It seems lately that every time I've sat down and thought about writing here, something has come up. Meetings, deadlines, social engagements, being very sick for far too long, and now upcoming holidays over the Christmas break. So it was now or never. I had to get one last quick post in before the rapidly approaching new year begins!
I've been wanting to write about a lot of things, such as white ribbon day (did you know it was on November 25, the UN international day for the elimination of violence against women?), about the joys and pitfalls of alcohol, about what I have learned about marriage, about the daily tv travesty that is two and a half misogynists... err, i mean, two and a half men, and about my ongoing battles with my weight, my self-confidence and my budget. I'd also love to post about the hobbies and activities I've been keenly pursuing lately including getting better acquainted with photography, teaching myself new songs on the piano, and learning new recipes and culinary arts.
But in the spirit of the season, I think I'll make my last post for 2010 about those good old foibles, new years resolutions. Don't get me wrong, I actually kind of get the whole 'new year new you' thing. There's something so conceptually inviting about a new year offering a clean slate. It has a real sense of newness about it, it seems so neat and tidy, so sensible and orderly. My brain knows the 1st of January is the the day after the 31st of December, no different from the transition of any other month, and yet when I look at the calendar, it's like the 31st of December didn't exist. All I see before me is month after month of fresh, new, untouched days, weeks and months. A whole year of it.
The problem with new years resolutions is not that we make them, but that we so often make the wrong ones. Ones that we know deep down inside will be impossible to keep. You know what I'm talking about... promises of more exercise, of a new and better diet, trying harder at our jobs or relationships, losing X amount of weight or saving X amount of money. I've tried most of these at various times, often more than one at a time, and yet come February or March I realise I haven't been able to stick to it, I've failed at it, and I give up and try again the next year.
Big things like these I think are fundamentally unsuited to such a starting point. Not only are they generally very long term and life changing behaviours, but starting them needs to happen at the time when it needs to happen, not on such an arbritrary and false date. Take losing weight for example. If you decide you need to lose weight, there's no point waiting until the new year to do it. Start it the day you make the decision that you want to lose weight. Delaying it until the new year is procrastination and is only setting you up for failure. Or another example might be spending more time with your partner. If you think you don't spend enough time with your partner, then the day you realise that is the day you should act. Why wait?!?!
So I'm not making any new years resolutions this year. I love the neatness of them, but I also realised this year during my attempt to rediscover my give-a-shit that if you want to change something, then it is best to just act on it then and there. Do whatever you can in that moment to set the new train in motion. There's no point predicating such important decisions on a false and arbitrary timeframe. Your whole life, never mind just one year, is in front of you, and every day is day one.
Carpe Diem! Seize the day! Or as that famous multi-national sweat-shop dependent Fortune 500 bloated corporation famously says: Just Do It!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
favourite photos - Venice
Ah Venice! I saved the best til last I think. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in Venice, and despite only having 3 days to explore, we managed to fit a whole lot in. We found a square close to our hotel, the Santa Margherita square, and decided to eat and drink there ever day, it was just so fabulous and because it was away from the beaten track a bit it felt a little more authentic with a mix of locals and tourists dining there. I had THE BEST pizza ever in my life there!
We well and truly got lost in Venice, and spent our time wandering around the many alleyways, over the myriad bridges, and locating all manner of hidden and famous gems. We crossed the Rialto bridge, we stopped in at the Peggy Guggenheim museum, we visited the Galleria Accademia, we visited dozens of churches and the Casa D'Oro. We took the Number 1 vaporetto down the Grand Canal to San Marco and walked through the famous square and saw the famous Basilica and Doge's Palace. We also walked a full circuit of Venice and visited the original 'ghetto' where the local Jewish population was kept separate from the rest of Venice from the 1516 right up until the secodn World War when 1700 Venetians Jews were sent to the camps. Only 8 returned. It was a confronting moment to try and absorb that.
When we revisited San Marco's Palazzo the queue into the Basilica was enormous, literally about a thousand deep (it's free) so we decided to go into the Doge's Palace first (which isn't free but not very expensive) and explored the buildings there including the chambers of the fledgling 'parliament' and the 'court' rooms, the golden staircase up to the Doge's chambers, and the dungeons including crossing the bridge of sighs where the prisoners caught their last glimpse of venice from the tiny window before being locked and tortured in the dark dungeons (hence the sighs). When we emerged it was high tide which meant that the square had started to flood, scattering the line for the Basilica so that it was only a couple of dozen deep. We saw our chance and queued in the water. The Basilica was truly stunning, the entire ceiling covered in tiny mosaic tiles, most of which are shimmering gold. We climbed to the top and went outside on the 'balcony' to overlook the chaos of the flooded square below us and saw the famous 4 bronze horses which are thought to have originated from France and are carbon dated to 2nd century AD.
On our last morning I finally convinced my husband to lash out and take a gondola. We got up reasonably early and set out. As it was Sunday morning most of the locals were in church and most tourists were still having breakfast. We eventually found a gondolier (it seemed most of them were at church too) and set off around the smaller back canals. It was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. It was a warm sunny day, the sun played hide and seek down the steep alleyways and canals, the water was glistening blue, and we could hear nothing but the sound of the water lapping on the bottom of the boat, church bells ringing in the distance, and our gondolier occassionally calling out 'ouie' as he tured a corner. It was one of the most romantic experiences of my life.
I took this photo as we passed a house with an old boat parked out the front. The sun glinted off the small wake made by our boat and reflected onto the still boat. It captures beautifully the peacefulness and beauty of that precious 40 minutes. It's my favourite photo from the whole trip. Ah venice, we'll be back...
We well and truly got lost in Venice, and spent our time wandering around the many alleyways, over the myriad bridges, and locating all manner of hidden and famous gems. We crossed the Rialto bridge, we stopped in at the Peggy Guggenheim museum, we visited the Galleria Accademia, we visited dozens of churches and the Casa D'Oro. We took the Number 1 vaporetto down the Grand Canal to San Marco and walked through the famous square and saw the famous Basilica and Doge's Palace. We also walked a full circuit of Venice and visited the original 'ghetto' where the local Jewish population was kept separate from the rest of Venice from the 1516 right up until the secodn World War when 1700 Venetians Jews were sent to the camps. Only 8 returned. It was a confronting moment to try and absorb that.
When we revisited San Marco's Palazzo the queue into the Basilica was enormous, literally about a thousand deep (it's free) so we decided to go into the Doge's Palace first (which isn't free but not very expensive) and explored the buildings there including the chambers of the fledgling 'parliament' and the 'court' rooms, the golden staircase up to the Doge's chambers, and the dungeons including crossing the bridge of sighs where the prisoners caught their last glimpse of venice from the tiny window before being locked and tortured in the dark dungeons (hence the sighs). When we emerged it was high tide which meant that the square had started to flood, scattering the line for the Basilica so that it was only a couple of dozen deep. We saw our chance and queued in the water. The Basilica was truly stunning, the entire ceiling covered in tiny mosaic tiles, most of which are shimmering gold. We climbed to the top and went outside on the 'balcony' to overlook the chaos of the flooded square below us and saw the famous 4 bronze horses which are thought to have originated from France and are carbon dated to 2nd century AD.
On our last morning I finally convinced my husband to lash out and take a gondola. We got up reasonably early and set out. As it was Sunday morning most of the locals were in church and most tourists were still having breakfast. We eventually found a gondolier (it seemed most of them were at church too) and set off around the smaller back canals. It was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. It was a warm sunny day, the sun played hide and seek down the steep alleyways and canals, the water was glistening blue, and we could hear nothing but the sound of the water lapping on the bottom of the boat, church bells ringing in the distance, and our gondolier occassionally calling out 'ouie' as he tured a corner. It was one of the most romantic experiences of my life.
I took this photo as we passed a house with an old boat parked out the front. The sun glinted off the small wake made by our boat and reflected onto the still boat. It captures beautifully the peacefulness and beauty of that precious 40 minutes. It's my favourite photo from the whole trip. Ah venice, we'll be back...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
favourite photos - Dubai
Dubai book-ended our trip to Europe, so we enjoyed a couple of days on the way there and on the way home. Despite doing and seeing lots of thing while we were there, I actually ended up with only a handful of photos. There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly, we were visiting family, and as such we ended up just enjoying the time together rather than rushing around and seeing the sights, and with our 15-month old nephew in the mix, our hands were kept pretty full chasing him around. Another reason is that it was hellishly hot. I mean, I like the heat, but when it's 44 degrees with 80% humidity, it kind of saps you. So we spent a lot of our time indoors in malls and anywhere else airconditioned. When you stepped outside, the camera instantly fogged up and you spent the next 5 minutes wiping it dry and letting it get acclimatised, during which time you had started to burn in the sun and were soaking in sweat. Nuff said. It was also Ramadan on our first two days, and I was being extra careful to be respectful and not appear too touristy, in-your-face 'look at me I'm a Westerner' kind of thing.
And lastly, I got a cold. Which brings me to the photo that best sums up Dubai for me as well as the fact that I quite like the look of the photo. I was given a cold by someone on our plane trip, and on our second day it had it's claws sunk firmly into me and I was feeling pretty rotten. But seeing as we were in Dubai I decided to soldier on and enjoy what it had to offer and wanted to envelop myself in this strange new environment and culture. We headed into Bur Dubai, the old town, to take a boat across Dubai Creek (which is really a big river) and see the gold souk. Hm, nothing more likely to tempt a girl than the promise of all that glitters, even when she's sick. The added complication is that the old town area is even more traditional, so I had to cover neck to toe (tourists aren't expected to wear head scarfs). Oh, and another complication is that because it was Ramadan, noone is allowed to eat or drink in public. So there we were, walking through old Dubai, me head to toe in cotton and linen, it's about 48 degrees and 90% humidity, I'm feeling very sick and faint, and I can't have any water.
Needless to say I didn't last very long. I pulled the boys aside and murmured something about needing to sit down so we went into one of the gold shops for a bit of a look. And hallelujah, it was air-conditioned. But it clearly wasn't enough because after 2 minutes of looking around I felt an urgent need to lie on the ground, and my husband took one look at my white face and sat me down. The men behind the counter instantly recognised that I was struggling and immediately gave me a glass of water. I felt awful, there they were fasting all day every day and I a silly white girl couldn't hack it. I didn't want to be disrespectful and drink in front of them, but they were very supportive, and even dashed across the road to get me a juice. As soon as the cold water and sugar hit my bloodstream I started to feel so much better, but we decided that we should head straight home and get me some sudafed!
