Plodding along to glory

...

2007-02-25T11:55:00.000+11:00

[Image removed because it infringed upon the copyrights of others.]

Sketch by Gary Larson, The prehistory of the Far Side: a 10th anniversary exhibit (Kansas City, Missouri: Andrews and McMeel, 1989), p. 110. ("Look guys... I just can't handle these changes... I'm not sure if it's the rhythm, or the tempo, or if it's just that I'm a cow.")

Time for a break, reader. Thanks for reading, and if you ever commented, double-thanks for that. Toodle-oo.

Spitting

2007-02-24T14:34:00.000+11:00

I just read a post by a London psychiatrist who is trapped in the weird workings of the UK health system - Dear MTAS - and she's so angry and so eloquent, her emotional outburst made me feel bold. I'll henceforth be spitting for the rest of this post, being sorry only for having needed the permission of a complete stranger's example in order to feel free enough to do so.

A number of things have been going through my head lately, all of them related to online activities, and all of them making me angry.

(a) I've been dithering about whether to end this blog.** A big part of me wants to say "Fuck you!" and then bugger off into the big beyond with just a swishing of drama-queen skirts in my wake. Sometimes I hate you, reader, and that's rather silly considering I don't even know who you are, but also (and quite obviously) it's the ideal situation: you're the ideal punching bag. If I'm angry with the world, I hate you. I see you as being some sort of faceless version of me, though sometimes you make comments and for a short time seem real. In fact, of course, you are real, so I'm wishing you'd make comments more often.

(b) How do I know you're real, though? And how do you know I am? You don't, unless we know each other offline. You don't know that anybody online is real. I had a mini-discussion about this in emails during the week with someone I think of as a friend. Something he said made me feel unsure about him and I questioned his authenticity, but instead of wanting to talk, he diagnosed serious paranoia on my behalf and (I now assume by his silence) buggered off himself.

If he'd given me the chance to explain, this is what I would have said. You do not know that anybody online is real. You can't know. There is no way of knowing. They can post photos of themselves, they can say "I know A, who knows B", they can say "I talked to C on Friday", they can give you stats and memes and whatever the hell else they want to throw online, and all of it, all of it might be bullshit. You don't know. I don't know. Nobody knows. There is no way of knowing. Even in real life you have few ways of knowing that somebody is telling you the truth, though at least in a face-to-face situation you have the benefit of being able to read body language and voice intonation. But online, trust can only be built through words and pictures. Say it or show it. That's all there is. And I'm guessing that most people are honest, but some people are not. How do you tell the difference?

Here we get down to it. You tell the difference by using your own feelings (including those possibly-ridiculous ones that occur by chance as though they're intuition), by asking questions, and by making up your own mind. That's how you tell. It's up to you. And if the other person doesn't like the question, or doesn't want to be questioned at all, they should say that. But keep this in mind: to say there are some questions that shouldn't be asked is to limit friendship. Friends should be able to say whatever they want and know they are safe to do so, even when they're behaving stupidly or wrongly or rudely. If you can't be fully human with a friend, you can't be human at all. Friendship should be the place where you're safe to be yourself - that's what it's about.

My friend thinks that online life (or perhaps just me?) is not worth the hassle. I think he's wrong.

(c) We should assume and believe in the honesty of each other. This doesn't mean that doubts are wrong or offensive, it just means that the fundamental assumption underlying online life should be that the social rules which dictate offline behaviour should also operate online too. When somebody invents a commentor or blogger but then writes as if they have a real offline existence - without informing the reader of their fictional status - they are violating the faith of other people online. We should have faith in each other, we should believe we're all authentic and believable, we should be able to trust each other. And just as religious faith is stronger when built on acceptance of doubt ("I've considered all the possibilities and choose to believe" is a much stronger position than "To question is to be unfaithful") then so is faith in humanity. People who violate this faith and fuck about with fake personas masquerading as real people deserve a kick up their sorry arses.

** I'm not asking your opinion about this, by the way (in case that's what it looks like).

Rock stars: a self-portrait

2007-02-24T00:33:00.000+11:00

I was just browsing through photos at The Cloud Appreciation Society and found one called Sunset over The Olgas, Northern Territory, Australia. It's a nice photo (see detail below), but what I like best about it is the copyright notice (which usually shows the name of the photographer):

Kata Tjuta is the name given by the traditional landowners, the Anangu, to The Olgas - those big bumpy bits you can see in profile on the horizon.
:)

(The area is part of the Uluru - Kata Tjuta National Park, and you'll need a permit if you ever want to do any commercial photography, filming, etc.)

