For about eight or nine years I worked in the real world, where what you did and how you did it relly mattered in quite a direct way. That experience was far from cubicles and the monday-to-friday-9-to-5. As you probably know, in the real world, service industries (and like it or not Australia's domestic economy is largely service based) are 7 day operations. Well they are on the central planets. Out here on the rim there's not much that's open on a Sunday, or even a saturday arvo.
But I digress.
I had to make many changes when I took the colonisation shuttle here. The pamphlet said things would be a bit different, but I couldn't have guessed how hard it would be to crowbar myself back into the little box of punching the clock, trying to work on an interface centrally controlled and monitored in work processes based around political expediency and box-ticking rather than service, and with people who've grown up here and think (at best) of everywhere else as only a possible holiday destination (but why pass up a trip to the pleasure boats?). The one thing of all of these that is hardest to swallow is not the petty bitching over imaginary power bases, nor the endless chatter about the best fake tan lotions or speed bleaching of hair. It is the cold, terminal nature of Monday Mornings.
Back in the bustle and business of the central planets, Monday mornings and Friday nights are largely just like any other other moments in the purchasing/pleasuring continuum of modern life. Actual days off may vary. From the inside, Mondays and Fridays are the bi-polar manic days of emotional extremism highlighting the endless cycle of the rat-race and the pathetic occlusion of all that is organic and natural about living. Rigid, imposed and arbitary rules still are the guiding principles of bureaucratic structures, no matter their inefficiency, their pointless focus on attendence and process above output and quality, their heartbreaking monotony.
No sir, I do not like these type of Mondays at all.
Showing posts with label TCSW. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TCSW. Show all posts
Monday, October 12, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
This work is good work
Two hundred and twenty-four letters need to be printed (4 goes it took for the printer to acknowledge the tray, the correct paper, the single-sidedness of the issue) each needs to be folded (by hand, so the crease is right to read the address through the little window) and go into one of two hundred and twenty-four envelopes, each letter to be accompanied by two copies of the competition form.
Dull day much?
There have been worse.
This client loves a personalised mailout. The largest so far was for 8000 but I made the client pay a rambunctious group of seniors to do the folding and stuffing (the printing alone took me over 7 hours). It would be easy to think that this kind of thing is a real low-point of my job. So tedius, so old-school, so, so predictable. And so yes they are tasks I'll procrastinate over a bit, mostly because once I start them they create massive drifts of papers and if it all gets interrupted (paper jams, unexpected meetings, file crashes) it can be a real mongrel to figure out where everything was up to.
So as I sit folding, folding, folding, and stuffing (and checking I haven't put them in backwards) I can turn my brain off knowing that the only risk is a paper-cut or keep it on a little and browse some news and listen to music safe in the knowledge that although it might not be glamorous, exciting, interesting or something that would ever ever get mentioned in ads or shows about this industry, this work is good work. I am content.
Dull day much?
There have been worse.
This client loves a personalised mailout. The largest so far was for 8000 but I made the client pay a rambunctious group of seniors to do the folding and stuffing (the printing alone took me over 7 hours). It would be easy to think that this kind of thing is a real low-point of my job. So tedius, so old-school, so, so predictable. And so yes they are tasks I'll procrastinate over a bit, mostly because once I start them they create massive drifts of papers and if it all gets interrupted (paper jams, unexpected meetings, file crashes) it can be a real mongrel to figure out where everything was up to.
But...
Actually these mailouts hit nearly all of the key criteria for satisfying work! How can this be?
- It is easy to tell when I'm finished - the letters are put into our mailroom lady's hands. We exchange brief pleasantries.
- These letters work. Addressed to previous customers who have purchased tickets to a similar show in the last 2 years, these are qualified, hot prospects. They sell tickets.
- At the end of the process there's no further anxiety - that happens up front when I want to do something either new, tricky or clever with the copy and the client wants things nice and normal. Once that discussion is resolved for each project it is virtually a mechanical process to complete. I don't lose sleep over it once the lovely mail lady takes charge.
- Did I mention that they work? We know because of the timings of sales after postage, but also because when we put a special offer in the letter, we can track the results super easily. Last time 800 letters got us over 100 sales. Sweet!
- The client doesn't have to pay for postage and they get sales - mailouts make them happy. Happy client = less stress for me.
So as I sit folding, folding, folding, and stuffing (and checking I haven't put them in backwards) I can turn my brain off knowing that the only risk is a paper-cut or keep it on a little and browse some news and listen to music safe in the knowledge that although it might not be glamorous, exciting, interesting or something that would ever ever get mentioned in ads or shows about this industry, this work is good work. I am content.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
The Big Life in a Small Town
This week started out poorly. I decided to floss my teeth and this resulted in a big chip coming off one tooth and another getting lodged in a crevasse. After the initial shock, I was pretty annoyed that my attempt at dental hygiene had been rebuked by my body in such a forceful way. I am learning to live with the strangely lodged chunk of tooth as I am irrationally terrified of dentists ever since one told me that it was inevitable that I would lose all feeling in my lips and possibly most of my jaw if I was to have the operation to "correct" my wisdom teeth. I decided at that point to grow tusks instead and here we have the ongoing consequences of that act of cowardice.
I don't really remember a lot of the rest of the week. I'd like to be able to put this down to outrageous drinking and wild living, but actually it is because it was so mind-numbingly dull and predictable that the highlight was baby-sitting my nieces for a few hours while sister went to class about how to sell beauty products. We watched Kung Fu Panda (again) and I struggled with a crossword. The week ended with two people leaving work who have each (in their very different ways) had a big impact on my working life here. The first is Gill. She is a veteran of the Sheltered Workshop and was the person who hired me into the organisation as a temp and tried to teach me the ways of survival ("Always cover your arse with a paper trail") and the codes of the chronic martyr. Shocked though I am at her resignation, my hope in the resilience of human spirit is renewed. Perhaps she will find her smile again in the near future. Inshalla.
The second is Strelan, the person who first showed me some friendship (or at least companionable emailing from our respective far-flung fortresses of solitude) and has been a reliable source since then of off-hand humour, new musical influences, occasional insight into the worldview and values of Gen Y, and frankly an ambitious but ultimately non-winning poker strategy. I am delighted at the fact that he has gained escape velocity from the draining gravity well of the Sheltered Workshop's weekly pay cheque, and is smiling and bouncing at the idea of working somewhere that he can do stuff. Happy hunting Strelan.
Today was so perfect that I had to dust down the banana lounge and find a pillow and a paper to read then I had all the props in place to do nothing at all. The paper was a week or two old (and was just the News Review and Business sections), but I read it on and off and the birds sang and the sky was blue and the dog snored softly in the grass by my side. A gorgeous way to wrap up the week and I'm so relaxed that I think I'll just hum a little to myself and maybe snooze a little more.