But anyway, back to the photo. We were on the boat back across the creek, and it was full of local men going about their business. They all stared at me, this (now very pale and washed out) young white girl with her camera. So I started taking snaps, because I realised in all of the drama I had hardly taken any. The creek was fascinating, it was flanked on both sides by so many beautiful old buildings and mosques, nothing like the high rises down the main drag, but smaller and more beautiful, slightly delapidated and worn out. It seemed such a stark contrast to the massive super-modern high rises in the new area. Along one bank of the creek were a collection of old boats, and it was only when we got close that I realised that these were people's houses, that entire huge families lived on them. Here we were, in Dubai - like Disneyland on crack - and there was such a huge contrast between the haves and the have nots. The boat in the photo caught my eye as it was the most brightly coloured boat in the flotilla, and seemed so beautiful despite looking like it was crumbling apart.
Later that night we managed to get tickets to the Burj Khalifa - the tallest building in the world - through my brother-in-law's boss's brother who was on the board. Ah Dubai, where you really need to know someone in high places! We took the lift to the viewing area on the 124th floor (of 200 storeys) and looked down on Dubai as if we were looking down from a plane. The height was incredible. Here we were in this amazing building, replete with all manner of beautiful modern embellishments, and I thought back to the boat. What a contrast indeed.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
favourite photos - England
Choosing a favourite photo from England proved to be the hardest of all the places we visited. This is mostly because I was born there so there are shades of a certain sense of 'home' in so many of the photos. However, the one I want to share captures so many memories of our time there.
We took a day trip out to the Lakes District (a 2 hour drive from where we were staying) with my Aunt and Uncle, two of my cousins, their partners, and the three girls. We drove along Hadrian's wall, which was built by the Romans in the second Century AD to keep the rabbits.. er, I mean, Scots out. As you can imagine after almost two millenia a lot of it is ruinous and dilapidated. But much of it is still standing, including some old forts.
The wonderful and surprising thing about our time in England was that it was a bit of a gastronomic tour de force. Which, let's be honest, most people wouldn't really associate with England, it's not widely held to be a world leader in culinary delights. But it has so many hidden gems if you know where to look, and after all, no one does tea quite like the British. So we stopped very regularly for tea, lunches, bites to eat and refreshments. Let me tell you it's the way to travel the countryside!
This particular photo was taken at one such tea stop at a small tea house along the small road we were taking, just over a bridge looking onto the river. While the adults located a table to enjoy the rare sunshine (yes it was sunny the whole time we were there!) the two little ones began exploring the vast garden. Like so many old country houses in England, this house had a beautiful large garden that spilled out onto the walkway along the river. There were many trees perfect for climbing, little gates heaving with vines, bushes blooming their last flowers of the summer, and verdant green grass everywhere. And to top it off, they had a giant chess board. But something else caught my eye, or rather, my ear.
To my left I could hear a rustle under a small bush and caught a glimpse of black fur. Calling the girls closer and finally getting them to be quiet, we peered under the bush to try and find out who was under there. Then out dashed a beautiful black rabbit who made a mad dash across a patch of grass for deeper coverage under another bush. The girls screamed in delight and started off in pursuit. This photo is of one of them skipping along the paving stones in search of the elusive bunny.
It makes my heart warm every time I look at it. Although I quietly curse myself for not composing it better to avoid that ugly light (damn you everyday-ness!), at the end of the day it doesn't really matter. Despite carrying on later that day to the gorgeous lakes, taking in Ambleside and Grassmere before driving home as dusk through the moors as the mist settled into the valleys, it's still may favourite photo. Despite spending another day at the beach and watching my partner stubbornly wade into the freezing North Sea, or our day up at beautiful Alnwick gardens then home via the coast and the old 13thC Priory at North Shields, and a day spent walking through the the 10thC city of Durham and it's Norman cathedral and beautiful riverside, it's still my favourite photo. It represents so much innocence, happiness and life, which will always put a smaile on my face. ALice in Wonderland eat your heart out.
We took a day trip out to the Lakes District (a 2 hour drive from where we were staying) with my Aunt and Uncle, two of my cousins, their partners, and the three girls. We drove along Hadrian's wall, which was built by the Romans in the second Century AD to keep the rabbits.. er, I mean, Scots out. As you can imagine after almost two millenia a lot of it is ruinous and dilapidated. But much of it is still standing, including some old forts.
The wonderful and surprising thing about our time in England was that it was a bit of a gastronomic tour de force. Which, let's be honest, most people wouldn't really associate with England, it's not widely held to be a world leader in culinary delights. But it has so many hidden gems if you know where to look, and after all, no one does tea quite like the British. So we stopped very regularly for tea, lunches, bites to eat and refreshments. Let me tell you it's the way to travel the countryside!
This particular photo was taken at one such tea stop at a small tea house along the small road we were taking, just over a bridge looking onto the river. While the adults located a table to enjoy the rare sunshine (yes it was sunny the whole time we were there!) the two little ones began exploring the vast garden. Like so many old country houses in England, this house had a beautiful large garden that spilled out onto the walkway along the river. There were many trees perfect for climbing, little gates heaving with vines, bushes blooming their last flowers of the summer, and verdant green grass everywhere. And to top it off, they had a giant chess board. But something else caught my eye, or rather, my ear.
To my left I could hear a rustle under a small bush and caught a glimpse of black fur. Calling the girls closer and finally getting them to be quiet, we peered under the bush to try and find out who was under there. Then out dashed a beautiful black rabbit who made a mad dash across a patch of grass for deeper coverage under another bush. The girls screamed in delight and started off in pursuit. This photo is of one of them skipping along the paving stones in search of the elusive bunny.
It makes my heart warm every time I look at it. Although I quietly curse myself for not composing it better to avoid that ugly light (damn you everyday-ness!), at the end of the day it doesn't really matter. Despite carrying on later that day to the gorgeous lakes, taking in Ambleside and Grassmere before driving home as dusk through the moors as the mist settled into the valleys, it's still may favourite photo. Despite spending another day at the beach and watching my partner stubbornly wade into the freezing North Sea, or our day up at beautiful Alnwick gardens then home via the coast and the old 13thC Priory at North Shields, and a day spent walking through the the 10thC city of Durham and it's Norman cathedral and beautiful riverside, it's still my favourite photo. It represents so much innocence, happiness and life, which will always put a smaile on my face. ALice in Wonderland eat your heart out.
Monday, October 18, 2010
favourite photos - Paris
I thought I might do another quick post today to share my favourite photo from Paris.
We had 3 amazing days in Paris and managed to cram so much in. We walked from our hotel to the Eiffel Tower then caught the batobus along the Seine to the Notre Dame Cathedral which was spectacular, then on to wander through the Jardins des Plantes. On our second day it decided to rain, boo! But we took the metro to the Arc de Triomphe which was beautifully breathtaking, then walked all the way down the Champs Elysees which is a mighty long way, befroe finally arriving at le Musee de Louvre.
Once ensconced inside we wandered through taking in so many famous sculptures and paintings, including the Winged Victory and the beautiful Venus de Milo. Despite my protestations, we went to see the Mona Lisa. I have to profess I wasn't particularly keen, the Louvre was already very crowded as everyone had clearly decided to go there to escape the rain, and the thought of the teeming crowds just for this one tiny painting didn't appeal. But we forged on, and I'm glad I did, because it really is something a bit special. But what was even more interesting for me is that she shares a large room with a couple of dozen other paintings, all of which are also very beautiful. Yet there she was, this tiny painting, with a huge wall all to herself and a mosh-pit style sectioned-off area. Everyone was straining to get close and take a photo, sadly many of whom were ignoring the directions for no flashes (which can eventually damage the paint just like sunlight), and they were all completely ignoring all the other beautiful paintings in the room. I felt sorry for these other paintings, it's like being the prettiest girl in the village then having to share the stage with Miss Universe or something.
I eventually persuaded my husband to go and look at the sculpture section, and we came across this stunning piece. It is Psyche revived by Cupid's kiss, by Canova. Despite being carved in the 18th Century, it was so flawless and smooth. The emotion and movement was captured so brilliantly.
It captures a lot of what Paris was for me. Apart from being inherently romantic, Paris is a very beautiful city, everywhere you turn there are gorgeous things to look at, such fine attention to every little detail. Parisians are also a stylish bunch, there is no such thing as overdressed in Paris. And yet, they take all this beauty in their stride, seeming to hardly notice it, taking it for granted that surely all the world must have such beautiful architecture and beautifully maintained parks and gardens and sculptures that you can glance at and then keep walking by. And while I stood there i awe of this work of art, so many people just walked right on by, barely taking it in. We had it all to ourselves for a minute before the next tour group arrived with their damn flashes.
Paris is a beautiful piece of the planet, and next time I'll be packing some much nicer clothes!
We had 3 amazing days in Paris and managed to cram so much in. We walked from our hotel to the Eiffel Tower then caught the batobus along the Seine to the Notre Dame Cathedral which was spectacular, then on to wander through the Jardins des Plantes. On our second day it decided to rain, boo! But we took the metro to the Arc de Triomphe which was beautifully breathtaking, then walked all the way down the Champs Elysees which is a mighty long way, befroe finally arriving at le Musee de Louvre.
Once ensconced inside we wandered through taking in so many famous sculptures and paintings, including the Winged Victory and the beautiful Venus de Milo. Despite my protestations, we went to see the Mona Lisa. I have to profess I wasn't particularly keen, the Louvre was already very crowded as everyone had clearly decided to go there to escape the rain, and the thought of the teeming crowds just for this one tiny painting didn't appeal. But we forged on, and I'm glad I did, because it really is something a bit special. But what was even more interesting for me is that she shares a large room with a couple of dozen other paintings, all of which are also very beautiful. Yet there she was, this tiny painting, with a huge wall all to herself and a mosh-pit style sectioned-off area. Everyone was straining to get close and take a photo, sadly many of whom were ignoring the directions for no flashes (which can eventually damage the paint just like sunlight), and they were all completely ignoring all the other beautiful paintings in the room. I felt sorry for these other paintings, it's like being the prettiest girl in the village then having to share the stage with Miss Universe or something.
I eventually persuaded my husband to go and look at the sculpture section, and we came across this stunning piece. It is Psyche revived by Cupid's kiss, by Canova. Despite being carved in the 18th Century, it was so flawless and smooth. The emotion and movement was captured so brilliantly.
It captures a lot of what Paris was for me. Apart from being inherently romantic, Paris is a very beautiful city, everywhere you turn there are gorgeous things to look at, such fine attention to every little detail. Parisians are also a stylish bunch, there is no such thing as overdressed in Paris. And yet, they take all this beauty in their stride, seeming to hardly notice it, taking it for granted that surely all the world must have such beautiful architecture and beautifully maintained parks and gardens and sculptures that you can glance at and then keep walking by. And while I stood there i awe of this work of art, so many people just walked right on by, barely taking it in. We had it all to ourselves for a minute before the next tour group arrived with their damn flashes.
Paris is a beautiful piece of the planet, and next time I'll be packing some much nicer clothes!
favourite photos - Croatia
I thought I would post a handful of photos from our recent trip to Europe. I'll post one photo from each place that is my favourite photo both for how it looks but also the memories it evokes and the story behind it.