Sunday

2007-02-18T18:47:00.000+11:00

Would you like to guess what we're looking at here, reader? Click on the image for a larger view if you need one, but I knew as soon as I stepped into this room: there was a snake on the windowsill, and it was inside the insect screen (one of the few insect screens on any window in this house that actually has no holes in it). That snake was right here in this room. Bloody hell! Bloody bloody hell!

I was walking in here to close the window because it had just started raining, and thank God it had, because otherwise I wouldn't have walked into this room to close the window, and that snake would now be somewhere in this room without me knowing about it.

It must have come through a hole in the bottom of the window frame (designed to let rainwater out, presumably), or maybe I just hadn't noticed the screen was loose at the side somewhere. It got in. That's the point. A fucking snake - another one - got into this room. My haven. My safe little island. The place I feel okay. Bloody hell.

I got the broom from the next room and hit the insect screen with it, and the screen just flew out (thank God), as did the poor little snake who seemed just as keen as I did for our meeting to end as soon as possible. Then I closed the window and cried. And then I started shaking and cursed my stupid fucking useless life wherein which I have to chase the snakes out of this fucking room and this fucking life on my own. Where is the justice? And why am I such a drama queen? Some things have no answers.

It was probably a harmless tree snake, and if you know different, I don't want to hear it. I'm almost certain it was a tree snake, and this is the third time in about as many weeks that I've seen it, though this is the first and hopefully last time it'll ever be in this room.

And so. The end. Was there any point to this story? No. Is there any point to my existence? No. Is there any point to any fucking thing? No. And yet it goes on. Boo fucking hoo. God, I hate snakes.

Cartoon by Wiley Miller

2007-02-18T17:11:00.000+11:00

(click for a larger view)

"Non Sequitur", Sydney Morning Herald, 10-11 February 2007, p. 41.

The McKinsey conjoined quintuplets...

2007-02-16T08:10:00.000+11:00

... find their niche.

Cartoon by Matthew Diffee, originally published in The New Yorker, 01 March 2004.

Best wishes for a pleasant Friday, reader.

Things I love: 4

2007-02-11T11:24:00.000+11:00

How damn cute are these eggs??!!

Happy little faces from Sunny Queen Farms.

I took them for a walk outside to see the morning sun, and as you can see, they loved it!

Work safety

2007-02-07T08:48:00.000+11:00

Work safety is important, and safety decals (stickers) have an important role to play in that important task. Here are two from the mower (a small tractor). The first one is located just below the steering wheel so that it's easy for the operator to see:

Warning! Get to a library!

The next one is found on the new deck (the part housing the mowing blades) and... Don't know, maybe it's just me? I look and look and can't make much sense of it. I'm wondering and I'm worried.

Repel dangerous rays! Get in a box?

Things I love: 3

2007-02-06T09:46:00.000+11:00

The current Amazon website. "Tell us how you really feel, honey." :)

And Flickr any time, every time. They manage to put light-heartedness into everything, and it's such a treat, bless 'em. The current members' sign in page (please note the final line):

Stupidly buoyant

2007-02-05T09:37:00.000+11:00

Sometimes you've got to laugh because it's funny.

I need to go to town today to get food, because I'm starting to starve to death... Not really, but I am down to less than 50 teabags, and that's the signal: time to go to the supermarket (something I put off as long as possible).

I don't want to go to town. I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here on the farm and hide away from the world and run this day the same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that, and just keep living this whole safe routine over and over until extinction of life thankfully intervenes to stop the fun. Kind of joking, and also kind of not. And this morning I started writing notes on this phenomenon - the not wanting to go to town because I'd rather die phenomenon - just as a way to get outside the experience and be more objective and try to see what's going on.

I'll probably do a post about this some time (that is the intention) but something funny happened earlier - a side event. Someone rang about a farm matter, and though I often get quite stupid and anxious about phone calls, this one went well. He said what he had to say, I replied in the appropriate manner, and that was that. Quite amazing, in a small quiet way, and I was just writing notes about this, about the fact that sometimes things go well, and that the problem isn't usually the situation itself, the problem is that I get overly analytical and self-critical and too caught up in myself. When I don't do that, things go well. The phone call had been fine. It hadn't been something to worry about. So in other words, I can handle things like this. I can do this. It's no big deal.

So how long was it before I stopped feeling good about the phone call and started analysing it? (If you're similarly inclined, you're probably grinning, reader. Doesn't take us long, does it?) Maybe two minutes maximum of feeling happy and pleased, and then in my notes I was into it: 'I'm already knocking myself** about what I said on the phone, my tone of voice in saying "Fantastic!" It was too jovial, too happy, inappropriate for the situation, it would have sounded stupid, sounded like someone being buoyant.'

