The weather is shifting. The wattle trees down in the big park have all decided it's time to flower. It's been about 7 degrees below average over night last night, and feels like it's heading that way tonight too. Even the cat in his giant snow coat has moved from the open window sill he normally prefers to an unclaimed part of the bed. Cool weather for a change, and it's dry, very dry. You can almost feel the air crackling, and everything is sharp with static.
Part of the highway to ma & pa's farm started just peeling away a while back, and it's just getting worse and worse. Ma said that the guys in the roads department explained that it's something to do with the water content of the bitumen when they made that part - too dry and it never sets right. Plus it's been dry since they poured it, apart from that flood that came through, and i can't help but wonder if that's why those old mines are shifting this week and cracking up the streets and houses down in raceview.
Those of us who can't fly tend to feel a bit anxious when the ground starts falling out from under us.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Politics anyone? (Rated: MA)
Are you interested in politics? Well now, let me see if we agree what we're talking about here (English - such a sloppy language).
If we're talking about the bastard child of vigilante justice and corrupt management masquerading as leadership and patriotic paternalism, then yeah, we're probably on the same page, and my quick, accurate and honest answer is "no way". Am I addicted to it in the way of cheezy soaps and sleazy lying two-timing boyfriends - "way!".
It's my dirty secret, I don't think I'm worth a good life any more than the next sad, overweight, brain dead tv-addled moron. And I'm right. I get what I deserve, and I'm getting a lot of politics. And a new season of Biggest Looser - 6 nights a week. Alternated with "Big Brother". Right there in the juxtaposition of those two titles tells you all you need to know about the state of our country and it's info-tainment mindset. It's ok, you don't need to ask - yes I do feel dirty and hate myself for it. But that's the beauty of self-hatred, it's a perfect cycle, leading directly to self harm, self sabotage and indulgence in reckless behaviour - like reading the newspaper, watching the TV or just believing any guy when he says he'll call you.
I'm not even feeling especially bitter today, just bored with being bland, and sick up to the back pass with living in the suburbs. What fucking shit-holes we make for ourselves, and then squabble over the price of buying into them like sarky ill-mannered little rats. Ignorant, angry rats, gagging to hole-up somewhere and gnaw away at the wiring and stray dog kibble. Breeding as fast as we can so it's our bigoted, bored offspring tunneling away into the next natural area of our dwindling stockpile and roaming the streets bored and jacked up on cheap drugs and subsidised petrol looking for a new abuse to amuse for a few minutes. As long as it's not those icky fuckin rats from over the water. In the immortal words of Ms J: Fuck that shit.
Ex-xactly.
So, here I am. Sending out to you from the impacted colon of the arse of Australia. Since the Roman senate, politics has been about paying off the noisiest interests and distracting the dimmest or least powerful interests. The only fracture in this process at the moment - sport disappearing off the free-to-air. Bring back our circus! Riiiiiight. Not the creeping corporatisation of our public services, not the preventable diseases and deaths from reckless driving or the huge amount of money we as a country piss away in corrupt defence contracts or "lost" armaments, or the fact that our literacy levels are heading towards the same levels as Nelson's approval rating. No, we're pleasantly distracted by Guillard's haircut (or lack thereof) and the liberal party failing to grow a new head.
Well I don't have any answers. I'm part of the problem and I know it. I am disillusioned, cynical and fed-up. I've got more than half of my life in front of me - almost enough time to make sure that if I work 'hard enough' I can "self-fund" my decrepitude. Gee, thanks. It's not like I can even plan to do the reasonable thing and top myself when the time comes. That's been outlawed. Good thinking guys. And can anyone give a real reason for the criminalisation of self-responsibility in one's end days that isn't soft wet hand-wringing? No? I didn't think so.
I'm no more interested in politics than I am interested in the practise trepanning to relieve back-ache.
If we're talking about the bastard child of vigilante justice and corrupt management masquerading as leadership and patriotic paternalism, then yeah, we're probably on the same page, and my quick, accurate and honest answer is "no way". Am I addicted to it in the way of cheezy soaps and sleazy lying two-timing boyfriends - "way!".
It's my dirty secret, I don't think I'm worth a good life any more than the next sad, overweight, brain dead tv-addled moron. And I'm right. I get what I deserve, and I'm getting a lot of politics. And a new season of Biggest Looser - 6 nights a week. Alternated with "Big Brother". Right there in the juxtaposition of those two titles tells you all you need to know about the state of our country and it's info-tainment mindset. It's ok, you don't need to ask - yes I do feel dirty and hate myself for it. But that's the beauty of self-hatred, it's a perfect cycle, leading directly to self harm, self sabotage and indulgence in reckless behaviour - like reading the newspaper, watching the TV or just believing any guy when he says he'll call you.
I'm not even feeling especially bitter today, just bored with being bland, and sick up to the back pass with living in the suburbs. What fucking shit-holes we make for ourselves, and then squabble over the price of buying into them like sarky ill-mannered little rats. Ignorant, angry rats, gagging to hole-up somewhere and gnaw away at the wiring and stray dog kibble. Breeding as fast as we can so it's our bigoted, bored offspring tunneling away into the next natural area of our dwindling stockpile and roaming the streets bored and jacked up on cheap drugs and subsidised petrol looking for a new abuse to amuse for a few minutes. As long as it's not those icky fuckin rats from over the water. In the immortal words of Ms J: Fuck that shit.
Ex-xactly.
So, here I am. Sending out to you from the impacted colon of the arse of Australia. Since the Roman senate, politics has been about paying off the noisiest interests and distracting the dimmest or least powerful interests. The only fracture in this process at the moment - sport disappearing off the free-to-air. Bring back our circus! Riiiiiight. Not the creeping corporatisation of our public services, not the preventable diseases and deaths from reckless driving or the huge amount of money we as a country piss away in corrupt defence contracts or "lost" armaments, or the fact that our literacy levels are heading towards the same levels as Nelson's approval rating. No, we're pleasantly distracted by Guillard's haircut (or lack thereof) and the liberal party failing to grow a new head.