This is, I think (there's a few to choose from), my favourite photo from our time in Croatia. We were staying on the island of Korčula for 5 days and had the most amazing weather. The sun shone for 4 of those days, it was warm but not too hot, with blue skies. The evenings were balmy and involved eating lots of food and drinking the local wine called grk.
This photo was taken on the day we hired a little boat and set out to explore the smaller islands in the bay. We arrived at the island of Sutvara first, which had a gorgeous little bay of small white pebbles, smooth faced rocks to one side, and looking out into the bay and ont Mount Ilija.
We had a delicious picnic when we arrived of breads and cheeses and fruit and biscuits. We walked into the water, which required those little 'rock hopper' booties as the pebbles are hard to walk on, and immersed ourselves in the cool water. To be fair, the water was a little cool as it was the end of summer so had started to cool down, but it was so refreshing. The thing about the water in Croatia is how crystal clear it is, and also how quickly it gets deep. We were out of our depth by the time we got behind the boat, yet you could see the bottom as clearly as if it was 2 foot deep.
After our swim I lay on the smooth rocks to get some much-needed sun after our long winter, then we re-boarded the boat to see some other islands including the restored monastery on the island of Badija and the quarry on Vrnik, where we had another swim in the cool blue ocean.
It was an amazing day, and every time I look at this photo it takes me straight back to the warm sun, the cool clear water, and the sense of calm and peace and esxcitement I felt that day. I thoroughly recommend it!
This is, I think (there's a few to choose from), my favourite photo from our time in Croatia. We were staying on the island of Korčula for 5 days and had the most amazing weather. The sun shone for 4 of those days, it was warm but not too hot, with blue skies. The evenings were balmy and involved eating lots of food and drinking the local wine called grk.
This photo was taken on the day we hired a little boat and set out to explore the smaller islands in the bay. We arrived at the island of Sutvara first, which had a gorgeous little bay of small white pebbles, smooth faced rocks to one side, and looking out into the bay and ont Mount Ilija.
We had a delicious picnic when we arrived of breads and cheeses and fruit and biscuits. We walked into the water, which required those little 'rock hopper' booties as the pebbles are hard to walk on, and immersed ourselves in the cool water. To be fair, the water was a little cool as it was the end of summer so had started to cool down, but it was so refreshing. The thing about the water in Croatia is how crystal clear it is, and also how quickly it gets deep. We were out of our depth by the time we got behind the boat, yet you could see the bottom as clearly as if it was 2 foot deep.
After our swim I lay on the smooth rocks to get some much-needed sun after our long winter, then we re-boarded the boat to see some other islands including the restored monastery on the island of Badija and the quarry on Vrnik, where we had another swim in the cool blue ocean.
It was an amazing day, and every time I look at this photo it takes me straight back to the warm sun, the cool clear water, and the sense of calm and peace and esxcitement I felt that day. I thoroughly recommend it!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
black sheep baaaaa
I've always known I was a little different to the rest of my family. Even as a little one I didn't quite grow out of the 'why?' stage. I had an insatiable appetite for knowledge, for new experiences and new ideas. I also concede I was a precocious little tyke because I thought I understood more than I did. I never hesitated in telling an adult when they had it wrong (oh yes, how endearing!) and once I realised that neither Santa nor the tooth fairy existed, I sought out other tales and tricks to understand and expose.
In my teens this started to become a problem. Not because I stepped on too many toes, but rather the wrong ones. I started to question the big things, things that the rest of my family accepted wholeheartedly and resented being questioned. I started to ponder the big questions many teenagers do, like what is the meaning of life, why are there so many injustices in the world. You know, the usual stuff. The problem was the rest of my family is very religious, and I started applying these questions to the church.
I started to question some of the things being taught, particularly around equality, acceptance, tolerance and compassion. I couldn't see any support for the argument that women shoudl be subordinate to men, or that homosexuality was an abomination, and so many other patriarchal and archaic prejudices and hatreds that fly in the face of what they claim the church is all about. In fact, I felt so strongly the opposite, to the point that I started kicking up a fuss, argued a lot and then left.
I left not only the church but also my family. There was a crucial point of no return, which I won't go into here, but suffice it to say I could see the blatant hypocrisy as if it were a flashing light and decided I couldn't be a quiet little sheep any more. I may not be your typical black sheep - doing drugs, getting caught in the wrong crowd, sleeping with lots of stangers, the usual stereotypes - but that day I knew I couldn't be part of the flock any longer.
In the years that have passed there have been many ups and downs, but there is ongoing discomfort every time my family and I are in each others' company. There is a gaping gulf that I studiously try to avoid around politics and religion. Unfortunately this careful avoidance is one-sided, a truce that doesn't exist. And no matter how many times I tell myself to be stronger and let it wash under the bridge, I find myself arguing back. I can't help fighting back when I feel passionately about something, despite knowing that my arguments fall on deaf ears. I comfort myself in the knowledge that they too know their arguments will not sway me yet they do it anyway, so why can I not do the same, why must it be me who must be silent and accepting a gracious and tolerant. Why can't they for once be understanding of how I feel and let sleeping dogs lie.
The problem with this is by fighting back things just get even more uncomfortable. Every time, that gulf gets a little wider. And I love my family, despite our differences. So I'm stuck in a conundrum of wanting to keep the peace yet not wanting to remain silent on issues I fundamentally and passionately disagree on. I wish I had an answer to it, because it's driving me nuts! Baaaaa...
In my teens this started to become a problem. Not because I stepped on too many toes, but rather the wrong ones. I started to question the big things, things that the rest of my family accepted wholeheartedly and resented being questioned. I started to ponder the big questions many teenagers do, like what is the meaning of life, why are there so many injustices in the world. You know, the usual stuff. The problem was the rest of my family is very religious, and I started applying these questions to the church.
I started to question some of the things being taught, particularly around equality, acceptance, tolerance and compassion. I couldn't see any support for the argument that women shoudl be subordinate to men, or that homosexuality was an abomination, and so many other patriarchal and archaic prejudices and hatreds that fly in the face of what they claim the church is all about. In fact, I felt so strongly the opposite, to the point that I started kicking up a fuss, argued a lot and then left.
I left not only the church but also my family. There was a crucial point of no return, which I won't go into here, but suffice it to say I could see the blatant hypocrisy as if it were a flashing light and decided I couldn't be a quiet little sheep any more. I may not be your typical black sheep - doing drugs, getting caught in the wrong crowd, sleeping with lots of stangers, the usual stereotypes - but that day I knew I couldn't be part of the flock any longer.
In the years that have passed there have been many ups and downs, but there is ongoing discomfort every time my family and I are in each others' company. There is a gaping gulf that I studiously try to avoid around politics and religion. Unfortunately this careful avoidance is one-sided, a truce that doesn't exist. And no matter how many times I tell myself to be stronger and let it wash under the bridge, I find myself arguing back. I can't help fighting back when I feel passionately about something, despite knowing that my arguments fall on deaf ears. I comfort myself in the knowledge that they too know their arguments will not sway me yet they do it anyway, so why can I not do the same, why must it be me who must be silent and accepting a gracious and tolerant. Why can't they for once be understanding of how I feel and let sleeping dogs lie.
The problem with this is by fighting back things just get even more uncomfortable. Every time, that gulf gets a little wider. And I love my family, despite our differences. So I'm stuck in a conundrum of wanting to keep the peace yet not wanting to remain silent on issues I fundamentally and passionately disagree on. I wish I had an answer to it, because it's driving me nuts! Baaaaa...
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
the Champs-Elysees is a busy street!
I'm sad that I haven't had much time to write here lately, I've found I really miss it! But the up side is that my life is undergoing a positive massive upheaval and I am planning for a big overseas trip to boot! Woohoo!!!!
I finish my job tomorrow. I never thought I'd be able to write those words, I was so unhappy and down I thought I'd never get out of the vicious cycle. But behold, it is my penultimate day in my job and I couldn't be happier. Of course it has meant that I have to get everything wrapped up before I leave, which has been very stressful and time-consuming, but I'm concentrating on walking out that door and not worrying about it any more.
The reason I am leaving is because I am about to become a full time PhD student! YA! I feel like I am finally moving forward with my career and doing what I want to do for a change, doing something that benefits me and challenges me and rewards me. I guess you could say I have found my give a shit again. I'm looking forward to pursuing something I am passionate about. I'll write more about what I'll be studying soon, so watch this space!
And lastly, hubby and I get on a plane in less than 48 hours and fly to Europe to visit family and have a 'proper' honeymoon! We go via Dubai to visit family there, followed by the UK to visit my family there including my Nana and others I haven't seen for 12 years. Then on to Paris for 3 days and Venice for the 3 days - aaaahhhhhh!!!!!! This is the 'honeymoon' part, where it's just the two of us relaxing and being together in beautiful places and exploring and discovering. I've never been to either place, and I am seriously excited! I can see a few photo blogs appearing when we get back! And then we move on to Croatia to visit some of his family, spending a week on an island in the Adriatic followed by a few days in Zagreb. Then home via Dubai and Singapore.
This means a 4 week hiatus from blogging, which again I'm sad about, but I know that by the time I get back I'll be renwed and refreshed and reinvigorated. And because I'll be a full time student and master of my own calendar, I can spend a little more time doing the things I love!
In the mean time, have a wonderful 4 weeks, and I'll be back soon with lost of European stories to tell! Au revoir, Arrivederci, Dovidenja, Ma' Alsalam!
I finish my job tomorrow. I never thought I'd be able to write those words, I was so unhappy and down I thought I'd never get out of the vicious cycle. But behold, it is my penultimate day in my job and I couldn't be happier. Of course it has meant that I have to get everything wrapped up before I leave, which has been very stressful and time-consuming, but I'm concentrating on walking out that door and not worrying about it any more.
The reason I am leaving is because I am about to become a full time PhD student! YA! I feel like I am finally moving forward with my career and doing what I want to do for a change, doing something that benefits me and challenges me and rewards me. I guess you could say I have found my give a shit again. I'm looking forward to pursuing something I am passionate about. I'll write more about what I'll be studying soon, so watch this space!
And lastly, hubby and I get on a plane in less than 48 hours and fly to Europe to visit family and have a 'proper' honeymoon! We go via Dubai to visit family there, followed by the UK to visit my family there including my Nana and others I haven't seen for 12 years. Then on to Paris for 3 days and Venice for the 3 days - aaaahhhhhh!!!!!! This is the 'honeymoon' part, where it's just the two of us relaxing and being together in beautiful places and exploring and discovering. I've never been to either place, and I am seriously excited! I can see a few photo blogs appearing when we get back! And then we move on to Croatia to visit some of his family, spending a week on an island in the Adriatic followed by a few days in Zagreb. Then home via Dubai and Singapore.
