Rubénerd!

You may remember a few days I go I wrote a blog post about a blog post that ZombiePlan had written on his blog. A blog post about a blog post on a blog, who would have thought it? Anyway I blatantly fabricated a screenshot by inserting words he in fact did not say and then proceeded to pretend he did in fact say what I had fabricated. I like pie.

In response to said post ZombiePlan did what any reasonable person would do under the circumstances and made me into a Yu-Gi-Oh card that mocked the frequency in which I post blog posts on my blog. I write blog posts on my blog, who would have thought it?

The two cards presented above may look identical to the untrained eye, but in fact there are significant differences. In my late primary school and early high school years in the early 2000s I used to play Magic: The Gathering. Yes I'm afraid it's true, you could have been forgiven up until this point for thinking my online nerdish dorkyness was just a disguise, but it's definitely not!

In fact initially I didn't even play the game to start with, I used to collect the cards and put them in card folders because I loved the graphics. This used to work great because often the cards that had the crappiest attack/defence power or the lamest actions had some of the best pictures, so people would give them to me for free.

And why is it that I included the Thran Dynamo? Well when I started playing half-seriously I managed to scrounge up several of these cards and use them in place of mana once I had four down. By tapping one of those beauties, I had three times the mana to activate cards in one turn, and more importantly they could be used with any coloured cards. Not the best card ever, but I thought I was being clever.

It's amazing what you remember... and conversely what you try to forget. I still like pie though.

My mum and I in 2006 at Changi Airport in Singapore

Since she moved on my blog here has been dedicated to my late beautiful, cheeky, warm, funny, brave mum Debra.

After an epic battle with cancer that lasted since my sister and I was little kids and through three international moves, Debra suddenly left us in her sleep recently. Her funeral was a beautiful service in Sydney a few weeks later with close friends and family played to the sounds of Santana's Sam Pa Ti, Bob Dylan's Forever Young, Bob Marley's Stir It Up, Sabah Habas Mustapha's Warm Rain Falls, The Beatles' Let it Be and of course Spirit in the Sky.

She was an amazing person with a ridiculous sense of humour that I can proudly claim was the primary influence for my own. We'd watch Bertie Wooster and Fawlty Towers episodes for hours on weekends (a cow creamer!). In the oncology ward where we considered the nurses and Dr Tan family she'd refer to her chemotherapy drip as champagne and loudly insist on seeing the wine menu. She introduced me to Michael Franks (now my favourite singer/songwriter) and his Search for the Perfect Shampoo. I'd dance into her bedroom singing Dean Martin's How Do Ya' Like Your Eggs in the Morning? to her at breakfast and she'd throw books. I'd poke fun at her short stature and she'd mock me for being a nerd who was too scared to ask that cute Korean girl out that she had already pre-approved. Most of the time when she didn't have enough strength to get out of bed I'd bring a pair of laptops in and I'd do my work while she lectured on why the dress the latest celebrity was wearing was awful or how corrupt the cosmetics industry is.

Officially the most epic photo of all friggen time!

Behind the tough, silly exterior though was a person in almost constant pain and anguish. Routine aspects of most of our lives were insurmountable chores for her that only got more difficult and painful as the years went on. She was a master at hiding it from the outside world, but the consequence was she'd rarely want to leave the house for the effort to put her self described "mask" on was nearly always just too much.

She confided in my sister and I shortly before she left us that we were the reason she continued to fight, because she wanted us to be old enough to have memories of her. It's only now I realise how incredible (and lump-in-the-throat inducing) that was. I'm also becoming aware now as I get older that she won't be around for so many milestones in my sister's and my lives (graduations, work, weddings, kids) but we do have memories we would not trade for anything.

One of her favourite songs of all time was Thunderclap Newman's Something in the Air, particularly the beginning of the final verse when the coda finishes and the melody seems to soar; she told me she loved it because it sounded like a bird was taking off without worries. While I selfishly wish she was back here with me, I also know she was living in excruciating pain for years and her passing finally allowed her to take off and leave the agony behind. Even if she was taken away from me far too soon, she's no longer in pain.

Unfortunately I didn't seem to inherit her class or her incredible musical, comedic, artistic or literary skills (thank you Rainer!), but given this website is one of my own primary outlets for my mind I can't think of anything more fitting than to dedicate this to Debra Schade, even if all it amounts to are sporadic thoughts about software and the universe that she'd laugh and mock me for for if she read! We had a great relationship :-).

I love you Mumster, I miss you so much it hurts. Thank you for giving me life but even more for your friendship. Forgive me for this next part.

#import Display.h;
int main( int argc, const char *argv[] ) {
    printf( "Lots of love, Ruben" );
    return 0;
}