I only buy the newspapers on weekends and don’t often get to watch the television news, so I rely on internet sites to keep me up-to-date. I check the ABC / Australian / Courier Mail website a few times a day for breaking news. The Courier Mail website allows readers to comment on / respond to stories – some newsworthy, some not and some sensationalised (welcome to the media!).
I am gobsmacked, however, over three separate responses over the past two weeks.
The first incident, which was widely reported, involved a mother leaving her baby in a vehicle in the driveway of a business, while she stepped away briefly (into an office to pay a bill). I gather she left the keys in the ignition in order to leave the air-conditioning running in the car.
I agree that it was a silly thing to do, but few women could claim they have never left a sleeping child in a car in (what they assume to be) a safe place. Of course this whole thing came to the attention of the public when the car (with the child in) was stolen. Fortunately, once the unsuspecting thief realised he / she was kidnapping, they left the vehicle. The child was safe and all was well. You would think that everyone would be relieved that it ended well, acknowledge that the mother did something she regretted, but learned her lesson.
No – of course not. Via radio stations and websites the poor mother was crucified, written off as a bad mother who should be arrested. Akin, people said, to the parent who leaves a child outside of a casino all day while they gamble. I was shocked, and fortunately others agreed and added their voice to those who could not believe how ready people were to criticise.
The second incident – reported yesterday, but occurred the night before somewhere in the Northern Territory (note my aim here is not accuracy of the incident but rather the reactions, so fact-checking hasn’t been a priority). A mother, who had a commitment preventing her from picking her child up from the child care centre, requested a relative do so. The relative forgot (or something). The mother arrived home, realised what had happened so returned to the child care centre. No one was there and the place was locked. She somehow (heard or saw) her child still there. Alone. So she broke a window to retrieve her child.
Again, rather than commiserate with the poor mother who would have been worried about her child and wonder how centre staff could have overlooked the child, the web lynch-mob crucified the mother. Amongst the bloggers who were horrified at the centre’s error were a number who vilified the mother for using day care (at all) and for leaving the child in there all day. Some comments indicated that ‘it basically served the mother right for using child care, rather than caring for the child herself’. Of course it set off a debate (again) about working Vs stay-at-home mothers. A debate which will never be resolved.
Finally, today’s media about a pregnant woman, who a bottle-shop attendant suspected of stealing, was asked to show her stomach to prove that she was in fact pregnant, rather than hoarding bottles under the shirt! The woman did so, but later reported the incident.
The comments again have been flying. “How dare the shop assistant ask?” “How stupid for the woman to comply” etc etc.
But, what took the cake was the number of people who commented on the fact that a pregnant woman SHOULDN’T be in the bottle shop or drinking in the first place.
Whoa! Where on earth does that come from. Others equally horrified at such judgement suggested the woman was shopping for a lazy partner or husband; or perhaps had guests coming for dinner; or (as indicated in the article) buying a gift for someone.
I know nothing of any of these people. Perhaps they are / will be bad mothers. Perhaps the pregnant woman is a shop lifter.
My anger and disbelief isn’t because of the car thief, or the child care centre staff, or the shop attendant. It, and the shame I feel, comes from those so ready to judge. Whatever happened to compassion for our fellow man (or women, in this case)?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sweet Dreams....
Despite my love of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the recent Twilight books, I have never been a fan of other-worldly phenomenon or the supernatural. Or the occult. Or anything intangible. (Sorry mum and KC!). I need proof. I am the sort of gal who needs some tangible, irrefutable evidence in order to believe.
Having said all of that, I have become increasing conscious, over the past few years, of my dreams. Before I moved into my current place (3 ½ years ago) I never remembered my dreams. I dreamt, I know that, but I rarely remembered what I dreamt. Occasionally I would get a flash the following day or as my head hit the pillow the next night.
I now live in a place more exposed to light and sound, so can only blame those factors for the increasing rate of dream activity. My dreams are now are so vivid and so regular that I bought one of those books. You know the kind. “Dream Analysis 101”. Or “Dream Analysis for Dummies!” Or similar! And, I have also been forced to Google some of my dream topics, such is my desperation.
One of the dreams I have had FOREVER is actually a common one. My teeth fall out. In some way or manner. It can be one or several – but never all of them, mostly just the one. I am always relieved in my dream to discover that it is a side tooth and that people will barely notice it. Of course on waking I am even more relieved to discover that I still have a mouth full of teeth.
Fortunately for me – and myriads of others apparently – this is one of those common dreams. There are a few others: being naked; being chased; flying; and falling.
But, back to me! Apparently, losing your teeth in a dream can indicate that you are feeling child-like. Or that you are sensing a loss of power, a feeling of being out of control or disempowered. Or, they can relate to our anxiety about how we are perceived by others, our attractiveness, or ageing. Sadly I suspect both analyses would fit me. I don’t have it regularly and my response to this is to consider, next time I have it, what is happening in my life or on my mind.
Another dream which I have now had over a decade or two, has related to contact lenses. I know, it seems ridiculous. But, it was worse (and more regular) when I was playing sport. In my dream, I would be dressing, ready to go and play in some important competition and my lenses would be ripped, or even more often – they would be huge. I would then be left in front of a mirror trying to insert these MASSIVE lenses into my eye.