Sounded like someone being buoyant... Not joking. That's what I wrote. I was worried about sounding too buoyant... Buoyant: cheerful or resilient. Like that's a bad thing? I mean, what?? I'm worried about sounding too buoyant??!!

Bloody hell, reader! Please, you've got to laugh. I am (now), and thank God for that.

:)

** Criticising, finding fault.

May as well laugh...

2007-02-04T10:23:00.000+11:00

Councillors heard that Peter Mickleburgh, district councillor for the Mulbarton area, is number 9 on the list of people eligible to use the 8-person nuclear bunker at South Norfolk House.
- Mercury & Advertiser, Norfolk.

Cartoon by Bill Leak, but I didn't record the source details of the clipping, sorry. It was from an Australian magazine years ago (1980s/90s).

I haven't been able to check whether the Mercury & Advertiser report was genuine, but a quick google revealed that in 2003 a Peter Mickleburgh was elected for a 4-year term as a Mulbarton Parish Councillor. My guess is that he's now fighting his way to the top of the list. Go Peter! ;)

(click on image for a larger size)

Early profiling...

2007-02-04T00:57:00.000+11:00

Cartoon by J.C. Duffy, originally published in The New Yorker, 08 September 2003, found via a website which no longer allows a person to steal a picture file (this particular person now using a screen-capture, trim and enlarge arrangement).

Things I love: 2

2007-02-02T20:23:00.000+11:00

I love clouds and the sky and my camera and making pictures with them, and I love this photo.

How to be evil

2007-02-02T09:56:00.000+11:00

The Chinese President, Hu Jintao, will visit Sudan today. China has strong financial ties with the country, mostly based on oil interests, and could bring much pressure to bear on the Sudanese government. Please keep that in mind if you read this article, China's Hu to visit Sudan to review trade, not abuses.

In other news, Leading Sudan independent newspaper closed, ostensibly for publishing articles which might jeopardise a court case.

UPDATE

How to be partially non-evil

According to an anonymous Sudanese official who was present at their meeting, Chinese president tells Sudan counterpart he must do more for peace in Darfur.

(via Sudan Watch, thanks)

AND:

President Hu reportedly pledged 40 million yuan ($48 million - USD?) in humanitarian aid for Darfur: China's Hu tells Sudan it must solve Darfur issue. Please note that he also agreed to give Sudan an interest-free loan of 100 million yuan - compared to 40 million pledged in aid - for the building of a new Presidential palace. Thank God, eh? A palace is so important when you have a country to run.

PLUS:

The Committee to Protect Journalists with more information on the closing of the Sudanese newspaper: Paper banned for reporting on murdered editor.

Macquarie Dictionary Word of the Year 2006

2007-02-01T21:10:00.000+11:00

(Following on from an earlier post)

And the winner was:

muffin top

noun Colloquial the fold of fat around the midriff which, on an overweight woman, spills out over the top of tight-fitting pants or skirts.

According to the results page, "The Committee thought that the vivid imagery of this word with its sense of playfulness and the fact that it is an Australianism made it the clear winner."

But that's not all the Committee (or at least the person writing up the competition results) had to say. Said Committee gave honourable mention to three terms, the last of which was "plausible deniability", and the definition of that term was followed by something which I would call "a political statement" (I've added italics so you just can't miss it):

plausible deniability
noun a carefully crafted situation in which a member of government can deny any association with any illegal or unpopular activities carried out by servants of the government in the event that these activities become public.

This term was first used by the CIA in relation to their activities in the Kennedy Administration. It does seem to have become a key feature of the American, British and Australian governments over the last decade.

:) Go the Macquarie!

Feral animals shouldn't look so cute

2007-01-30T18:03:00.000+11:00

The rabbits around here are breeding like rabbits at the moment - they're everywhere! I saw these characters this morning while standing on the verandah taking photos of the sunrise. The bitumen you can see is the driveway, not a public road, so they weren't in any danger of being run over. Not that they seemed worried by the possibility anyway... particularly not the one reclining in the first photo. At first I thought it must have been injured - its back legs broken or something. But no, it really was just lazing there.

And these are all separate individuals, by the way (and there are three in the third photo, in case you miss one or two). There were eight of them altogether.

Really short stories

2007-01-26T22:16:00.000+11:00

1. Short short stories by Dave Eggers in the Guardian.

My favourites:

You know how to spell Elijah (05 June 2004)
A No On Debussy (12 February 2005)
Accident (16 April 2005)
We Can Work It Out (23 April 2005)

2. Six-word fiction in Wired magazine.

Please, this is everything, I swear.
- Orson Scott Card

100 questions

2007-01-25T01:25:00.001+11:00

I ripped the following quiz meme thingie off someone else's blog, and that's exactly what he said too.