I don't really remember a lot of the rest of the week. I'd like to be able to put this down to outrageous drinking and wild living, but actually it is because it was so mind-numbingly dull and predictable that the highlight was baby-sitting my nieces for a few hours while sister went to class about how to sell beauty products. We watched Kung Fu Panda (again) and I struggled with a crossword. The week ended with two people leaving work who have each (in their very different ways) had a big impact on my working life here. The first is Gill. She is a veteran of the Sheltered Workshop and was the person who hired me into the organisation as a temp and tried to teach me the ways of survival ("Always cover your arse with a paper trail") and the codes of the chronic martyr. Shocked though I am at her resignation, my hope in the resilience of human spirit is renewed. Perhaps she will find her smile again in the near future. Inshalla.
The second is Strelan, the person who first showed me some friendship (or at least companionable emailing from our respective far-flung fortresses of solitude) and has been a reliable source since then of off-hand humour, new musical influences, occasional insight into the worldview and values of Gen Y, and frankly an ambitious but ultimately non-winning poker strategy. I am delighted at the fact that he has gained escape velocity from the draining gravity well of the Sheltered Workshop's weekly pay cheque, and is smiling and bouncing at the idea of working somewhere that he can do stuff. Happy hunting Strelan.
Today was so perfect that I had to dust down the banana lounge and find a pillow and a paper to read then I had all the props in place to do nothing at all. The paper was a week or two old (and was just the News Review and Business sections), but I read it on and off and the birds sang and the sky was blue and the dog snored softly in the grass by my side. A gorgeous way to wrap up the week and I'm so relaxed that I think I'll just hum a little to myself and maybe snooze a little more.
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Winter Refrain
Overheard in the mall on my way to work (and you'll have to imagine the nasal bogan whine that this is said in):
"Gee it's cold. I can't believe how cold it is!"
So I surreptitiously glance behind me in order to appraise this captain of the obvious and spot a cluster of idiots who are in thongs, shorts and T-shirts and one of them, in concession to the change in seasons, has thrown on a cotton hoodie. They are all hunched over and attempting to gain warmth from lit cigarettes.
It was minus 3oC overnight. Winter, albeit a late (and probably brief one) has arrived. I do not understand the stubborn reticence of locals against putting on warm clothes. This cold weather happens every year. Surely it is not beyond any one's means to have one woolen jumper and a pair of socks bundled into the back of a drawer? That's all it takes, and you can get a decent jumper these days for what it costs to buy two packs of smokes. Then by 9 or 10 in the morning it is back up to a sunny and warm 18oC or so, and then people, you can take the jumper off! A simple, but effective, system that has been serving humans for millenia called "clothing". I recommend it.
Also worth mentioning this week is that the World Health Organisation has officially declared Swine Flu (H1N1) to be a pandemic. Congrats Swiney on your new status. I'm sure no readers of this blog need any delineation made between pandemic and epidemic, but you will appreciate the irony in this being the week that on one hand the Sheltered Workshop has made buckets and buckets of hand sanitiser available to curb to possible spread of Swiney, and on the other (perhaps inevitable and very very bureaucratic) hand, decided that far far too many dollars are spent on tissues and so has cut off their supply. No worries, sneeze into your hand - there's plenty of hand sanitiser!
*shakes head*
"Gee it's cold. I can't believe how cold it is!"
So I surreptitiously glance behind me in order to appraise this captain of the obvious and spot a cluster of idiots who are in thongs, shorts and T-shirts and one of them, in concession to the change in seasons, has thrown on a cotton hoodie. They are all hunched over and attempting to gain warmth from lit cigarettes.
It was minus 3oC overnight. Winter, albeit a late (and probably brief one) has arrived. I do not understand the stubborn reticence of locals against putting on warm clothes. This cold weather happens every year. Surely it is not beyond any one's means to have one woolen jumper and a pair of socks bundled into the back of a drawer? That's all it takes, and you can get a decent jumper these days for what it costs to buy two packs of smokes. Then by 9 or 10 in the morning it is back up to a sunny and warm 18oC or so, and then people, you can take the jumper off! A simple, but effective, system that has been serving humans for millenia called "clothing". I recommend it.
Also worth mentioning this week is that the World Health Organisation has officially declared Swine Flu (H1N1) to be a pandemic. Congrats Swiney on your new status. I'm sure no readers of this blog need any delineation made between pandemic and epidemic, but you will appreciate the irony in this being the week that on one hand the Sheltered Workshop has made buckets and buckets of hand sanitiser available to curb to possible spread of Swiney, and on the other (perhaps inevitable and very very bureaucratic) hand, decided that far far too many dollars are spent on tissues and so has cut off their supply. No worries, sneeze into your hand - there's plenty of hand sanitiser!
*shakes head*
Friday, May 08, 2009
Push Me, Pull Me
Tonight I had a fresh run-in with the hidden mechanism to social networking - gated communities.
Yes, I know they've been around the whole time. After all, before it was the interwebs it was ARPAnet and if that wasn't the biggest on-line gated community to begin with I'm a chartered accountant. I didn't even have to make that up about ARPAnet. I noes that from reading a book! Thank you Bruce Sterling!! You too can read The Hacker Crackdown if you're old school and don't mind reading things on that scratchy stuff called paper, or, if you prefer, here's the wiki link on it.) (Oh, how droll, i just went to find a link to the book, and actually, it's gone digital. MIT is hosting a copy here. Thank you Bruce Sterling and MIT, you rock.)
But I digress.
I've been getting recommendations for a particular site1 from different persons of varying trust levels (ie knowledgeable strangers in shops and friends), and in the end, I remembered to write it down on something and put it into my weberciser. Well, jolly jumbucks if it isn't by invitation only! It isn't truly closed - I didn't have to get invited by someone I know (like gmail used to be) and I didn't have to provide in 25 words or less why I would like to be included, or justify my inclusion on the grounds of skills and expected contribution. No, I just asked to be invited, and got told that 1500 invitations go out a day, so I'm 3thousand 6hundred something something in the queue, so I'll have to wait about 3 days.
So my point here, and I do have one, is that pull marketing works.
And that humans still like to be a bit exclusive.
Finally, that the idea that the perfect anything/everything is out there somewhere secret and I don't know about it because I am not in the right circles is traumatising - thus identifying me as a vulnerable under-developed idiot ripe for clever marketing (read = "pretty normal").
Can you tell I've been compulsively watching Mad Men2 lately?
Ah, Advertising, my dirty secret.
So I go and look up a bot more about the site and discover it's in Beta (since 2007 - no rush guys!) and has tools based around organising everything for one's hobby. That's what F'book lacks - a hobby connection (apart from tagging in photos). It would be good to cross-sort tools/books across various interests. But now I'm speculating, I still haven't tried to use it.
Something they don't talk up and I will be heartily surprised if it doesn't happen, is targeted advertising inside that room. Once you've asked to enter, you're self-identified as a consumer for linked products and people like me (wearing a work hat for a second) salivate at such a target-rich environment.
We have to make due at work with putting ads in the paper. LEFT.BE-HIND. people, we are being left behind. I cannot tell my eager potential customers about our wonderful range of products - because I have No pull! NO PULL! People are not queued up 3thousand 6hundred something deep to get the latest news about the next tribute show being hosted in Ipswich (it's John Denver in case you're interested, and then Sinatra next month. All happening at the Civic Hall!! peeps). But there has to be an answer to my work problem out there somewhere, somehow...