Interestingly – or not – the contact lens thing isn’t listed amongst the common dreams, so I am yet to understand that that might be telling me. It seems (from my extensive research!!) that dreams about eye glasses being cracked can refer to ‘not seeing things clearly’. Hmmm…
However (and back to my original point), nowadays I have two common dreams and the issue is on my mind, because I had one of them last night. (Again!) From my reading, the reason you have recurring dreams is that your subconscious is trying to tell you something. I guess the reasoning is that – once you resolve the issue at hand – the dreams stop.
Recurring Dream Number One, involves me missing a bus. Just. I am rushing to a bus stop or a bus station, or I go to the wrong stop first and I just miss the bus. Of course in real life I would be frustrated and wait for the next one, or just get a taxi!
I guess, the dream started about a year ago. At first I thought it was linked to the fact that my usual bus stop in the city did actually change. So the first time it seemed like I could actually translate that literally – that I was worried I would forget about the change. But it has continued.
The obviously analogy would relate to me ‘missing the boat’ (or bus in my instance). I am 41years old. Single, alone. The lesson would not be lost on me. But can it really be that obvious? That literal? Surely the psychic ‘powers that be’ would have a couple of plot twists!!?
Recurring Dream Number Two, varies but always involves a plane. Sometimes I travel to a location and then have difficulties finding my passport or completing arrival forms. Sometimes the plane breaks down. On occasions it crashes – though not in a manner that causes me any injuries. The dream itself isn’t specific enough for me to do much research. Apparently the traveling part can relate to taking a ‘journey in life’ or the ‘transition to something new’. Being on a plane can be about ‘getting a better view’. Of course the crash scenario can indicate that one is ‘setting overly ambitious goals’ (obviously ‘the crash and burn’ scenario).
This was the dream I dreamt last night. I was with my father (also possibly my mother, though she wasn’t the focus) and we arrived in a place which I think was Germany (having never been – or wanted to go – I am not sure). My father, unaccustomed to travel was unaware of the need to submit travel papers and became stressed on arrival. I recall trying to help him and the fact that we needed to step out of the queue and take some time to complete the paperwork. But that’s it. As much as I remember. I am an impatient traveller, so I can imagine the delay would frustrate me. However, as is usually the case, I woke (or stopped dreaming) before anything else happened. I never tend to actually arrive properly at my destination - I become thwarted in my attempts (perhaps that is the lesson in itself - something to do with achieving my goals? Or not!)
So… despite my (admitted) uncertainty about the psychic world, it makes sense to me that my mind takes me to a place where it wants me to be when I don’t have control of it. It points me in a direction for a reason. So, until I work these ones out and move onto something else, I will keep dreaming and wait for the lessons to begin!
Having said all of that, I have become increasing conscious, over the past few years, of my dreams. Before I moved into my current place (3 ½ years ago) I never remembered my dreams. I dreamt, I know that, but I rarely remembered what I dreamt. Occasionally I would get a flash the following day or as my head hit the pillow the next night.
I now live in a place more exposed to light and sound, so can only blame those factors for the increasing rate of dream activity. My dreams are now are so vivid and so regular that I bought one of those books. You know the kind. “Dream Analysis 101”. Or “Dream Analysis for Dummies!” Or similar! And, I have also been forced to Google some of my dream topics, such is my desperation.
One of the dreams I have had FOREVER is actually a common one. My teeth fall out. In some way or manner. It can be one or several – but never all of them, mostly just the one. I am always relieved in my dream to discover that it is a side tooth and that people will barely notice it. Of course on waking I am even more relieved to discover that I still have a mouth full of teeth.
Fortunately for me – and myriads of others apparently – this is one of those common dreams. There are a few others: being naked; being chased; flying; and falling.
But, back to me! Apparently, losing your teeth in a dream can indicate that you are feeling child-like. Or that you are sensing a loss of power, a feeling of being out of control or disempowered. Or, they can relate to our anxiety about how we are perceived by others, our attractiveness, or ageing. Sadly I suspect both analyses would fit me. I don’t have it regularly and my response to this is to consider, next time I have it, what is happening in my life or on my mind.
Another dream which I have now had over a decade or two, has related to contact lenses. I know, it seems ridiculous. But, it was worse (and more regular) when I was playing sport. In my dream, I would be dressing, ready to go and play in some important competition and my lenses would be ripped, or even more often – they would be huge. I would then be left in front of a mirror trying to insert these MASSIVE lenses into my eye.
Interestingly – or not – the contact lens thing isn’t listed amongst the common dreams, so I am yet to understand that that might be telling me. It seems (from my extensive research!!) that dreams about eye glasses being cracked can refer to ‘not seeing things clearly’. Hmmm…
However (and back to my original point), nowadays I have two common dreams and the issue is on my mind, because I had one of them last night. (Again!) From my reading, the reason you have recurring dreams is that your subconscious is trying to tell you something. I guess the reasoning is that – once you resolve the issue at hand – the dreams stop.