:)

1. One of your scars - how did you get it?

There's one on my right hand from the time when I was about two and trying to peel an orange with a knife.

2. What is on the walls of your room?

Blu-tacked to the wall behind my computer screen, a page from an Ansel Adams book:

Grand Sentinel and Talus, Kings Canyon National Park c.1925

3. What does your mobile phone look like?

It's silver and looks like a phone. I don't know anything about mobile phone fashion, but there's a good chance this one is not a trendsetter.

4. What music do you listen to?

I'm intermittently listening to a CD - Crowded House, Recurring Dream (their greatest hits). When I can't concentrate, I have to turn it off.

5. Do you know what time you were born?

9:45am, 07 October 1963, Lismore (28s48 153e17), Australia - all the information you need to investigate my murky astrological depths (I assume that's the reason behind the question). Free horoscopes are available from Astrodienst (click on Free Horoscopes, then Personal Portrait) and no, I don't believe in mine, because it's too awful: "When crossed, you can be traitorous and may even turn informer"?? Uh-oh. Just don't cross me, that's all.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?

Nothing. I seem to have stopped wanting anything at all. Probably need more vitamins.

7. Who do you miss?

Someone I haven't met yet.

10. (What happened to questions 8 & 9, hey?) What's your middle name?

Ann.

11. The best TV show ever created?

Can't decide, and can't think of many candidates anyway. Let's just go with Northern Exposure because I watched an episode of it today, and it still holds up after all these years.

12. The last person you talked to?

Not really "persons" but I talked to the dogs, Big-Pup and Little-Pup, earlier tonight.

13. Do you get scared in the dark?

Sometimes, but I'm not scared of the dark, I'm scared of the possibility there are nasty people lurking out there somewhere.

14. The last person to make you cry?

Me. I misunderstood what someone meant.

15. What is your favourite cologne/perfume?

My current favourite perfume (actually eau de toilette but it lasts for ages) is White Musk from The Body Shop. I like the citrusy, mossy, woody, vanilla-y territory in the scent spectrum.

16. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?

It makes me sad to read answers to questions like this when the person nominates something that rules me out as being interesting to them. I know there's a good chance nobody else in the universe is quite this stupid, but just in case...

17. Would you rather be smart or funny?

Smart.

18. Coffee or energy drinks?

Coffee, but I don't know what energy drinks are anyway.

19. What is your favourite pizza topping?

The one that was on a pizza I ate in Rome. I think it featured zucchini and potato. It was fantastic.

20. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

That pizza.

21. Who is the last person you made mad?

I don't know. I suspect people don't tell me these things, they just simmer and hate me from a distance. Boo. How am I supposed to learn, eh? How?

22. Do you speak another language?

Yes. Blathering Idiot.

23. What was the first gift someone ever gave you?

Life, I guess.

24. Do you like someone?

I tend to get a little crush on anybody who even says hello these days. But not seriously, no.

25. Are you double jointed?

My little fingers are pretty bendy but I don't know if that qualifies as double jointed:

26. Favourite clothing brand?

No idea. I currently live in King Gee work clothes, but not as a fashion statement.

27. What's your dream car?

I don't dream about cars, but I like the look of some old European ones. I think they're Renaults. Not sure.

28. What colour is it?

Probably white.

29. What's your favourite kind of exercise?

I don't like exercise except as a by-product of doing something else. I like walking, for example, but if I go to "get some exercise" I'm more likely to hate it.

30. Would you fall in love knowing that the person is leaving?

Yes. We're all leaving eventually.

31. What is the best way to tell someone how much they mean to you?

Just say it, I suppose.

32. Say a number from one to a hundred:

53

33. Blondes or brunettes?

For what?

34. What is the one number you call often?

My dial-up ISP number.

35. What annoys you most?

Me.

36. Your weaknesses?

Is this asking for a strongest weakness? Fear, probably.

37. Tater tots or fries?

Don't know what tater tots are, and I hate saying "fries". They're chips. Chips.

38. First job?

Babysitting for the neighbours.

39. Ever prank called someone?

No. I hate that. Someone did it to me once when I was in high school and I still feel so humiliated I could probably sit down right now and cry about it.

40. What were you doing before you filled out this?

Getting the dogs walked and fed. Plus I took a break in the middle of these questions to watch TV. Now it's getting really late but I feel like I have to finish doing the damn thing or I know I won't post it tomorrow and then I'll have wasted all this time for nothing. It's not like it was a highly productive use of several hours anyway, but but but...

