Truth & Purple Undies (standard:non fiction, 6572 words)
Author: PeterFromOZ	Added: Apr 02 2011	Views/Reads: 2472/1708	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Truth & Purple Undies is an autobiographical piece of creative writing.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

This is usually about the time when good Christians ask me questions
about whether I'm an atheist or an agnostic. I guess I'm probably an 
atheist, but then again I might end up deciding to be a Buddhist or 
something. Who says I have to make up my mind now? *God?* In the words 
of Homer J. Simpson, “If I'm wrong then I'll recant on my death bed.” 

Of course sometimes Christians lose their faith. I gather that this
happens quite a lot. From what I have seen it's usually a parent in 
family who loses a son or daughter tragically. It seems to usually be 
at a young age, and I gather that the family priest says things like 
“God works in mysterious ways.” I think it would be better for the 
priest to just say “I don't understand.” Or “It doesn't make sense to 
me either.” Or maybe even just say, “Shit happens”. 

It would take a lot of guts to say “shit happens” when someone you love
dies, because shit seems to be disgusting and meaningless, and what has 
just happened *DID* mean something. It meant that someone you loved 
isn't around anymore. Of course, they *ARE* still around. They're all 
around you in the things they touched, the things they did, and did for 
you, and the memories they left you. If you love them and they loved 
you, then these will be good memories. You don't need to be a Christian 
– or any other religion for that matter – to love someone. But what you 
do need is to have inner peace. That may sound corny but I reckon it's 
true. Of course, I can't prove it. 

--- 

I believe in some *thing* after death, but I'm not sure that I'd call it
life-after-death. It's what makes Christians say, “Ah... that's Heaven, 
and there's only one way into Heaven. You have to...” – Preach, preach, 
preach, and on they go. I don't think that I believe in Heaven but I 
believe in the Soul. Actually at some point in may life I didn't 
believe in the Soul either. I'd just been through a lot in hospitals 
with mental illness. A lot of what I went through was actually caused 
by people willfully being absolute bastards to me. Trying to prove what 
assholes they could be. Making life hell for me. Some of them wanted 
blood. My blood. Some of them figured that I was a lazy, 
good-for-nothing, non-unionist, son-of-a-bitch who deserved to be put 
through Hell and taught a lesson. 

They taught me a lesson. And I guess that lesson is that there are a lot
of assholes in world. I guess they're not all assholes, or at least not 
all of the time. It took me a long time to forgive them. I don't think 
I'll ever quite forget them. I don't think that it's healthy for me to 
totally forget them. But I don't have any animosity. I'm certainly not 
out for revenge or anything like that. 

But I digress. I was talking about life-after-death or rather *not*, but
something along those lines. I guess I believe that the souls of good 
men (or rather good people, meaning man in the *mankind* sense) will go 
to some kind of afterlife or some kind of meeting place of souls. I'm 
sorry if this sounds a bit vague but it's not a really clear idea in my 
mind. Sort of like Heaven but different. I'm still open to the idea of 
whether there's going to be some kind of God or supreme being there. 
I'm not in any hurry to find out. 

At one stage in my life – about the same time as I didn't believe in
Souls – I reckoned that we all just ended up as worm fodder. Just 
rotting in the ground. I don't believe that anymore. I've upgraded my 
theory to the something-to-look-forward-to-after-death theory. Of 
course, then again, I can't prove it. But you can't disprove it either. 
:))) 

It's your life, so make up your own mind. But believe in something. 

--- 

I have met quite a few hypocrites in my time, and I think that the
hallmarks of your typical hypocrite is that he knows the rules or 
behaviours which are expected of him, and he agrees on the surface to 
conform, but he ends up just making up his own rules as he goes. And if 
the behaviour of this hypocrite contradicts what he's agreed to do and 
how he says he's going to behave, then he just doesn't care. And when 
he's confronted he simply denies that he's done anything wrong. He will 
get angry at being identified as what he is; a hypocrite. 

This happens a lot in life. Trouble is that the hypocrites that I have
met are too arrogant to even consider that that's what they are. I 
guess that if he wasn't a hypocrite then he'd say to his accuser, 
“Suggest ways that I can change my behaviour to acceptable behaviour.” 
And he actually listen and change, and not make excuses. 

--- 

I think that one of my regrets in life – and of course it's far from
over yet – but one of mTruth & Purple Undies 

by Peter E. Williams 

Warning: This may challenge your belief system. Then again it may
reinforce them. 

