Just 1 view... I'm Having A Midlife Crisis...

THe world from my soapbox

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So what do you do?

You're the leader of a sizeable, albeit non superpower country called Australia. The new American President decides to mock and bully you publicly via Twitter. (PS: that last sentence would have been inconceivable a year ago...) What do you do? Do you bite your tongue knowing any sort of response in retaliation will poke the proverbial bear? You know the maniac and his puppet masters are pushing boundaries everywhere to see how far they can go. You know you can't be the first one to push back. You can't be "that guy" who started the fight. Do you put your tail between your legs? Do you lose face. Do you hope someone else will have it worse tomorrow. Do you hope your voters, your country, your fellow Australians (in all their multicultural glory) will understand? Malcolm Turnbull I do not envy you. This is an impossible situation and there is no right answer and a hundred wrong ones. But here's the thing. You bought this upon yourself. You and your political cronies created this despicable situation where refugees are treated worse than animals. You then expected that the new America of shut borders, xenophobia, racism and fear would take your cast offs, the poor wretches that deserve humanity rather than the hell and humiliation you have subjected them to. You allowed the media to report your optimism. In this matter you are a fool. And now your foolishness is on display for all to see. You have given the madman what he wanted. A chance to pick on someone to make them look weak and in turn increase his perceived power. And we as a country are better than this. We should do better for these people. They need it more than ever before. You must do better. We all must

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I'm having to bite back an almost irrepressible urge.

Imagine a packed train at rush hour. There's been delays due to muppets on the track. You manage to squeeze on and as you look into the cabin you see a magical unfilled seat. I almost levitate trying to get there first, only to find the neighbouring gentleman (I use the term gentleman in its loosest form) has decided his satchel needs its own seat next to him. I stand there. I stare down. He stares ahead. I stand my ground and start pointedly staring at him. He grimaces and finally acquiesces to move his bag. How arrogant do you have to be to do that. I mean maybe he has a disorder. Maybe he can't handle people being to close to him. I must say though that if this is indeed the case, rush hour public transport in Sydney is not for you sir... Sadly this isn't a one off incident. Every morning I ride a bus into the city and see at least 3 different people block the seat next to them, often forcing others to stand. This is part of what's wrong with world today. Yes. I'm having a rant. It won't be the last! What makes any one of us so damned special that we would put a barrier up to stop another human from being able to rest for a while. One day I will embarrass someone who does this. I will look at them with a smile and loudly enquire if they would mind moving their precious vessel of earthly possessions so that I might rest my weary feet. Ha ha. The thought has me smiling as I leave the train. I wonder if the man's put his bag back on his seat yet...

[just1view]

A thought occurs to me.

Maybe now is a good time to start blogging again. It's all a bit unreal. Surreal. Shits got weird and yet day to day life continues on for the majority of us and we ignore that we're punch drunk from the craziness. Bottom line is things are all a bit buggered, and I think we only have ourselves to blame. Americas broken. The EU is broken. There are entire swaths of people in war torn countries that are broken beyond anything we can imagine. Corruption and greed are everywhere and yet frighteningly so is ennui, apathy and dejection. There are agendas we don't understand yet, hidden in plain sight by using shock tactics and diversions in the name of terror and religion (which should be recognised for what they are - fear, hatred and ignorance). The most powerful statement I can think of to steal and sum up how I feel is "It is no measure of health to well adjusted to a profoundly sick society". I don't know who originally said this, but I thank them. It sums up my sadness and my reality. So yes, maybe it's time to blog again. To dump out ideas and observations, fears and hopefully triumphs as this year grinds ahead.