Well I don't have any answers. I'm part of the problem and I know it. I am disillusioned, cynical and fed-up. I've got more than half of my life in front of me - almost enough time to make sure that if I work 'hard enough' I can "self-fund" my decrepitude. Gee, thanks. It's not like I can even plan to do the reasonable thing and top myself when the time comes. That's been outlawed. Good thinking guys. And can anyone give a real reason for the criminalisation of self-responsibility in one's end days that isn't soft wet hand-wringing? No? I didn't think so.
I'm no more interested in politics than I am interested in the practise trepanning to relieve back-ache.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Silences & Secrets [dull, self-indulgent post. No need to read, really]
I've been having trouble writing lately, and after a bit of reflection, I realise it's because I don't tell enough emotional truth.
When I don't acknowledge the depth of my feelings and hopes, I am clamping down on who I am in a way that doesn't actually benefit me, or anyone around me. I keep quiet about stuff, I tell myself a sanitised version of things. I'm not saying I should be in some kind of uncontrolled verbal-diarrhoea-type-state, but that effectively I'm spending a lot of my time in that wide and expansive place that has so much room for so many of us - De Nial. I keep my own secrets from myself so well that over time I forget them. I hold my opinion so quietly that after a while it fades away. While non-attachment is generally a good thing, I haven't been doing it right - my non-attachment has been a barely disguised form of giving up. That's not good.
I thought about this when I was watching New Amsterdam. One of the things I like about John is that he stays authentic to himself - he tells the truth. He lives his life, and accumulates and looses, relationships, knowledge, stuff, love, family. If the people around him paid attention to what he says, they'd soon figure out his secret, but most of them don't. This is the privacy we have in the modern world - disinterest. Is there a cost? Sure there is! He's treated like a nutter by most of his colleagues, but he holds this in balance with the freedom of living his own truth.
The cost in my life from trying to control everyting from changing, or being lost, or forgotten or hurting has been to slowly ossify in a set of behavious that I never really wanted, but seemed like a good compromise at the time. This is what makes my writing stilted and slightly forced, and quick to dry up - because the price of control is a closed, entropic system, slowly leaking energy towards stasis.
I guess that it effects other parts of my life, but I can't really see them. I can only see it through the prism of this one frustration. Everything else in my life I seem to fatalistically accept as my lot. This systemic link to my own (previously useful survivial) behaviours and the current broader state of impasse has slowly emerged in front of my mind like lemon juice on paper under heat - I swear it wasn't there a minute ago! But now that it is, I better make a copy of it before it fades (trap for the new players with the lemon juice thing!) and make a move.
When I don't acknowledge the depth of my feelings and hopes, I am clamping down on who I am in a way that doesn't actually benefit me, or anyone around me. I keep quiet about stuff, I tell myself a sanitised version of things. I'm not saying I should be in some kind of uncontrolled verbal-diarrhoea-type-state, but that effectively I'm spending a lot of my time in that wide and expansive place that has so much room for so many of us - De Nial. I keep my own secrets from myself so well that over time I forget them. I hold my opinion so quietly that after a while it fades away. While non-attachment is generally a good thing, I haven't been doing it right - my non-attachment has been a barely disguised form of giving up. That's not good.
I thought about this when I was watching New Amsterdam. One of the things I like about John is that he stays authentic to himself - he tells the truth. He lives his life, and accumulates and looses, relationships, knowledge, stuff, love, family. If the people around him paid attention to what he says, they'd soon figure out his secret, but most of them don't. This is the privacy we have in the modern world - disinterest. Is there a cost? Sure there is! He's treated like a nutter by most of his colleagues, but he holds this in balance with the freedom of living his own truth.
The cost in my life from trying to control everyting from changing, or being lost, or forgotten or hurting has been to slowly ossify in a set of behavious that I never really wanted, but seemed like a good compromise at the time. This is what makes my writing stilted and slightly forced, and quick to dry up - because the price of control is a closed, entropic system, slowly leaking energy towards stasis.
I guess that it effects other parts of my life, but I can't really see them. I can only see it through the prism of this one frustration. Everything else in my life I seem to fatalistically accept as my lot. This systemic link to my own (previously useful survivial) behaviours and the current broader state of impasse has slowly emerged in front of my mind like lemon juice on paper under heat - I swear it wasn't there a minute ago! But now that it is, I better make a copy of it before it fades (trap for the new players with the lemon juice thing!) and make a move.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Frack Me
Dogs and Sci Fi - they just bring people together.
A pretty social and crafty weekend, mostly with the Sisters. It's great having two sisters - it makes for three of us which is a good mischief number, and every now and then when we cackle over something dreadful, I feel a faint shudder of Macbeth fog rolling over some poor guy's back somewhere.... nahahahahahahahaaaa!
Anyway, we made resin fridge magnets (cool and toxic!), I made mustard pickles (I don't know why ok, and I already gave it all away), I won the b'day poker tournament (go me! With a flush no less!!), I threw more old crap away (hurrurah!), and I decided to visit the dog park on the other side of town that Yvj takes her two to.
I love the acceptance of dog parks. I imagine that perhaps this is what AA meetings are like, at least for the dogs. You just are who you are. You're into balls, or you're not. You run or you don't. Whatever. It's all cool. Of course the humans are more fraught. However, I had left on my fab-o "Frack Me" T shirt (purchased over the ever loving interweb) and this opened up an unexpected conversation about Sci Fi with a dalmatian owner. There you go. He recommended a few things, I threw a few suggestions into the mix, we patted dogs (apparently he bathes his dogs in the shower with him, and yes, uses the wife's shampoo on his favourite hahahahahahahaa). Turns out we like very different Sci Fi, but it was a pleasant social conversation interspersed with a running commentary from Yvj for my benefit on all the locals and their humans as they arrived. Quite the scene happening over there!
