Merry Christmas - A Love Letter

Here I am... Christmas Eve, with the need (desire?) to write a letter to my boyfriend to wish him a merry christmas.

And Im here. Wondering what the most important thing is that I have to tell him? I dont know...
Everything??
How much???

I could tell him that he has rescued my soul. But maybe thats too much.

I could tell him that he makes me smile at the oddest of times. But maybe thats not enough.

A large part of me wants to take him back to 2006, where my damaged and battered heart dragged itself through muck and grime... only to slip into a ditch of depression and addiction to the underbelly of life. But maybe he doesnt want to hear that.

A large part of me wants to leap with him into to the future, to show the both of us what we can and will be. But thats too much pressure. Possibly just for me.

A small part of me wants to hide. To wish it all away on a cloud. No love, no pain. No woman no cry... right??

A small part of me wants to lock him away. All to myself, where no one can touch him, I dont have to share him, and he belongs to me and only me.

So what do I write in my letter??

I love him. Of course.
But how do I describe how he has changed the course of my life? I havent altered my goals or ambitions, but my direction has changed. Its safer. Secure.

Im loved. To feel that is immeasurable. To know that another soul on this earth wants to merge with mine is indescribable.

I remember that moment when I realised. It was in the morning... we had woken up and I was just looking at him. Id known him barely a few weeks. But Id never felt so comfortable. I opened my mouth to speak... then shut it immediately. I knew what I was going to say. But I couldnt believe it. Really? Me?? So soon??
Obviously yes. But how had I let it happen!?! And then I was gripped by fear. But I looked at those big brown eyes, and stupidly long camel eyelashes and I was certain.
And then I had to wait. No point scaring the boy off so soon... right? So I had to wait many more weeks. So painful to NOT tell someone that you love them, when all you wanted to do was shower them with it.

And from that moment everything shifted. Paths changed, and they crossed. And we amazed each other. The 'click' is phenomenal. Imagine two drunken fools meeting in a bar, a man fueled by dutch courage, a women who couldnt care less about the man to cross her path... we swap numbers. And fell in love!? Fate picks wisely, no matter what the scenario. And my gratefulness for the chance meeting is something I can never repay. My life has changed for the better, without a doubt.

I cannot believe how much I miss this boy. Even when he gives me the total rotten shits, I still cannot bear to be apart from him for too long. He brings light and warmth into my day, and strength and hope into my nights. He brings stability to my rocking ship, and clarity to my clouded waters.

I have never met anyone like him in my entire life. My little engergizr bunny, he drives me to find happiness in the moment. To pursue the greatest thing in this life.... the NOW. There is no tomorrow... no yesterday. Only now. Only us. Only today. And he is the greatest teacher of experience over possesions. Of experience over status. All we have is this very moment... and he lives in it with me, right here and right now. And I love him uncontrollably for that.

Uncontrollably.

Like a freight train. A risk of derailing, no brakes here baby. Of course there is still fear. But there is no stopping it.


And ...there it is.
I think I just wrote my love letter.



x

New Zealand Talent

I suppose New Zealand falls into that category of 'brilliance through isolation' that gets so often touted on my home shores.

Isolation from influence can create beautiful things, encourage people to push boundaries, and open doors to ideas fostered without predjudice.

Stumbled across this website today which showcases the best of NZ designers

http://www.cleverbastards.co.nz/ - Its a bit like etsy for the Kiwi's

Im loving these handmade ceramic bowls by Rose Griffin;

This chair by Roger Kelly;

And I NEED this bag to carry all my uni stuff! Its the ultimate. Prints by Ingrid Anderson are brilliant, and I love the wide shoulder strap. I can fill it with junk and it wont hurt!

Present idea? Anyone??

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Little Gifts

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Have you ever had a gut instinct so strong you’ve had no choice but to follow through?

5 days ago Id walked past a book sitting on a step in Southbank. I was on my way to lunch, to read a book of my own. It had very obviously been left behind, with no one around. A letter poked out of one of the pages as a marker.
I continued walking.
An hour later I returned to work, and there on the step was the book. Still all alone, so I picked it up.