Which takes me into another tangent. One of the writers for the show (Mad Men) set up a twitter account for the lead character and had the character twittering to fans. Brilliant idea! Other characters got in on the act (hi-larious!) BUT WAIT - the studio that owns the show asked Twitter to shut it down! Oh Dear! You can read about this over here.
So I guess I'm not the only one trying to get more people involved in my product, and engaged in what we offer but then still completely and utterly trying to control how that happens and when. The sheltered workshop has a very strong stance - no interactive stuff! No blogs! No f'books! No relationships. We are push only! PUSH I say! So we push.
We do letter campaigns - no blip in sales. Email campaigns- no blip in sales. Radio - nothing. Yet some shows sell out with barely any work from us. Word of mouth. We have to get the right mouths going. Or book better acts. That the major variable that we don't really like to mention. Paul Kelly played our venue for half the price he played in Brisbane. Any wonder he sold out? Different proposition trying to fill "standing room only" (there's optimism for you) for the Noiseworks re-union tour that no-one was clamouring for.
Life isn't about buying things, it is about being in relationships. That's why we love movies and TV shows - we want to share in those extra relationships. We want to do things and go places with our friends and loved-ones and that's where the pull is, so be pull-able! But being pullable means letting go of the push a bit. We have to loosen up, flow with the breeze, be more like bamboo. Strong yet flexible.
There it is folks. We have to be more like bamboo.
Don Draper would be pleased with that.
There's the concept, work up some art for it.
Have a whiskey everyone.
1. It is www.ravelry.com if you're interested. It's a knitting thing. I really can't tell you anything else until I can have a peek inside.
2. Not just for the eye candy either, although that is a consideration, but for the thoughtful discussion of themes and issues yes, really, I'm watching it for the articles.
Yes, I know they've been around the whole time. After all, before it was the interwebs it was ARPAnet and if that wasn't the biggest on-line gated community to begin with I'm a chartered accountant. I didn't even have to make that up about ARPAnet. I noes that from reading a book! Thank you Bruce Sterling!! You too can read The Hacker Crackdown if you're old school and don't mind reading things on that scratchy stuff called paper, or, if you prefer, here's the wiki link on it.) (Oh, how droll, i just went to find a link to the book, and actually, it's gone digital. MIT is hosting a copy here. Thank you Bruce Sterling and MIT, you rock.)
But I digress.
I've been getting recommendations for a particular site1 from different persons of varying trust levels (ie knowledgeable strangers in shops and friends), and in the end, I remembered to write it down on something and put it into my weberciser. Well, jolly jumbucks if it isn't by invitation only! It isn't truly closed - I didn't have to get invited by someone I know (like gmail used to be) and I didn't have to provide in 25 words or less why I would like to be included, or justify my inclusion on the grounds of skills and expected contribution. No, I just asked to be invited, and got told that 1500 invitations go out a day, so I'm 3thousand 6hundred something something in the queue, so I'll have to wait about 3 days.
So my point here, and I do have one, is that pull marketing works.
And that humans still like to be a bit exclusive.
Finally, that the idea that the perfect anything/everything is out there somewhere secret and I don't know about it because I am not in the right circles is traumatising - thus identifying me as a vulnerable under-developed idiot ripe for clever marketing (read = "pretty normal").
Can you tell I've been compulsively watching Mad Men2 lately?
Ah, Advertising, my dirty secret.
So I go and look up a bot more about the site and discover it's in Beta (since 2007 - no rush guys!) and has tools based around organising everything for one's hobby. That's what F'book lacks - a hobby connection (apart from tagging in photos). It would be good to cross-sort tools/books across various interests. But now I'm speculating, I still haven't tried to use it.
Something they don't talk up and I will be heartily surprised if it doesn't happen, is targeted advertising inside that room. Once you've asked to enter, you're self-identified as a consumer for linked products and people like me (wearing a work hat for a second) salivate at such a target-rich environment.
We have to make due at work with putting ads in the paper. LEFT.BE-HIND. people, we are being left behind. I cannot tell my eager potential customers about our wonderful range of products - because I have No pull! NO PULL! People are not queued up 3thousand 6hundred something deep to get the latest news about the next tribute show being hosted in Ipswich (it's John Denver in case you're interested, and then Sinatra next month. All happening at the Civic Hall!! peeps). But there has to be an answer to my work problem out there somewhere, somehow...
Which takes me into another tangent. One of the writers for the show (Mad Men) set up a twitter account for the lead character and had the character twittering to fans. Brilliant idea! Other characters got in on the act (hi-larious!) BUT WAIT - the studio that owns the show asked Twitter to shut it down! Oh Dear! You can read about this over here.
So I guess I'm not the only one trying to get more people involved in my product, and engaged in what we offer but then still completely and utterly trying to control how that happens and when. The sheltered workshop has a very strong stance - no interactive stuff! No blogs! No f'books! No relationships. We are push only! PUSH I say! So we push.
We do letter campaigns - no blip in sales. Email campaigns- no blip in sales. Radio - nothing. Yet some shows sell out with barely any work from us. Word of mouth. We have to get the right mouths going. Or book better acts. That the major variable that we don't really like to mention. Paul Kelly played our venue for half the price he played in Brisbane. Any wonder he sold out? Different proposition trying to fill "standing room only" (there's optimism for you) for the Noiseworks re-union tour that no-one was clamouring for.
Life isn't about buying things, it is about being in relationships. That's why we love movies and TV shows - we want to share in those extra relationships. We want to do things and go places with our friends and loved-ones and that's where the pull is, so be pull-able! But being pullable means letting go of the push a bit. We have to loosen up, flow with the breeze, be more like bamboo. Strong yet flexible.
There it is folks. We have to be more like bamboo.
Don Draper would be pleased with that.
There's the concept, work up some art for it.
Have a whiskey everyone.
1. It is www.ravelry.com if you're interested. It's a knitting thing. I really can't tell you anything else until I can have a peek inside.
2. Not just for the eye candy either, although that is a consideration, but for the thoughtful discussion of themes and issues yes, really, I'm watching it for the articles.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
An Attitude of Gratitude
Three really brilliant things happened this week. Other people inadvertantly pulled me out of a black funk and pointed my face back toward the sun, reminding me of what I so often try and remind others (and so easily forget myself).
You're not alone - we're all in this together.
Generosity
I re-wrote a cover letter for a woman in the office this week, She is one of the few sane and good-value people in the Sheltered Workshop, and so odds are good that she's a Temp. She's a talented artist with an intelligent sense of humour. Same goes for her husband and their child. She is a Temp as it turns out, and had also worked for a while in my last office (The Fortress of Solitude) so I was happy to offer my services in helping her apply for a plum job that came up in the library (which we're hoping is a normal, sane, pleasant workplace). She had done that thing people often do which is write two pages of dense, detailed explanation of how this and that skill would work in this and that aspect of the job, but then felt a bit bogged in detail and hadn't framed it well.