Back at Chawton, the pace has been pretty languid. I'm reading Lama Sura Das (letting go of the person you used to be) and my favourite quote from it today is "Let go or get dragged". Hi-larious. It's vying for quote of the book along with "Don't just do something, sit there!". Who knew buddhists made their own meditiating jokes? It's a revelation.
I slap my own thigh.
There's loads has happened.... um.... yeah ok, new neighbours. There's a kinda weird vibe and possibly 4 cats, so I'm not looking too closely at that side of the fence these days. Also, working bee at Chawton - the family came over on good friday and OBLITERATED all the problem trees (including "pruning" the mulberry tree to being 3 stumps about 2 feet off the ground). Basically they descended like locusts with electric chainsaws and I now get "quite a lot of light" into the yard. This was traumatic for me, but it's a case of tough love. The dead trees, homicidal trees and the barbed trees all had to go to make way for trees that grow food and give love (not pain). Also, word on the street is that S4 of BSG is about to really kick off.
Frack me, that's good news!
A pretty social and crafty weekend, mostly with the Sisters. It's great having two sisters - it makes for three of us which is a good mischief number, and every now and then when we cackle over something dreadful, I feel a faint shudder of Macbeth fog rolling over some poor guy's back somewhere.... nahahahahahahahaaaa!
Anyway, we made resin fridge magnets (cool and toxic!), I made mustard pickles (I don't know why ok, and I already gave it all away), I won the b'day poker tournament (go me! With a flush no less!!), I threw more old crap away (hurrurah!), and I decided to visit the dog park on the other side of town that Yvj takes her two to.
I love the acceptance of dog parks. I imagine that perhaps this is what AA meetings are like, at least for the dogs. You just are who you are. You're into balls, or you're not. You run or you don't. Whatever. It's all cool. Of course the humans are more fraught. However, I had left on my fab-o "Frack Me" T shirt (purchased over the ever loving interweb) and this opened up an unexpected conversation about Sci Fi with a dalmatian owner. There you go. He recommended a few things, I threw a few suggestions into the mix, we patted dogs (apparently he bathes his dogs in the shower with him, and yes, uses the wife's shampoo on his favourite hahahahahahahaa). Turns out we like very different Sci Fi, but it was a pleasant social conversation interspersed with a running commentary from Yvj for my benefit on all the locals and their humans as they arrived. Quite the scene happening over there!
Back at Chawton, the pace has been pretty languid. I'm reading Lama Sura Das (letting go of the person you used to be) and my favourite quote from it today is "Let go or get dragged". Hi-larious. It's vying for quote of the book along with "Don't just do something, sit there!". Who knew buddhists made their own meditiating jokes? It's a revelation.
I slap my own thigh.
There's loads has happened.... um.... yeah ok, new neighbours. There's a kinda weird vibe and possibly 4 cats, so I'm not looking too closely at that side of the fence these days. Also, working bee at Chawton - the family came over on good friday and OBLITERATED all the problem trees (including "pruning" the mulberry tree to being 3 stumps about 2 feet off the ground). Basically they descended like locusts with electric chainsaws and I now get "quite a lot of light" into the yard. This was traumatic for me, but it's a case of tough love. The dead trees, homicidal trees and the barbed trees all had to go to make way for trees that grow food and give love (not pain). Also, word on the street is that S4 of BSG is about to really kick off.
Frack me, that's good news!
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Conversation
Having had a chance now to check both sides of the spectrum, I can confidently assert that good conversation is one of the greatest pleasures of the human condition. Not *the* greatest, obviously, but certainly in the top 10. Also, it has great longevity. Dancing vigorously, sex, winning races or tussles, child birth, these are a young person's game. Chess/Go, conversation, these kinds of pleasures of the mind last and last and last. As long as the mind does.
Apart from passing on one's genes, this is the source of the other immortality, to pass on a taste of the mind. Don't believe me? Think of an inspiring quote - there's your own proof - pretty unlikely you quoted your mum, or anyone else you've ever met for that matter.
It's not just about talking either, there's a big space for listening in the world. What a gift - to be heard.
Feel like a challenge? Give a good listen to someone today.
Apart from passing on one's genes, this is the source of the other immortality, to pass on a taste of the mind. Don't believe me? Think of an inspiring quote - there's your own proof - pretty unlikely you quoted your mum, or anyone else you've ever met for that matter.
It's not just about talking either, there's a big space for listening in the world. What a gift - to be heard.
Feel like a challenge? Give a good listen to someone today.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Leaps and Bounds
How was your leap day?
Anything special?
I love these arbitrary excuses to draw attention to a normal thing. As long as we believe in the reason we've made up, it is entirely
possible to enjoy them afresh.
That seems to be one of those hidden secrets to life - to take each
day, no matter how normal,
as a fresh day, a new day of all promise and hope for all of humanity.
My heart's not always up to the strain of that much hope, but I am
planning that I shall
metamorphose into someone who can hope without strain.
In that future I will gladly awake each morning and embody this
wonderful approach to life's heartbeat.
Anything special?
I love these arbitrary excuses to draw attention to a normal thing. As long as we believe in the reason we've made up, it is entirely
possible to enjoy them afresh.
That seems to be one of those hidden secrets to life - to take each
day, no matter how normal,
as a fresh day, a new day of all promise and hope for all of humanity.
My heart's not always up to the strain of that much hope, but I am
planning that I shall
metamorphose into someone who can hope without strain.
In that future I will gladly awake each morning and embody this
wonderful approach to life's heartbeat.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
In Transit
I love travelling.
No, that's not quite right. I love being between a known place and a visited place. The travelling itself is often very tiring, or noisy or uncomfortable (or all and more), but that gap between stepping out of the daily habit and the worn paths, and the stepping into the new schedule is a space especially made for daydreaming, imagining and enjoying.
To be in transit even sounds temporary. Much more so than the slightly stuffy "in transition". I'm not always a chrysalis! I particularly enjoy being on planes, with a view of clouds. Surely that has got to be the furtherest from everyday that normal people can attain. I daydreamed about the plane being the cocoon, and that when I would disembark, I'd go to the loos, change my clothes, turn my wig around, discard my broken suitcase and walk out someone unknown. Someone new and fresh for this adventure.