A title I hadn’t heard before, by a Victorian author. The name on the inside of the book did not match the name on the envelope, but the envelope was empty. A heavily cursive script gave me a Victorian address, but it was hard to decipher. I shoved it into my bag, maybe it would be a good read?
Back in the office, it niggled at me, and I had to decipher the script. I could make out the surname, so I searched them on the white pages… no luck. Then I realised the postal code was my own! Once I had seen this, it clicked… and I could make sense of the text…this person lived on my street! It would be unfair of me to live so close and not return the book. Even if it did not belong to them directly, they would probably know who owned it.

So I wrote a small note on the nearest piece of paper, saying that I had found this book but was not sure if it was there’s and, regardless, seeing as I lived nearby I had decided to find its home, and that I hoped it was a ‘good read’.

On the weekend, as Jimmy and I went to the shop for dinner, I asked him to pass by this house. My neighbourhood is one of much high-density apartment living – but this residence stood out. It had high fences, ornate metal work, meticulous gardens, and the house was a grand white manor-style building. I slipped the book into the mailbox, and it slipped out of my mind.

Today, at work, I received a letter! It was from the lady I returned the book to! I’d used a ‘With Compliments’ slip from work that did not have a return address on it, so the lady must have looked the company up.

This is what she wrote;

Dear Kaye,
What a lovely surprise to have the book returned. I had hoped someone would take a punt on the enclosed envelope, but wasn’t very hopeful.
It was quite a relief too, as a friend had lent me the book and I was going to have to replace it!
I use the public transport system a lot, so always take something to read. I don’t usually leave my reading material behind!
The book is actually rather dreary, but now I shall finish it.
Thank you so much,
Sincerely,
Lesley G
P.S. We are nice neighbours (though seriously “senior”). Call in some time.


How lovely that she took the time to send me a letter in return! I cant describe the it, almost like joy but not quite, like content but not quite, almost like relief but not quite. And there was something more…
I cant let go of this feeling that there is something deeper.

Do you believe in chance or fate? Karma? Im not sure what I believe in, but my life choices have been no accident. Ive always had little gifts like this … Mum says its Pa (her dad) and maybe it is, but Im also happy to believe its just guidance of any form (Im not religious). Its like the time that my shoe broke moments before I was to walk under a ladder, so I paused momentarily only to have a hammer drop from two metres above and crash to the spot where I would have been at that second. Or like the time that I could not decide if I was going to move to Melbourne then I discovered a map of Melbourne in a pile of paper I had accidentally picked up from the office in perth.
Its when I listen to these little gifts that amazing things happen.

And this is where I come to something deeper. Not only did that book remain untouched on that step near my office to be found by me, but its owner lived on my street. Nowhere else in Victoria… but ON MY STREET. And to take it further, this lady has the same name as my mother… even down to the unusual spelling.

Lesley has extended an offer for me to stop by. I think I may just do that….

K

When I was a kid

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Today as I walked back through the city on my way back from meeting a girlfriend for lunch, I had a pleasant realisation. Here I was, stalking down Collins in black stillettos and a skirt-suit, newspaper rolled up under my arm and a long macchiato in hand from my favourite little arcade coffee-shop. Id had a long lunch with a friend from another firm, she recommended the venue, I recommended the wine - both turned out to be great.


So as I walked back to my office, I caught a reflection of myself in a window... and I had to stop.


I was looking at a childhood idea of myself.


Growing up in the far outskirts of Perth city (its now suburbia of course, but back then it was much different) I wasnt exposed to the corporate world. I couldnt comprehend what a 'business-man' did, and all the people I knew did not wear suits. My parents, parents friends, friends parents, and the people my parents encountered on a daily basis were doctors, nurses, brickies, plumbers, teachers, checkout operators, butchers, and builders. Even in highschool when I began to understand the wider world and what the difference (for example) is between a corporate accountant & tax accountant, or contracts law and family law, I still did not know what I wanted to 'do'.


All I knew, was that I wanted to catch a train to work in a swarm of commuters, reading the paper on the train, and I wanted to work on a high floor with a view, meet friends for lunch & coffee, and wear classy business attire. I wanted to greet a receptionist every morning, have flowers sent to my desk, and be 'called' to important meetings. I didnt care so much as to what I wanted as a career, I just had to have those things.


So I saw myself in the window on Collins Street - and sure, my goals and ambitions had evolved, and I was working towards some pretty huge career aspirations - but the basic notion had not changed in all these years. However complicated my life may seem now, I still have (already) surpassed my childhood dreams.


How cool is that!?

There was certainly a spring in my step as I returned to the office. Simple Joys.