Beliefs are a funny thing. We believe what we know to be true, or at
least we think we know certain things. But that doesn't necessarily 
make them so. For example, many centuries ago, in the Middle Ages in 
think it was, everyone *knew* that the Earth was flat, and that the Sun 
revolved around the Earth. It was a fact, because everyone knew it. If 
anyone doubted this then they were probably a witch, and we burn 
witches at the stake. You'd believe too, if you knew what was good for 
you. 

But of course, the Flat Earthers' beliefs were based on truisms: that
large parts of the Earth – probably all that they knew of – were indeed 
largely flatish. Certainly there was no denying that there were 
mountains, but it was a flat slab – Earth was. In fact if you sailed 
too far you'd sail clear off the edges of the Earth. Of course the Flat 
Earth Society was disbanded a long time ago, but not until there were 
photos of the Earth taken from the moon. And even then, they were 
argued to be distortions of photography by many die-hard Flat Earthers. 


Of course in our modern society we wouldn't believe such foolish things.
Things without proof. Or would we? For years scientist knew that there 
wasn't a hole in the ozone layer. After all they had taken readings. 
Some of those readings were actually off the scale – erroneous numbers, 
which of course the software ignored because it had been told in it's 
program that *if* they were too large then they must be an error. Then 
one day, one scientist sort of said, “Hang about, what if these number 
aren't actually errors. What would that mean? It would mean there's a 
hole in the ozone layer.” And so a hole in the ozone layer was 
discovered. They didn't actually ever *know* that there wasn't a hole 
in the ozone layer. It's just that they never really considered that 
there *was* a hole. 

Not considering that something is or isn't the case isn't quite the same
as knowing it. It just means that it hasn't be thought about. For 
example, I bet the up until right now you didn't know that I'm wearing 
purple undies. Now that you thought about, I suppose that you consider 
it to be a possibility. You probably didn't think about it because you 
didn't care, or it didn't occur to you. It didn't seem relevant. Now 
that I've said it, you know it – or at least you think you know it. It 
all depends on whether I'm telling the truth. Only I can really say. 
And I'm not telling. Unless of course someone was to rush around here 
right now and demand to see for themselves (to obtain proof). 

Of course some people believe things without any proof at all. Religion
is a classic example. No-one can prove to you one way or the other 
whether the Big Cheese really exists or not. Call him whatever you 
like: God, Krishna, Buddha ... whatever. It's a matter of faith. Sure 
there's the Bible or the Koran or The Book or Mormon or whatever. But 
then some will say that they're just stories. But others will say “Why 
would anyone write them if they weren't true. Or at least the people 
who wrote them believed in what they were writing. After all they were 
written by Prophets with divine inspiration; with an afflatus.” 

People's religious beliefs are usually founded in something. Usually
it's a long family and cultural tradition. And all through the good 
times their mum and dad, or whoever, had those beliefs and we all went 
along to church or the temple as the case may be, and had those beliefs 
drummed in to them and reinforced. And the message was always the same: 
do the right things and it'll be OK in the end. HE likes you when 
you've behaving yourself and believing in HIM. 

Of course if you were some kind of ruling King (back in the Middle Ages)
or something then I suppose that inventing a religion would be just the 
ticket for keeping the peasants in line. I'm sure that at some time in 
history The Church of England was invented. I picked that one because 
it's my religion – well officially. Whether I actually subscribe to 
what they preach is another thing. 

This is usually about the time when good Christians ask me questions
about whether I'm an atheist or an agnostic. I guess I'm probably an 
atheist, but then again I might end up deciding to be a Buddhist or 
something. Who says I have to make up my mind now? *God?* In the words 
of Homer J. Simpson, “If I'm wrong then I'll recant on my death bed.” 

Of course sometimes Christians lose their faith. I gather that this
happens quite a lot. From what I have seen it's usually a parent in 
family who loses a son or daughter tragically. It seems to usually be 
at a young age, and I gather that the family priest says things like 
“God works in mysterious ways.” I think it would be better for the 
priest to just say “I don't understand.” Or “It doesn't make sense to 
me either.” Or maybe even just say, “Shit happens”. 

It would take a lot of guts to say “shit happens” when someone you love
dies, because shit seems to be disgusting and meaningless, and what has 
just happened *DID* mean something. It meant that someone you loved 
isn't around anymore. Of course, they *ARE* still around. They're all 
around you in the things they touched, the things they did, and did for 
you, and the memories they left you. If you love them and they loved 
you, then these will be good memories. You don't need to be a Christian 
– or any other religion for that matter – to love someone. But what you 
do need is to have inner peace. That may sound corny but I reckon it's 
true. Of course, I can't prove it. 