Of course, when I do land, my mind is already fixated on walking quickly getting the luggage, getting the train, making the connections, did I remember the tickets for the show? Oh it's raining, thank goodness for the warning to bring a brolly and zoom zoom zoom off we go again and my half-formed stoies and ideas don't get written down and so errode away as my blood sugar drives me to find some food and get to the next connection. To stride along and not get walked over by these strange creatures that are the locals here. So big, so very elsewhere.
Arrival is the end.
No, that's not quite right. I love being between a known place and a visited place. The travelling itself is often very tiring, or noisy or uncomfortable (or all and more), but that gap between stepping out of the daily habit and the worn paths, and the stepping into the new schedule is a space especially made for daydreaming, imagining and enjoying.
To be in transit even sounds temporary. Much more so than the slightly stuffy "in transition". I'm not always a chrysalis! I particularly enjoy being on planes, with a view of clouds. Surely that has got to be the furtherest from everyday that normal people can attain. I daydreamed about the plane being the cocoon, and that when I would disembark, I'd go to the loos, change my clothes, turn my wig around, discard my broken suitcase and walk out someone unknown. Someone new and fresh for this adventure.
Of course, when I do land, my mind is already fixated on walking quickly getting the luggage, getting the train, making the connections, did I remember the tickets for the show? Oh it's raining, thank goodness for the warning to bring a brolly and zoom zoom zoom off we go again and my half-formed stoies and ideas don't get written down and so errode away as my blood sugar drives me to find some food and get to the next connection. To stride along and not get walked over by these strange creatures that are the locals here. So big, so very elsewhere.
Arrival is the end.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Mules Film
The last few days I've had a chance to meet a couple of local animators and learn about their project. I have never had much exposure to people making stop-motion animation. Everyone knows the basic idea - moving characters/props a fraction at a time, a frame at a time to build up a moving image. It more common I think to see claymation.
Anyway to see the short 20 seconds or so that come from 2 days (or more!) of shooting is inspiring! They are also handcraft all the puppets, all the props and sets. It truly is an enormous creative undertaking! They started making the film in 2004 and so far have made 47 minutes of footage. It sounds so slow and painful, but talking to them about it, they describe it as a liberation to no longer worry about their actors and finding the right set or the money to rent things. They have huge bags of toys they use to make props with, as well as molding the puppets themselves. They shoot with a digital SLR, frame by frame (yes, they hand made their camera dolly too) and it all happens in a shed near the Ipswich Cemetery!
If you're interested you can find out more than you ever imagined there was to know at their online journal. It's meeting people like Miles and Julie that is the most rewarding part of my job.
Anyway to see the short 20 seconds or so that come from 2 days (or more!) of shooting is inspiring! They are also handcraft all the puppets, all the props and sets. It truly is an enormous creative undertaking! They started making the film in 2004 and so far have made 47 minutes of footage. It sounds so slow and painful, but talking to them about it, they describe it as a liberation to no longer worry about their actors and finding the right set or the money to rent things. They have huge bags of toys they use to make props with, as well as molding the puppets themselves. They shoot with a digital SLR, frame by frame (yes, they hand made their camera dolly too) and it all happens in a shed near the Ipswich Cemetery!
If you're interested you can find out more than you ever imagined there was to know at their online journal. It's meeting people like Miles and Julie that is the most rewarding part of my job.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Tough Call
If I was an American, today I would be gnawing the end of my pencil.
Who to vote for?
A feminist's dream candidate or an idealist's dream candidate?
Both of them have drawbacks of course. Clinton is a Boomer's Boomer and we know what we'll get more of (though I doubt that will include any inappropriate sexual liaisons, but good for her if she can add that in). Obama has the great speeches, but can he walk the talk? Has he got the chops?
I've been chasing my tail on this one for the past two weeks. Every time I think it is clear that one of them justifies my vote, another round of to-and-fro comes through. I am honestly undecided, for all the right reasons. I'm not on a fence, I'm not uninterested, I am really interested in this election outcome but for the first time in what feels like ages and ages, I honestly think it's an in-principal win-win.
Am I just being too naive?
After Thatcher I am not caught up in the idea of a national leader for gender's sake (although I'll admit to a pleasant frisson when Gillard took the reins over xmas) so I really am staying focused on what they offer as a leader. And that's the real crux of it. For the previous decade Australia was governed by a management team and the social and cultural consequences of that were enormous. I don't think that either of these candidates would generate those kind of problems, but it prompts the question - what kind of leadership do we think we deserve? What kind of leadership in our hearts do we hope for?
There's my own answer that I just keep coming back to. That politics and leadership needs to include some heart and vision. They both have it, but I think Obama's is catalytic in nature and it needs to be in the mix. The world needs the same people who are already powerful in industry, in commerce, in the financial markets to change their stripes, even just subtly, to make a difference in our planet surviving and humans being worth thriving.
That's a lot to ask, but every heart shifting a little more towards compassion, inclusion, cooperation has an impact beyond the simple and obvious immediacies.
Can I trust this hope or have I just been spun?
Who to vote for?
A feminist's dream candidate or an idealist's dream candidate?
Both of them have drawbacks of course. Clinton is a Boomer's Boomer and we know what we'll get more of (though I doubt that will include any inappropriate sexual liaisons, but good for her if she can add that in). Obama has the great speeches, but can he walk the talk? Has he got the chops?
I've been chasing my tail on this one for the past two weeks. Every time I think it is clear that one of them justifies my vote, another round of to-and-fro comes through. I am honestly undecided, for all the right reasons. I'm not on a fence, I'm not uninterested, I am really interested in this election outcome but for the first time in what feels like ages and ages, I honestly think it's an in-principal win-win.
Am I just being too naive?