Recurring Dream Number One, involves me missing a bus. Just. I am rushing to a bus stop or a bus station, or I go to the wrong stop first and I just miss the bus. Of course in real life I would be frustrated and wait for the next one, or just get a taxi!
I guess, the dream started about a year ago. At first I thought it was linked to the fact that my usual bus stop in the city did actually change. So the first time it seemed like I could actually translate that literally – that I was worried I would forget about the change. But it has continued.
The obviously analogy would relate to me ‘missing the boat’ (or bus in my instance). I am 41years old. Single, alone. The lesson would not be lost on me. But can it really be that obvious? That literal? Surely the psychic ‘powers that be’ would have a couple of plot twists!!?
Recurring Dream Number Two, varies but always involves a plane. Sometimes I travel to a location and then have difficulties finding my passport or completing arrival forms. Sometimes the plane breaks down. On occasions it crashes – though not in a manner that causes me any injuries. The dream itself isn’t specific enough for me to do much research. Apparently the traveling part can relate to taking a ‘journey in life’ or the ‘transition to something new’. Being on a plane can be about ‘getting a better view’. Of course the crash scenario can indicate that one is ‘setting overly ambitious goals’ (obviously ‘the crash and burn’ scenario).
This was the dream I dreamt last night. I was with my father (also possibly my mother, though she wasn’t the focus) and we arrived in a place which I think was Germany (having never been – or wanted to go – I am not sure). My father, unaccustomed to travel was unaware of the need to submit travel papers and became stressed on arrival. I recall trying to help him and the fact that we needed to step out of the queue and take some time to complete the paperwork. But that’s it. As much as I remember. I am an impatient traveller, so I can imagine the delay would frustrate me. However, as is usually the case, I woke (or stopped dreaming) before anything else happened. I never tend to actually arrive properly at my destination - I become thwarted in my attempts (perhaps that is the lesson in itself - something to do with achieving my goals? Or not!)
So… despite my (admitted) uncertainty about the psychic world, it makes sense to me that my mind takes me to a place where it wants me to be when I don’t have control of it. It points me in a direction for a reason. So, until I work these ones out and move onto something else, I will keep dreaming and wait for the lessons to begin!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Diet, schmiet!
To stave off my apathy I decided I should write about something close to my heart. Dieting! The fact that I am; my need to; how much I hate it etc. As I opened my laptop I suddenly remembered that this brainwave had come to me on a previous occasion. So, I will share with you, an excerpt from a year or so ago!
Diary entry – sometime early in 2008 – could be anytime (given the number of times I ‘started’ a diet!)
I thought I would document diet attempt no. 1,765,907 (at least!). Okay, so I am not actually starting today. It is day 0, or maybe -1. This is the day that I cram as much crap as possible into my body before I start ‘dieting’ tomorrow.
Okay, okay…. Now I have dieted enough (!) to know that one shouldn’t ‘diet’, it should be a way of life etc etc. Blah blah. I am (if I do say so myself) very ‘evolved’ in the world of dieting, health and fitness – as are many women. Ask us about the inner workings of a car engine and we draw a blank, but anything to do with calories, carbohydrates, GI, Atkins, Zone, South Beach – and so on – and we are literally walking encyclopedias!
I am pretty sure I started dieting in high school (not primary school, though that was when my brother started teasing me about my weight). Of course, I started with the tried and true methods – the liquid diet (where one only drinks liquid all day). It only goes for a day so is really quite sustainable – highly underestimated as a scientifically-proven, balanced eating plan?!! However, naturally the kilo or two you lose that day reappears the next day. Which is probably why I moved onto the far more responsible and effective diet, the Israeli Army Diet. I think that was what it was called anyway. You eat apples for two days, cheese for two days. Or something. Not sure I got past one day – possibly my dislike of apples was a problem.
Anyway, just before I turned 15 I became more serious about my chosen sport (basketball). I had an encouraging coach who boosted my self-esteem and had faith in my abilities. Even so, I can’t recall now how or when I started “The Diet” (ie. aka, the diet to end all diets!). But, I exercised more – lots of sprints to prepare for our training sessions and started cutting back on food.
Again this was before I had any idea about food (and before I bought my first pocket-sized Calorie Counter), and I think I survived on corn chips (CCs had just come out – circa 1983) and orange mineral water. Over the month of December 1983 I lost about 1 ½ stone. My parents started to get worried. I had gone from 10 ½ stone to 9 stone. (See, given that I am 177cm tall, I wasn’t actually overweight to begin with). They took me to a doctor (who helpfully told me that if I wanted to be a model – obviously ALL girls of that age aspired to be models – I could be, because, he encouraging told me, ‘there were plus sized models’). Despite his extraordinary help (NOT!), I became more obsessive about it all, lost another 1 ½ more stone which started the spiral that has been my life since then.
I won’t bore you with details but, I eventually got to about 47kgs – skipped parts of school to go and sprint around basketball courts. Baked obsessively, ate stuff, exercised for hours after etc etc. For the next couple of years, as I finished high school and went to Uni, my life was all about food. I eventually learned how to vomit, and becoming bulimic was (of course) handy as I started to eat more. Not so handy, however, in that I started binge eating for the first time in my life (having always had a good appetite, but not obsessively so) which lasted on and off for years and still haunts me today sometimes when I don’t feel in control.
