A thinly veiled threat by Apple that if iPhone users use the mods now available to unlock their phones from AT&T that future updates they release will disable their phones. Article from Wall Street Journal
Hmm, it's been an odd couple of weeks. Training is painstakingly slowly getting back to ordinary levels but the majority of the last two weeks of training has been taken up with football. Which is fair enough if you're coming back from a long break from training and you want to ease yourself back in. I on the other hand am coming back from a position where I've been dying to train all Summer in preparation for the Europeans and the Universiades but haven't had the oppurtunity. My form dipped correspondingly to this lack of training, culminating in an uninspired and disappointing tournament in Bangkok (which I'm sure I'll get round to writing about in some time).
Added to this, frustrations in my personal life, the majority of my friends from the Irish College having returned home and the tedium of trying to find a job, I'm left swinging like a pendulum between restlessness and a pensive aggression. As if I needed it, on top of it all the under performing Irish rugby team are bringing me down even further.
...
I'll fill in some of the blanks from the last 3 weeks...
Since my return to Paris on the 31st of August, were it not for the sparse entries to this blog I'd barely be able to remember a single thing I did. For two weeks though I got back into some serious training in the gym. Managed to get 5 sessions in for both those weeks, which I was pleased with and I was feeling good for. Aside from that, I watched the start of the Rugby World Cup and the early warning signs of things to come as Ireland struggled past Namibia.
I began a serious of interviews with 5 or 6 different English teaching organisations. Since I'm still involved in the interview process with some of them I won't say much more about that. It was good practice at my interview technique at the very least.
Last weekend, the 14th September, I returned to Ireland. I was briefly cheered up on the Friday night by watching England being massacred by South Africa with friends in town, only to be brought back down again by Ireland's performance against Georgia. Sunday's All-Ireland final was a predictably dull affair but I went to see Knocked Up in the evening - which probably made the day a draw but a moral victory. Monday, I'd had to return some things left in my apartment by a friend, so at least my bag was lighter returning to Paris.
As if by magic, Tuesday I was back in Paris. None-the-wiser for my short stay, I longed for a longer stay at home even before I boarded the plane. The rest of the week I slept. And slept. And slept.
I woke up Friday, since there was some sort of match on. Got absolutely buckled for a good 12 hour period. Stumbled home at 7am Saturday and have spent the rest of the weekend recovering until now. Just what the next week will bring... It's already 8 minutes old at the time of writing and I don't know if I care.
...
I face into the unknown. I should be well familiar with that by now; having not known what I wanted to do in College, not knowing what I wanted to after college and my not knowing eventually leading me to my current location. Still my familiarity with this feeling brings me no comfort right now.
Suggestions welcome...
I went to a stationary supply shop and they had no refill pads with horizontal lines, only ones with hundreds of squares... It's like some sort of alternative universe.
Anyway, off to training.
I love the way Slash says - "Dope and booze were maybe more of a after the show thing, maybe in between shows and during time-off". Doesn't seem like there'd be much time left...
As far as I can see the source of the beatbox/wind-instrument phenomenom - an obviously very talented and original thinking man in New York...
The whole genre comes together and takes on a life of its own with this video though and my favourite beatbox/wind-instrument combination...
Where will this genre go next?
Up at 8am on a Sunday! I'm at the pool at 8.30am, thinking no one will be up this early on a Sunday. No. This is France. Looking down into the pool from reception I'd say it would be easier just to walk across all the bodies crammed into the pool rather than swim. I didn't even bother going in, going to hit the gym at 10 when it opens instead. This is the final straw with my local pool!
It seems I may have missed the boat somewhat on my pentathlon dreams (well unfocused aspirations at least) as a friend of mine pointed out that the Irish National Championships were held early than last year on the 1st and 2nd September, last weekend.