--- 

I believe in some *thing* after death, but I'm not sure that I'd call it
life-after-death. It's what makes Christians say, “Ah... that's Heaven, 
and there's only one way into Heaven. You have to...” – Preach, preach, 
preach, and on they go. I don't think that I believe in Heaven but I 
believe in the Soul. Actually at some point in may life I didn't 
believe in the Soul either. I'd just been through a lot in hospitals 
with mental illness. A lot of what I went through was actually caused 
by people willfully being absolute bastards to me. Trying to prove what 
assholes they could be. Making life hell for me. Some of them wanted 
blood. My blood. Some of them figured that I was a lazy, 
good-for-nothing, non-unionist, son-of-a-bitch who deserved to be put 
through Hell and taught a lesson. 

They taught me a lesson. And I guess that lesson is that there are a lot
of assholes in world. I guess they're not all assholes, or at least not 
all of the time. It took me a long time to forgive them. I don't think 
I'll ever quite forget them. I don't think that it's healthy for me to 
totally forget them. But I don't have any animosity. I'm certainly not 
out for revenge or anything like that. 

But I digress. I was talking about life-after-death or rather *not*, but
something along those lines. I guess I believe that the souls of good 
men (or rather good people, meaning man in the *mankind* sense) will go 
to some kind of afterlife or some kind of meeting place of souls. I'm 
sorry if this sounds a bit vague but it's not a really clear idea in my 
mind. Sort of like Heaven but different. I'm still open to the idea of 
whether there's going to be some kind of God or supreme being there. 
I'm not in any hurry to find out. 

At one stage in my life – about the same time as I didn't believe in
Souls – I reckoned that we all just ended up as worm fodder. Just 
rotting in the ground. I don't believe that anymore. I've upgraded my 
theory to the something-to-look-forward-to-after-death theory. Of 
course, then again, I can't prove it. But you can't disprove it either. 
:))) 

It's your life, so make up your own mind. But believe in something. 

--- 

I have met quite a few hypocrites in my time, and I think that the
hallmarks of your typical hypocrite is that he knows the rules or 
behaviours which are expected of him, and he agrees on the surface to 
conform, but he ends up just making up his own rules as he goes. And if 
the behaviour of this hypocrite contradicts what he's agreed to do and 
how he says he's going to behave, then he just doesn't care. And when 
he's confronted he simply denies that he's done anything wrong. He will 
get angry at being identified as what he is; a hypocrite. 

This happens a lot in life. Trouble is that the hypocrites that I have
met are too arrogant to even consider that that's what they are. I 
guess that if he wasn't a hypocrite then he'd say to his accuser, 
“Suggest ways that I can change my behaviour to acceptable behaviour.” 
And he actually listen and change, and not make excuses. 

--- 

I think that one of my regrets in life – and of course it's far from
over yet – but one of my regrets is that when I was a kid no-one ever 
sat me down and said “Well, Peter, school is where you go to get 
equipped for life. You have to work out what you want to do with your 
life, and then work towards it at school. Get a qualification.” No-one 
ever said that to me. I wish that they had. Lots of people kept asking 
me what I wanted to be when I “grew up”. How was I supposed to know? I 
was just a kid. I figured out that I probably didn't want to dig holes 
for a living. I probably ruled out quite a lot of things haste – but I 
didn't actually know what I wanted to do. 

I actually figured that I wanted to be a cartoonist like Charles Schulz
and Sergio Aragones, because they made me and others laugh (mainly my 
Mum). I figured that making people laugh was a pretty good thing to do 
– so I liked the idea of drawing cartoons. Two problems came up pretty 
soon: I couldn't draw cartoons, and I couldn't think of many funny 
gags. That pretty much stopped my plans for being a cartoonist. I guess 
I wasn't cartoonist material. Actually, talking with my Mum and sharing 
a laugh with her is still one of my greatest pleasures. 