_

Finding myself alive

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Sometimes I find myself very alive. Like Ive awoken from a slumber and the colours are suddenly brighter.
Often the feeling is fleeting, always it is beautiful. Sometimes I can pinpoint why I feel this.
Other times it simply appears, like a small child grasping my pinkie finger.
It is delicate, fragile. A flower that closes at dusk; unfurling to bask in the light, and vanishing just as quickly.
I hold these moments precious, like fragments of a damaged film that I was the star of, surrounded by cast and crew, my every move followed with cameras, softly-lit, superbly edited, with a mesmerising soundtrack sparkling in my ears. I never find the same moment twice, no matter how hard I try to replicate it.
But I am very much alive, and a smile plays across my lips. And I can almost hear people whisper “What is her secret…”
And then it is gone, the thing that seems most real, a blissful awareness of that very moment, fades into my reality. And I return to my day, searching for that small child again.

My wish for you...

I cant claim this, but its beautiful nonetheless;

May you find serenity and tranquility in a world you may not always understand.
May the pain you have known and the conflict you have experienced give you the strength to walk through life facing each new situation with courage and optimism.
Always know that there are those whose love and understanding will always be there, even when you feel most alone.
May you discover enough goodness in others to believe in a world of peace.
May a kind word, a reassuring touch, and a warm smile be yours every day of your life, and may you give these gifts as well as receive them.
Remember the sunshine when the storm seems unending.
Teach love to those who hate, and let that love embrace you as you go out into the world.
May the teachings of those you admire become part of you, so that you may call upon them. Remember, those whose lives you have touched and whose have touched yours are always a part of you, even if the encounters were less than you would have wished. It is the content of the encounter that is more important than the form.
May you not become too concerned with material matters, but instead place immeasurable value on the goodness in your heart.
Find time each day to see beauty and love in the world around you.
Realize that each person has limitless abilities, but each of us is different in our own way.
What you feel you lack in the present may become one of your strengths in the future.
May you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility.
Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.
May you find enough inner strength to determine your own worth by yourself, and not be dependent on another's judgment of your accomplishments.
May you always feel loved.
-Anon

The break is over

I did learn one important thing in the week I spent immersed in my studies. My body is like a high performance sports car, or racehorse, or fighter plane – or some other equally finely tuned machine that conjures up images of power. You get the picture.
Years ago (maybe 3 or so) I could operate on but a few hours sleep, drink heavily most nights, and entertain myself with illicit drugs – and function (or so I thought) as a normal human being. These days I have to take much more care, and prior to the end of semester I deprived myself of sleep, ordered takeaway, sucked continuously on cans of energy drink, and chose to forgo any exercise.

Prior to this, I had set myself up on a training program of my own creation. I am comfortable and confident doing this because I have done it numerous times before, I know my limits and expectations, and Ive done my research. But this was more than just exercise and diet this time around. This time I wanted to address my anxiety, my insomnia, my fatigue, and mood swings. I forked out a hefty amount of money (hey, you have to have a little faith in people) to an unremarkable genteel woman to teach me meditation as part of a class, I read books that inspired, and I extracted myself from relationships and acquaintances that were negative or draining.

But last week all of this went out the window and I allowed myself to be sucked back into the vortex. Sacrifice I guess.

But back to what I discovered;
- That a heavy session at the gym did more for my anxiety than it did for my waistline. Which is good because I don’t want to lose a lot of weight. I found that I could accumulate anxiousness throughout the day, and a good hour at the gym could dispel the knot in my stomach.
- That reducing the anxiety had a direct effect on my sleep patterns (I didnt have trouble falling asleep so much as that I wake up in the middle of the night repeatedly, or I twitch/remain taut throughout the night)
- That a decent dose of protein at lunch (lean meat in my sandwich, or tuna with my salad) went further to sustain me through the afternoon than a serving of carbohydrates. Not to mention I no longer had the sluggish post-lunch lull that I thought I needed prior to getting my carb kick for the afternoon.
- That dairy doesn’t agree with me, and I should stick to soy where possible… no more bloating!
- That training at the gym forced me to extract myself earlier from the office, because the gym shuts at 9pm, I need to get there by 8pm at the latest and therefore have to leave work by 7pm (which is better than my customary 8 or 9pm departure)
- That meditation is actually scary, because before I am aware Im am in it, there is a feeling of total lack of control. But the head-spins and nausea I get during meditation is how my body manifests the anxiousness and I feel more focussed after meditation than before it.
- That I could actually get addicted to the endorphin rush I get after exercise. Sure I crash and burn with exhaustion, but the energetic bubbling mess of words and skipping and laughter that I am immediately after a gym session? I wish I could bottle that so that it lasts longer than an hour.
- Taking care of my soul, my physique, and my diet has flow on effects to include getting my hair done, dressing up more, dancing around my bedroom, finding insignificant things to celebrate ‘just because’, and yes… shes about to say it… more sex.