Of course, having hit 47kgs, I have managed to also hit 120kgs over more recent years. I recall the day that my life became less about food and dieting – remembering that I hadn’t counted calories that day and what an achievement that was! Of course, the binge eating has lasted and it depresses the hell out of me to realise now that I have hit 40 and it is 2008, that I have spent 25 years dieting and ‘not dieting’. Imagine what else I could have occupied my mind and my life with had it not been about that.
I have lost and gained at least 20kgs so many times over the past 15 years I don’t care to even think about it. I have done Weight Watchers – successfully a number of times…. Only to regain – either quickly or slowly. I know all of the answers – lifestyle choices, sustainable habits, food, exercise – cardio, weight-bearing etc and yet I can’t seem to act on my knowledge. I often joke that I am motivated – HELLO, I am 40, single, childless and have never been in a relationship - of course I am bloody motivated. But I don’t seem to have the level of commitment I once had as a 15 year old – to stick to anything (including normality).
My most recent diet was some vague version of one of those low-carb diets. It worked. I lost some weight and felt better. Then came Christmas, I suspect the weight is all back on. I don’t really know because you see, for the past 5 or so years, I don’t want to know. I am tired of numbers – calories, kilos etc. Tired of my life being ruled by the scales and what they say. I remember my last successful stint at WW – despite having lost 21kgs I was desolate when I hit a plateau and each week I would weigh in to no avail and I would spend the rest of the day in a state of depression.
Sunday, 25 January 2009
Back to the future. So, here I am, possibly a year later and in the same predicament. I consider options like lap-banding, in times of desperation. I was told that you can lose about half of the weight you need to through the operation. For me that could be 20kgs. A great loss, but I have done that before through dieting and think I would prefer that option rather than the more severe notion of surgery!
So, this time I am doing the meal replacement thing – shakes twice a day. I am almost 2 weeks in and am already waivering. I have never been a believer of meal replacements. My problem isn’t really my meals (though possibly the size of them is an issue!). It is the other eating – chocolate for television. Comfort food. Food for when I am sad, lonely, depressed, happy, or just because I deserve it. However, I have decided that I need a kick up the backside and so I will do this for a while. Still no weighing of course, so I will wait until I feel a difference in my clothes and then consider something a bit less severe.
I am doing pilates twice a week (once with a small group and one private lesson). My lessons involve a lot of strength work as well as ‘core’ strength, so it is really my cardio exercise I need to focus on. I am aiming for three times a week. At the moment I am hoping to keep up a program of interval training – alternating walking with very slow running. I am only doing 20-30 minutes, but if I can keep that, I can increase the time and amount of time running.
Am I sufficiently motivated to continue? I am not sure, but I really hope so. I suspect my BMI is over 35. I am now 41 years old. Time is literally disappearing. One of my new year’s resolutions was to actually STOP focusing on trying to meet a man. “The One”. I have decided though, that I am not ready to accept a life alone. Without a family. Without having had a child. So, another resolution involved looking into sperm donor programs and the possibility of having a child by myself.
So, surely that should give me the motivation I need. I am certainly hoping so and will keep you up to date with my progress.
Diary entry – sometime early in 2008 – could be anytime (given the number of times I ‘started’ a diet!)
I thought I would document diet attempt no. 1,765,907 (at least!). Okay, so I am not actually starting today. It is day 0, or maybe -1. This is the day that I cram as much crap as possible into my body before I start ‘dieting’ tomorrow.
Okay, okay…. Now I have dieted enough (!) to know that one shouldn’t ‘diet’, it should be a way of life etc etc. Blah blah. I am (if I do say so myself) very ‘evolved’ in the world of dieting, health and fitness – as are many women. Ask us about the inner workings of a car engine and we draw a blank, but anything to do with calories, carbohydrates, GI, Atkins, Zone, South Beach – and so on – and we are literally walking encyclopedias!
I am pretty sure I started dieting in high school (not primary school, though that was when my brother started teasing me about my weight). Of course, I started with the tried and true methods – the liquid diet (where one only drinks liquid all day). It only goes for a day so is really quite sustainable – highly underestimated as a scientifically-proven, balanced eating plan?!! However, naturally the kilo or two you lose that day reappears the next day. Which is probably why I moved onto the far more responsible and effective diet, the Israeli Army Diet. I think that was what it was called anyway. You eat apples for two days, cheese for two days. Or something. Not sure I got past one day – possibly my dislike of apples was a problem.
Anyway, just before I turned 15 I became more serious about my chosen sport (basketball). I had an encouraging coach who boosted my self-esteem and had faith in my abilities. Even so, I can’t recall now how or when I started “The Diet” (ie. aka, the diet to end all diets!). But, I exercised more – lots of sprints to prepare for our training sessions and started cutting back on food.