This means a 4 week hiatus from blogging, which again I'm sad about, but I know that by the time I get back I'll be renwed and refreshed and reinvigorated. And because I'll be a full time student and master of my own calendar, I can spend a little more time doing the things I love!
In the mean time, have a wonderful 4 weeks, and I'll be back soon with lost of European stories to tell! Au revoir, Arrivederci, Dovidenja, Ma' Alsalam!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
pretty as a posy
I recently had the honour of receiving two bunches of flowers. One was as a thank you and one was as a congratulations.
I've written before about how flowers make me feel, and the joy and colour and happy energy they bring to the house. So I'm just going to be brief and include a couple of pictures.
The first are tulips, one of my favourite flowers, and they lasted so long with that happy warm colour lighting up the dining room! The second are dhalias, which are a beautiful unsung flowers, and they have lasted even longer!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
election selection?
With the federal election only two weeks away, I've started taking much more notice of talk of politics around me. And the results make my heart heavy.
I confess I am a bit of a political tragic. I love curling up on the couch at 7.30 and watching Big Red interviewing politicians from all sides of politics, clashing with titans, asking the pressing questions, never giving up. Maybe it's the red hair. But I've also been glued to Gruen Nation, Yes We Canberra, and other bits and pieces popping up on the telly. I'm by no means an expert, but I want to be engaged by our poiticians, find out what makes them tick, find out what they want to do and why.
But it seems more and more that I'm in the minority in this. So many people I've been speaking to lately have been so apathetic about the election, so unaware of any of the policies of either of the major parties, let alone the minor parties, that I have to wonder what they will be basing their vote on.
There's been much made in the media recently about the gender split on the two main candidates, with women more likely to vote for the ginger ninja and men more likely to vote for the mad monk. I've heard comments such as 'women are so stupid, just voting for her because she's a woman" and "it's just because she's the first female PM/breaking the ultimate glass ceiling". Apart from the blatantly misogynist language that women are stupid, I think explanations like this are so over-simplified and reductionist that it seems there's no thought gone into why this gender division has occurred. Perhaps it's because women recognise that the mad monk is a threat to them and their autonomy? Perhaps it's because men gravitate more towards the 'action man'? Perhaps it's not women voting FOR the ginger ninja, but men NOT wanting to vote for her? Or perhaps I just know too many eedjits.
Call me a nerd, but I thought deciding on the government to decide the future direction of the country was a bit of a big deal. But people are basing thier votes on seemingly superficial reasons. Voting along gender lines just for the sake of it is a classic example. So is not voting for the PM because she's a redhead, or because she ousted the former PM (yes, people actually say that!). Or not voting for the mad monk because he was photographed hairy chested in red speedos (I agree, not a pretty sight at all, but at least he's healthy). Regardless of whether you're conservative or liberal (as in, small 'l') or somewhere in between, surely the future of the country shouldn't be decided on soemthing as shallow as hairy chests and a Kath & Kim accent?!?!
To be fair, this political apathy has not been helped by the two major parties' campaigns thus far. Both have been so controlled, so monotonous, so scared of putting a foot wrong, that it's all just so bland and boring, unengaging and uninspiring. Yawn, hand me another beer luv. I got excited when the ginger ninja finally declared she would reveal the 'real' Julia and stop being so controlled. But all for naught, there has been no significant change (though thankfully her real Kath & Kim accent is back). How can apathetic voters actually give a shit when what's on offer is so boring and contrived it's hard to tell one party from the other in their race to mediocrity and the lowest common denominator?!
Here's hoping most people come to their senses by polling day, actually engage their brains, ask questions about the policies, and vote according to how they want the future of the country to advance. And please, no more red budgie smugglers!
I confess I am a bit of a political tragic. I love curling up on the couch at 7.30 and watching Big Red interviewing politicians from all sides of politics, clashing with titans, asking the pressing questions, never giving up. Maybe it's the red hair. But I've also been glued to Gruen Nation, Yes We Canberra, and other bits and pieces popping up on the telly. I'm by no means an expert, but I want to be engaged by our poiticians, find out what makes them tick, find out what they want to do and why.
But it seems more and more that I'm in the minority in this. So many people I've been speaking to lately have been so apathetic about the election, so unaware of any of the policies of either of the major parties, let alone the minor parties, that I have to wonder what they will be basing their vote on.
There's been much made in the media recently about the gender split on the two main candidates, with women more likely to vote for the ginger ninja and men more likely to vote for the mad monk. I've heard comments such as 'women are so stupid, just voting for her because she's a woman" and "it's just because she's the first female PM/breaking the ultimate glass ceiling". Apart from the blatantly misogynist language that women are stupid, I think explanations like this are so over-simplified and reductionist that it seems there's no thought gone into why this gender division has occurred. Perhaps it's because women recognise that the mad monk is a threat to them and their autonomy? Perhaps it's because men gravitate more towards the 'action man'? Perhaps it's not women voting FOR the ginger ninja, but men NOT wanting to vote for her? Or perhaps I just know too many eedjits.
Call me a nerd, but I thought deciding on the government to decide the future direction of the country was a bit of a big deal. But people are basing thier votes on seemingly superficial reasons. Voting along gender lines just for the sake of it is a classic example. So is not voting for the PM because she's a redhead, or because she ousted the former PM (yes, people actually say that!). Or not voting for the mad monk because he was photographed hairy chested in red speedos (I agree, not a pretty sight at all, but at least he's healthy). Regardless of whether you're conservative or liberal (as in, small 'l') or somewhere in between, surely the future of the country shouldn't be decided on soemthing as shallow as hairy chests and a Kath & Kim accent?!?!
To be fair, this political apathy has not been helped by the two major parties' campaigns thus far. Both have been so controlled, so monotonous, so scared of putting a foot wrong, that it's all just so bland and boring, unengaging and uninspiring. Yawn, hand me another beer luv. I got excited when the ginger ninja finally declared she would reveal the 'real' Julia and stop being so controlled. But all for naught, there has been no significant change (though thankfully her real Kath & Kim accent is back). How can apathetic voters actually give a shit when what's on offer is so boring and contrived it's hard to tell one party from the other in their race to mediocrity and the lowest common denominator?!
Here's hoping most people come to their senses by polling day, actually engage their brains, ask questions about the policies, and vote according to how they want the future of the country to advance. And please, no more red budgie smugglers!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
the shadow of victimhood
It's been reinforced to me recently that most people are victims at some point in their life. They are victims of hate, of violence, and of betrayal. It is a rare thing to get through this life unscathed. I'm pretty sure everyone has had hurtful words directed at them, has been let down by the people they love or trust. When we are victims we feel hurt, alone, afraid. It often rocks us to the core, making us question who we are, how we behave, and what on Earth happened. It's natural to feel anger and fear, to be very wary about who we trust or love from now on, and to build up defences around ourselves to try and prevent this kind of pain again.
And then you have two choices. To move on as a stronger and more empowered person, or to remain a victim, wrapped in the familiar blanket of fear and anger. It seems like a logical choice, I mean, who wouldn't want to get on with their life, but of course it's not as easy as that. Partly because it's not clear that you are choosing one of these two options, it kind of just happens naturally. Your subconscious chooses which is most suitable or beneficial for it, without you really knowing why you're feeling the way you feel.
But if you don't, at some point, choose to move on with your life then you are stuck with those walls that you built to keep people out so they can't hurt you again (even though we all know they still can anyway). You're stuck pushing people away, blaming others for your issues, and living with fear every day. Fear of being hurt or betrayed again. And fear is a funny thing, because it can manifest in other emotions and behaviours such as jealousy, anger, escape and avoidance, anxiety, distrust and hyper-vigilance.
Of course dealing with what happened and moving on doesn't mean you'll no longer feel fear or those other associated emotions and behaviours. But it does mean that they will stop defining who you are, how you behave and how you think. We're all familiar with the pop-psychology talk of letting go, moving on, and of concepts of baggage and trauma. Pick your favourite lexicon, it all boils down to confronting your demons and choosing how you react to them. I feel strongly that you can't give yourself fully to any relationship, be it family, friend or sexual partner, if you are still stuck in the mode of victimhood. Because you're still trying to protect yourself, you're still holding back. And you can't participate fully in life if you're holding yourself back.
Everyone deals with being a victim in a different way, not only because of what happened but the kind of person they are. Bear with me while I use a medical analogy. Emotional wounds are always deep, they hurt, and they can take a long time to heal. But we can choose to let the wounds fester and stay open and painful, leaving us eventually with deep and potentially disfiguring scars, or we can be proactive and choose to attend to the wound, work on it and let it heal over time. There will always be a scar there, a reminder of what happened, but it won't get in the way of a bigger and brighter future.
In my own experience, it has taken me a very long time to get over being a victim of some very deep wounds. But I made a decision to move on with my life, and not let the shadow of what happened keep me an eternal victim. I could have easily remained angry, fearful, resentful, generalising my feelings to others, shutting people out. But then I would have missed out on so much in life including rewarding friendships and a wonderful relationship with the person I love most in the world. I still bear the scars, they still cause me a bit of pain every now and then, but over time I have slowly confronted my demons and let them go.
We are all, to varying degrees, victims at some point in our lives. We all deal with it differently, but living without the shadow of victimhood is the best way to live.
And then you have two choices. To move on as a stronger and more empowered person, or to remain a victim, wrapped in the familiar blanket of fear and anger. It seems like a logical choice, I mean, who wouldn't want to get on with their life, but of course it's not as easy as that. Partly because it's not clear that you are choosing one of these two options, it kind of just happens naturally. Your subconscious chooses which is most suitable or beneficial for it, without you really knowing why you're feeling the way you feel.
But if you don't, at some point, choose to move on with your life then you are stuck with those walls that you built to keep people out so they can't hurt you again (even though we all know they still can anyway). You're stuck pushing people away, blaming others for your issues, and living with fear every day. Fear of being hurt or betrayed again. And fear is a funny thing, because it can manifest in other emotions and behaviours such as jealousy, anger, escape and avoidance, anxiety, distrust and hyper-vigilance.
Of course dealing with what happened and moving on doesn't mean you'll no longer feel fear or those other associated emotions and behaviours. But it does mean that they will stop defining who you are, how you behave and how you think. We're all familiar with the pop-psychology talk of letting go, moving on, and of concepts of baggage and trauma. Pick your favourite lexicon, it all boils down to confronting your demons and choosing how you react to them. I feel strongly that you can't give yourself fully to any relationship, be it family, friend or sexual partner, if you are still stuck in the mode of victimhood. Because you're still trying to protect yourself, you're still holding back. And you can't participate fully in life if you're holding yourself back.
Everyone deals with being a victim in a different way, not only because of what happened but the kind of person they are. Bear with me while I use a medical analogy. Emotional wounds are always deep, they hurt, and they can take a long time to heal. But we can choose to let the wounds fester and stay open and painful, leaving us eventually with deep and potentially disfiguring scars, or we can be proactive and choose to attend to the wound, work on it and let it heal over time. There will always be a scar there, a reminder of what happened, but it won't get in the way of a bigger and brighter future.