Am I despondent? Well no it doesn't really bother me much. In fact it barely registers these days considering the raw tripe that fate has flung at me recently and the results from this years competition certainly give me hope for next year. The full results (available here) reveal that if I had even entered the competition I would have been guaranteed 3rd place in the Men's Senior category. So with my resolve refastened and a whole year now to prepare for the event, I'm determined to actually compete next year.
...
In other news, the shock defeat of Les Blue last night at the hands of Los Pumas has left the French nation reeling (I presume). I witnessed first hand the quickest clearing of a pub ever as the final whistle blow at le Stade e France signalled the exodus of maybe 200 French patrons from The Frog At Bercy where I'd gone to watch the match.
A great match though, all the same enthralling to watch. It's a great pity that the poor geographical spread of rugby means that the majority of the interesting matches from the poule stage will be coming from Ireland's poule, while the others are mere formalities for the Southern Hemisphere teams.
I'm off to get a pizza in my local halal pizzeria,
Auf Wiedersehen
... Or at least I hoped never.
That sad day has arrived though. I've mail-bombed the city of Paris with my CV today and now await my fate.
...For anybody who was in on either of these in-jokes and particularly for the small subset which intersect both.
While catching up on my blogging a strange thought entered my head. What if The Pirate and 70's Porn Man were somehow linked? What if one was a sidekick of the other? It's not beyond the realms of possibility, I think you'll agree and it begs the question what diabolical plan will they hatch next.
I'm obviously delirious from jet-lag so I'm off to bed...
I touched down at Charles de Gaulle at about 6.30am on Friday. I must have slept more than I realised on the return flight from Thailand, as it certainly didn't feel like twelve hours. All the same I was fairly exhausted and not really in the mood for any of the annoyances that the morning would provide. A long queue through passport control was just the start. Between my fencing equipment and luggage for a two week holiday my baggage had been ridiculously overweight - close enough to 40Kg.
It became apparent to me as I made my way to the RER to head back into Paris that I would be getting into Paris just around peak morning rush hour. As the train trundled its way into Paris it began to slowly fill up. By the time it had reached Gare du Nord it was thoroughly packed. My stuffed fencing bag, I'd perched on the seat opposite me, while my rucksack was on the luggage rack above, its many straps dangling down and nearly hitting passers by. I struggled to get the backpack onto my back as we approached Chatelet - Les Halles (the mouth of hell, as I like to call it). I ended up having to reverse my way out the carriage - hitting anyone in the face with my backpack at the slightest turn left or right.
At Chatelet I have to change RER lines and it was another 10 minute RER journey across to Nation, several minutes of dragging my bags to the metro, a short metro journey and then the walk to my apartment before I collapsed onto my bed, leaving my bags where I had dropped them.
I decided to try and stay up and re-tune myself to the time-zone again as quickly as possible rather than sleeping for the day. Nonetheless, it was about 8pm when I couldn't stay awake any longer and fell asleep.
...
The next day I decided to head to training with the Paris Gaels GAA, hoping that the fresh air and exercise would clear my head. I've never played Gaelic at any level and I'm not really sure do I have any desire to either. It did certainly, however, provide a kick-start back into training; one I'm sure I'll be paying for over the next couple of days.
...
Today I've tried to tidy my apartment a bit and finally unpack. I'm still quite tired and feel a bit drained. Fencing training starts back on Tues. Annoyingly enough I think I'll need to get another medical cert to say I'm fit to train. This is an expense I could do without, in fact I could do without any expenses at this stage. The obvious outcome of my jet-set lifestyle has arrived at my doorstep and I am finally broke. I'm hoping this will at least provide me with some real motivation to get up off my ass and find a job.
As for the abissmal state of my blog over the Summer months I really and truly intend to remedy that situation over the next while. I'm going to complete my account of last seasons competition and fill in the blanks of my holidays etc asap. A return to Owen's cookbook may be in order as well at some stage. Anyway, I must get back to whatever it was I wasn't doing...
A+