Again this was before I had any idea about food (and before I bought my first pocket-sized Calorie Counter), and I think I survived on corn chips (CCs had just come out – circa 1983) and orange mineral water. Over the month of December 1983 I lost about 1 ½ stone. My parents started to get worried. I had gone from 10 ½ stone to 9 stone. (See, given that I am 177cm tall, I wasn’t actually overweight to begin with). They took me to a doctor (who helpfully told me that if I wanted to be a model – obviously ALL girls of that age aspired to be models – I could be, because, he encouraging told me, ‘there were plus sized models’). Despite his extraordinary help (NOT!), I became more obsessive about it all, lost another 1 ½ more stone which started the spiral that has been my life since then.
I won’t bore you with details but, I eventually got to about 47kgs – skipped parts of school to go and sprint around basketball courts. Baked obsessively, ate stuff, exercised for hours after etc etc. For the next couple of years, as I finished high school and went to Uni, my life was all about food. I eventually learned how to vomit, and becoming bulimic was (of course) handy as I started to eat more. Not so handy, however, in that I started binge eating for the first time in my life (having always had a good appetite, but not obsessively so) which lasted on and off for years and still haunts me today sometimes when I don’t feel in control.
Of course, having hit 47kgs, I have managed to also hit 120kgs over more recent years. I recall the day that my life became less about food and dieting – remembering that I hadn’t counted calories that day and what an achievement that was! Of course, the binge eating has lasted and it depresses the hell out of me to realise now that I have hit 40 and it is 2008, that I have spent 25 years dieting and ‘not dieting’. Imagine what else I could have occupied my mind and my life with had it not been about that.
I have lost and gained at least 20kgs so many times over the past 15 years I don’t care to even think about it. I have done Weight Watchers – successfully a number of times…. Only to regain – either quickly or slowly. I know all of the answers – lifestyle choices, sustainable habits, food, exercise – cardio, weight-bearing etc and yet I can’t seem to act on my knowledge. I often joke that I am motivated – HELLO, I am 40, single, childless and have never been in a relationship - of course I am bloody motivated. But I don’t seem to have the level of commitment I once had as a 15 year old – to stick to anything (including normality).
My most recent diet was some vague version of one of those low-carb diets. It worked. I lost some weight and felt better. Then came Christmas, I suspect the weight is all back on. I don’t really know because you see, for the past 5 or so years, I don’t want to know. I am tired of numbers – calories, kilos etc. Tired of my life being ruled by the scales and what they say. I remember my last successful stint at WW – despite having lost 21kgs I was desolate when I hit a plateau and each week I would weigh in to no avail and I would spend the rest of the day in a state of depression.
Sunday, 25 January 2009
Back to the future. So, here I am, possibly a year later and in the same predicament. I consider options like lap-banding, in times of desperation. I was told that you can lose about half of the weight you need to through the operation. For me that could be 20kgs. A great loss, but I have done that before through dieting and think I would prefer that option rather than the more severe notion of surgery!
So, this time I am doing the meal replacement thing – shakes twice a day. I am almost 2 weeks in and am already waivering. I have never been a believer of meal replacements. My problem isn’t really my meals (though possibly the size of them is an issue!). It is the other eating – chocolate for television. Comfort food. Food for when I am sad, lonely, depressed, happy, or just because I deserve it. However, I have decided that I need a kick up the backside and so I will do this for a while. Still no weighing of course, so I will wait until I feel a difference in my clothes and then consider something a bit less severe.
I am doing pilates twice a week (once with a small group and one private lesson). My lessons involve a lot of strength work as well as ‘core’ strength, so it is really my cardio exercise I need to focus on. I am aiming for three times a week. At the moment I am hoping to keep up a program of interval training – alternating walking with very slow running. I am only doing 20-30 minutes, but if I can keep that, I can increase the time and amount of time running.
Am I sufficiently motivated to continue? I am not sure, but I really hope so. I suspect my BMI is over 35. I am now 41 years old. Time is literally disappearing. One of my new year’s resolutions was to actually STOP focusing on trying to meet a man. “The One”. I have decided though, that I am not ready to accept a life alone. Without a family. Without having had a child. So, another resolution involved looking into sperm donor programs and the possibility of having a child by myself.
So, surely that should give me the motivation I need. I am certainly hoping so and will keep you up to date with my progress.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
About me
Hey there. My name is Rockafella Skank (well, it isn’t really, or my parents would have a lot to answer for!) and I am a self-confessed, self-absorbed, over-thinker.
A long time ago I decided that I should deal with this problem by inflicting on others, my thoughts and (obviously insightful) analyses.
I also love writing.
Combining the two has enabled me to regale my friends and family with everything from daily diatribes highlighting the excitement of my working-day, to sagas of my speed dating experiences, to my thoughts on achieving peace in the Middle East. Well, okay, maybe not that last one…!
Family, friends, colleagues as well as those who avoid me will also, however, attest to the fact that I tend to be a tad long-winded in regaling these said-tales. I am easily distracted. Before I know it, I am off on some tangent and it isn’t uncommon for me to not actually finish my original story. (Which possibly says something about its importance in the first place!!!)