After Thatcher I am not caught up in the idea of a national leader for gender's sake (although I'll admit to a pleasant frisson when Gillard took the reins over xmas) so I really am staying focused on what they offer as a leader. And that's the real crux of it. For the previous decade Australia was governed by a management team and the social and cultural consequences of that were enormous. I don't think that either of these candidates would generate those kind of problems, but it prompts the question - what kind of leadership do we think we deserve? What kind of leadership in our hearts do we hope for?
There's my own answer that I just keep coming back to. That politics and leadership needs to include some heart and vision. They both have it, but I think Obama's is catalytic in nature and it needs to be in the mix. The world needs the same people who are already powerful in industry, in commerce, in the financial markets to change their stripes, even just subtly, to make a difference in our planet surviving and humans being worth thriving.
That's a lot to ask, but every heart shifting a little more towards compassion, inclusion, cooperation has an impact beyond the simple and obvious immediacies.
Can I trust this hope or have I just been spun?
Monday, February 04, 2008
Geckoville
There's an utterly unnerving, unterrestial noise near my house at night.
An explosive cracking CHIT CHIT CHIT randomly smacks me in the head. It's a phenomenal sound, and scared the bejesus out of me for the first 2 months I was in the new place. I had no idea what it was and after the first time, but when I didn't die, I figured that it was largely benign. Besides, if whatever was making that kind of noise decided to attack, well, at least it would be over quickly.
Then mum was over one night. "Oh you've got Geckos!"
"Can you see one?" I asked (having just pretended that maybe it was a secret airforce jet making that noise).
"Didn't you just hear it?" she said, and didn't I look like a boob!?
So, it's geckos making that horrible sound. Since I learnt this, I've started paying a tiny bit more attention, and learnt that there's not just one very gregarious gecko co-habitating with us, but rather at least two, and more recently a little tacker. Gecko love! Yeah baby, feel my suction pads!! It's a regular frackin gecko love-in at my place.
Given that the alternative is spiders, I am very positive about the geckos. Arachnids are just too far away from my branch of the tree.
An explosive cracking CHIT CHIT CHIT randomly smacks me in the head. It's a phenomenal sound, and scared the bejesus out of me for the first 2 months I was in the new place. I had no idea what it was and after the first time, but when I didn't die, I figured that it was largely benign. Besides, if whatever was making that kind of noise decided to attack, well, at least it would be over quickly.
Then mum was over one night. "Oh you've got Geckos!"
"Can you see one?" I asked (having just pretended that maybe it was a secret airforce jet making that noise).
"Didn't you just hear it?" she said, and didn't I look like a boob!?
So, it's geckos making that horrible sound. Since I learnt this, I've started paying a tiny bit more attention, and learnt that there's not just one very gregarious gecko co-habitating with us, but rather at least two, and more recently a little tacker. Gecko love! Yeah baby, feel my suction pads!! It's a regular frackin gecko love-in at my place.
Given that the alternative is spiders, I am very positive about the geckos. Arachnids are just too far away from my branch of the tree.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Mattering Matters
How cool is it when someone, from pretty much out of nowhere, plops it into conversation that they're just stoked to hear from you, and that what you're doing matters to them just because it's *you*?!!?
I know that's a lot of exclamation marks, but it just feels good. You know, warm in the cold places and a little tingly around the mouth.
Mattering to someone else is a great feeling. It makes a big difference about facing all those humdrum hurdles in a day. It's also - strangely - easy to forget how much we do matter to people who know us, who love us, who watch us but may not ever say it. Why are human beings built in with such a sense of taking-for-grantedness? I'm sure there's a word somewhere for this part of human nature (if you know it, or would like to suggest one, please post!) or even a word for just getting bogged up with the crap we have to wade through (day job anybody) and lose sight of all the yummy things. Leading of course to that other dreaded scourge, the tacky chain mail letter....
I digress.
Back on message, back on message. Oh Yeah.
Mattering Matters.
Ask any quantum physicist.
I know that's a lot of exclamation marks, but it just feels good. You know, warm in the cold places and a little tingly around the mouth.
Mattering to someone else is a great feeling. It makes a big difference about facing all those humdrum hurdles in a day. It's also - strangely - easy to forget how much we do matter to people who know us, who love us, who watch us but may not ever say it. Why are human beings built in with such a sense of taking-for-grantedness? I'm sure there's a word somewhere for this part of human nature (if you know it, or would like to suggest one, please post!) or even a word for just getting bogged up with the crap we have to wade through (day job anybody) and lose sight of all the yummy things. Leading of course to that other dreaded scourge, the tacky chain mail letter....
I digress.
Back on message, back on message. Oh Yeah.
Mattering Matters.
Ask any quantum physicist.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Another word for SESSION
I've just started reading a new novel "A Disorder Peculiar to the Country" by Ken Kalfus. It was pressed firmly into my hands (with a smile) by Mez, along with the always cryptic "I would *love* to hear what you think."Well, I'm not sure where it will go from here, but after 20 pages I'm hooked by a wicked opening setup - a bitterly divorcing couple think each other have died in the september 11 suicide crashes in New York. Both of them experience the day through an unfolding sense of glee. If that's not a dark and clever environment to introduce characters, I don't know what will please you!
Today I'm struggling to keep up with the little red line scrolling down my calendar for the day. It is inexorably mowing down the time left to achieve anything off last week's to-do list. January is already in it's last 8 hours and somehow I need to deal, baby, and move on already. The Client is caught up in "'session', I just don't like 'session'. I want something generic and descriptive".
Don't we all?
That could almost be a request for a philosophy of life.
None the less, this word out of two pages of copy is a stumbling block, and there's no moving on until we resolve the emotions the word is generating. So another meeting pops into next week's schedule.
Writing at home is blocked too.
Possibly also on "session" in a different way.
There's time, that's not the problem.
Every night the ticking of the second hand slows down and time stretches out and retreats into a heat haze with mosquitoes and steroid-driven frogs as the woozy, trippy soundtrack. No, it's the held energy, the focus that's completely missing. Within an hour of leaving the aircon, my brain slows down, energy dissipates and then, shutdown.
Scratching suddenly feels like a triumph.
