I walked into my local bank today to deposit some money into Jo’s account. Sitting down at the cashier’s desk I told the lady my wish, and that I had mistakenly forgotten to bring her account number with me, though I knew (most of) her ID number and other personal details. I was informed by the lady that she was unable to comply, since account numbers are sensitive things, and without one I could go and fuck myself there was little else to do than phone Jo to retrieve it.

My reply to this was that I could give the the cash, she could type it into the system without giving me a receipt (which shows the account number), and I would simply trust that she would not pocket the money to booze away that evening with her colleagues her. She explained once again that it is not possible to deposit any amount of money without the aforementioned account number, and that the company was very strict about protecting their customers (of which I am one).

A solution was quickly reached that I deposit the money into my account and thereafter transfer the necessary amount via the online service when I got home. Both parties appeared satisfied with this option, and I walked away a happy man.

Gone are the halcyon days of being able to walk into a bank and give them money. It would appear the only way they would accept currency was if I were to point a gun at someone, raise my voice in an aggressive way, and demand that I leave money in a bag on the desk. Oh, the irony of it.

It’s my eighth day without snus, today, and it was just as easy this time to give up as last time. This decision is partially thanks to the new government and the increase in snus-tax that they have implimented from the beginning of this year.

The first day without was mildly unpleasant, as my decreased dopamine levels kept reminding me to seek out reward, but since I was on my Christams holidays I could avoid any unpleasantries I might otherwise had been forced do dish out.

I had made a point of stopping whilst away from school. I knew that, at the first sign of a stressful moment, I’d have been needing a nicotine kick, and the school environment is not a peaceful one at the best of times.

Most of the times I get a little call for snus now are when I ritually used to take them (after meals and coffee, with a beer etc); other times of the day I feel competely free from addiction.

This new stage in my life has had its advantages, the main being economic. In just a week I have been able to buy a video game and 2 (cheap) DVDs for the same amount of money that would have gone under my lips and straight into my bloodstream. Yep, those little dopamine critters have found their reward, all right, and it suits the whole family.

The time has come for my deciding the highlights of the year, as I did in January of last year. I shall forgo the inclusion of Jo and Freya from this annual post, since it is a given that they would appear every year for their part in my life. So, the family aside, I give me the year that was 2006 in a nutshell, and in no particular order:

1. Freya’s nursery school – everything about it feels right. To find a school with a philosophy that appeals to my libertarian genes is a laudible feat, but to have vegan food served, be bilingual, and in a short distance of our home is icing on the laudible.

2. Depeche Mode – the last time I saw them was about 16 years ago, and I’d been worried they’d become “sad rockers” like Mick Jagger and Jon Bon Jovi. This year’s concert allayed my fears, and gladdened me to see that they can still give a class performance. Andy Fletcher is still an arse on stage, though. I suspect his synths are still, to this day, not plugged in.

3. Our flat – Finally we’ve found ourselves an overpriced a legal abode.

4. The next-gen of games consoles – while I’m looking forward to the X-Box 360, it’s Nintendo’s Wii that I’m keen to get my hands on first (Sony’s PS3 is, as an alternative, shitely overpriced). Nintendo have taken a brave and necessary step sideways.

5. Being reacquainted with Darts – The first group I got into was the 70’s Doo-Wop nine-piece, Darts. I left their music when I discovered synth bands, like OMD, Depeche Mode, Human League etc, but have always kept my fondness alive in the recesses of my consciousness. Thanks to the internet, and the recent reissuing of some of their albums, I have rekindled my love for them.

I have had cause to return to a thought I’d been having a few years, and it’s all thanks to the American TV program, C.S.I. New York, which was on last night.

It all started with two pathologists discussing the cause of a hapless victim’s demise. One of the pair commented that the corpse’s alcohol level was “just above legal”, which furnished Jo and me with two opposing assumptions about the lifeless woman on the slab. I thought she had imbibed a fair quantity of alcohol, because if you’re above you’re therefor over the legal limit. There are, after all, only two states of intoxication that count when it comes to the Law: legal and illegal. So, being above the limit must presumably mean the limit of one state has been overstepped, and enters the other state.

Jo, one the other hand, believed the woman to be within the legal limit, as if one could plot alcohol consumption on a y-axis graph, with sober being a 10, the legal limit being 0, and completely arsed being -10. Thinking in this way, being just above the limit implies a 1 on the piss-o-meter.

This whole incident could have been avoided by the exclusion of the word “above” or with the replacement of it with “within”. But it wasn’t. A word can launch a thousand thoughts.

If I’ve explained this well enough we can continue to the crux of this entry, which is to demistify and refute the Christian faith, along with other religious beliefs and philosophies, and still make it home in time for tea and biscuits.

It is a human trait to group adjectives into opposites (tall and short, fat and thin, black and white – oh, how we love to categorise), yet that is its very downfall. For most of these adjectives we simply take the average (or ourselves) as the norm and base everything around it. There is nothing especially tall about Jo’s brother (almost 2 metres) except in comparison to other people. If I were to saunter in to a pygmy village on a brisk Saturday morning there would be many inhabitants agog at my size, though a quick visit thereafter to a basketball match would diminish my grandeur, and my ego, substantially.

I think this is where the problem lies, that we subconsciously piss-o-meter everything, meaning things naturally get placed in one of two opposite states (minus or plus). Being sad is no opposite of happy. Neurologically it is just a different mixture of chemicals being squirted around the brain, and has nothing to do with anti-serotonins or the like.

If we were to instead erase the “normal” 0 score and place everything on a scale where 0 is at the bottom (severely depressed?) with incremental grades of being less sad, neither/nor, happy and ecstatic (bad examples, I know) it may give us a completely different perception of the states of feelings.

This paradigm shift kicks sand in the face of Taoism (yin and yinger?) and backs up Conversation with God’s idea that there is only Heaven, and Hell is just there to frighten us into obedience.

I cannot actually be bothered to write any more on this subject, since I have unwittingly fried my brain with my own thinking. I’m sure there are numerous flaws to this theory (not least the complete lack of biscuits), though I am still quite proud to have explained thus far.