During a recent holiday I watched “The View”, an American talk show featuring up to five women (including Barbara Walters and Whoopi Goldberg) sitting around a table chatting – and occasionally talking to guests. I was entranced. As someone took up a point (it was about sex, so I was obviously riveted), another jumped in and then someone else. All of us ended up someplace completely different to that from which we started.
That same night in bed, with sleep being the plan (sadly!), my mind raced all over the place – as it usually does. Leaping from one thought to another. I realized then that my mind is, in fact, like The View. I start contemplating some (very important issue), or perhaps trying to daydream about some gorgeous man enraptured with me (or something – and there could be sex?!) but then I am off to the next thing and I am distracted by some other far-less-fulfilling-but-worthy-of-obsessive-thoughts issue. I haven’t yet decided if this is a sign that I am, in fact suffering from ADD, or some sort of multiple personality disorder?!
So, what I am going to attempt to do here, is put my thoughts on paper (keyboard / screen) and in doing so, spare my long-suffering friends and family from my rants – though I am pretty sure they enjoy knowing why people should not dawdle along footpaths in the city at lunchtime when some of us are in a hurry!
In my conversations I am easily sidetracked. By putting my thoughts onto the screen however, it is hard to get too sidetracked and, besides, my fingers can’t keep up with my mind!
While I love writing, I hate the idea of being critiqued. While at university (many many moons ago!) I refused to go to tutorials where I would actually ‘meet’ the people scoring my essays.
Nowadays and a whole degree or two later, I spend my work life writing bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo but have finally become accustomed to others scrawling in red pen over my words. But, they are not really ‘my’ words – but someone else’s. I am just reporting them.
Having said all of that, however, a New Year’s resolution requires me to do some writing. To actually write. For me, however, there needs to be a point. However (and sadly for anyone reading), in the absence of an actual ‘point’, I decided I should just ‘write’. So, this is it. I don’t care if these words remain ‘unread’. I am putting my thoughts to paper and for me, that is a challenge enough in itself.
A long time ago I decided that I should deal with this problem by inflicting on others, my thoughts and (obviously insightful) analyses.
I also love writing.
Combining the two has enabled me to regale my friends and family with everything from daily diatribes highlighting the excitement of my working-day, to sagas of my speed dating experiences, to my thoughts on achieving peace in the Middle East. Well, okay, maybe not that last one…!
Family, friends, colleagues as well as those who avoid me will also, however, attest to the fact that I tend to be a tad long-winded in regaling these said-tales. I am easily distracted. Before I know it, I am off on some tangent and it isn’t uncommon for me to not actually finish my original story. (Which possibly says something about its importance in the first place!!!)
During a recent holiday I watched “The View”, an American talk show featuring up to five women (including Barbara Walters and Whoopi Goldberg) sitting around a table chatting – and occasionally talking to guests. I was entranced. As someone took up a point (it was about sex, so I was obviously riveted), another jumped in and then someone else. All of us ended up someplace completely different to that from which we started.
That same night in bed, with sleep being the plan (sadly!), my mind raced all over the place – as it usually does. Leaping from one thought to another. I realized then that my mind is, in fact, like The View. I start contemplating some (very important issue), or perhaps trying to daydream about some gorgeous man enraptured with me (or something – and there could be sex?!) but then I am off to the next thing and I am distracted by some other far-less-fulfilling-but-worthy-of-obsessive-thoughts issue. I haven’t yet decided if this is a sign that I am, in fact suffering from ADD, or some sort of multiple personality disorder?!
So, what I am going to attempt to do here, is put my thoughts on paper (keyboard / screen) and in doing so, spare my long-suffering friends and family from my rants – though I am pretty sure they enjoy knowing why people should not dawdle along footpaths in the city at lunchtime when some of us are in a hurry!
In my conversations I am easily sidetracked. By putting my thoughts onto the screen however, it is hard to get too sidetracked and, besides, my fingers can’t keep up with my mind!
While I love writing, I hate the idea of being critiqued. While at university (many many moons ago!) I refused to go to tutorials where I would actually ‘meet’ the people scoring my essays.
Nowadays and a whole degree or two later, I spend my work life writing bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo but have finally become accustomed to others scrawling in red pen over my words. But, they are not really ‘my’ words – but someone else’s. I am just reporting them.
Having said all of that, however, a New Year’s resolution requires me to do some writing. To actually write. For me, however, there needs to be a point. However (and sadly for anyone reading), in the absence of an actual ‘point’, I decided I should just ‘write’. So, this is it. I don’t care if these words remain ‘unread’. I am putting my thoughts to paper and for me, that is a challenge enough in itself.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Listless
I am - if I do say so myself - a really good list-maker. They tell you to do that in the magazines; and in the questionnaires they ask, "Do you make lists?” If you don’t, they tell you to start, as it is a sign that you are ‘organised’.
I make lists. I am a maker of lists. Lots of them and for all sorts of things. What to pack when going away, a timetable for the next day, shopping, and my all-time-favourite. The ‘to-do’ list.
The process seems to fall over for me however, between the making of a list and the doing of the things actually ON the list.
Maybe I am mentally organised, but not physically.