In my own experience, it has taken me a very long time to get over being a victim of some very deep wounds. But I made a decision to move on with my life, and not let the shadow of what happened keep me an eternal victim. I could have easily remained angry, fearful, resentful, generalising my feelings to others, shutting people out. But then I would have missed out on so much in life including rewarding friendships and a wonderful relationship with the person I love most in the world. I still bear the scars, they still cause me a bit of pain every now and then, but over time I have slowly confronted my demons and let them go.
We are all, to varying degrees, victims at some point in our lives. We all deal with it differently, but living without the shadow of victimhood is the best way to live.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
the dress mess
Last weekend I was asked by a friend in the wedding industry to help out at a bridal expo. Given that I was free, am always happy to help out a friend if I can, and it involved wedding stuff, I was more than happy to say yes!
Luckily for me it involved getting my hair and makeup done and being a bit of a 'model' for a day handing out pamphlets. It also involved going to a bridal shop and them putting me in a frock! joy of joys! But it turned out that it was to be a bridesmaid dress, not the full white catastrophe. I have to admit I was slightly disappointed, I had had dreams of putting something comlpetely not 'me' on, just for fun! No matter, I was still happy to be involved and play dress ups for the day.
So we got an hour or two into the day and I was merrily handing out pamphlets to brides-to-be and complaining about how much my heels were killing me, when the fashion parade started. And out swanned these gorgeous girls in some of the most AMAZING wedding dresses I've ever seen! *sigh* And I had a little pang of sadness because it brought to the surface all my unresolved wedding dress issues.
Despite the fact that I had an amazing wedding day and felt fine in my dress, it's the only thing I regret about the day. Not picking the right bloody dress in the first place. It's like I have a little empty spot in my heart where my wedding dress was supposed to go. So now I tell my story to brides-to-be as a cautionary tale, because I made the classic mistake of doubting myself.
You see, I fell in love with a dress, which was only slightly over my budget. I even paid a small deposit on it (goodbye money lost forever). Then I got home and had a freak out. It seemed so much money for one day. And after all, I was a pragmatic person, I didn't believe in all the white fluff, I wanted something simple and elegant because at the end of the day I would have worn a hessian sack if it meant I could marry my wonderful partner. So I talked myself out of it, I told myself it was obscene to spend it on one dress, on one day, that I couldn't justify being so ostentatious when so many in the world are struggling to even get clean water (I know, I know...). I chose another dress that was a third of the price. Then I got it home, looked in the mirror and my heart sank. This wasn't the dress I wanted to wear on my wedding day, it didn't make me feel like a bride. The kicker was now that I had paid all this money for a dress I didn't want, I couldn't get the expensive one I loved on top of that!
So I had a dress made, and I admit that it was a beautiful dress. The dressmaker did an amazing job, it fit like a glove, and she followed my instructions perfectly. And ironically, the cost of the two dresses combined was the same as the original dress! I don't look at my wedding photos and hate my dress or anything, far from it, but I do have regrets. I wish I had just bitten the bullet and got the dress I loved. So what if it was a little more than I had wanted to spend, I know it's just for one day, but I would have felt right about it rather than sighing to myself on my wedding day as I put the dress on.
So I look at other wedding dresses with envy. I imagine the possibilities. I watched that parade, and wondered what it would have been like to wear the dream dress. Would I have these feeling of unfulfillment? Would I be as obssessed with weddings, knowing everything about mine was just as I wanted it? I dream of one day having enough money to go and buy the dress anyway and renew my vows with my wonderful husband. Or something. Anything to silence the inner dress obssession!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
the pink and blue blues
I went for a quick shopping trip the other day in my lunch break to find two baby-related gifts. One for a newborn to our wonderful friends, and one for a nephew's first birthday. I'm not very good with children in general, probably partly because I never really grew up with kids around, of any age from babies to teenagers. It's all a bit new and strange to me. Exciting but daunting. So subjecting myself to departments full of baby-ness is not exactly my worst nightmare, but I'm certainly neither comfortable or know much about what I'm doing.
Leafing through the many racks of baby blankets in the requisite baby pink and baby blue, dummies, bottles and rattles, I started to despair. Is this all there is??? Am I mad in thinking this is boring??? Then I spied the toddler/young child section over the aisle. This seemed infinitely more interesting! It was full of colour, interesting shapes and patterns, and awesome looking toys and clothes. I actually started getting excited, thinking I might actually be able to find something cool and fun! But almost every thing I picked up and looked at said ages 2+. All those funky toys with bright colours, flashing lights, bits and pieces to put together and pull apart... turns out they're all for toddlers who have started to toddle and figured out that they have opposable thumbs.
Which left me back at square one. I had to choose between simpering pink and wishy washy blue. I tried in vain to make myself believe that these things were pretty, that they would be useful, that they would make great gifts. But who was I kidding. They were hideous. From the get go, gender demarcation was high on the agenda, and there was almost nothing I could do about it. It was a sea of pink for girls and blue for boys, and I was drowning in it and had to get out. On my way out, I stopped and looked at the greeting cards hoping to find something neutral and fun and supportive and loving. But lo and behold, yep you guessed it, blue cards declaring loudly 'It's a BOY' with pictures of cars, and pink cards proclaiming 'It's a GIRL' with butterflies.
Am I the only one who finds this all a little disturbing?!?! There were no cards proudly but simply communicating 'congratulations on your new baby'. Ok, so perhaps the range may have been limited, but is it really so much to ask for something a little less... well... gendered???
It seems like the first thing we all want to know about a baby is whether it's a boy or a girl. I'd like to think it doesn't really matter, but of course it does because it dictates how the new human being will be treated, educated and socially constructed. This is where the pink and blue comes in, and why it remains in perpetuity. So that we can easily identify the different genders, demarcate them, so that we can treat them differently. As I was looking through all those funky looking toys it dawned on me that all the 'girls' toys were various shades of pink and purple and consisted of dolls, fluffy animals, and sparkly hula hoops (ok, so a sparkly hula hoop is actually kinda cool) and the boys things were all bold blues and greens and reds, and consisted of cars, lego and footballs. The gender stratification starts before birth and continues until after death (honestly, how many blokes end up with pink roses on their coffins...).
While I think gender identification and constructions are vitally important in society - males and females are quite different in many resepcts after all - I can't help but wonder if it's gone into hyper-drive a bit. It just all seems so limited, and so forced upon the individual at family, social and cultural levels, that I wonder if there is much scope for doing things a bit differently.
I reflect upon my own childhood and remember the barbies and fairy costumes that I loved so much. But I also remember dressing up as Batman (complete with utility belt of course!), digging worms out of the creek, going fishing for frogspawn and racing each other on our bikes. Maybe it's just the rose-tinted glasses phenomenon, but it feels like I had so much more freedom of choice and freedom of expression. I look at Bratz dolls and cringe in despair. Do pink blankets and romper suits turn into this? What kind of girls and boys are we creating, or has it always been this way and I'm only just now seeing it?
I ended up going to a bookstore and getting Possum Magic, Diary of a Wombat, a fluffy possum that hangs by her tail and a fluffy wombat hand puppet. Ah books, the last refuge of a babied-out shopper. Stuff the pink and blue blankies, I don't want to be a part of this constrained gender constuction just yet!
Leafing through the many racks of baby blankets in the requisite baby pink and baby blue, dummies, bottles and rattles, I started to despair. Is this all there is??? Am I mad in thinking this is boring??? Then I spied the toddler/young child section over the aisle. This seemed infinitely more interesting! It was full of colour, interesting shapes and patterns, and awesome looking toys and clothes. I actually started getting excited, thinking I might actually be able to find something cool and fun! But almost every thing I picked up and looked at said ages 2+. All those funky toys with bright colours, flashing lights, bits and pieces to put together and pull apart... turns out they're all for toddlers who have started to toddle and figured out that they have opposable thumbs.
Which left me back at square one. I had to choose between simpering pink and wishy washy blue. I tried in vain to make myself believe that these things were pretty, that they would be useful, that they would make great gifts. But who was I kidding. They were hideous. From the get go, gender demarcation was high on the agenda, and there was almost nothing I could do about it. It was a sea of pink for girls and blue for boys, and I was drowning in it and had to get out. On my way out, I stopped and looked at the greeting cards hoping to find something neutral and fun and supportive and loving. But lo and behold, yep you guessed it, blue cards declaring loudly 'It's a BOY' with pictures of cars, and pink cards proclaiming 'It's a GIRL' with butterflies.
Am I the only one who finds this all a little disturbing?!?! There were no cards proudly but simply communicating 'congratulations on your new baby'. Ok, so perhaps the range may have been limited, but is it really so much to ask for something a little less... well... gendered???
It seems like the first thing we all want to know about a baby is whether it's a boy or a girl. I'd like to think it doesn't really matter, but of course it does because it dictates how the new human being will be treated, educated and socially constructed. This is where the pink and blue comes in, and why it remains in perpetuity. So that we can easily identify the different genders, demarcate them, so that we can treat them differently. As I was looking through all those funky looking toys it dawned on me that all the 'girls' toys were various shades of pink and purple and consisted of dolls, fluffy animals, and sparkly hula hoops (ok, so a sparkly hula hoop is actually kinda cool) and the boys things were all bold blues and greens and reds, and consisted of cars, lego and footballs. The gender stratification starts before birth and continues until after death (honestly, how many blokes end up with pink roses on their coffins...).
While I think gender identification and constructions are vitally important in society - males and females are quite different in many resepcts after all - I can't help but wonder if it's gone into hyper-drive a bit. It just all seems so limited, and so forced upon the individual at family, social and cultural levels, that I wonder if there is much scope for doing things a bit differently.
I reflect upon my own childhood and remember the barbies and fairy costumes that I loved so much. But I also remember dressing up as Batman (complete with utility belt of course!), digging worms out of the creek, going fishing for frogspawn and racing each other on our bikes. Maybe it's just the rose-tinted glasses phenomenon, but it feels like I had so much more freedom of choice and freedom of expression. I look at Bratz dolls and cringe in despair. Do pink blankets and romper suits turn into this? What kind of girls and boys are we creating, or has it always been this way and I'm only just now seeing it?
I ended up going to a bookstore and getting Possum Magic, Diary of a Wombat, a fluffy possum that hangs by her tail and a fluffy wombat hand puppet. Ah books, the last refuge of a babied-out shopper. Stuff the pink and blue blankies, I don't want to be a part of this constrained gender constuction just yet!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
animals is animals, no matter how you cut it
I received a truly horrific email today. It contained pictures of the whaling drive in the Faroe Islands in Denmark. This email has been doing the rounds for a while, and I've seen it before. But for some reason those horrific images of bloody water, dolphins writhing in the water having thier throats slit by massive hooks, and men cheering and beating their chests, those images disturbed me so much more today.