I realise these things may make you say ‘No shit’, and they’re things I probably already knew… but they were driven home for me after several weeks of ‘care’. That’s it… I didn’t push myself, I didn’t punish myself… I just ‘cared’. For me.

And now I have to spend this week getting back to it. To there. And to me.

No mean feat. My poor boyfriend has copped a hammering from my moods. I do try to be accommodating, but he shifts from being endearing, to a downright pain-in-the-ass. This is not because his behaviour has changed, but because the way I respond to him does. He goes about his merry way being fun and carefree and laidback but sometimes I find this liberating, other times… infuriating. I’m working on this. And when I say ‘this’, I mean how I react to his behaviour, not the behaviour itself. Im trying to be more ‘present’, that is, not allowing my past or preconditioning to influence my current behaviour.



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Obsessive Compulsive Escapism

A friend told me last week that I was running at 110 percent. What dictates how much 100 percent actually IS, and therefore if I am exceeding it though, is subject to personal experience and opinion. For him (and I suppose many others, but not in my industry) – 100 percent is a 40 hour week. It’s a long lunch on a Friday. Its leaving the office at least once per day, for lunch, a coffee, a trip to the bank. For him, there is no weekend work, and staying late occurs a few times per month.
So therein, does that make him lazy, or me overworked? Am I battling with an inability to manage my time, or an unrealistic workload. Does he have it easy, or is he working his ass off within that locked timeframe of 40 hours?
What makes a job easy is speculative and relative. At 6pm every night, not a soul in the firm has left the office – it is de rigueur in the profession to work late. And on my many jaunts up to the 10th floor on a Sunday to catch up or get ahead for the week, the floor is littered with people working away silently.

I speculate if one actually has the capacity to operate at 110 percent, for 100 percent of the time? This week I was faced with ‘down time’ at the office, and with nothing inherently urgent, I found myself take the extreme response and withdraw completely. Why I do this, I do not know, but I know that I DO engage in this lax and negative behaviour on a cyclic basis. There are always, always things needing to be done, but when faced with an opportunity to ‘drop the pressure’, I vacate. Mentally ‘check out’.

It is this psychological response, an aversion to any work whatsoever when not under strain, that makes me think that I am a workaholic. Surely not! Especially when I have neglected to complete at least one task in three days this week! I believe I have an intrinsic shut down mechanism, a ‘switch’ that picks a time when Im not operating a workload of ‘critical mass’, and numbs my brain, preventing me from engaging in anything further. Oh just THINK of the work I could achieve if I could disable that mechanism. And boom – there it is - A desire to disable the very thing that stops me from have a debilitating and probably very public nervous breakdown. THAT, my dear reader, makes me a workaholic.

In a world of high achievers, global desire, and a ladder begging to be climbed, there seems to be no aversion in my psyche to tipping the scales of work-life balance – and that is fairly fucked up.

Amillia : non est ad astra mollis e terris via

I survived.

And I wasn’t sure if I would. Or if we would.

Ive completed my first semester back at uni since I took a year off to recover from a failed relationship, self-deprecating behaviour, and a move interstate. I feared being time poor in this new relationship. And for the second time too. The only comfort I took was that if I drove a wedge between us, we would have lost but a few months of our life together. Systematically destroying the relationship between my ex and I resulted in an agonising split after 3 years. One that tore out a piece of my soul.

I suppose it shows that Ive grown. The wisdom I have gained, and the faith I have restored. Jimmy has been immeasurable in his help. Not by any intent of action on his part, but by just being himself. Being patient with me, and understanding. And being content to stand by the wayside as I battled my own demons. Holding me when I break down with exhaustion, and by turning up on my doorstep when I cant bear to see him.