I do the right things – the things they tell you to in magazines; I aim for small goals, achievable steps. As an example: Day 1: Find Yellow Pages; Day 2: Open Yellow Pages; Day 3: Look up Electricians; Day 4: Decide which to call…. You get the point.
Impossible to break these down any more. I think I employ this strategy so I can over-achieve. “Oh my god! I got the Yellow Pages out, looked up AND called the electrician on day 1. I am days ahead of schedule. And I’m fabulous!”
Sometimes I force myself NOT to make a list. That way when I don’t actually do something I wasn’t supposed to, I don’t feel too guilty about it.
I used this strategy on my last holidays. I had two weeks off. While I knew the sense of accomplishment I would feel from (tidying my desk and thereby ticking it off my list) I know that I would stress about HAVING to do it from the moment midnight ticked over to start my holidays. So, there was no list. I did some of the stuff I meant to, but not others. “Clean the Fridge” remains on a list from 6 months ago.
Each weekend the task looms before me. Just like exercise - also constantly on my lists – but remains a bit hit and miss.
Today I decided, would be the day I would clean the fridge. Of course the schedule I developed last night (ie. 7.30 – 8.00am walk; 8.30 – 9.30 finish typing work stuff; 9.30 – 10.00am clean fridge) didn't exactly come to fruition, though I have done the work stuff. And I have clipped some pictures from magazines and sent some emails (incidentally neither were on my list!!!)
Making lists can fool me into thinking that everything is under control. I don’t have to worry about stuff if I can list it down on paper. It means I am doing something. Even if I am not! Interestingly, most of my lists are made at night, in bed, when I can't sleep and things are playing on my mind.
Of course, sometimes the lists themselves can be a challenge. I am currently working on the big-mamma of lists.... my New Year's Resolutions (or goals) for 2009. But more on that at a later date.
Hmmm… it is now midday, so I will do the fridge before 5pm. That gives me some flexibility as I may need a little rejuvenating nanna nap, bit of TV first……
Postscript: I cleaned the fridge between 5.15 – 5.45pm. Having woken from longer-than-expected nanna nap, I was supposed to go for a walk for that half hour, but interestingly, even the fridge was more appealing. Of course once I finished I realized that I hadn’t factored the freezer in. Hmmm… will leave that for a later date. Don’t want to get TOO keen.
I make lists. I am a maker of lists. Lots of them and for all sorts of things. What to pack when going away, a timetable for the next day, shopping, and my all-time-favourite. The ‘to-do’ list.
The process seems to fall over for me however, between the making of a list and the doing of the things actually ON the list.
Maybe I am mentally organised, but not physically.
I do the right things – the things they tell you to in magazines; I aim for small goals, achievable steps. As an example: Day 1: Find Yellow Pages; Day 2: Open Yellow Pages; Day 3: Look up Electricians; Day 4: Decide which to call…. You get the point.
Impossible to break these down any more. I think I employ this strategy so I can over-achieve. “Oh my god! I got the Yellow Pages out, looked up AND called the electrician on day 1. I am days ahead of schedule. And I’m fabulous!”
Sometimes I force myself NOT to make a list. That way when I don’t actually do something I wasn’t supposed to, I don’t feel too guilty about it.
I used this strategy on my last holidays. I had two weeks off. While I knew the sense of accomplishment I would feel from (tidying my desk and thereby ticking it off my list) I know that I would stress about HAVING to do it from the moment midnight ticked over to start my holidays. So, there was no list. I did some of the stuff I meant to, but not others. “Clean the Fridge” remains on a list from 6 months ago.
Each weekend the task looms before me. Just like exercise - also constantly on my lists – but remains a bit hit and miss.
Today I decided, would be the day I would clean the fridge. Of course the schedule I developed last night (ie. 7.30 – 8.00am walk; 8.30 – 9.30 finish typing work stuff; 9.30 – 10.00am clean fridge) didn't exactly come to fruition, though I have done the work stuff. And I have clipped some pictures from magazines and sent some emails (incidentally neither were on my list!!!)
Making lists can fool me into thinking that everything is under control. I don’t have to worry about stuff if I can list it down on paper. It means I am doing something. Even if I am not! Interestingly, most of my lists are made at night, in bed, when I can't sleep and things are playing on my mind.
Of course, sometimes the lists themselves can be a challenge. I am currently working on the big-mamma of lists.... my New Year's Resolutions (or goals) for 2009. But more on that at a later date.
Hmmm… it is now midday, so I will do the fridge before 5pm. That gives me some flexibility as I may need a little rejuvenating nanna nap, bit of TV first……
Postscript: I cleaned the fridge between 5.15 – 5.45pm. Having woken from longer-than-expected nanna nap, I was supposed to go for a walk for that half hour, but interestingly, even the fridge was more appealing. Of course once I finished I realized that I hadn’t factored the freezer in. Hmmm… will leave that for a later date. Don’t want to get TOO keen.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Bruce Beresford definitely wants to do this….
It was the first time I had paid to go and see someone who was kinda famous. Actually, I must admit that I didn’t even pay. I possibly wouldn’t even have gone if more effort was required, but that says more about me than the event itself.