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The Grand Mid Life Crisis Tour - Day One:

Vietnam is madness. Noise, lights, smells, and Lord have mercy the bikes. My partner of course wants to move here immediately... The nine hour flight to get here boarders on annoying. It's not so long that you can genuinely bitch about insufferable jet lag, but long enough that your arse goes numb, your skin dries to a husk and your body screams at the pretzel shapes you have contorted it into while trying to get a moments sleep to make the time go faster. But all round it was an easy flight - and considering I had been drowning in an ear and sinus infection just 48 hours earlier I was frankly somewhat delighted that my ears didn't explode as the plane ascended... Customs was easy. They aren't the friendliest bunch (my partner reminded me they were probably soldiers confined to a crappy desk job that they hated - good times). Everything was going swimmingly until you walk outside into the madness. The heat, the people, the noise, and yes - the bikes. As we were driven to the hotel I could only marvel at the chaotic sea of people on two wheels, helmets optional, driving erratically essential. There were entire families on one bike - four up - the father texting as he went. And they toot. All of them. All of the time! But enough for the moment. Day two has started and it's time to go join the tour for today's adventures. I will revisit day one though. There is the tale of the two lesbians (or are they lesbians... - I must find out more), the medical emergency, and being shouted at by an Australian customs official who told me I wasn't allowed through security. Yes definitely more later...

[just1view]

I don't care about a lot of things.

I don’t care about Kardashians. I don’t care about Bachelors giving out roses. I don’t care about politicians pulling pigtails. Come to think of it, I don’t care about politicians in general.

There’s only so many things I can give a damn about at any one time.

I care deeply about my loved ones. (No surprises there). I care about my friends. I care about getting through each day as best I can.

So it has surprised me deeply to find that in my limited supply of give a crap moments I find I care very much about the fate of two men I’ve never met, who will almost certainly die in a few hours time. If you read this and have no idea what I’m talking about, google Bali Nine, and look for the names Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran.

I have done a lot of thinking about why I should care about this at all. I don’t normally jump on the bandwagons of the moment - in fact I tend to shy away from anything that has the words ‘candlelight vigil’ associated with it. But I do care, and I have cared for many months now.

After much introspection, I’ve decided the following points sum up why I care so much:

1) I’m terrified of dying. Yup. I wish I could say there is something more profound as my first reason for caring that these men are about to be executed, but if I examine my base emotion, it’s fear at what they will be facing, and the absolute terror I feel when I put myself in their position… (which brings me my second point).

2) I identify with these guys somehow. To put yourselves in someones shoes and imagine what they are going through, you must have made some sort of connection to account for the emotional response. The only connection I can possibly make is that I was a ratbag when I was younger. No, I never smuggled heroin (though I did have an odd incident where a school principal accused me of stealing poppies to create heroin when I was fifteen - so we’re clear - he was wrong….). But I can totally understand the allure of money, the feeling of invincibility as you roll the dice, the belief that you are smart enough to get away with it. But it’s not enough to just identify with this - there are millions of ratbags who have become brutal criminals and I don’t really care about any of them at all.

3) The key addition is that I abhor injustice, and I believe that is what is about to happen. These men haven’t just become reformed and rehabilitated. They have become people who are helping to reform others. They don’t ask for a pardon. They just want to continue working with others in the prison to show them that there are better ways and brighter futures than the paths they have taken.

What good does it do to kill them now?

But it was inevitable. There was no other way that this could have played out.

And make no mistake. It is very political.

So tonight I will go to sleep, and I will try not to think about what Andrew and Myuran will be thinking (least I don’t sleep at all as my deep fear of dying kicks in).

I will wake up tomorrow, and I will check my phone to confirm they are gone. And I will sigh deeply, say a prayer that their families suffering will not be too great, nor go on for ever, and I will go to work and care about one less thing.

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Am I displaying traits that fit the definition of tenacity or insanity?

That’s the question I must ask myself as I dive back into the great music cull of 2012 thru 2017 (I’m being realistic rather than optimistic now).

I tried to explain my mission to what I thought was a kindred spirit at work the other day. She looked at me in amazed horror as I detailed my mission to listen to every single one of my ten thousand songs, decide to keep or delete, followed by my own personal rating, updated genre if required and the addition of the correct album art. (Occasionally I will get excited and add the track number but that’s more for albums I truly love).