As Mrs Hill told me in grade 8, "you have to leave flags for readers so they know where they're going". I disagreed with her then (what a shit of a kid I must have been), but I've learnt my error doing hard yards. Mrs Hill was talking about the kind of writing that cover letters need, leading the reader along a broad and comfortable path to the idea that they need to glance at this resume and shortlist this person for interview ASAP. Anyway, it was a fun quick job and I really like having this person around, so it was fundamentally motivated by selfish desires. Which was why I was blown away when the next day she bought in 3 folios of her husbands drawings and offered me to take my pick "Heck, take two or three if you want". What a wonderful gift! I chose just one - an utter mindfuck abstract figure - and experienced a massive jolt of the warm and fuzzies. She didn't need to do that, I was happy just to contribute to her success. I didn't want anything in return. Writing can earn you artworks! How good can life get?!
Inclusion
Well life can also include unexpected text messages inviting you to come along to a comedy gig with the patron saint of booksellers, Bernard Black. Of course one says yes to that kind of thing and life immediately gets even better. There's anticipation for the event itself, but also a strengthening in the sense of inclusion in the clan that the invite and the event brings. I miss my clutches of friends and these excursions they arrange out of spontaneous book exuberance. So it was with palpable gratitude that I accepted this invite and began the countdown. Oh, and decided to sign-up for a writing challenge in April 09 too. Just for the helluvit. Yes! What could be better?!
Thoughtfulness
I'm not really into Christmas (at least not the part of it that's about the virgin birth of a divine Jesus; the mystery & pagan stuff I really dig. The trees inside the house, especially), but the society I have infiltrated and live among is into it (in a fairly strange way that I may never understand). I try to join-in with their cultural activities in order to get along. I do as little as possible or as much as I can bear in order to remain under cover. Sometimes these two measures do not meet, and Christmas is generally one of those times. I maintain low expectations, so it was a relief to experience little pain during the TCSW Christmas Breakfast (7.30am!! AM!!) and Secret Santa. The Office Martyr did an extraordinary catering job on just $5 a head (including proper food for Veggos) it was all going along fine and really, quite ok. Then I opened my gift. I was ready to exclaim my thanks to my anonymous gifter no matter what lie inside the paper. When a silk and pashmina paisley shawl in black and forest green came out I was stunned.
This gift was an act of thoughtfulness and love. It was a beautiful object and felt like a waterfall of light in my hands. My cubicle is very cold and I am constantly wrapped in woolly shawls to keep any feeling in my lower arms and hands. In this one gift, someone had expressed a care for my tastes and a knowledge of my day to day experience. I was (and am) really touched by this beautiful gift.
Attitude of Gratitude
Far too often, life seems to suck. Days seem bleak and nights are grim exercises in endurance. Then beauty, love and friendship nose their way back into your life like a dog under the covers in bed on a cold night. Snuggle up close whenever you can and take relief in an attitude of gratitude for whomever and whatever makes your heart's winter melt and mind's sun smile. If life is lived in fragments every sliver is precious.
Happy Solstice for tomorrow, and remember; you're not alone, we're all in this together.
You're not alone - we're all in this together.
Generosity
I re-wrote a cover letter for a woman in the office this week, She is one of the few sane and good-value people in the Sheltered Workshop, and so odds are good that she's a Temp. She's a talented artist with an intelligent sense of humour. Same goes for her husband and their child. She is a Temp as it turns out, and had also worked for a while in my last office (The Fortress of Solitude) so I was happy to offer my services in helping her apply for a plum job that came up in the library (which we're hoping is a normal, sane, pleasant workplace). She had done that thing people often do which is write two pages of dense, detailed explanation of how this and that skill would work in this and that aspect of the job, but then felt a bit bogged in detail and hadn't framed it well.
As Mrs Hill told me in grade 8, "you have to leave flags for readers so they know where they're going". I disagreed with her then (what a shit of a kid I must have been), but I've learnt my error doing hard yards. Mrs Hill was talking about the kind of writing that cover letters need, leading the reader along a broad and comfortable path to the idea that they need to glance at this resume and shortlist this person for interview ASAP. Anyway, it was a fun quick job and I really like having this person around, so it was fundamentally motivated by selfish desires. Which was why I was blown away when the next day she bought in 3 folios of her husbands drawings and offered me to take my pick "Heck, take two or three if you want". What a wonderful gift! I chose just one - an utter mindfuck abstract figure - and experienced a massive jolt of the warm and fuzzies. She didn't need to do that, I was happy just to contribute to her success. I didn't want anything in return. Writing can earn you artworks! How good can life get?!
Inclusion
Well life can also include unexpected text messages inviting you to come along to a comedy gig with the patron saint of booksellers, Bernard Black. Of course one says yes to that kind of thing and life immediately gets even better. There's anticipation for the event itself, but also a strengthening in the sense of inclusion in the clan that the invite and the event brings. I miss my clutches of friends and these excursions they arrange out of spontaneous book exuberance. So it was with palpable gratitude that I accepted this invite and began the countdown. Oh, and decided to sign-up for a writing challenge in April 09 too. Just for the helluvit. Yes! What could be better?!
Thoughtfulness
I'm not really into Christmas (at least not the part of it that's about the virgin birth of a divine Jesus; the mystery & pagan stuff I really dig. The trees inside the house, especially), but the society I have infiltrated and live among is into it (in a fairly strange way that I may never understand). I try to join-in with their cultural activities in order to get along. I do as little as possible or as much as I can bear in order to remain under cover. Sometimes these two measures do not meet, and Christmas is generally one of those times. I maintain low expectations, so it was a relief to experience little pain during the TCSW Christmas Breakfast (7.30am!! AM!!) and Secret Santa. The Office Martyr did an extraordinary catering job on just $5 a head (including proper food for Veggos) it was all going along fine and really, quite ok. Then I opened my gift. I was ready to exclaim my thanks to my anonymous gifter no matter what lie inside the paper. When a silk and pashmina paisley shawl in black and forest green came out I was stunned.
This gift was an act of thoughtfulness and love. It was a beautiful object and felt like a waterfall of light in my hands. My cubicle is very cold and I am constantly wrapped in woolly shawls to keep any feeling in my lower arms and hands. In this one gift, someone had expressed a care for my tastes and a knowledge of my day to day experience. I was (and am) really touched by this beautiful gift.
Attitude of Gratitude
Far too often, life seems to suck. Days seem bleak and nights are grim exercises in endurance. Then beauty, love and friendship nose their way back into your life like a dog under the covers in bed on a cold night. Snuggle up close whenever you can and take relief in an attitude of gratitude for whomever and whatever makes your heart's winter melt and mind's sun smile. If life is lived in fragments every sliver is precious.
Happy Solstice for tomorrow, and remember; you're not alone, we're all in this together.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
The Joy of Laminate
I have been feeling pretty good about how clean my desk is at work this afternoon. Yeah, plenty of laminate between the phone and the single (canted) pen and my glass of water. Oh, check me out - I'm Gordon Freakin Gecko! PURE POWER BABY!
Except until I needed to get something out of my bag, and turned around to find a towering mass of brightly highlighted pieces of paper saying "urgent - do right NOW" and dated last week, and evem, a bit deeper int eh pile, the week before last. Oh dear. When I face my screen, this pile is just outside of my peripheral vision, and so, it seems, also just outside of my ability to pay attention to it. Crap. I don't remember moving that stuff there, but I must have. I even found my "inbox" inside the anerobic bowels of this swamp, cracked and weeping.