The stars and planets aligned as I received an email from the Queensland Writers’ Centre in which my local bookshop, Riverbend Books (Bulimba), offered free tickets to hear Bruce Beresford speak at the launch of his new book, Josh Hartnett definitely wants to do this... As it was early, I was the first caller and easily secured the tickets. I never win competitions or get freebies, so I decided it was all fate and revelled in the idea that I would become some highly-evolved erudite attending only the most cutting-edge of events on the Brisbane cultural calendar.
As I queued for my book to be signed after Bruce’s formal presentation I wondered if I should feel at all pathetic or groupie-like. Should I have been embarrassed by lining up to have someone scrawl their name on my (just-purchased) $40 book - even if he was the author (and kinda famous)?
My lack of guile wasn’t because I was above groupie-like behaviour. In my youth I had a thing about athletes. Though, there was an ill-advised crush on Tom Cruise during his “Top Gun” (pre-sofa-jumping) era. In my own defence, I was a teenager who didn’t know better. I blame rampant hormones and general ignorance and, there shall be no further reference to that part of my life!
Besides, there were far more embarrassing fetishes. Cricketers, Hansie Cronje and Kim Hughes (who, I hear anyone under 35 ask!). Boris Becker (yes, the boom-boom jokes were indeed funny in 1986!); and god I think there were even a time when Pat Cash was of some interest. I was still in a teenager at that stage so the insanity plea (above) still stands.
Alas, I have digressed. But I did wonder what to say to Bruce Beresford. I didn’t want to sound like some star-crazed madwoman. I wanted to come across as some woman-of-the-world, much accustomed to meeting the intellectual elite. However, being a book-signing virgin I hadn’t realised I would not even get the chance to tell Bruce himself what I wanted in my book, but some harried helper alongside the queue, who took our words - and our dreams - and scribbled them on a little square yellow post-it note. Being the literary genius that I am, I had gone with, “To RFS, from Bruce”. So, when I reached the man himself, he simply copied my poetic prose onto my book. “Um, thanks,” I fearlessly mumbled as I moved on as quickly as possible.
So much for me explaining that my interest in his book related to how he turned diary entries into a book! I want to do something similar with letters. I think I had envisaged us ‘connecting’ on some intellectual plane; compare notes and eschew the meaning of life, and well, the universe. Okay, so I didn’t really think that, but I did think I might say something vaguely intelligible which would capture his interest. My lack of verbal capacity obviously wasn’t because he is a great idol of mine. He wasn’t (and isn’t). I guess it is still the ‘them’ and ‘us’ which comes from meeting those who have some iota of fame, while the rest of us wallow in obscure mediocrity.
What I enjoyed about Bruce’s presentation was that it didn’t appear to come easily to him. I guess I thought of him as someone fairly famous who was accustomed to the spotlight and so I expected something smooth and sanitary. He spoke for approximately 30 minutes and it seemed as if he struggled to find things to speak about as he jumped from topic to topic. I wondered if he had planned what to say. It didn’t appear so though he did occasionally refer to some scraps of paper before giving up on them entirely. I imagined a wife or manager behind the scenes, nagging him all day to prepare his speech. He seemed the sort to rebel against any such goading. He was, however, far more comfortable during the Question & Answer session. There was a good crowd at the event, and I suspect most were there to see Bruce the Director, rather than Bruce the Writer as all questions related to his film work.
I have since read Bruce’s book. I enjoyed the anecdotes and he is obviously an intelligent man who thinks and writes with much élan. The book however, is pretty much a collection of experiences over a two year period. It features references to friends, such as Barry Humphries and acting luminaries, Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchet and, of course, Josh Hartnett. And, it isn’t for the faint hearted or those not up for some salacious gossip! During his pre-signing presentation he quipped that lawyers had spent a significant amount of time pouring over his words.
Of most interest was how the whole film and television industry works. An industry of much uncertainty. Survival of the fittest in a world where money reigns supreme and those perceived to be money-makers (the ‘name’ actors) can be in possession of minimal intelligence but much power.
I read an interview in which Bruce commented that his daughters and wife remarked on the amount of time he spends (in the book) referring to women he came across. I think I would have (indeed) been somewhat chagrined about the reflections if he was my father. While not lecherous, he spends an inordinate amount of space contemplating the women he met, many of whom he was compelled to describe in enthusiastic detail!
I found the book easy reading. I didn’t, however, find it hard to put down – which in my world equates to a good book. Though there was a need to remember who-was-who in Bruce’s life, I was able to read it in chunks over a week as my bus crawled to and from the city each day. I happily pulled the book from my work satchel each time I boarded the bus. It interested me enough that the travel time passed without me being overcome with bus-rage which is quite an achievement.
Through Josh Hartnett definitely wants to do this…, I had a glimpse into Bruce’s world. A world I don’t think I ever wanted and now, one I don’t envy, despite the strange fetishes and bus-rage threatening mine!
Josh Hartnett definitely wants to do this… true stories from a life in the screen trade.
Bruce Beresford. HarperCollins Publishers. 2007
I attended the Book Launch, hosted by Riverbend books, at Customs House in Brisbane on 9 August 2007.
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