41. If you could get plastic surgery, what would it be?

I'd wipe off the lines around my mouth. I really can't stand looking at myself now. Instead of getting used to them, they're becoming more and more of a problem.

42. Why did you fill out this survey?

I like answering questions like this, and I like reading them when other people do.

43. What do you get complimented about most?

Nobody compliments me about anything. (You could call that fishing for compliments, but you wouldn't, I know.)

44. What would you do if alcohol became illegal?

One possibility is that I would stop drinking it. Another is that I wouldn't. It would depend on whether I agreed with the law, whether I was likely to get caught for breaking it, and how much I wanted to drink something alcoholic.

45. What do you want for your birthday?

Nothing.

46. How many kids do you want?

I can't say it's too late for me to have any at all, but realistically, that's probably the case. So far I've done my best to avoid facing the reality of this.

47. Were you named after anyone?

Not named after someone as such, but Mum liked the name of someone she'd known in her hometown.

48. Do you wish on stars?

Yes. Every time I see one falling.

49. Which finger is your favourite?

People have favourite fingers??

50. When did you last cry?

Yesterday, but now I can't remember why.

51. Do you like your handwriting?

Definitely not. I hate it. It's so messy now, I can hardly read it.

52. What is your favourite lunch meat?

I used to love devon and tomato sauce sandwiches.

53. Any bad habits?

Yes.

54. What is your most embarrassing CD on the shelf?

I'm not embarrassed about any of them. John Williamson's Boomerang Cafe is probably the least cutting-edge, shall we say?

55. If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

I can't even get my head around the question.

56. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell?

Yes. I didn't actually swear not to tell, it was more an off-handed "okay" and I wasn't paying much attention, but the problem was that half an hour later I was still not paying much attention and was freely and loudly blabbing the very thing I'd only recently been asked not to tell. Bad form.

57. Do looks matter?

In what? It depends.

58. How do you release your anger?

I'm most likely to cry and get shaky.

59. Where is your second home?

In my head.

60. Do you trust others easily?

Yes and no. Depends.

61. What was your favourite toy as a child?

My doll, Louise. She was a Christmas present, and Mum made clothes for her. She's still in my wardrobe, but looking slightly mildewed now, poor thing.

62. How many numbers are in your mobile phone?

Numbers for 7 people, but 2 of them are overseas, 1 probably has a new number by now, and I include myself as one of the 7. Plus I never actually ring anyone :)

63. Do you use sarcasm?

Hell no.

64. Do you know anyone famous?

No.

65. Have you ever been in a mosh pit?

No.

66. What do you look for in a guy/girl?

If this is asking for the qualities I most admire (is it? I'm not sure) they include kindness, humour, intelligence, and an interesting and cool misfittedness.

67. What are your nicknames?

I don't really have any, and never have, and I don't know why.

68. How many pairs of shoes do you have?

One pair of work boots that I wear every day, including to town, and one pair of long rubber boots for wet weather wear. I used to have a pair of thongs (flip flops in the US?) but they recently broke, and that was tragic, yes. I also have a pair of bear slippers (like teddy bears for feet), but they're hiding deep in the heart of the wardrobe and won't see the light of day until winter. Obviously I have a very active social life.

69. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

Well yes, because otherwise I couldn't get my feet out of them.

70. Were you upset about Steve Irwin dying?

No offence intended, but no.

71. What's your favourite ice cream flavour?

Mango.

72. Are you lazy?

Very lazy about things I don't want to do.

73. What are your favourite colours?

The cool ones: blues, greens, greys, white.

74. What is your favourite band?

Don't have one.

75. How many wisdom teeth do you have?

None, they all had to be removed because they were growing crookedly and messing up my head.

76. Do you want everyone to answer these questions?

Yes, that would be good.

77. What are you listening to right now?

Cicadas outside in the night, plus the buzzing hum of the fan over on a shelf near the door, and the really annoying noise this computer makes.

78. Last thing you ate?

A banana sandwich.

79. Last person you talked to on the phone?

Mum.

80. What's the first thing you notice on the opposite sex?

Notice on them? I don't know, whatever's most obvious about them. It would vary.

81. Favourite thought-provoking song?

I can't provoke my thoughts into thinking of one.

82. Favourite thing to hate?

Anything everybody else hates, because I just love the feeling of camaraderie that widespread hatred creates. Or maybe I hate stupid unthinking pack-like behaviour from fuckwits.

83. Favourite drink?

Tea, white with one sugar.

84. Favourite zodiac sign?

I don't care for any of them.

85. Favourite sport?

Anything I'm not required to play myself.

86. What is your hair colour?

Silver.

87. Eye colour?

Green-grey, depending on surroundings.

88. Do you wear glasses?

Not yet, but I'm looking forward to doing so.