Still, no one has chased up any of those super urgent tangerine highlighted tasks, so maybe I can just file them all straight into the recycling bin and get back to enjoying expanses of laminate.
Oh, yeah, that's it - nice clean desk!
Except until I needed to get something out of my bag, and turned around to find a towering mass of brightly highlighted pieces of paper saying "urgent - do right NOW" and dated last week, and evem, a bit deeper int eh pile, the week before last. Oh dear. When I face my screen, this pile is just outside of my peripheral vision, and so, it seems, also just outside of my ability to pay attention to it. Crap. I don't remember moving that stuff there, but I must have. I even found my "inbox" inside the anerobic bowels of this swamp, cracked and weeping.
Still, no one has chased up any of those super urgent tangerine highlighted tasks, so maybe I can just file them all straight into the recycling bin and get back to enjoying expanses of laminate.
Oh, yeah, that's it - nice clean desk!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
What plot?
So lost the plot.
What book? Who am I? Where did I put that cup of coffee? What do you mean I have to report on that project at a meeting? My characters are stuck on a ship in the North Atlantic and you want me to concentrate on costings for a mailout and web updates?!
I'm shaking and I'm nauseous.
Forgeddit.
In other news - Well Done Obama!! Good work America!! Yay generally!! WOOT for HOPE!!
(ps. WTF is with not letting exclamation marks be in tabs? Get a grip people!)
(pps. Word count at 4300 and stalled)
What book? Who am I? Where did I put that cup of coffee? What do you mean I have to report on that project at a meeting? My characters are stuck on a ship in the North Atlantic and you want me to concentrate on costings for a mailout and web updates?!
I'm shaking and I'm nauseous.
Forgeddit.
In other news - Well Done Obama!! Good work America!! Yay generally!! WOOT for HOPE!!
(ps. WTF is with not letting exclamation marks be in tabs? Get a grip people!)
(pps. Word count at 4300 and stalled)
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Weighed, Measured, Found Wanting.
I've been in lockdown at work for the last two days, being "developed". Not with the white room crew, but with the balloons and sausage-sizzle side of the operation.
The teams that really need some development don't put their hand up for this kind of thing normally, so in a way it's an easy win. You get to go 'off campus' and sit in a room with a flipcharts and coloured pens talking about how great it would be if we all respected and valued each others differences, share some dodgy catering and look out of a different window for a while. Normally I'd sign right up for a tour of duty, and in fact that's excatly what I did when this was mooted. It's been ages now since I left the corporate world, and I thought I'd get the same kick out of doing the quiz and getting the little graph or chart or colour code, or animal sign or whatever the fuck this one would be, as I used to. It was one of the perks of working in a giant company - the world-class quizzes. They end up being in the realm of 'emergency fallback conversation topics' just under Monty Python and just above root canal dentistry for being largely neutral politically and a pretty wide-reaching experience that people have an opinion about.
Somewhere along the line, something's changed for me. There was no frisson of discovery as I recieved my little animated trivial pursuit pie chart of rainbow colours. There was no passionate buy-in from me as the team decided that all their core values and beliefs stemmed from LOVE and made that the umbrella statement for the shared vision, with all the fabulous, feel good generic statements actively dot-pointed underneath. It was a pumping workshop, and where was I? It turned out that I was the one with the cynical eyebrow and the willingness to ask the facilitator "why?". I was the grouch, the fly in the ointment, the devil's advocate. I'm still not really sure why I wanted so badly to piss on that chirpy rainbow, but there was something deeply inauthentic about letting a room full of kids and newbies get carried away with such starry-eyed hope and glamour before we put in any groundwork and built up some (any?) skills about what it really takes to accomodate difference, handle the consequences of honesty or even simple communication such as confirming meanings people have for words that seem simple. Words like, say, "communication" which someone was adamantly arguing was sufficient to cover 'feedback', 'teamwork', 'honesty' AND (my favourite) 'measures'. Woah! Busy word!!
So did I do any good? I'm not sure that I did. It was my intention to influence the group to aim for something shared and incremental. My experience has taught me that small but real/concrete gains are far better than large, vague, hugely far reaching and perfectly unattainable gains (such as a mission statement including clauses along the lines of "create pride in the city") that half of the attendees never opened their mouths to support, didn't have an opportunity to contribute to in their "prefered mode of communication" (one of the major "linking skills" we did the quiz to uncover) nor in a way that reflected the established diversity of profile strengths. All I managed was to get a few people confused, one or two people nodding, a further reputation as a pointless ranter and condescendingly co-opted to 'write up the outcomes as you're so good with words'. Great. Oh yeah, and give myself a massive headache.
It reminds me of the only time I've done one of these and didn't get a little print-out with a chart. The pair of people running the session really knew their stuff, and they stood us up in the drab motel conference room and called out names, grouping people around the room in what seemed like no particular order. I was on my own. I didn't get to hear what anyone else was told. There was no high-fiving. I can barely remember what they said to me, because the surprise of the first part stopped too much of the rest of it sinking in.
"You are a fool." They told me. "You are the court jester, and you will tell the truth, and no one will listen."
I thought about that conversation this afternoon as I came home. I pondered the workshop, and the workplace I returned to. I thought about my own under-siege sense of joy and resiliance in the face of constant frustrations and limitations and I wished for two things. I wished I could remember anything else those people had said on that long afternoon all those years ago that might help me make more sense of what to do with my life now, and I wished that I'd lightly shrugged very early today and let it all go with a smile and a quip, had a bit of a caper and a jape, and not tried to take on the weight of the world, at least not without giving folks a joke to take the edge off.
One more thing I wish for. I wish that I hadn't read my little animated trivial pursuit pie chart of rainbow colours where it said "Creativity: 18%".
The teams that really need some development don't put their hand up for this kind of thing normally, so in a way it's an easy win. You get to go 'off campus' and sit in a room with a flipcharts and coloured pens talking about how great it would be if we all respected and valued each others differences, share some dodgy catering and look out of a different window for a while. Normally I'd sign right up for a tour of duty, and in fact that's excatly what I did when this was mooted. It's been ages now since I left the corporate world, and I thought I'd get the same kick out of doing the quiz and getting the little graph or chart or colour code, or animal sign or whatever the fuck this one would be, as I used to. It was one of the perks of working in a giant company - the world-class quizzes. They end up being in the realm of 'emergency fallback conversation topics' just under Monty Python and just above root canal dentistry for being largely neutral politically and a pretty wide-reaching experience that people have an opinion about.