--- 

I can definitely remember a thing that happened to me at high school. I
was by myself, and probably looking a bit lost, and some kid who I 
hardly knew came over to me and started talking to me. He knew me, but 
I was terrible with names. He said, “Look Peter, you don't have to do 
this. You don't have to be alone. All you have to do is dress like us. 
Where what we wear. Do what we do. And hang out with us. You can be one 
of us.” I looked at him. He was wearing clean jeans and a white shirt. 
I looked over at his 4 or 5 other friends in the corner and they were 
all dressed identically. I said to him, “Well, thanks, but I don't 
really want to be like you. I just want to be me.” He said something 
like, “Well, go to hell then.” And he walked over to his mates. Later I 
told what had happened to a teacher in class, and he asked me how many 
individuals I thought there were in school. I didn't know what he 
meant. I said that I supposed everyone was an individual. He told that 
most are not. 

I remember that when I went to school I ate far too much junk food, and
wasn't really all that interested in what the teachers were saying. My 
report cards said things like “Peter has potential, but he could do 
much better if he applied himself.” I remember another teacher who used 
very obscure, large words to basically insult my intelligence and call 
me slow-witted. My dad worked out what it meant by consulting a 
dictionary, and he told me. We both decided that the teacher was a 
smart-assed prick. 

I remember at high school one of my teachers telling me he thought I'd
make a typical public servant. Not a good one, but a typical one. He 
meant it as an insult. I guess that I *am* a typical public servant 
now. The public service is full of typical public servants; people who 
go to work and do routine, boring, mind-numbing work without really 
achieving much. So what else is new? 

I remember that I got bullied a lot at school. I figured that it was
because I was fat and slow and also because I didn't like to fight. I 
didn't like fighting because I always lost. I also couldn't see why 
they picked on me. Eventually they stopped picking on me, and some kids 
(probably their brothers?) picked on my big brother who's 2.5 years 
older than me. He kept asking me who they were and why they picked on 
him. I didn't know. 

I was glad to get out of school. I don't know why but I went to College,
and not study for matriculation. It was a bit of a waste of time. I 
wish someone had told me that I should be studying towards a 
qualification. Most of the other kids wanted to get in a university, 
but not me. I guess I figured that I would have a better chance of 
getting a job with a HSC – but I didn't study all that hard. I can 
distinctly remember not knowing how to write essays at College and 
wishing that someone would show me how. I can remember that no-one ever 
did, and that my essays never got very good marks. I didn't really have 
any direction at school. It was all a bit of a waste of time. 

I ended up spending about 2 years on the dole, then I got lucky and got
some work experience with the CES at the ANU in an electronics 
laboratory of one of the research schools. I liked it. They suggested 
that I study for my TAFE certificate in electronics so I did. I ended 
up getting a job as a trainee draftsman with Defence, which is who I'm 
still with. They paid me to finish my TAFE certificate part-time which 
I did – eventually. I didn't really enjoy the study all that much – 
most of the others were working in the field so they thought it was 
easy. It was mostly formula crunching and could do that OK, so I got 
pass marks – most of the time. 

I remember the chief draftsman at work used to spend a lot of time
yelling at me for not doing any better than just getting pass marks at 
TAFE. I used to yell right back at him. We used to have quite a lot of 
yelling arguments. It wasn't helped by the fact that there were quite a 
few straight-‘A' trainees, and they made me look bad. They never stuck 
around for very long. I think the problem was that it was just theories 
to me. I never really got to apply at work what I learnt at TAFE. Not 
often anyway. 

It was around the end of my TAFE course that had a nervous breakdown. I
found out that I was a schizophrenic. This was brought on – in a large 
part by people hassling and judging me, and generally trying to teach 
me a lesson. I did finish my TAFE course in 1986, but over the next few 
years spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals. Throughout all of 
this time I kept my job. I was lucky. The people who hassled my and 
work all got promotions to other jobs. 

I did actually get an electronics qualification which is my
qualification for my job. Not that I really ever apply any of the 
theories that they taught me. Well maybe rarely a very simple formula. 
But for what I use as a technical officer you could drastically the 
course into a short one. But then it would have only a very narrow 
application – and so not many people would be interested in it – 
because it would appear to not teach much. 

The idea behind getting technical officers to study long courses, I
suppose, is that they get a lot of background behind how everything 
works. I guess this is so that they can apply basic design principles. 
The problem with a short course could be that these principles are 
glossed over too much. 

After years on fortnightly injections I went off them totally. I studied
at Canberra College of Advanced Education in 1989 & 1990 – the now 
University of Canberra. I was studying for a Degree in Computing 
Studies. I took unpaid leave from work for 2 years and finished the 
first two years of three year degree. Then I got sick again. It was 
schizophrenia. 