89. Siblings?

Two younger sisters.

90. Favourite month(s)?

The cooler ones: May, June, July.

91. Do you like sushi?

Yes.

92. Last thing you watched?

Men in Trees tonight.

93. Favourite day of the year?

The "free to do anything I want all day today" day.

94. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

I would have a hard time doing that, yes.

95. Summer or winter?

Winter.

96. Kisses or hugs?

Depends who else is involved.

97. Relationships or one-night stands?

Like that's a question I have to consider.

98. Who is the most likely to answer these questions?

Presumably someone who likes answering questions.

99. Who is least likely to answer these questions?

Everybody else.

100. Create your own question.

Better not, because I'd still be here in the morning trying to think of one.

Things I love: 1

2007-01-21T18:12:00.001+11:00

It's rather hot (though still not humid, thank God), it's really windy, the house is a mess, the garden is a mess, my life is a mess, and today I'm not willing to do anything about any of it. Instead I want to just sit here in front of the fan and tell you about a few things I love. This might be the start of a series, I'm not sure yet. It'll depend on whether the idea and the motivation die before "Things I love: 2". At the moment I feel a bit squeamish about the idea, but we'll see. It just occurred to me the other day, wondering how I might try to get my bearings (in a "I was there > now I'm here > I want to go there" sense). I'm doing this online and not in private because:
(a) This is a blog, so why the hell not? ;)
(b) I can never be bothered reading anything I write for myself; it just turns into illegible crap and endless whingeing. I need the discipline of trying to communicate in sentences, and I can only find that discipline if I'm writing for somebody else.
(c) Publishing anything online makes it seem more important and worthy of reading, and yes, I know that's a rather pitiful and stupid attitude.

Anyway, here we go with some things I love, and not in any particular order.

The parquetry floor in the Louvre Museum, Paris (and "Louvre" is written on the photos, not the floor).

I was there in 1989, and haven't been back since. The place is really quite huge and I don't know anything about its collections or the works displayed, and when I was there the English-translation headset tour-guide thingummies weren't available (I can't remember why) so I just ended up wandering around like a lost sheep, getting tired, and, you know, lost. Finally I started noticing the floor and how amazing it was. I can't remember which gallery these photos were taken in, but I was standing there trying to sketch the pattern of the parquetry - and having a bit of trouble (the lines get quite complicated) - when a nice man with an English accent walked over and suggested I could use my camera to record it. Now, ... how do I convey this? ... I know it is almost inconceivable that a functioning human with a camera hanging around her neck wouldn't think of using said camera as a tool in this instance, but yes/no/whatever, the idea just hadn't occurred to me. "Ohhh!" I said. "Good idea!" So I took these photos. And Nice Man and I then had a little chat about the fact he was an engineer who was gratified by the fact that an ordinary citizen like myself had paused to appreciate the wonders created by other engineering types like himself. He seemed really nice too, did I mention that? Of course I couldn't think of anything to say, and that was the end of that. But looking at these photos, I have Nice Man to thank for the reminder: I love the wonders of engineering, I love wooden floors, and I love patterns.

Woodcut by M.C. Escher: "Day and Night" (1938) from a gallery at M.C. Escher: The Official Website.

In 1995 I was doing a one-year graduate diploma in teaching or education or primary teaching or whatever the hell it was called, in Newcastle NSW, and about the only things I loved that year were the kids in the classes I taught (but yes, I know kids aren't "things") and a big print by M.C Escher which I borrowed from the library to use in a lesson about tessellating patterns. I can't remember which print it was, but it was similar to the one above. It was huge, too, stuck onto cardboard, fraying around the edges. I had to carry it to school on the bus, with all my other gear, wedged into the peak-hour busload of unhappy commuters. (sigh) 'Twas not a happy year. (One of my old posts mentioned an imaginary friend I dreamed up back then: Stick-man. I loved him too. Add him to the list.)

And finally, still in the "I love patterns" theme, my patchwork quilt, though it's not actually quilted, it's just patchwork (pieces of material sewn together) and not even sewn by hand, it was all thrown together on a sewing machine a few years ago when I was babysitting my sister J's house. She has a lovely house, and I had a lovely time, reading books and making this quilt. And I love the quilt still. It's quite artless and probably (I guess) almost patternless as well. I just sewed long strips of material together, and then cut them into strips, and sewed the strips together. Various colours clash or reoccur in unlikely places (side by side, for example) and all the material came from things I had used before: old clothes and so on, so the whole thing is made up of stories or history, if you want to look at it that way. It reminds me of the old-fashioned quilts made by necessity rather than according to fashion, and the whole thing is really quite unlike me: not planned, a bit impulsive, loose and relaxed. It's starting to fall apart now, too, and I even love that about it.