I need to find a way through this or I will end this year with nothing but a pointlessly over-informed opinion of free-to-air television.
Life is definitely too short for that!
Today I'm struggling to keep up with the little red line scrolling down my calendar for the day. It is inexorably mowing down the time left to achieve anything off last week's to-do list. January is already in it's last 8 hours and somehow I need to deal, baby, and move on already. The Client is caught up in "'session', I just don't like 'session'. I want something generic and descriptive".
Don't we all?
That could almost be a request for a philosophy of life.
None the less, this word out of two pages of copy is a stumbling block, and there's no moving on until we resolve the emotions the word is generating. So another meeting pops into next week's schedule.
Writing at home is blocked too.
Possibly also on "session" in a different way.
There's time, that's not the problem.
Every night the ticking of the second hand slows down and time stretches out and retreats into a heat haze with mosquitoes and steroid-driven frogs as the woozy, trippy soundtrack. No, it's the held energy, the focus that's completely missing. Within an hour of leaving the aircon, my brain slows down, energy dissipates and then, shutdown.
Scratching suddenly feels like a triumph.
I need to find a way through this or I will end this year with nothing but a pointlessly over-informed opinion of free-to-air television.
Life is definitely too short for that!
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Joy of Riley
The sun came out this morning, and for a brief hour or so it was a clear sweet day. From bed I could hear seven or eight bird calls and when Riley and I went walking, it was lovely to hear the birds enjoying themselves and smell the hay of mown lawns. Riley was exuberant running and doing little hop jumps. Then throwing himself into the grass and rolling wriggling along on his side on his back, then trying to snorkel through it. Snuffling and huffing he had no cares or worries, just the sheer joy of being alive and having fun.
The sky was beautiful soft blue, clear and strong above, shading slightly to the edges of sight. Moon worked her way towards the brim, but was sadly fading as sun brightness pushed her to the background. But for our walk she was there and I love those times with sun and moon in the same sky. We’re all together.
The sky was beautiful soft blue, clear and strong above, shading slightly to the edges of sight. Moon worked her way towards the brim, but was sadly fading as sun brightness pushed her to the background. But for our walk she was there and I love those times with sun and moon in the same sky. We’re all together.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Status: Denied
The Company's New Year resolution was to withdraw net access to Facebook. Ah well, it had to happen sooner or later. You could almost feel the slow drag each morning as hundreds of slightly bored and disaffected staff started to idly log-in and check their buds, super-poke someone or upload some more fun-in-sun shots from the weekend at Wet'n'Wild or the Caxton.
Our new staff member who started this Tuesday looked at me incredulously "What do you mean you can't access any web email or networking?!"
"I *know*!" I said. "Stuck here in every way."
I meant to write yesterday, but I went to my boss's office to ask a single question (that needed a yes/no level answer) and lurched out gasping over 2 hours later with about 5 pages of action points. So, work has picked up again and things are quite busy. That's good really. Instead of it being hump day and me trying to find a way to motivate myself, it's already the end of Thursday. Excellent!
Roll the dice, get paid, pass Go, collect $200.
In other news, I am fascinated with Corey and his unfolding melodrama of the Myspace open party. What a modern moment! The publicity, the posed shots, the inarticulateness, the fuming parents copping flak for having such a dickhead for a son and/or for having left him unattended with an internet account. Hi-Larious! Almost as good as the storm this week in Trash City papers over a local being charged $10 for a chicken and salad sandwich at the new shopping centre. No really - it made the front page!! Plenty of finger-pointing in the Letter to the Editor sections too, I can tell you.
"You have to laugh," I tell myself "but don't try satirising it!"
Reality is plenty strange enough right now.
Our new staff member who started this Tuesday looked at me incredulously "What do you mean you can't access any web email or networking?!"
"I *know*!" I said. "Stuck here in every way."
I meant to write yesterday, but I went to my boss's office to ask a single question (that needed a yes/no level answer) and lurched out gasping over 2 hours later with about 5 pages of action points. So, work has picked up again and things are quite busy. That's good really. Instead of it being hump day and me trying to find a way to motivate myself, it's already the end of Thursday. Excellent!
Roll the dice, get paid, pass Go, collect $200.
In other news, I am fascinated with Corey and his unfolding melodrama of the Myspace open party. What a modern moment! The publicity, the posed shots, the inarticulateness, the fuming parents copping flak for having such a dickhead for a son and/or for having left him unattended with an internet account. Hi-Larious! Almost as good as the storm this week in Trash City papers over a local being charged $10 for a chicken and salad sandwich at the new shopping centre. No really - it made the front page!! Plenty of finger-pointing in the Letter to the Editor sections too, I can tell you.
"You have to laugh," I tell myself "but don't try satirising it!"
Reality is plenty strange enough right now.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
13 Crows
Riley and I went to the oval yesterday for a change of pace. I needed somewhere to walk that there was a path. It's wet everywhere all the time, and all the grasses have seeded. Icky. We went down and the oval had been slashed (at least some parks are getting cared for - everything else is badly overgrown - hence my desire for the paths. Although it does shit me a bit that even though there's no sport on it's still the sport field that gets first attention, not any recreational area. On the other hand, as I seem to be the only person walking for recreation, I can understand that it's too much to ask for an appreciative audience of 1).
Anyway. The grass hadn't been collected, just left there in huge clumps (don't start me) and there was a lot of crows strutting all over the place, cawing, pecking at clumps and generally behaving in a slightly gang-like manner. I know that in Europe there are all kinds of omens indicated by Ravens, their number and their activity. I wonder, are Ravens as common as crows? Everyone would be having omens left right and centre.
So I counted the crows and there were 13. "ooooh" I thought, "that might not be great...." but there were definitely 13, no getting around it, until shortly a whole nother gang flew in and then there were 23 or 24. It was hard to count them while they were milling around and really going for one particular large grey clump (which I was happy to continue supposing was just wet grass and not a rabbit). What kind of omen might this be? Abundance? Being beset by an overwhelming number of enemies? Don't be a rabbit under a slasher?