And the reason is not about the slaughter of these animals, but the slaughter of any and all animals. I have always known deep down inside that killing animals is the same no matter what the reason or result, but today it hit home harder than before. I can in my mind replace the images of those dolphins with cows, pigs, chickens, sheep, kangaroos and all sorts of other animals. Animals that are killed for their meat or their hide (cows for leather and cows for meat are two different types, one kill doesn't result in two products). I struggle to see how a cow or sheep is any different from a dolphin, any less sentient or lacking in worth.
This is why I chose to be vegetarian over 8 years ago. And I swore then that I would never be preachy, I'd never adopt a holier than thou attitude. I will never criticise someone for eating meat. I feel very strongly that it's a very individual choice. As I've indicated in previous posts, autonomy and choice are extremely important to me (as Voltaire once said, I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it). My partner eats meat and I have no problems with that because it's his choice. But I have to admit that I am partly ok with that because he grew up in the country on a sheep farm, he knows exactly where meat comes from. In his youth he helped shoot the rabbits on the farm that ended up as rabbit stew. The helped round up the sheep that went off to the abattoir and came back as chops. He catches fish and scales and guts them for the dinner table.
I think the reason the email today got to me was because so many people I know don't really understand or accept how their steak got to their plate. There seems to be a massive disconnect between the source and the result. Most people aren't stupid, they know that their steak was once a cow. But truly knowing and accepting that the cow was killed and chopped up for their consumption is a different thing.
To me the dolphins in those photos are no different to the cows at the abattoir. They are both sentient beings that are killed for our consumption (and yes those dolphins are eaten, check wikipedia for more info about dolphin drive hunting). It seems more barbaric because we can see the blood, we can see the men using their weapons, we can see the animals writhing in pain. In our modern society, we cannot. At most we see the big stock trucks go past us on the road full of animals, and come back again empty. The next time we see them, they are presented in neatly wrapped packages, looking very little like animals. We don't see them crying as they go to the gallows, we don't see them being shot or having their throats slit, and we don't see them being butchered into the cuts of meat that end up in the shops.
This is what I feel has led to the disconnect. This is what has affected me so much today. It's a very personal decision to eat meat or not. Today has reinforced for me that everyone's line in the sand is in a different place, and that that's ok, but it's better if that line is informed by knowledge and awareness. I may laugh when people say they're vegetarian then say they eat fish, chicken and sausages but not meat (yes really, I met someone who said that!), but really, everyone's got to do what's right for them. After today, I might be a little more bold if the topic comes up and remind people how their meat gets to them. But mostly, my line in the sand is reconfirmed for me. Animals is animals to me. Now hand me some tofu...
And the reason is not about the slaughter of these animals, but the slaughter of any and all animals. I have always known deep down inside that killing animals is the same no matter what the reason or result, but today it hit home harder than before. I can in my mind replace the images of those dolphins with cows, pigs, chickens, sheep, kangaroos and all sorts of other animals. Animals that are killed for their meat or their hide (cows for leather and cows for meat are two different types, one kill doesn't result in two products). I struggle to see how a cow or sheep is any different from a dolphin, any less sentient or lacking in worth.
This is why I chose to be vegetarian over 8 years ago. And I swore then that I would never be preachy, I'd never adopt a holier than thou attitude. I will never criticise someone for eating meat. I feel very strongly that it's a very individual choice. As I've indicated in previous posts, autonomy and choice are extremely important to me (as Voltaire once said, I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it). My partner eats meat and I have no problems with that because it's his choice. But I have to admit that I am partly ok with that because he grew up in the country on a sheep farm, he knows exactly where meat comes from. In his youth he helped shoot the rabbits on the farm that ended up as rabbit stew. The helped round up the sheep that went off to the abattoir and came back as chops. He catches fish and scales and guts them for the dinner table.
I think the reason the email today got to me was because so many people I know don't really understand or accept how their steak got to their plate. There seems to be a massive disconnect between the source and the result. Most people aren't stupid, they know that their steak was once a cow. But truly knowing and accepting that the cow was killed and chopped up for their consumption is a different thing.
To me the dolphins in those photos are no different to the cows at the abattoir. They are both sentient beings that are killed for our consumption (and yes those dolphins are eaten, check wikipedia for more info about dolphin drive hunting). It seems more barbaric because we can see the blood, we can see the men using their weapons, we can see the animals writhing in pain. In our modern society, we cannot. At most we see the big stock trucks go past us on the road full of animals, and come back again empty. The next time we see them, they are presented in neatly wrapped packages, looking very little like animals. We don't see them crying as they go to the gallows, we don't see them being shot or having their throats slit, and we don't see them being butchered into the cuts of meat that end up in the shops.
This is what I feel has led to the disconnect. This is what has affected me so much today. It's a very personal decision to eat meat or not. Today has reinforced for me that everyone's line in the sand is in a different place, and that that's ok, but it's better if that line is informed by knowledge and awareness. I may laugh when people say they're vegetarian then say they eat fish, chicken and sausages but not meat (yes really, I met someone who said that!), but really, everyone's got to do what's right for them. After today, I might be a little more bold if the topic comes up and remind people how their meat gets to them. But mostly, my line in the sand is reconfirmed for me. Animals is animals to me. Now hand me some tofu...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
my favourite kind of red
The mercury has plummeted and it's well and truly winter. It's dark, wet and freezing. Even though i love the warmer weather of spring, summer and autumn, winter has a saving grace. The cordial that I like best!
Winter days like this are perfect for curling up on the couch with a big glass of yummy red wine. Preferably accompanied by either cheese or chocolate. Ok, so it's not the healthiest diet in the world, but it's the yummiest. This time of year I can't help but get itchy feet to go and visit the cellar doors at nearby wineries and taste the latest vintage of all the flavours of red-coloured goodness. Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Sangiovese, Mouvedre, Petit Verdot, Zinfandel, Nebbiolo, yummy Pinot Noir and one of my favourites, Grenache.
We're blessed with some of the best wineries in the world here, and a wide assortment of different grape varieties and blends. I'm not fussy, I'll drink almost anything half decent, though I do have my favourites. But the ability to try so many wonderful varieties and vintages is one of life's greatest joys.
I have to admit I wasn't always a red girl. I used to only drink white, red was too strong for me. I needed to start with something sweeter and easier to drink. But thanks to the perseverance of one of my best mates I slowly developed my palate and learned to appreciate the different flavours and complexities of red. My winter of red-learning, now 10 years ago. where did the time go. It feels like I've been drinking it since I learned to walk.
There mere sight of vines now gets me excited. I start thinking about how hot it's been, how much rainfall we've had, whether the heatwave will have damaged the grapes and which varieties will have been hit hardest in which regions. And when I finally get to taste a sample of each variety, I love the ritual of swirling the glass, inhaling the aromas, checking the smells against my memory banks of familiar scents, swilling the first mouthful around my palate, savouring the flavour. Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!
So here are some recent images of wineries recently visited to try and get your taste buds going. Go on, crack open a bottle of red, it's definitely red weather!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
ginger ninjas rock!
I've been glued to the TV and radio over the last few days because politics just got a whole lot more interesting in our country! We have a red femme for PM!!!!
While I'm sad the old PM got ousted in the manner in which he did, this is a massively significant event in history. Though there have been many women in the top job across the world (Margaret Thatcher, Indira Gandhi and Angela Merkel immediately spring to mind), it's the first time it's happened here. It's the ultimate shattering of the glass ceiling, the highest office in the country. But more significantly than her gender, she is fiercely intelligent, socially inclusive, consultative, compassionate, determined, and - rarely for a politician - 'human'. She uses everyday language that everyone can understand, she doesn't condescend, she has her own foibles and readily admits to them. This makes her 'accessible', people can understand her and relate to her.
This is so important in politics, given the amount of political apathy in our times. It doesn't surprise me that so many people don't give a stuff about politics and have no idea who our politicians are and what they stand for. I used to be one of them. It all seemed so beyond me, so boring, I had no idea what they were talking about half of the time. It didn't seem relevant to me, because it wasn't accessible. It was so confusing, it was so much hard work to try and find out who stood for what and why something was happening, that it was easier to check out. To stay away from it all and not care. After all, I only had one vote and that couldn't change the outcome of an election. It took me a long time to realise that that very apathy is what politicians depend on so that they can simplify a message, use emotional language and wedge issues to sway people, and vote by vote it all adds up. When people are uninformed they are blank canvases. But by making politics a little more accessible, by making herself more human and easier to relate to and understand, she's undoing some of that obfuscation and over-complication that has left so many disenfranchised. This means some people will like her and some will dislike her, but they will be more aware and more engaged, and this changes the game.
I bumped into her once. Literally. I have a habit of walking around in a state of utter vagueness. My partner has a running tab of all the famous people I've walked straight past in airports and shopping malls, and I have no clue whatsoever. I even walked straight past Molly Meldrum wearing his trademark Akubra hat. I had no idea. And at the airport one day I was fumbling through my bag on the way to the security check area and bumped straight into someone. "Oh sorry" I mumbled and kept walking, vaguely registering a"no worries" reply. My partner tapped me on the shoulder and said "do you realise who that was?". I turned round and there she was, flanked by two federal security people with their badges and guns, forced to take her shoes off and walking through the metal detector, laughing and charming the airport security guards. And I thought to myself wow, she's so 'human', going through the same annoying security check we all do. She even had to take off her shoes (though of course the federal staff walked straight through with their guns and flashing their badges - weird). And from then on I really liked her. Apart from the fact she could have got those two scary look people with guns to tackle me to the ground for bumping into her, she was just so everyday, so normal. And a redhead too!
Seeing her as our PM now fills me with excitement and pride. She will be a wonderful PM, despite the enormous challenges she faces. I'm ready for the barrage of criticism to come her way for the way she talks, the colour and style of her hair, the clothes she wears, the fact that she is neither married nor a mother. All of the things that male politicians are rarely if ever subjected to. Because I know she'll handle all of it with dignity, a rapier wit, and an intelligence that leaves the opposition dead in the water. Tony, she's coming for you, and I can't wait...
While I'm sad the old PM got ousted in the manner in which he did, this is a massively significant event in history. Though there have been many women in the top job across the world (Margaret Thatcher, Indira Gandhi and Angela Merkel immediately spring to mind), it's the first time it's happened here. It's the ultimate shattering of the glass ceiling, the highest office in the country. But more significantly than her gender, she is fiercely intelligent, socially inclusive, consultative, compassionate, determined, and - rarely for a politician - 'human'. She uses everyday language that everyone can understand, she doesn't condescend, she has her own foibles and readily admits to them. This makes her 'accessible', people can understand her and relate to her.