She was appalled. Why would I do this? I was obviously crazy - and what made it worse was the fact I’ve been at it for nearly three years now…

And I’m only up to the J’s.

Yup. There’s the kicker. I’m barely half way through - and that’s not even counting all the additional music starting with A-I that’s come in since 2012 that I have to go back and categorise.

So back to my original thought. Am I displaying great tenacity or absolute insanity?

And as I dive back into the fray I must ponder what iTunes will actually look like by the time I’m finished. Will there even be an iTunes…?

This is getting deep.

Enough. Back to Joe Satriani, followed by Joe Simon (wait - who the hell is Joe Simon??)

[just1view]

Personal space invasion.

I hugged a random stranger in a park today. I think it’s a first. (Possibly a last too, but never say never I suppose).

As a general rule I don’t like hugging. I’m not even fond of being too close to people. In fact, unless your my partner (or one of a handful of carefully selected family members), I require you observe a minimum proximity of three and a half feet at all times.

(That makes me sounds like a Disneyland ride doesn’t it… hands must stay inside the vehicle at all times…)

But back to my moment of unexpected and random hugging.

His name was Glen.

He saw me coming from a while away. I was in the middle of my morning mid life crisis walk (I’ll explain that one another day), earphones in, sunglasses on, striding with purpose etc etc. He was maybe 20 metres away when he held out his arms. He kept walking towards me, arms outstretched, and as I got closer I could see a huge smile on his face.

I was a touch freaked out - I’m not ashamed to admit it. That was, until I saw the smile. The beautiful smile of someone with one extra chromosome. I took my earphones out, took my sunglasses off, and smiled at him as he kept coming towards me.

I noticed his attendant watching with interest to see what I’d do. I quietly asked what his name was, and I hoped that my questioning gaze would indicate I was asking for his guidance as to what I’d do next. He told me it was Glen, and he seemed relaxed.

I turned my attention back to Glen, said hi with a big smile, opened my arms, and hugged him tightly. Then I stepped back, and as I asked him if he was out for a walk too, I noticed that he was at the most childlike end of the Downs Syndrome spectrum. We talked, only briefly, and I wished them well and walked away.

I don’t know if I reminded him of someone, or if he simply thought I looked like someone that needed a hug (Lord knows I’ve never thought of myself exuding that aura before…!). But I’ve never met anyone in my life that was so happy just to have a hug.

As I walked away I marveled at that wee moment. It felt odd to be honest. Odd, but good.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to start randomly hugging others (keep that three and a half feet perimeter in place people), but I do feel quite blessed to have had an encounter with someone who was the essence of innocence and derived such joy from such a simple act.

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Effective (albeit disturbing) advertising on my bus ride home tonight...

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Things I've learnt today: 37 degrees is an acceptable temperature if you don't stand in direct sunlight for too long (or next to a bus pumping out hot air) Buses are an excellent source of cool air if you feel it's all a bit much (I never thought I could find so much joy in public transport) My offices air conditioning is secretly trying to give me frostbite My fake tan application programme was left a bit too late I love you Sydney (and just quietly I love you too global warming - even though my love is so very wrong)...

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Pros and cons to standing on a bus:

