could wedge myself inside the bell itself. Maybe in films… but not here in real life. I was out of time and only one option remained: climb out one of the windows and cling to the wall. They do it in films… they inch themselves along a thin ledge…

The Italian usher was slowly walking around the tower, shooing people into the elevator. I only had 30 seconds to decide — wuss out and waste two hours of my life, or… chase the photo. I jumped onto the windowsill and looked down — Shit — I turned around and inched backwards until my toes were on the ledge — Crap — I reach to the left and grab the edge of the next portal — Phew — I’m safe for now, but the pounding of my heart against the ancient brick wall would suggest I’m still in in a wee spot of bother. Finally, the sound of the descending elevator! I slide myself along the ledge, my feet now splayed like a ballet dancer’s and pull myself back inside.

There I am, all alone and king of the hill! I camped out for another hour, constantly assessing the landscape, sizing up the prey, waiting to strike. An hour later, I struck gold — a full moon! A total fluke, but completely deserved. I pulled out the camera, struck a pose not unlike a war-time sniper and… wait! A big ship too! Click. Bang!

That’s how I chased my perfect photo of Venice. It’s not a stereotypical view of Venice but I challenge you to find another like it.

It was getting cold and I had no food; I was out of water and thirsty. I packed up quickly and pushed the call button on the elevator. Nothing. I pushed it again. Still nothing. I looked out through a window and grinned in the darkness, wondering if it was possible.

To be continued…