Somewhere along the line, something's changed for me. There was no frisson of discovery as I recieved my little animated trivial pursuit pie chart of rainbow colours. There was no passionate buy-in from me as the team decided that all their core values and beliefs stemmed from LOVE and made that the umbrella statement for the shared vision, with all the fabulous, feel good generic statements actively dot-pointed underneath. It was a pumping workshop, and where was I? It turned out that I was the one with the cynical eyebrow and the willingness to ask the facilitator "why?". I was the grouch, the fly in the ointment, the devil's advocate. I'm still not really sure why I wanted so badly to piss on that chirpy rainbow, but there was something deeply inauthentic about letting a room full of kids and newbies get carried away with such starry-eyed hope and glamour before we put in any groundwork and built up some (any?) skills about what it really takes to accomodate difference, handle the consequences of honesty or even simple communication such as confirming meanings people have for words that seem simple. Words like, say, "communication" which someone was adamantly arguing was sufficient to cover 'feedback', 'teamwork', 'honesty' AND (my favourite) 'measures'. Woah! Busy word!!
So did I do any good? I'm not sure that I did. It was my intention to influence the group to aim for something shared and incremental. My experience has taught me that small but real/concrete gains are far better than large, vague, hugely far reaching and perfectly unattainable gains (such as a mission statement including clauses along the lines of "create pride in the city") that half of the attendees never opened their mouths to support, didn't have an opportunity to contribute to in their "prefered mode of communication" (one of the major "linking skills" we did the quiz to uncover) nor in a way that reflected the established diversity of profile strengths. All I managed was to get a few people confused, one or two people nodding, a further reputation as a pointless ranter and condescendingly co-opted to 'write up the outcomes as you're so good with words'. Great. Oh yeah, and give myself a massive headache.
It reminds me of the only time I've done one of these and didn't get a little print-out with a chart. The pair of people running the session really knew their stuff, and they stood us up in the drab motel conference room and called out names, grouping people around the room in what seemed like no particular order. I was on my own. I didn't get to hear what anyone else was told. There was no high-fiving. I can barely remember what they said to me, because the surprise of the first part stopped too much of the rest of it sinking in.
"You are a fool." They told me. "You are the court jester, and you will tell the truth, and no one will listen."
I thought about that conversation this afternoon as I came home. I pondered the workshop, and the workplace I returned to. I thought about my own under-siege sense of joy and resiliance in the face of constant frustrations and limitations and I wished for two things. I wished I could remember anything else those people had said on that long afternoon all those years ago that might help me make more sense of what to do with my life now, and I wished that I'd lightly shrugged very early today and let it all go with a smile and a quip, had a bit of a caper and a jape, and not tried to take on the weight of the world, at least not without giving folks a joke to take the edge off.
One more thing I wish for. I wish that I hadn't read my little animated trivial pursuit pie chart of rainbow colours where it said "Creativity: 18%".
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Enforced Sanity Break
The relentless flow of work I have been slowly sinking under the past two weeks has slowly ground to a halt this afternoon. The Sheltered Workshop email servers are down for the count. After 2 hours of neither giving nor receiving, I am forced to look up and notice that the sun still shines in the window, and that at 5.12 pm I am the last person left in the building.
Hi-larious!
Most excellent, I shall be home before half-past, and walking the dog in the twilight. Unpacking again after dinner and some planning about re-arranging everything. It all looked so serene and pure when everything was in nice neat boxes. The house is starting to look a lot more like somewhere that I actually live, with piles of papers and books in corners, against walls and encroaching everywhere except the bathroom.
Chaos emerging from the sterile purity of cubes. Lovely. Very heartening.
In other news, National Write a Novel in a Month is coming up again quickly - remember to register soon! You don't want to miss out on that crucial first day.
Oh yeah and the federal election got called, but that's late November - our novels should be nearly finished by then!!
Hi-larious!
Most excellent, I shall be home before half-past, and walking the dog in the twilight. Unpacking again after dinner and some planning about re-arranging everything. It all looked so serene and pure when everything was in nice neat boxes. The house is starting to look a lot more like somewhere that I actually live, with piles of papers and books in corners, against walls and encroaching everywhere except the bathroom.
Chaos emerging from the sterile purity of cubes. Lovely. Very heartening.
In other news, National Write a Novel in a Month is coming up again quickly - remember to register soon! You don't want to miss out on that crucial first day.
Oh yeah and the federal election got called, but that's late November - our novels should be nearly finished by then!!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Sloppy
One of my (few) male coworkers in the "Shiny Ice-Cold Sex" department (ie: marketing) had a very funny reaction to a simple word the other day. It was amazing to watch, so obviously, I had to say it a few times to check that it wasn't a fluke.
What word you may wonder.
Was it something far too bland to ever be mentioned in our cool department (cardigan)? Was it something harsh and discordant (strip mining)? Was it something just too long and slightly high-brow (democracy)?
No, it was none of these things. It was just sloppy.
He nearly gagged. He twisted in his chair, looked away, and I bet his toes were curdling in his classy shoes. Hi-larious.
He even said "Could we use another word?"
Where is Jayne with a pithy, hard-arsed comeback when you really need him?
'It's just sloppy protocols', I said and yup, there he goes. Dancing like a meat puppet to my tune. BWAHAHAHAHA.
I reckon he got teased for being a bad kisser, or has a terminal castrating fear of vaginas. Will keep you posted as the opportunities present themselves to test these theories (from a purely theoretical standpoint on this one).
What word you may wonder.
Was it something far too bland to ever be mentioned in our cool department (cardigan)? Was it something harsh and discordant (strip mining)? Was it something just too long and slightly high-brow (democracy)?
No, it was none of these things. It was just sloppy.
He nearly gagged. He twisted in his chair, looked away, and I bet his toes were curdling in his classy shoes. Hi-larious.
He even said "Could we use another word?"
Where is Jayne with a pithy, hard-arsed comeback when you really need him?
'It's just sloppy protocols', I said and yup, there he goes. Dancing like a meat puppet to my tune. BWAHAHAHAHA.
I reckon he got teased for being a bad kisser, or has a terminal castrating fear of vaginas. Will keep you posted as the opportunities present themselves to test these theories (from a purely theoretical standpoint on this one).
Monday, June 18, 2007
Honeymoon is Over
Hi,
I'm back from the Honeymoon. I really thought it would last longer - maybe even a whole month - but looks like I'm too old now to stay starry-eyed for long. Not that things have taken a bad, downward turn, just that there's hope, and then there's reality. I find it easier to deal with the reality and push it forcibly(*) towards the memory of hope, rather than get knocked about and continually hurt that the hope isn't being fulfilled.
It has also been somewhat sobering to realise that one of the main skills I have learnt in my working life is how to survive in a Machiavellian environment. Hence the * above - because of course one chooses very carefully those barrows one will push, and where. I don't mean to intimate that I am a Machiavellian player/operator/sympathiser - rather that I learnt early on to *know*thy*enemy* and strangely enough their textbook is widely available. Go on - read The Prince. You can get it in bookstores, you can download it from the internet. I can't believe it's just laying around in libraries. It makes it a lot easier to spot the dilettantes, and stay out of the way of the real players.
Anyway, enough pillow talk.
How have you been?
What have you been up to?
I was going to make June "Good News" month - loads of feel-good updates from the world of grown-ups and corduroy where science and art and music and culture all contribute to making the human race seem like a good idea. It got to the 15th and I hadn't found any, and now I've kinda shelved that idea for the time being. Even just reading the Arts pages can bring me down - on only one day last week David Hockney had a hissy over *ipods* ruining the visual arts, a painting got nicked from the AGNSW!, and Brett Whiteley's drug addled eroticised landscape of the Olgas became the most expensive Australian painting - selling at auction for $3.8m.