This is so important in politics, given the amount of political apathy in our times. It doesn't surprise me that so many people don't give a stuff about politics and have no idea who our politicians are and what they stand for. I used to be one of them. It all seemed so beyond me, so boring, I had no idea what they were talking about half of the time. It didn't seem relevant to me, because it wasn't accessible. It was so confusing, it was so much hard work to try and find out who stood for what and why something was happening, that it was easier to check out. To stay away from it all and not care. After all, I only had one vote and that couldn't change the outcome of an election. It took me a long time to realise that that very apathy is what politicians depend on so that they can simplify a message, use emotional language and wedge issues to sway people, and vote by vote it all adds up. When people are uninformed they are blank canvases. But by making politics a little more accessible, by making herself more human and easier to relate to and understand, she's undoing some of that obfuscation and over-complication that has left so many disenfranchised. This means some people will like her and some will dislike her, but they will be more aware and more engaged, and this changes the game.
I bumped into her once. Literally. I have a habit of walking around in a state of utter vagueness. My partner has a running tab of all the famous people I've walked straight past in airports and shopping malls, and I have no clue whatsoever. I even walked straight past Molly Meldrum wearing his trademark Akubra hat. I had no idea. And at the airport one day I was fumbling through my bag on the way to the security check area and bumped straight into someone. "Oh sorry" I mumbled and kept walking, vaguely registering a"no worries" reply. My partner tapped me on the shoulder and said "do you realise who that was?". I turned round and there she was, flanked by two federal security people with their badges and guns, forced to take her shoes off and walking through the metal detector, laughing and charming the airport security guards. And I thought to myself wow, she's so 'human', going through the same annoying security check we all do. She even had to take off her shoes (though of course the federal staff walked straight through with their guns and flashing their badges - weird). And from then on I really liked her. Apart from the fact she could have got those two scary look people with guns to tackle me to the ground for bumping into her, she was just so everyday, so normal. And a redhead too!
Seeing her as our PM now fills me with excitement and pride. She will be a wonderful PM, despite the enormous challenges she faces. I'm ready for the barrage of criticism to come her way for the way she talks, the colour and style of her hair, the clothes she wears, the fact that she is neither married nor a mother. All of the things that male politicians are rarely if ever subjected to. Because I know she'll handle all of it with dignity, a rapier wit, and an intelligence that leaves the opposition dead in the water. Tony, she's coming for you, and I can't wait...
Sunday, June 20, 2010
back up
Today was a day of sad news. Today we found out that not only had our home computer died due to faulty RAM, but that the hard drive had been wiped. Five years' worth of photos, documents, software and all manner of things, gone in an instant. Everything.
Ništa. Nada. Niente. Rien. Nichts. Zip. Gone.
The silver lining is that we backed up. Only sporadically, so we're not sure how much has fallen through the cracks. But - hopefully - we still have most of it on various external hard drives, CDs and USBs.
I just wanted to take the opportunity to remind anyone reading this to back up. Yes it seems to take forever to copy everything over, and yes it feels like a futile exercise in using up extra memory for duplicated of everything. But when you're facing down the barrel of losing everything, that time turns into time well spent.
Think about it for a moment. Think of all the photos you've taken over the last 5 years and are saved to the computer and wiped from the camera. All the birthdays, weddings, holidays, and everyday moments. Think about all the documents you've written for work, for job applications or your studies. Think of all the little bits and pieces floating about. Then imagine it all gone from your life forever. Completely irretrievable.
Hit the back up button today!
Ništa. Nada. Niente. Rien. Nichts. Zip. Gone.
The silver lining is that we backed up. Only sporadically, so we're not sure how much has fallen through the cracks. But - hopefully - we still have most of it on various external hard drives, CDs and USBs.
I just wanted to take the opportunity to remind anyone reading this to back up. Yes it seems to take forever to copy everything over, and yes it feels like a futile exercise in using up extra memory for duplicated of everything. But when you're facing down the barrel of losing everything, that time turns into time well spent.
Think about it for a moment. Think of all the photos you've taken over the last 5 years and are saved to the computer and wiped from the camera. All the birthdays, weddings, holidays, and everyday moments. Think about all the documents you've written for work, for job applications or your studies. Think of all the little bits and pieces floating about. Then imagine it all gone from your life forever. Completely irretrievable.
Hit the back up button today!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
a weighty issue
I've struggled with my weight all my life, so it was no surprise to me this morning when I jumped on the scales and saw a number higher than I would have liked. Again. I'm incredibly proud of the weight I lost last year in the lead up to the wedding, a grand total of 13 kilos over 16 months. Most of all I was proud of how fit and healthy I felt. Not only did I not shudder every time I looked in the mirror (though I could still find plenty of perceived faults!) but I felt like I had taken control of my health and wellbeing, and had added years to my life through living a healthy lifestyle.
I have now put 2 of those kilos back on and I am seriously upset. I look at the numbers (and feel my jeans getting snug again) and I get seriously angry at myself for letting this happen. I look in the mirror and instead of feeling great I become morose, poking and pulling at all the squishy bits I detest. I'm hiding behind baggy layers again (thank god it's winter) and mentally berating myself every time I dare to eat the wrong thing or, god forbid, i'm too tired to be arsed doing Pilates for an hour. I've given my scales and my mirror the power to define my value as a human being, based on how I look and how much I weigh.
It's perverse. And I hate myself for it. Because I know better. I mean really, it's ridiculous. For a start, I'm still well within the healthy body weight range for my height. I'm also well past being a nubile teenager with a metabolism that could beat phar lap - it's inevitable that things are slowing down. I also ride 20kms 3 or 4 times a week, as well as fitting in a lot of walking, sometimes a run, sometimes some weights, sometimes some Pilates and sometimes an hour on my wii fit. I also eat mostly sensible, healthy foods. I rarely get sick, my skin is usually clear, I drink 2 litres of water every day, don't smoke and only drink alcohol 3 days a week. What the hell is wrong with me?!?!?! Why am I - a smart and healthy woman - allowing myself to be defined and valued based on my weight and the size of my hips.
As women we've been conditioned into thinking that our primary value is our appearance. We're told this every day through advertisements for cosmetics, body products, clothes, shoes. You name it, just about every ad aimed at women (apart from those ridiculous misogynistic ads that tell us women are the only ones who should be cooking, doing the shopping, and doing the cleaning - and smile the entire time while doing it) has one thing in common - the better you look, the greater your worth.
We're our own worst enemies too. It took me years to explain to my partner that women actually dress for other women, not for men. We dress to be accepted, to prove our worth through being beautiful, fashionable, valuable. And the worst thing is most of us are aware of the whole game to varying degrees. We KNOW we're being conned into thinking beauty = worth, but we accept it anyway. So we primp and prime ourselves, dress to literally impress, squeeze our curves into sucky-in undies, deprive ourselves of food we love and enjoy, flog ourselves at the gym and all other manner of measures.
I feel so torn. I really want to lose these pesky 2 kilos, but I also want to make sure I'm doing it for the right reasons, rather than just because they're the magical numbers that I value. I wish I could just say stuff it, I'm fit and healthy and will just continue to be so, it doesn't matter if I go up and down a couple of kilos. But I can't bring myself to. So what do I do? How do I reconcile these two things? It's more important to me that I look in the mirror and see 'me', not my pot-belly. So perhaps I can TRY and lose these 2 kilos, but not beat myself up if I don't. Would that work?
I have a holiday coming up in 10 weeks. This involves summery clothes, swimming, sight seeing, and generally getting my euro-chic freak on. What better motivation, right?! So perhaps I can try to lose it by then. And if not, no big deal. At least I tried. And did it by being healthy - in both my lifestyle and my perspective. Maybe just a little less cheese, maybe just a little more Pilates. And a little less time on the scales - my jeans will let me know!
I have now put 2 of those kilos back on and I am seriously upset. I look at the numbers (and feel my jeans getting snug again) and I get seriously angry at myself for letting this happen. I look in the mirror and instead of feeling great I become morose, poking and pulling at all the squishy bits I detest. I'm hiding behind baggy layers again (thank god it's winter) and mentally berating myself every time I dare to eat the wrong thing or, god forbid, i'm too tired to be arsed doing Pilates for an hour. I've given my scales and my mirror the power to define my value as a human being, based on how I look and how much I weigh.
It's perverse. And I hate myself for it. Because I know better. I mean really, it's ridiculous. For a start, I'm still well within the healthy body weight range for my height. I'm also well past being a nubile teenager with a metabolism that could beat phar lap - it's inevitable that things are slowing down. I also ride 20kms 3 or 4 times a week, as well as fitting in a lot of walking, sometimes a run, sometimes some weights, sometimes some Pilates and sometimes an hour on my wii fit. I also eat mostly sensible, healthy foods. I rarely get sick, my skin is usually clear, I drink 2 litres of water every day, don't smoke and only drink alcohol 3 days a week. What the hell is wrong with me?!?!?! Why am I - a smart and healthy woman - allowing myself to be defined and valued based on my weight and the size of my hips.
As women we've been conditioned into thinking that our primary value is our appearance. We're told this every day through advertisements for cosmetics, body products, clothes, shoes. You name it, just about every ad aimed at women (apart from those ridiculous misogynistic ads that tell us women are the only ones who should be cooking, doing the shopping, and doing the cleaning - and smile the entire time while doing it) has one thing in common - the better you look, the greater your worth.
We're our own worst enemies too. It took me years to explain to my partner that women actually dress for other women, not for men. We dress to be accepted, to prove our worth through being beautiful, fashionable, valuable. And the worst thing is most of us are aware of the whole game to varying degrees. We KNOW we're being conned into thinking beauty = worth, but we accept it anyway. So we primp and prime ourselves, dress to literally impress, squeeze our curves into sucky-in undies, deprive ourselves of food we love and enjoy, flog ourselves at the gym and all other manner of measures.
I feel so torn. I really want to lose these pesky 2 kilos, but I also want to make sure I'm doing it for the right reasons, rather than just because they're the magical numbers that I value. I wish I could just say stuff it, I'm fit and healthy and will just continue to be so, it doesn't matter if I go up and down a couple of kilos. But I can't bring myself to. So what do I do? How do I reconcile these two things? It's more important to me that I look in the mirror and see 'me', not my pot-belly. So perhaps I can TRY and lose these 2 kilos, but not beat myself up if I don't. Would that work?
I have a holiday coming up in 10 weeks. This involves summery clothes, swimming, sight seeing, and generally getting my euro-chic freak on. What better motivation, right?! So perhaps I can try to lose it by then. And if not, no big deal. At least I tried. And did it by being healthy - in both my lifestyle and my perspective. Maybe just a little less cheese, maybe just a little more Pilates. And a little less time on the scales - my jeans will let me know!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
finding my give-a-shit
I've started reading a very funny and insightful book by Kasey Edwards titled 'Thirty Something and Over It'. In it, she talks about losing her give-a-shit. I love this concept, it describes perfectly the meaning or lack thereof about life in general and work in particular (apologies if it's offended anyone).