Pros: Great workout for calves, thighs, torso and arms. Good view of the sunset and city lights. A chance to practice my never before used "air surfing" skills (yes, like air guitar but mimicking surfing). It will get me home faster than waiting for a bus that might offer me a seat. Cons: I'm useless at surfing (irrespective of whether its pretend or not). My calves, thighs, torso and arms will punish me for the next 48 hours for daring to subject them to exercise. At any moment I know I'm about to arse over and make a complete fool of myself. In the process of arsing over I have the unenviable options of a) landing on the weird looking 300 pound IT nerd's lap or b) turning into the human equivalent of a bowling ball, and knocking over the ten poor unsuspecting souls in front of me or c) jerking wildly before cracking my head open on the side rail and passing out with my skirt ending up over my head. I suppose I only have myself to blame for all if this... If only I was more nimble - surfing would no longer be an issue and I could gently rock along with the motions of the moving death trap. Or maybe more athletic - my muscles would thank me instead of going on strike. I know I need to be more patient - I could have waited for the next bus. But more than anything I wish I was rich - with enough money to have a chauffeur drive me to work. (who am I kidding - what work!!)

[just1view]

It's a headphone world...

I'm sitting on a bus in Sydney, heading home after a long week. Everyone around me is plugged into their phones, their iPods, their tablets, staring downward silently, barely a flicker of emotion registering. I on the other hand am tapping my foot, nodding my head and beating my fingers against my phone - unable to hold back my reaction to the beats that fill my ears. Why doesn't everyone else act the same way? Is it not the done thing? Are they so filled with wearies from the day that the music doesn't register? Or are the just listening to shit songs? I can't help myself. Music makes the ride with home with the rest if humanity bearable. I can escape to my own personal set of theme songs and be happy knowing that the smile on my face is confusing the hell out of everyone else...

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It's been a while...

Probably too long.  I'm sure anyone who actually used to read my daily rants have given up wondering if I'll ever stage a return.  Truth is I've been hiding.  My grand adventure really was beginning to look like the grand mid life crisis, and frankly I wasn't interested in sharing my failures with the world at large. 

A little over 3 months ago, I left my job, my home, my country, and moved to Australia.  When I last scribbled a half decent blog, I believe my stuff was being packed away, and I had no confirmed place to put it on the other side, as well as no job and no prospects.

This was either going to be the best or worst move I had ever made (figuratively and literally).

I know it's going to be ok now, so I have enough perspective to start documenting my journey thus far.  It has definitely been a process of discovery, humility and frustration.  And being poor.  With no car.  And for a while even no internet...

(Dear Lord I don't know how I've survived this long!)

It's good to be back!

[just1view]

Just quietly this thought has crossed my mind more than once...

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Moving day...

Weather: 100% humidity with steady drizzling precipitation. Perfect moving weather... Alertness: Six hours sleep and two coffees down - this is as good as its going to get. Preparedness: Feels like 98%. Suspect movers will say its 65%. Hoping its not actually 35%. Cat: Skittish and unimpressed. Underlining this by going outside, getting as wet as possible, then returning to jump all over me with evil glint in her eye. ... Movers have arrived ... The movers: Big burly and gruff. Am told I am superfluous to requirements. They are crashing around upstairs. I am nervous. The boyfriend: Displaying mild consternation at being unable to assist in any way other than making coffee. While his coffee making skills are excellent, it doesn't quite make up for not being able to play with the big boys. The cat: Asleep in the middle of the lounge... Me: Am wondering what to do for the next 8 hours. (Though apparently will be needed for humping boxes downstairs later - oh goodie...) ... two hours in ... Weather: Still 100% humidity. Would be like living in the tropics except the temperature is suddenly dropping. Damp and cold. Living the dream. Movers: Crashing has got louder and the occasional grunt drifts downstairs. I suspect the sound of ripping packaging tape will haunt me for days. Boyfriend: Has continued his excellent coffee service. I don't think he realises how much I love him right now... Cat: Hiding under table. I worry she may need counselling. Boyfriend snorts and says the only mental anguish she's suffering is worrying about when her next feed is due... ... later ... Movers: They have taken over the lounge and are moving with swift brutality. Me: Am sitting in the stairwell, feeling slightly traumatised. ... even later ... Movers: Lunch break. Me: Mental break[down]. Cat: Outside glaring at me with undisguised contempt. ... late afternoon ... Movers: Sweating and puffing as they carry my life away one box at a time. Me: Freezing in the corner thanks to every door and window in the house being open. Cat: Overcome initial shock and is now terrorising movers from below. ... end of the day ... Movers: Gone Sanity: Gone Cat: Gone

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The grand adventure or the great midlife crisis?