Clearly, the world has gone mad and is in no need of my help on this matter.
I did what any self-respecting bogan looser would do, and blew $4 of the grocery money in the op-shop on a VHS copy of Ronin. And it was good. Yes, I escaped into a world where violence and the destruction of beautiful eurpoean cafes is only used to heighten dramatic tension. A world where the deadliest killers (who will shoot a little girl just to prove the point that they're meanies) really are the horrible ex-kgb, and anyone who says they're ex-CIA is really only in deep cover. It all made such good sense for about an hour and a half.
Where did I leave that case of ammo?...
I'm back from the Honeymoon. I really thought it would last longer - maybe even a whole month - but looks like I'm too old now to stay starry-eyed for long. Not that things have taken a bad, downward turn, just that there's hope, and then there's reality. I find it easier to deal with the reality and push it forcibly(*) towards the memory of hope, rather than get knocked about and continually hurt that the hope isn't being fulfilled.
It has also been somewhat sobering to realise that one of the main skills I have learnt in my working life is how to survive in a Machiavellian environment. Hence the * above - because of course one chooses very carefully those barrows one will push, and where. I don't mean to intimate that I am a Machiavellian player/operator/sympathiser - rather that I learnt early on to *know*thy*enemy* and strangely enough their textbook is widely available. Go on - read The Prince. You can get it in bookstores, you can download it from the internet. I can't believe it's just laying around in libraries. It makes it a lot easier to spot the dilettantes, and stay out of the way of the real players.
Anyway, enough pillow talk.
How have you been?
What have you been up to?
I was going to make June "Good News" month - loads of feel-good updates from the world of grown-ups and corduroy where science and art and music and culture all contribute to making the human race seem like a good idea. It got to the 15th and I hadn't found any, and now I've kinda shelved that idea for the time being. Even just reading the Arts pages can bring me down - on only one day last week David Hockney had a hissy over *ipods* ruining the visual arts, a painting got nicked from the AGNSW!, and Brett Whiteley's drug addled eroticised landscape of the Olgas became the most expensive Australian painting - selling at auction for $3.8m.
Clearly, the world has gone mad and is in no need of my help on this matter.
I did what any self-respecting bogan looser would do, and blew $4 of the grocery money in the op-shop on a VHS copy of Ronin. And it was good. Yes, I escaped into a world where violence and the destruction of beautiful eurpoean cafes is only used to heighten dramatic tension. A world where the deadliest killers (who will shoot a little girl just to prove the point that they're meanies) really are the horrible ex-kgb, and anyone who says they're ex-CIA is really only in deep cover. It all made such good sense for about an hour and a half.
Where did I leave that case of ammo?...
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Monday Flex
Gosh - I honestly thought that the flex day was a thing of the golden past until I came to Qld and got a job at theTrash City Sheltered Workshop. Here I am, Monday, not at work and *getting*paid*. LIFESTYLE!
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!
I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.
Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?
The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.
Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?
PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.
PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?
PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.
Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).
PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!
I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.
Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?
The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.
Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?
PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.
PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?
PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.
Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).
PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Duck!
On the staff Intranet today:
Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754
Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Farewell Sheltered Workshop
The penultimate day in the Sheltered Workshop went by pretty quickly - what with the packing and the gossiping, and the bludging.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.
I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.
I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.
Friday, May 18, 2007
I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker
Something about travelling gives one a sense of freedom.
Starting in a new town can be like that too – completely anonymous. No expectations – internal or external. No habits about what or who belongs where, or what should happen when. It’s almost addictive, if it didn’t come at the cost of some pretty nice feelings – belonging with friends, warm cosy home feelings, clean laundry.
Anyway. One of the things about being an outsider is how different everything looks - it's possible to really *see* things. In my first few weeks as a temp in the TCSW, I got to go to a lot of minor events where I could just stare slack-jawed at the world around me. One of the things that caught my eye was a (presumably) innocent man called Steve Hutton. He's the general manager at the local paper and as such gets invited to a large number of meetings, launches, receptions, discussions, and openings. He's a good looking man - a little taller than I am with dark hair, well-formed brows, and a charming smile. In other words - easy on the eyes. In this town that is a standout feature.
Being a minion, I usually have nothing else to do, but to find a vantage point where I can be simultaneously called upon by my boss at any time, and comfortably stare at Steve Hutton. After a few months, he has started to notice that I do this. As a continuation of my anthropological experiment, I have decided not to stop. Frankly, I'm amazed I got away with it for so long. Very 'Fight Club' if you take my meaning.
It's great to have a hobby.
It really is very minimal stalking - I haven't ever gone to his workplace, taken surveillance photos, found out his wife's name - none of the basic things. It is piss-weak stalking I know - but I just keep hearing Edward Norton's voice saying "I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker" and it makes me laugh. You know, why get all bent out of shape about Brad Pitt (or Angelina) when there's perfectly good-looking people who are a lot more accessible to watch? I'll never get to meet Brangelina in person, but I can offer Steve Hutton a badly cooked entree every other week.
Let's hope he's got as a good a sense of humour as I have imagined that he has. Otherwise, I'll have to find out if blogging constitutes a breach of a restraining order.
Starting in a new town can be like that too – completely anonymous. No expectations – internal or external. No habits about what or who belongs where, or what should happen when. It’s almost addictive, if it didn’t come at the cost of some pretty nice feelings – belonging with friends, warm cosy home feelings, clean laundry.
Anyway. One of the things about being an outsider is how different everything looks - it's possible to really *see* things. In my first few weeks as a temp in the TCSW, I got to go to a lot of minor events where I could just stare slack-jawed at the world around me. One of the things that caught my eye was a (presumably) innocent man called Steve Hutton. He's the general manager at the local paper and as such gets invited to a large number of meetings, launches, receptions, discussions, and openings. He's a good looking man - a little taller than I am with dark hair, well-formed brows, and a charming smile. In other words - easy on the eyes. In this town that is a standout feature.
Being a minion, I usually have nothing else to do, but to find a vantage point where I can be simultaneously called upon by my boss at any time, and comfortably stare at Steve Hutton. After a few months, he has started to notice that I do this. As a continuation of my anthropological experiment, I have decided not to stop. Frankly, I'm amazed I got away with it for so long. Very 'Fight Club' if you take my meaning.
It's great to have a hobby.
It really is very minimal stalking - I haven't ever gone to his workplace, taken surveillance photos, found out his wife's name - none of the basic things. It is piss-weak stalking I know - but I just keep hearing Edward Norton's voice saying "I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker" and it makes me laugh. You know, why get all bent out of shape about Brad Pitt (or Angelina) when there's perfectly good-looking people who are a lot more accessible to watch? I'll never get to meet Brangelina in person, but I can offer Steve Hutton a badly cooked entree every other week.