I did finish two thirds of that degree. Over the next few years I think
I decided that I wasn't really interested in having a degree. After all 
some of my favourite people didn't have degrees. I've seen an awful 
database at work designed by a uni student that only really partially 
worked. He never stuck around to give it the work that it needed. I 
guess in his defence, maybe he didn't have much time for. And so I, 
without my degree... well I got it working and fully redesigned. I 
think that a lot of the skills that I used – a still use today – are 
self-taught. That, and reading the manual – sounds obvious but a lot 
people don't do it. 

I also made a real effort to document the database properly. Something
else that most people don't seem to do. Remember that I wasn't, and 
still aren't an ‘IT professional'. I was just a TO who figured it out. 

I've designed more databases and other stuff at work. Spend some more
time in hospital. But now I think I've finally figured out how to stay 
out a psych wards. Yes, I am still on medication. There's nothing wrong 
with that. 

I also taught myself this great little programming language called
Delphi, and I use it at home to write software. Shareware and freeware. 
I like to share it with the world. 

It was to be about another 4 years before I started to write poetry.
That was 1998. In December 1999 my book Dreaming of Dreaming was 
published here in Canberra by Meet Electrified Press, and edited by 
non-other than tiM McCann. 

Now I write homepages too. And this is going up on my homepage, along
with other writing, poetry – both published and not, programs, a 
database glossary of terms, and Delphi code. And all kinds of 
miscellaneous shit. Oh yeah, and there's also photos of me and my 
family and some secret cocky's business too. Check it out. 

http://pewink.info – Peter Eric Williams's homepage y regrets is that
when I was a kid no-one ever sat me down and said “Well, Peter, school 
is where you go to get equipped for life. You have to work out what you 
want to do with your life, and then work towards it at school. Get a 
qualification.” No-one ever said that to me. I wish that they had. Lots 
of people kept asking me what I wanted to be when I “grew up”. How was 
I supposed to know? I was just a kid. I figured out that I probably 
didn't want to dig holes for a living. I probably ruled out quite a lot 
of things haste – but I didn't actually know what I wanted to do. 

I actually figured that I wanted to be a cartoonist like Charles Schulz
and Sergio Aragones, because they made me and others laugh (mainly my 
Mum). I figured that making people laugh was a pretty good thing to do 
– so I liked the idea of drawing cartoons. Two problems came up pretty 
soon: I couldn't draw cartoons, and I couldn't think of many funny 
gags. That pretty much stopped my plans for being a cartoonist. I guess 
I wasn't cartoonist material. Actually, talking with my Mum and sharing 
a laugh with her is still one of my greatest pleasures. 

--- 

I can definitely remember a thing that happened to me at high school. I
was by myself, and probably looking a bit lost, and some kid who I 
hardly knew came over to me and started talking to me. He knew me, but 
I was terrible with names. He said, “Look Peter, you don't have to do 
this. You don't have to be alone. All you have to do is dress like us. 
Where what we wear. Do what we do. And hang out with us. You can be one 
of us.” I looked at him. He was wearing clean jeans and a white shirt. 
I looked over at his 4 or 5 other friends in the corner and they were 
all dressed identically. I said to him, “Well, thanks, but I don't 
really want to be like you. I just want to be me.” He said something 
like, “Well, go to hell then.” And he walked over to his mates. Later I 
told what had happened to a teacher in class, and he asked me how many 
individuals I thought there were in school. I didn't know what he 
meant. I said that I supposed everyone was an individual. He told that 
most are not. 

I remember that when I went to school I ate far too much junk food, and
wasn't really all that interested in what the teachers were saying. My 
report cards said things like “Peter has potential, but he could do 
much better if he applied himself.” I remember another teacher who used 
very obscure, large words to basically insult my intelligence and call 
me slow-witted. My dad worked out what it meant by consulting a 
dictionary, and he told me. We both decided that the teacher was a 
smart-assed prick. 

I remember at high school one of my teachers telling me he thought I'd
make a typical public servant. Not a good one, but a typical one. He 
meant it as an insult. I guess that I *am* a typical public servant 
now. The public service is full of typical public servants; people who 
go to work and do routine, boring, mind-numbing work without really 
achieving much. So what else is new? 

I remember that I got bullied a lot at school. I figured that it was
because I was fat and slow and also because I didn't like to fight. I 
didn't like fighting because I always lost. I also couldn't see why 
they picked on me. Eventually they stopped picking on me, and some kids 
(probably their brothers?) picked on my big brother who's 2.5 years 
older than me. He kept asking me who they were and why they picked on 
him. I didn't know. 