There have been many moments of confusion. Of lacking the understanding why I want him so far away, and so close. I need to be able to feel I am in control my life (it has been so badly out of control before) and needing him tells me that Im losing that control. That I cant survive it on my own – and therefore I haven’t got a grip. But why does it have to be on my own. Surely this stress is too much for one to bear? Part time university coupled with casual bar and hosting work alongside a fulltime office job, with an undercurrent of perfectionism, procrastination, and a whole lot of anxiety, leaves little time to think this through. You just do what has to be done. Head down – bum up. There are sacrifices to be made. I sacrificed the love of my life one time many years ago, was it a necessity to do it again, or have I learnt that I can have both?? I think I have wholeheartedly believed both ideals at some point or another in these past 6 months. Yes I can have a happy relationship with a man I love, while putting myself under immense pressure (and that Im not who I used to be). Or, yes... I cannot have both, and I will sacrifice (again) my sanity and happiness for the ultimate goal that Ive been fighting for. But in both of these instances, what do I lose? Reality tells us time and time again the world is not perfect and you cannot have everything. Something has got to give, and Im floundering in the shallows, hoping desperately that nothing is slipping through my fingers.

If it is, I don’t know what it is yet... I'll be ok, as long as I keep fighting.



Resilience: There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

Please.

Sometimes Im so infatuated with you I want to merge with your soul
Sometimes, I cant stand the sound of your voice.
Sometimes your touch will heal all my pain
Sometimes, it burns like fire

I try to open my heart to you
But in the darkness, you look just like it
I try to open my mind to our possibility
But I dream of somewhere else

Your eyes are sad because you know
You hold me so tight because you know
I hold you so tight because I cant lose you
But youre slipping from my grasp

I feel like Ive learnt all you can teach me
Though what you can teach me is infinite
You give me the lessons of life
But Im not learning anymore

Take me away from here
Leave me alone
Show me the world through your eyes
But dont look at me that way.
Please not this. again.

Before Dawn

I wrote this after spending a long evening with my partner trying to sift through the maze that was my thoughts. He believes passionately that life experience is worth more than money in the bank, that richness is through the love of family and friends, and that success is not measured by worldly possessions. As time passes he is teaching me that the things that trouble my life are not really that important (some days he is more successful than others) and that I need is right inside me; faith, hope, and strength.





I fantasise about small things. Going home when its
Daylight. That'd be nice, like sleep-ins.
The perfect high heel. Halfway between stiletto and kitten.
I dream about big things. Day dreams, and dreams before
Dawn. When its cold. And he feels warm.
My gift to myself this year; Clarity. Calm
Wrapped in silver paper, tied with a red
Bow. Luminescent even in low light.
That if im not learning, im lost. And he is teaching me to
Breathe the air and touch the earth. Slow down.
Our experiences cannot be stored in the bank
A life of memories, worth more than that big
House. The one in my dreams before
Dawn. When its cold. And he feels warm.

Kaos in the night

I awoke today in the dead of the night. My boyfriend slept soundly beside me (as he always does so well) and I stared into the blackness for what seemed like eternity. As it turned out, eternity was 2 hours, and I drifted off sometime before 4am. As I lay there, I wondered what had woken me. I felt so awake that I could have risen and gone about my day. If I was at my own place and not at my partners then perhaps I would have gotten up to find something to do. Instead I tossed and turned and questioned why the knot in my stomach tightened with every passing minute. I had an acute sense of dread, like I had missed something, that I had overlooked something critical. My mind travelled to the daylight, of my Monday back at work, of everything that I had to do to catch up, of a uni assignment that was impending, and social obligations I had to keep. I felt my stomach knot in such a way that I had to curl up on my side. And there it was…. why was I so anxious in the middle of the night? My life. That’s why.

So come the morning of my Monday, with a gently throbbing headache, and a nauseas feeling in my stomach. The same which I had felt all week.
I was exhausted, and angry at myself for not sleeping through the night. As I travelled to work, each moment I thought of the things I had to do came with a tightening in my chest. And that’s what stress feels like to me. I know it when I am powering away at work and trying to meet a deadline and the adrenaline rushes and my heart rate jumps. A little bit of stress is good for me, in fact. But there was no deadline, no overdue tasks, it was 9am on a Monday, what had my weekend given me? Very little it seems. Could I handle this feeling for another 5 days?