So. The end. All of that only took me about 5000 hours to write. And the day is not warm any more, it's even windier than before, I'm getting a headache, and everything is still in a mess, but
I
hope
you
are
well,
reader.

Happy Sunday to you.

Happy Wednesday

2007-01-10T02:43:00.001+11:00

This picture came from a magazine, but do you think I can remember which one or when? No. Can't.

But isn't that the happiest person you've ever seen? :)

We shy persons

2007-01-06T14:21:00.001+11:00

If you're shy, you'll appreciate the beauty of the "we" in that title: We shy persons.

:)

But if you're some kind of freak and you're not shy and have no idea what I'm talking about, the joy is in being included, feeling part of a group. We shy persons are perpetual outsiders. Mostly that's our own fault, or the result of our own choices, or or or... etc.

Yeah, anyway. I posted a couple of long quotes from Garrison Keillor over in my archives. If you've got about 15 hours to spare, you might like to peruse. He's telling us how to write letters, and why we might want to:

To be known by another person - to meet and talk freely on the page - to be close despite distance. To escape from anonymity and be our own sweet selves and express the music of our souls.

Same thing that moves a giant rock star to sing his heart out in front of 123,000 people moves us to take a ballpoint in hand and write a few lines to our dear Aunt Eleanor. We want to be known. We want her to know that we have fallen in love, that we quit our job, that we're moving to New York, and we want to say a few things that might not get said in casual conversation: Thank you for what you've meant to me, I'm very happy right now.

It sounds just like personal blogging too, doesn't it? Oh! Why, yes! And that's why I posted it.

Enjoy, if you can.

Word of the year

2007-01-03T20:08:00.001+11:00

Do you know about The Macquarie Dictionary Word of the Year 2006? I found it by accident (searching for the online Book of Slang... which seems to have disappeared, damn it).

Competition is between 55 of the words/terms added to the dictionary last year, and aims to decide "the most valuable contribution to the English language in 2006". If you want a say, get there before voting closes at midnight on Sunday 21 January.

I've never even heard of most of the words.

:(

What the hell is "buildering", do you know? It's not actually one of the competition candidates, it's just sitting in the definition of one of them. (1)

And "pawedness"? (2)

And "nanna nap"? (3)

Out of 55 candidates, I only knew 6 words. That's so pitiful. Boo for me.

If I had to choose the eventual winner (the official vote doesn't ask you to do this), runner-up would be... "plausible deniability"!!

And Word of the Year 2006 would be... (put your hands together for a round of applause, please) ... "peak oil"!!

(1) "a form of free climbing on the external walls of buildings"
(2) "laterality in animals, leading them to give preference to the right paw or the left paw"
(3) "a short sleep taken, often in the afternoon, in order to re-energise oneself" (Sounds like a fine idea, but why is it named after nannas? Men take naps. Do they want to be known as nannas? My grandfather was probably the Best Napper in the Entire Universe, and not only that, he could snore loud enough to wake the dead. It was always quite a performance, and especially amusing in a church setting.)

2007

2007-01-01T08:36:00.000+11:00

Well yes, it's a new year here in Australia. Already. We do so like being ahead of the rest of you (let's not mention all those nations to our east which somehow manage to get there before us. The cheek of them!)

Pictured is a little calendar from a Russian town north of the Arctic Circle. I don't know what the caption says (if you do, please say) but I'm hoping it's something like "Happy New Year, piggies! Let's celebrate in outlandish hats! With glitter!"

It was such a huge New Year's Eve celebration in this household last night. The dogs were just about wild... with sleep. I was going to do a Northern Exposure marathon (sister and hero J gave me DVDs for Christmas, and my parents gave me the DVD player to watch them with... yes, I'm a lucky and grateful little chook). But for one reason or another, mostly loneliness and melancholy (yeah, boo-fucking-hoo, and to all my non-existent friends, go screw yourselves), I lost the energy to walk as far as the DVD player and ended up watching TV instead, and was very glad about that: ABC TV gave us Cream at the Royal Albert Hall in London in 2005. I only saw the last 20 minutes, damn it, but it was fantastic, probably one of the televisual highlights of my year.