I was glad to get out of school. I don't know why but I went to College,
and not study for matriculation. It was a bit of a waste of time. I 
wish someone had told me that I should be studying towards a 
qualification. Most of the other kids wanted to get in a university, 
but not me. I guess I figured that I would have a better chance of 
getting a job with a HSC – but I didn't study all that hard. I can 
distinctly remember not knowing how to write essays at College and 
wishing that someone would show me how. I can remember that no-one ever 
did, and that my essays never got very good marks. I didn't really have 
any direction at school. It was all a bit of a waste of time. 

I ended up spending about 2 years on the dole, then I got lucky and got
some work experience with the CES at the ANU in an electronics 
laboratory of one of the research schools. I liked it. They suggested 
that I study for my TAFE certificate in electronics so I did. I ended 
up getting a job as a trainee draftsman with Defence, which is who I'm 
still with. They paid me to finish my TAFE certificate part-time which 
I did – eventually. I didn't really enjoy the study all that much – 
most of the others were working in the field so they thought it was 
easy. It was mostly formula crunching and could do that OK, so I got 
pass marks – most of the time. 

I remember the chief draftsman at work used to spend a lot of time
yelling at me for not doing any better than just getting pass marks at 
TAFE. I used to yell right back at him. We used to have quite a lot of 
yelling arguments. It wasn't helped by the fact that there were quite a 
few straight-‘A' trainees, and they made me look bad. They never stuck 
around for very long. I think the problem was that it was just theories 
to me. I never really got to apply at work what I learnt at TAFE. Not 
often anyway. 

It was around the end of my TAFE course that had a nervous breakdown. I
found out that I was a schizophrenic. This was brought on – in a large 
part by people hassling and judging me, and generally trying to teach 
me a lesson. I did finish my TAFE course in 1986, but over the next few 
years spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals. Throughout all of 
this time I kept my job. I was lucky. The people who hassled my and 
work all got promotions to other jobs. 

I did actually get an electronics qualification which is my
qualification for my job. Not that I really ever apply any of the 
theories that they taught me. Well maybe rarely a very simple formula. 
But for what I use as a technical officer you could drastically the 
course into a short one. But then it would have only a very narrow 
application – and so not many people would be interested in it – 
because it would appear to not teach much. 

The idea behind getting technical officers to study long courses, I
suppose, is that they get a lot of background behind how everything 
works. I guess this is so that they can apply basic design principles. 
The problem with a short course could be that these principles are 
glossed over too much. 

After years on fortnightly injections I went off them totally. I studied
at Canberra College of Advanced Education in 1989 & 1990 – the now 
University of Canberra. I was studying for a Degree in Computing 
Studies. I took unpaid leave from work for 2 years and finished the 
first two years of three year degree. Then I got sick again. It was 
schizophrenia. 

I did finish two thirds of that degree. Over the next few years I think
I decided that I wasn't really interested in having a degree. After all 
some of my favourite people didn't have degrees. I've seen an awful 
database at work designed by a uni student that only really partially 
worked. He never stuck around to give it the work that it needed. I 
guess in his defence, maybe he didn't have much time for. And so I, 
without my degree... well I got it working and fully redesigned. I 
think that a lot of the skills that I used – a still use today – are 
self-taught. That, and reading the manual – sounds obvious but a lot 
people don't do it. 

I also made a real effort to document the database properly. Something
else that most people don't seem to do. Remember that I wasn't, and 
still aren't an ‘IT professional'. I was just a TO who figured it out. 

I've designed more databases and other stuff at work. Spend some more
time in hospital. But now I think I've finally figured out how to stay 
out a psych wards. Yes, I am still on medication. There's nothing wrong 
with that. 

I also taught myself this great little programming language called
Delphi, and I use it at home to write software. Shareware and freeware. 
I like to share it with the world. 

It was to be about another 4 years before I started to write poetry.
That was 1998. In December 1999 my book Dreaming of Dreaming was 
published here in Canberra by Meet Electrified Press, and edited by 
non-other than tiM McCann. 

Now I write homepages too. And this is going up on my homepage, along
with other writing, poetry – both published and not, programs, a 
database glossary of terms, and Delphi code. And all kinds of 
miscellaneous shit. Oh yeah, and there's also photos of me and my 
family and some secret cocky's business too. Check it out. 

http://pewink.info – Peter Eric Williams's homepage 


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