Its seems in life we are presented with enough impossibilities to burden the strongest of souls, that the wayward path leads astray the most intrepid explorers, and that the experienced heart has a greater memory of its pain and conflict than the a superior intellect.
It also seems that the weakest minds desire the simplest pleasures, the softest dispositions engage with the kindest people, and the youngest hearts love the hardest.
So what do I desire to be? Strong, intrepid, and superior, or weak minded, soft, and young? It appears to me that the stronger you are, the more you choose to carry, and those who know their limitations move through their life with ease.
I don’t want to be strong, because I will infinitely pile myself with weight. I do not wish to be intrepid, because I do not want to lose my way, and I do not want to love, because my heart will remember the pain more everlasting than its joy.

This is self deprecating and I understand this. Of course it is considerably more noble to have strength of character, but isnt it more feasible to live an uncomplicated life without this? Sometimes I want the easy trail without the winding and bumps and hills and ruts. Is that selfish?

“Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again.”

Blogs: Public or Private Realm?

Hello and Welcome.

An interesting scenario occurred in the office today. A fellow staff member in our Hong Kong office found themselves blogging about recent design events in his city. Being a keen writer and social commentator, it appeared he had quite harmlessly embarked on a blogging experience. Until …a google search engine sent a notification to a marketing coordinator in Australia advising that there had been a new addition to the internet - that contained the company name. The marketing coordinator was quite impressed with the content and sent the link to a global email base. The blog in itself was quite harmless, it was a logical and indepth discussion about factors that influenced the current state of architectural design. Yet, human nature being as it is, it would go without saying that interested readers would like to know what other such entries existed. Myself being one of them.

Not 2 minutes into exploring his blog, I was presented with (what would be to some, confronting) commentary on his sexuality and sexual experiences. This was not just any old architectural design blog!I spoke to the Marketing Coordinator and of course, she had not realised that there had been any other entries that might be subsequently damaging. Her initial response was defensive “Everyone knows he is gay – its no secret”. Ah yes, but Im sure he would have like to have kept the secret about his fantasies of sleeping with a straight man, or being involved in a straight ‘group’ scenario that might have also included a women. She recalled the email when the staff member in question asked her to do so, but had the damage (if any) already been done?

Which brings me to my question; who is at fault? Should she have queried with the staff member whether she could link to his personal blog, a large proportion of the company? Or was he already giving license for her to do so, by already having the content publicly available for viewing by anyone who cared to search? How public truly is the internet? Or are we assigning too much trust in its vastness that anything we display online is buried deep within?

Many months ago I encountered a similar scenario – twice actually, as it appeared I did not learn my lesson the first time! During the house-hunting and flatmate-finding process, I was frequently able to ‘look up’ potential candidates on the internet. And ohhh you would be surprised how many people do not set their facebook profile to ‘private’. It was interesting to get a background on any potential axe-weilding strippers cum school teachers who refused to do the dishes. One such fellow I looked up, had a blog. An intelligent (if not left of centre) character, he seemed to take joy in conducting indepth analysis’ of society’s ills. In passing comment, I mentioned that I had discovered his blog, and his immediate response was to Google MY name. Oh my.Now, the result that topped the list is not something that I am ashamed of. It was fun at the time and every gal likes their 15 minutes of fame, but it is certainly not a true representation of my character. Especially in the way that mens magazines like to twist their models’ words to make for interesting reading. The potential housemate thought it highly amusing though. And subsequently I now live with him.

Hey… maybe it even helped a little?? *wink*

I relayed this story to colleagues the following week at work, keeping the conversation as broad as possible. Obviously not broad enough – as giggles from behind computer monitors enlightened me to the fact that they knew the story I was telling, was in fact about me. As I type today, the entire consulting team has seen me in my underwear.

True story.

So I do know what it feels like to have your personal life discovered on the internet. Obviously not as interesting as today’s discovery though. But this poor fellow in Hong Kong, what standing does he have? He engaged with an invisible and infinite audience, telling any i-surfer about his personal experiences. But when this is shared in a corporate environment, it can go from an open honest dialogue about a regular guy, to a career debilitating weapon. I trust that in future he will be selective with his words when discussing work, or even with the content itself. Or heck, did he just have it coming, did he ‘play dice with the devil’? As a reader though, and a colleague, don’t we have some sort of moral obligation to protect the trust that he has in the vast, deep dark webspace, and maybe just double-check with him first?