Let's hope he's got as a good a sense of humour as I have imagined that he has. Otherwise, I'll have to find out if blogging constitutes a breach of a restraining order.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Day before the day before the hump
Some Mondays are a bit more "monday" than others. You know what I mean - the ones following a long weekend - for example, can start with a bit of a false high (adrenaline/caffine) and then plummet quickly (some might say immediately) into a dystopian low (generally as I walk in and suffer the simultaneous onslaught of the flourescent lights and the smell of the place).
Eeuw.
But here I am and here we go - another week in the Trash City Sheltered Workshop. I've come in to find that some wag in the office has got me a packet of 24 colouring-in pencils via the corporate stationery order. Hil-Ar-ity.
Gotta get my head around it. C'mon! Slap! Slap!!
Reality hurts.
Eeuw.
But here I am and here we go - another week in the Trash City Sheltered Workshop. I've come in to find that some wag in the office has got me a packet of 24 colouring-in pencils via the corporate stationery order. Hil-Ar-ity.
Gotta get my head around it. C'mon! Slap! Slap!!
Reality hurts.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Philosophy Does Have its Consolations
Aphorisms are the fast food of philosophy, they give a great sound-bite and can stand in for actual conversations an extraordinary amount of the time. However, for the long hours alone with doubt, nothing has the staying power of full-strength philosophy - even for a dabbler such as myself.
Everything you can think of - every pain and ache and anguish. Poets have been there and carved the passage they took into the stones along the way. Philosophers eat those stones and eat the pain and eat down all the doubt and sit, alert and still while giant eggs of wisdom form in them and get squeezed out their eyes. Well, that's how it seems, although most philosophers seem keen to point out that they do their own laundry and washing up. So maybe those eggs need movement of the body to help them come out.
There is a feeling of exile at the moment. I am homesick again. I do have a plan for being here, it's not subtle or sophisticated - make money and set up the infrastructure for a life.
It is starting to come together too, and that's why I came - these things are attainable here. But of course they're *here*. I have the habits of a decade to appraise and choose to keep or not. The short-term plan is still in it's first third. One year or two is not so long int he bigger picture, after all.
Plans do unfold as long as you have them and tend them. Better hope I planned for the right things then!
Everything you can think of - every pain and ache and anguish. Poets have been there and carved the passage they took into the stones along the way. Philosophers eat those stones and eat the pain and eat down all the doubt and sit, alert and still while giant eggs of wisdom form in them and get squeezed out their eyes. Well, that's how it seems, although most philosophers seem keen to point out that they do their own laundry and washing up. So maybe those eggs need movement of the body to help them come out.
There is a feeling of exile at the moment. I am homesick again. I do have a plan for being here, it's not subtle or sophisticated - make money and set up the infrastructure for a life.
It is starting to come together too, and that's why I came - these things are attainable here. But of course they're *here*. I have the habits of a decade to appraise and choose to keep or not. The short-term plan is still in it's first third. One year or two is not so long int he bigger picture, after all.
Plans do unfold as long as you have them and tend them. Better hope I planned for the right things then!
Monday, April 16, 2007
User Pays
I wasn't all *that* shocked that I couldn't get tempeh in the supermarket. I did laugh at the woman's face when I went to ask them to order it, and this is Woolworths remember, and she said:
"We can only get what we already have."
BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA.
Okay - no love there.
So I went tot eh health food store - no, we don't have it.
"Do you ever have it?"
"Yeah, well you can special order it."
"Ok, fair enough. When is the next order and how much will it be?"
"No idea."
*sigh*
so I pushed ahead and placed the order, and three weeks later they've rung me - it's in.
Great.
"How much is it?"
(This is protein for me - daily serve type situation)
"It's a 250gram block and it's $6.65."
"You're joking."
.... silence....
No, they aren't. Vegos can fucking pay for the privilege thank you very much. Well, I'm sick of tofu to the point of homocide, so extortion seems like the easy way out.
On the way to the store, I drop by the photo place thinking to make a cd of all the cruft on my camera.
"Hi, how much is it to burn a CD?"
"How big is your chip?"
"Umm, I'll check - 512."
"Okay - that'll be $15."
"What. Does the size of the chip make a difference ?"
"Yeah! Takes a different amount of time to run it, and if it's a gig chip, then it's more than one cd."
"I'll skip it today thanks."
FIFTEEN BUCKS!!!?
What are they thinking? And I'm a "so-called" VIP member!
You want to make your own culture here - there's a surcharge.
I am very tempted to overuse the exclamation point.
"We can only get what we already have."
BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA.
Okay - no love there.
So I went tot eh health food store - no, we don't have it.
"Do you ever have it?"
"Yeah, well you can special order it."
"Ok, fair enough. When is the next order and how much will it be?"
"No idea."
*sigh*
so I pushed ahead and placed the order, and three weeks later they've rung me - it's in.
Great.
"How much is it?"
(This is protein for me - daily serve type situation)
"It's a 250gram block and it's $6.65."
"You're joking."
.... silence....
No, they aren't. Vegos can fucking pay for the privilege thank you very much. Well, I'm sick of tofu to the point of homocide, so extortion seems like the easy way out.
On the way to the store, I drop by the photo place thinking to make a cd of all the cruft on my camera.
"Hi, how much is it to burn a CD?"
"How big is your chip?"
"Umm, I'll check - 512."
"Okay - that'll be $15."
"What. Does the size of the chip make a difference ?"
"Yeah! Takes a different amount of time to run it, and if it's a gig chip, then it's more than one cd."
"I'll skip it today thanks."
FIFTEEN BUCKS!!!?
What are they thinking? And I'm a "so-called" VIP member!
You want to make your own culture here - there's a surcharge.
I am very tempted to overuse the exclamation point.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Truth Blurt
So JennaBear and I are kneeling on the floor either side of a desk to move and stack a dozen boxes. She on the populated side of the desk, where the man chuckles and goes for his belt saying "While you're down there...."
as you do.
And little JB goes all red - she's a true innocent.
In the past this guy has told me that his partner's pillow talk with him is that he "has slutty eyes". Romantic!
So I say "You really are the Sluttiest guy I've ever met."
Not one to shrink he bounces back "I doubt that."
Without editing I say "Well, let me clarify - you're the sluttiest guy I've ever met that I haven't had a one night stand with."
Kapow.
I win another round - sort of, and JennaBear has to go to the bathroom and splash her face with water.
heheheheheheee.
Just don't care today, after being told that my jeans are *too* casual for casual friday. Frayed hems are not ok. Just not done.
Other people in this place are wearing see-though negligee tops and sandals today.
*sigh*
Go Figure.
as you do.
And little JB goes all red - she's a true innocent.
In the past this guy has told me that his partner's pillow talk with him is that he "has slutty eyes". Romantic!
So I say "You really are the Sluttiest guy I've ever met."
Not one to shrink he bounces back "I doubt that."
Without editing I say "Well, let me clarify - you're the sluttiest guy I've ever met that I haven't had a one night stand with."
Kapow.
I win another round - sort of, and JennaBear has to go to the bathroom and splash her face with water.
heheheheheheee.
Just don't care today, after being told that my jeans are *too* casual for casual friday. Frayed hems are not ok. Just not done.
Other people in this place are wearing see-though negligee tops and sandals today.
*sigh*
Go Figure.
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