It remained unclear.
Riley and I did our two circumnavigations and got out of there. Afterall, what good are omens you don't understand when Breakfast is waiting?
Anyway. The grass hadn't been collected, just left there in huge clumps (don't start me) and there was a lot of crows strutting all over the place, cawing, pecking at clumps and generally behaving in a slightly gang-like manner. I know that in Europe there are all kinds of omens indicated by Ravens, their number and their activity. I wonder, are Ravens as common as crows? Everyone would be having omens left right and centre.
So I counted the crows and there were 13. "ooooh" I thought, "that might not be great...." but there were definitely 13, no getting around it, until shortly a whole nother gang flew in and then there were 23 or 24. It was hard to count them while they were milling around and really going for one particular large grey clump (which I was happy to continue supposing was just wet grass and not a rabbit). What kind of omen might this be? Abundance? Being beset by an overwhelming number of enemies? Don't be a rabbit under a slasher?
It remained unclear.
Riley and I did our two circumnavigations and got out of there. Afterall, what good are omens you don't understand when Breakfast is waiting?
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Fungus Estate
Riley and I went for a walk this morning down to an unpopulated estate. It has new roads, lights, footpaths, signposts, everything except houses. No houses. It backs onto one of the reserves, the Bremer, and a picturesque (but way too noisy) railway bridge. There's always plenty of birds in the trees, and as it's on a good rise, a great view of the swollen dirty river broiling it's way towards Brisbane.
I like walking that way because it's a walk that has decent paths and if the mood and the weather are right, we can do it a long way and take an hour, or the practical way and do it in 30 minutes. Riley likes it because it has plenty of sniffing and peeing, and some good stretches where he can have a good run.
The thing I noticed again today, is after all of the rain we've been having how many fungi grow wild. Such a huge variety of toadstools and weird things that look like something a giant animal coughed up out of it's throat. The colours range from softest ivory through to orange leather, and the structures too are amazing. Classic toadstools, and fake mushrooms, then the sides of leather, the blobby ones, the ridgy ones, tiny flimsy looking things just sketched lightly and really pointy ones, caricaturing themselves.
So we were walking through this estate, almost eerie in being completely empty of the houses it was designed for, but walking past a lush and continuous display of fungi. It was an odd juxtaposition, and really set the scene for us to be kidnapped by faeries or fall into a parallel world.
I don't think that happened, unless I've just been dreaming that I'm at work.
I will be a bit disappointed when people finally start building here, even though it is crazy to do all this expensive development and not use it. I wonder what the hold-up is? There aren't even any "For Sale" signs up. It feels so private at the moment, but we'll have to share it eventually. Until that time, Riley and I can sneak down there and dream our separate dreams.
I like walking that way because it's a walk that has decent paths and if the mood and the weather are right, we can do it a long way and take an hour, or the practical way and do it in 30 minutes. Riley likes it because it has plenty of sniffing and peeing, and some good stretches where he can have a good run.
The thing I noticed again today, is after all of the rain we've been having how many fungi grow wild. Such a huge variety of toadstools and weird things that look like something a giant animal coughed up out of it's throat. The colours range from softest ivory through to orange leather, and the structures too are amazing. Classic toadstools, and fake mushrooms, then the sides of leather, the blobby ones, the ridgy ones, tiny flimsy looking things just sketched lightly and really pointy ones, caricaturing themselves.
So we were walking through this estate, almost eerie in being completely empty of the houses it was designed for, but walking past a lush and continuous display of fungi. It was an odd juxtaposition, and really set the scene for us to be kidnapped by faeries or fall into a parallel world.
I don't think that happened, unless I've just been dreaming that I'm at work.
I will be a bit disappointed when people finally start building here, even though it is crazy to do all this expensive development and not use it. I wonder what the hold-up is? There aren't even any "For Sale" signs up. It feels so private at the moment, but we'll have to share it eventually. Until that time, Riley and I can sneak down there and dream our separate dreams.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
New Year: Same Me
Hiho!
welcome back to the blog one and all!
(This is a speed blog - I've set my timer at 10mins to make myself say hello.)
I have been in denial that 07 is done and dusted, and what better day to build a bridge and get over it that the 8th?! A week and a day! So how was your Festivus? The big news here is Helen! Ex-Cyclone Helen and the Dorothea Mackellar-type floods that's she's brought to the entire eastern seaboard it seems like. I would love it if only:
a) it was less hot and humid
b) there wasn't a really big tree in my yard that the family immediately identified as a "widow maker"
c) there was decent telly and I hadn't already run out of ROME and BSG S3!
Ma and Pa have been flooded-in on the farm now and then. They're rolling in it. A temporary creek has sprung up and is winding it's way through the front paddock. Complete with swimming ducks. Three months ago, we were just hoping the olive trees didn't die. Now the tanks and dams on the property have all overflowed, and the grass is back up to waist-height. Yay! Nature, what can I say?
In other news, going back to work has been a push. Even a little break like a week can really bump me out of all my structural habits (not hitting snooze when the alarm sounds!) and combined, well, there's lead weights on my feet as I drag myself to work in the mornings. I'm sure it will pass ... I heard today that Mars has been in a nasty retrograde mood. Well, if Mars says "talk to the hand" mortals ought to take it easy!
That's my 10min folks. Hope you and yours are well, and enjoying living.
Quote for the day from Neil Gaiman's blog:
"I'm only wearing black until they invent a darker colour."
welcome back to the blog one and all!
(This is a speed blog - I've set my timer at 10mins to make myself say hello.)
I have been in denial that 07 is done and dusted, and what better day to build a bridge and get over it that the 8th?! A week and a day! So how was your Festivus? The big news here is Helen! Ex-Cyclone Helen and the Dorothea Mackellar-type floods that's she's brought to the entire eastern seaboard it seems like. I would love it if only:
a) it was less hot and humid
b) there wasn't a really big tree in my yard that the family immediately identified as a "widow maker"
c) there was decent telly and I hadn't already run out of ROME and BSG S3!