The Cream boys - let's face it, and I mean no disrespect here - these blokes are getting old. If you saw them in the street, you might wonder if they were doddering off down to the club to play the pokies**... (the aforementioned insult was brought to you by classist ageist ignorance, by the way, and is an exaggeration for dramatic effect. For all I know, these 60-somethings are out running marathons and writing groundbreaking brainiac papers or something)... but no, wait! They rock! Put them up against any number of youngsters in a similar genre, and these grandpas, God love 'em, would thrash the shit out of those children. It was so heartening. I've been getting increasingly worried about my own wrinkles and other associated oldnesses, and feeling in many ways like my life may as well be over, but here on screen were people older than me, wrinklier than me, and worlds ahead of me in every way, including talent, prospects and (I hope) happiness. Ahead, is the point. Ahead of me. All is not lost. Age shall not weary them.. or it will, but not to a lethal extent... or not until death is officially declared. (UPDATE: What I mean is, age shall not weary them, but not because they're dead and will never get old, but because they're alive and kicking and doing what they love. And I mean us! us! all of us.)

Or something. The point I'm trying to make is that oldies can rock, and they did. Go, you grandpas! I'm glad I was around to see it, and I want to become what each of them appears to be: a wrinkly cool person.

And to you, reader: whatever. It's 2007. Yay. New start.

** Poker machines: gambling implements designed to induce coma-related money extraction.

Happy new year 2007

2006-12-31T19:28:00.001+11:00

This is me being damn proud of myself, reader! That's snake skin I'm holding up. Me! Holding snake skin! From a snake!

It took some baby steps to get this far, and that's my new year's resolution: taking baby steps, doing something rather than nothing, even if it's not much. That was my resolution last year too, but it fell badly by the wayside. So here we go again. Take two: baby steps.

And baby steps with a snake skin. It sounds like a joke. I took a few more photos and yeah, they're in the archives. I kept trying to focus on the thing as an object, something to investigate. And that was fine and interesting, but every so often I'd start thinking about it being a snake object - a snake, a snake!! - and that's when I'd jump up and do a bit of squealing and wringing of hands in a stupid and alarming manner, etc. But onward ever onward I went. Oh yes, it was dramatic...

:)

Baby steps from a geriatric baby. Here's how it went. First I lifted the thing off the rafter with a broom, put it on the ground, and indulged in some of the above-mentioned performance piece (squealing, hand-wringing). But then bit by bit I graduated from poking the skin with my boot, to wearing gloves and poking it with the end of one finger, to touching it skin to skin, no gloves, and finally: writing on the damn thing and brandishing it aloft!

Woo-hoo! I am my own hero!

Not that this means a miracle has occurred. I'm still scared. After finishing the photos, I threw the skin in the bin, but had to go back later and get it out and wrap it in newspaper so I couldn't see it anymore. It was too scary going near the bin. And this was just the remains of a snake, not even anywhere near the real thing.

But still. Woo-hoo.

Oh, and yeah: happy new year, reader :) May you find healthy wealthy wiseness this year, and peace and joy. Best wishes.

Out with the old

2006-12-31T11:27:00.000+11:00

Here it is, the last day of 2006, and I guess we all should be shedding our skins in one way or another, making way for the new. But I didn't expect to see this happen literally. There's a snake skin out on the verandah, one half of it hanging overhead and swinging in the breeze. I walked out to take a photo of the sunrise this morning, about as alert as usual (ie. completely braindead) and nearly died of shock.

I'm so scared of snakes, or have been up until this year. I thought maybe I was starting to lose this fear though. On the three occasions this season that I've seen a snake, I've been more curious than afraid - for the first time ever.

But not so fast, baby. I took photos of the snake skin this morning - they're over in my archives** - but I was scared just standing near it. And I'm less than overly keen on the idea that somewhere nearby, probably overhead, probably in the roof, there's a snake who has outgrown its skin.

In many ways this is a stupid fear. Back in September one of the North Coast newspapers, The Village Journal, ran an article about snakes (warning: includes close-up photo of a snake's face) which included the following:

But what you may like to consider is that the snake that lives around or near your premises, be it in the paddock or garage, knows you, as it has lived within its territory since it was born and in some cases that can be up to 50-60 years. Most snakes have a very long life. It knows when you hang out the washing, it knows when you go to sleep and the coast is clear, it knows to stay out of your way. The one time you spot it sunning itself or hunting for food, it will be as surprised as you, but will not strike as long as you leave it alone, and give it a chance to get away from you. You have simply noticed it for the first time, whereas it may have seen you thousands of times before.

It's stupid to be afraid of them, in other words, because they want to stay out of our way just as much as we want to stay out of theirs.

Still. Who ever had a fear because it was sensible? (Apart from all those boring fears that can save your life, I mean.)

Am I reaching a conclusion with this post? No, not really. Here's the end. Out with the old, I say, but maybe it just takes a while.

** It's worth the effort of starting a secondary blog just so you can put things there and enjoy the groovy geeky pleasure of saying, "They're over in my archives, yeah!" :)