Depending on what time you ask me my life could be either right now. Today's conundrum is what worldly possessions must I have close to me for the next 6 weeks. Then more importantly, can I fit those possessions into two suitcases and not go over 46 kilograms...? (I suspect this is like asking my cat to grow wings and fly to the moon). I have 24 hours to make this happen as the movers arrive this time tomorrow and take what's left of my stuff away. [side note - I say 'what's left' as I'm still lamenting the loss of a decades worth of hoarding last weekend after culling out, throwing out or giving away 50% of my house] So despite being told on numerous occasions that I pack like I'm travelling for a month not a week, I am left wondering how to tackle the seemingly impossible. Two weeks left in NZ. Potentially another four weeks in AUS before our stuff catches up with us (let alone the fact that I still have nowhere to live...!). What will I need?? (Deep down I know that I'll take a bunch of crap that seemed like a good idea at the time but is simply not practical on either side of the ditch). The hardest part is knowing I have to day goodbye to all of my boots for a while as they can't fit in the suitcase. All of them! Sigh... I'll keep you posted on progress.

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Conundrum.

Boyfriend wants to use his flash new phone to scan the microchip in our cat. I won't let him. I irrationally (his word not mine) believe it will fry the cats brain. Boyfriend laughed at me. Laughed til he cried. Nerdy bastard. Poor cat.

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So this is the end.

My grand social experiment has come to a close. The year is complete. I have imagined this day for a long time actually, wondering how I would feel as I imparted my final words of wisdom to the world at large. For the longest time I wondered if anyone even read this at all. I felt like screaming IS ANYONE ACTUALLY OUT THERE... Would you care if I stopped? But truth is I haven't done this for other people. I did it for myself. So how do I feel now that I have blogged every single day for an entire year? Surprised - I actually made it. Bereft as I will miss this daily discipline. Relieved that at times of sickness or exhaustion I won't have to find the internal fortitude to write something. Proud that I have stuck to my guns and actually finished what I started (and I believe I've improved a lot along the way). Sad more than anything. It's finally finished. But is it? Well actually I can promise that this part of the journey is over. No more thoughts for the day, highlights or lowlights done on a daily basis. But I don't actually want to stop altogether. I have discovered a love of writing that is an unexpected gift I will treasure forever. So... I have decided to chronicle the grand adventure ahead. Not every day of course (never again), and only when I have something worth reading! It should be interesting... I'm about to be jobless, homeless, and head to a new country to prove once and for all that I can be successful at anything I truly put my mind to. (At the very least I'll have something interesting to read when I'm eighty.) Thank you if you've followed me at any point along the way. Don't bother checking in tomorrow (unless the apocalypse hits or Piers Morgan gets deported). But I'll be back in a few days. For now, that is all. Thoughts for today: NZ news - Sir Paul Holmes was knighted today in a special ceremony that took into account his failing health. As a younger media survivor I have a great deal of respect for this man, who is an iconic figure in radio, newspaper and television. Congrats Sir Paul. May your days be peaceful as you fight your final battles. More NZ news - Mediaworks have pulled the entire advertising campaign of Kim Dotcoms regarding his Mega launch in four days. PR stunt or Record Company hissyfit...??? Japan news - Japan airlines have grounded all their Boeing Dreamliner's after an emergency landing today. Good to know... [mental note, AVOID Dreamliner's in 2013]. Music news - during his 2004 tour, David Bowie was followed around by a woman dressed as pink rabbit. Thats so cool. I want a stalker dressed as a pink rabbit! Highlights: A shopping trip to get my wardrobe ready for the grand adventure. Lowlights: Um, well, this bit right now.