Ma and Pa have been flooded-in on the farm now and then. They're rolling in it. A temporary creek has sprung up and is winding it's way through the front paddock. Complete with swimming ducks. Three months ago, we were just hoping the olive trees didn't die. Now the tanks and dams on the property have all overflowed, and the grass is back up to waist-height. Yay! Nature, what can I say?
In other news, going back to work has been a push. Even a little break like a week can really bump me out of all my structural habits (not hitting snooze when the alarm sounds!) and combined, well, there's lead weights on my feet as I drag myself to work in the mornings. I'm sure it will pass ... I heard today that Mars has been in a nasty retrograde mood. Well, if Mars says "talk to the hand" mortals ought to take it easy!
That's my 10min folks. Hope you and yours are well, and enjoying living.
Quote for the day from Neil Gaiman's blog:
"I'm only wearing black until they invent a darker colour."
Monday, December 24, 2007
Festivus
Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, nonaddictive, gender neutral celebration of the solstice holiday, practised with the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or the choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.
We also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2008, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country) and without regard to the race, creed,color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms:
This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal.
It is freelytransferable with no alteration to the original greeting.
It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her / himself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher.
This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings, for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.
Note: No trees were harmed in the sending of this message; however, a significant number of electrons have been electromagnetically relocated.
We also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2008, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country) and without regard to the race, creed,color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms:
This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal.
It is freelytransferable with no alteration to the original greeting.
It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her / himself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher.
This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings, for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.
Note: No trees were harmed in the sending of this message; however, a significant number of electrons have been electromagnetically relocated.
Suburban Rituals: Mowing
Over the weekend, I attempted to mow my yard.
Note "attempted".
There are many things I struggle with in life, far too many really, and sadly, this list is only being expanded by my half-hearted first foray into home ownership.
Since I moved in two months ago, every weekend has been pierced at various (read: early) hours of the day by the cacophonous mating call of the lesser two-stroke mower. A popular Queensland variant of this creature features an unusual symbiont - a weedy thin human male clad only in short short stubbies and the old style thin things. Hat/sunglasses are optional, as is a half-smoked durrie and blurry blue old tatts down the forearms, but accessories do make the man. Lawns are as close as Suburban Queensland seems to have to a soul. Gardens are nice, but you really just need a lawn. The "inifinity" lawn look is popular too - from the edge of your house to the kerb in one smooth unbroken golf-green.
Well, since it rained, I have been pleased to watch a variety of green things sprout and thrust their way competitively into the sunlight in my yard. Some resulted in yellow swaying flowers, some in tiny blue ones - leaving a very pretty haze of almost lilac blue, some just in giant woody tendril structures keen to make a bid for control of the house. I like the idea of a garden, eventually, but it has been a long way down the energy-consumption-priority list lately and I was happy just for it to be green.
When I lost Riley in the yard and had a minor freakout that the thing that lives in the bowels of the Deathstar had grabbed him, I realised it was time to mow. I borrowed the mower from Ma & Pa, got long pants, boots, hat, leather gloves, ear plugs on, over and in. Fired her up and commenced battle.
What an ordeal.
Painful, noisy, uncontrollable, rough, endless.
When the machine over heated after 20 minutes having done about one twelfth of the entire yard I was in complete concurrence.
This is going to take more planning. If I can only do a twelfth at a time, and the grass continues to grow at the current rate, then my initial computations suggest that I will be mowing this lawn for... roughly the REST OF MY NATURAL BORN LIFE.
So there's got to be some other options. Today I am trying to figure out what second job I can get so I can afford to pay to have the whole thing paved, or turned into the set of Narnia, or adding decking to every side of the house over the damn thing, or dug up and put to useful cultivation...
But I don't really have the energy for that either. It's all a bit much. Time for a cup of tea and a crack at the crossword.
Note "attempted".
There are many things I struggle with in life, far too many really, and sadly, this list is only being expanded by my half-hearted first foray into home ownership.
Since I moved in two months ago, every weekend has been pierced at various (read: early) hours of the day by the cacophonous mating call of the lesser two-stroke mower. A popular Queensland variant of this creature features an unusual symbiont - a weedy thin human male clad only in short short stubbies and the old style thin things. Hat/sunglasses are optional, as is a half-smoked durrie and blurry blue old tatts down the forearms, but accessories do make the man. Lawns are as close as Suburban Queensland seems to have to a soul. Gardens are nice, but you really just need a lawn. The "inifinity" lawn look is popular too - from the edge of your house to the kerb in one smooth unbroken golf-green.
Well, since it rained, I have been pleased to watch a variety of green things sprout and thrust their way competitively into the sunlight in my yard. Some resulted in yellow swaying flowers, some in tiny blue ones - leaving a very pretty haze of almost lilac blue, some just in giant woody tendril structures keen to make a bid for control of the house. I like the idea of a garden, eventually, but it has been a long way down the energy-consumption-priority list lately and I was happy just for it to be green.
When I lost Riley in the yard and had a minor freakout that the thing that lives in the bowels of the Deathstar had grabbed him, I realised it was time to mow. I borrowed the mower from Ma & Pa, got long pants, boots, hat, leather gloves, ear plugs on, over and in. Fired her up and commenced battle.
What an ordeal.
Painful, noisy, uncontrollable, rough, endless.
When the machine over heated after 20 minutes having done about one twelfth of the entire yard I was in complete concurrence.
This is going to take more planning. If I can only do a twelfth at a time, and the grass continues to grow at the current rate, then my initial computations suggest that I will be mowing this lawn for... roughly the REST OF MY NATURAL BORN LIFE.
So there's got to be some other options. Today I am trying to figure out what second job I can get so I can afford to pay to have the whole thing paved, or turned into the set of Narnia, or adding decking to every side of the house over the damn thing, or dug up and put to useful cultivation...
But I don't really have the energy for that either. It's all a bit much. Time for a cup of tea and a crack at the crossword.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)