I think this has resonated with me because I too have lost my give-a-shit, mostly about my work and the career I am pursuing. I question daily where I'm going, what I'm trying to achieve. And I know with certainty that where I am right now in life is not fulfilling me, that I don't have enough meaning, purpose, drive and enthusiasm . I feel like the fail whale. This leads me to conclude that I must make changes and alter the direction of my path.
The problem is deciding which direction to take, and whether it will help me find my give-a-shit again. I really do have a lot of give-a-shit about many other things in my life, especially my wonderful husband, my fabulous friends, and the many joyous hobbies I have like cooking, photography, hiking and all things wedding. But this still doesn't balance out right, it's not enough. I need to give-a-shit about my career too.
A few people have imparted sage, wise words of advice that have certainly helped. Particularly that to expect creative fulfillment and a sense of true purpose out of your job is an unrealistic expectation, that it's just to pay the rent, and that hobbies are where you get your fulfillment and purpose in life. That a job is something that you do, not who you are. I fully agree with this last statement. I don't want to define myself by my job. BUT...
I still think it's not totally unrealistic to be able to pursue a career that, despite the ups and downs, I can find fulfilling. That ticks most of the boxes - it challenges me, it rewards me, it lets me be creative, it lets me follow what i'm passionate about, it helps me help others. I don't really care about the pay, so long as it's enough to stay on top of things, I just feel like I'm missing out on something that could be infinitely more rewarding.
A few friends are lucky enough to have found careers that they find so fulfilling, just talking to them they ooze satisfaction and contentment. I am green with envy. But all of them have taken a big risk. They have followed their hearts and pursued careers that have enabled them to incorporate to varying degrees their hobbies, what they are passionate about. I wonder if I shouldn't be just as brave and step out into the unknown and follow my dreams.
Except for so long my dreams were to follow the path that I'm on now. I need to create new dreams and new goals, and that's going to take time. I know I love to write (hence my blog! I need a receptacle for the overflow of my excessive verbosity), and I love to tell stories and take photographs. I love to create, to play around with colours and textures and come up with something new. I am most passionate about women's autonomy, equality and value. I am almost as passionate about weddings. I love the great outdoors, getting out in the fresh air and surrounding myself with the wonders of nature and ensuring it is protected and preserved.
The options are endless. How can I ever find a new path? Where on earth do I start in trying to rediscover my give-a-shit?!?!?!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
reliving memories
Last week I ordered some canvas prints of my favourite photos from my wedding. And today, joy of joys, they arrived! And apart from one small blemish, I'm really pleased with them, they look great! Printing them on canvas has given them a real depth and texture that doesn't quite come through behind glass and a frame. I'm not against photos in frames at all - and in fact have a couple in mind for that purpose as well! - but I chose these photos specifically for canvas because of the 'moment'.
The pictures (thanks to my supercalafrickinawesome photographer) captured special moments in time, and when I look at them, it takes me straight back to that moment. I remember how I was feeling, what my surroundings were like, the whole context.
I think this is why I've gravitated towards photography all of my life, and particularly lately with my new camera. Apart from the fact that my memory seems to be structured to be very alive in the here and now rather than vividly remembering things without prompts, photos always transport me straight back to the time and place that the moment was captured. It enables me to relive that time in my life, and releases other memories that weren't captured by the lens but are stored away deep in the vault, er... I mean, my memory.
Most of these memories are very happy - obviously the wedding photos remind me how incredibly happy I was all day, and how lucky I felt to be marrying the most wonderful man and share that with my family and friends. But some are sad, some are regretful, some make me angry, and some make me wistful. But these emotions, like the images, are reflective of the moment, and being able to relive them makes me feel alive.
I love looking at other people's photos, things like holidays, birthdays and of course especially weddings (I stalk my photographer's website for updates!), because photos have that special ability to communicate the context - the emotions and surroundings, the people, the vibe - even when you don't have a memory to accompany it. It's like a blank canvas (pardon the pun) that you can make your own inferences about, ascribe your own meanings and understandings of the moment. Which is a lot of fun!
But being able to trigger real memories of a moment, and everything that surrounded it, is the true power of photography. This is the power of photos for me, the story that they can tell about the moment they've captured, helping you to relive significant (and sometimes everyday) moments in your life, and treasure those memories. Every time I look at these canvases, I know I'll remember the moment they've captured as vividly as if it happened yesterday.
All they need now is a hook and some wall space...
The pictures (thanks to my supercalafrickinawesome photographer) captured special moments in time, and when I look at them, it takes me straight back to that moment. I remember how I was feeling, what my surroundings were like, the whole context.
I think this is why I've gravitated towards photography all of my life, and particularly lately with my new camera. Apart from the fact that my memory seems to be structured to be very alive in the here and now rather than vividly remembering things without prompts, photos always transport me straight back to the time and place that the moment was captured. It enables me to relive that time in my life, and releases other memories that weren't captured by the lens but are stored away deep in the vault, er... I mean, my memory.
Most of these memories are very happy - obviously the wedding photos remind me how incredibly happy I was all day, and how lucky I felt to be marrying the most wonderful man and share that with my family and friends. But some are sad, some are regretful, some make me angry, and some make me wistful. But these emotions, like the images, are reflective of the moment, and being able to relive them makes me feel alive.
I love looking at other people's photos, things like holidays, birthdays and of course especially weddings (I stalk my photographer's website for updates!), because photos have that special ability to communicate the context - the emotions and surroundings, the people, the vibe - even when you don't have a memory to accompany it. It's like a blank canvas (pardon the pun) that you can make your own inferences about, ascribe your own meanings and understandings of the moment. Which is a lot of fun!
But being able to trigger real memories of a moment, and everything that surrounded it, is the true power of photography. This is the power of photos for me, the story that they can tell about the moment they've captured, helping you to relive significant (and sometimes everyday) moments in your life, and treasure those memories. Every time I look at these canvases, I know I'll remember the moment they've captured as vividly as if it happened yesterday.
All they need now is a hook and some wall space...
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
confessions of a wedding-aholic
I have a confession to make. I’m a wedding-aholic. I can’t get enough of them. And now that my own is fading into the past, it’s really starting to look quite sad.
I wasn’t always a wedding-aholic. In fact, for many many years I was anti-weddings. I’ve never been anti-marriage, but the whole ‘wedding’ thing freaked me out. After all, you don’t need a piece of paper to be committed to the one you love, to let them know you want to spend the rest of your life with them. Commitment is something you choose within your relationship EVERY DAY. All I knew about weddings was ‘white fluff’ – all that whiteness and frou-frou and sparkles and expensive useless tat. NOT my scene!
But inexplicably I changed my mind. I can’t pinpoint when the change in attitude began, but I know that I slowly came to realise that it doesn’t have to be a big white fluffy deal. And no, you don’t HAVE to get married to be committed. I began to see it as a way of celebrating your love and commitment with family and friends. This is the person you love and want to spend the rest of your life with, what’s not worth celebrating about that? It's about publicly declaring to your family and your friends that you have chosen each other, you are going to be with your partner through thick and thin, that you are prepared to make sacrifices for each other and are in it for the long haul. That you love this person so much that you are willing to go ahead and 'forsake' all others and put up with their annoying stuff and that you think they are special. Marriage is our society’s way of recognising a couple has chosen to spend the rest of their lives together. And though I’m not one to embrace social norms just because they are... well... social norms, I realised that there’s nothing wrong with that. Did we HAVE to get married? No. We wanted to.
We forewent a lot of traditional wedding fare along the way. Neither of us is traditional or religious anyway, and with so many wedding customs centred around patriarchal notions of women being property to be owned, we wanted to make sure that everything we did was because we wanted it there and knew the meaning of it.
Along the way I made a heap of bride-to-be buddies in a forum, and I learned that even though I was a bit of a bridal scrooge, everyone’s dreams and ideals were different. It really opened my eyes. And I slowly stopped being so judgemental about all the white fluff. These traditions are a big deal to some people, and I began to understand that to each their own. I am still a big advocate of understanding what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, but if it’s what you BOTH want (and that’s the important bit, it’s a marriage after all, a partnership, there are two of you getting married here!), then go for it.
And along the way, a little bit of white fluff rubbed off on me. I would never go for a lot of that kind of stuff for myself, but I appreciate its beauty and allure for other people (well, other brides anyway, I’m not so sure about the grooms...). Now that it’s all over, I miss the joy and creativity it brought me.
But I also realise that now that the wedding is over, the marriage is what’s left. And that’s the most important – and best – bit! It was never about the wedding, but about the marriage. We publicly declared to our loved ones that we had found each other and would never let each other go, and we celebrated that with them (we had an after-party rather than a reception!), and now we LIVE it every day.
I’ll just have to get my wedding fixes elsewhere!
I wasn’t always a wedding-aholic. In fact, for many many years I was anti-weddings. I’ve never been anti-marriage, but the whole ‘wedding’ thing freaked me out. After all, you don’t need a piece of paper to be committed to the one you love, to let them know you want to spend the rest of your life with them. Commitment is something you choose within your relationship EVERY DAY. All I knew about weddings was ‘white fluff’ – all that whiteness and frou-frou and sparkles and expensive useless tat. NOT my scene!
But inexplicably I changed my mind. I can’t pinpoint when the change in attitude began, but I know that I slowly came to realise that it doesn’t have to be a big white fluffy deal. And no, you don’t HAVE to get married to be committed. I began to see it as a way of celebrating your love and commitment with family and friends. This is the person you love and want to spend the rest of your life with, what’s not worth celebrating about that? It's about publicly declaring to your family and your friends that you have chosen each other, you are going to be with your partner through thick and thin, that you are prepared to make sacrifices for each other and are in it for the long haul. That you love this person so much that you are willing to go ahead and 'forsake' all others and put up with their annoying stuff and that you think they are special. Marriage is our society’s way of recognising a couple has chosen to spend the rest of their lives together. And though I’m not one to embrace social norms just because they are... well... social norms, I realised that there’s nothing wrong with that. Did we HAVE to get married? No. We wanted to.
We forewent a lot of traditional wedding fare along the way. Neither of us is traditional or religious anyway, and with so many wedding customs centred around patriarchal notions of women being property to be owned, we wanted to make sure that everything we did was because we wanted it there and knew the meaning of it.
Along the way I made a heap of bride-to-be buddies in a forum, and I learned that even though I was a bit of a bridal scrooge, everyone’s dreams and ideals were different. It really opened my eyes. And I slowly stopped being so judgemental about all the white fluff. These traditions are a big deal to some people, and I began to understand that to each their own. I am still a big advocate of understanding what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, but if it’s what you BOTH want (and that’s the important bit, it’s a marriage after all, a partnership, there are two of you getting married here!), then go for it.
And along the way, a little bit of white fluff rubbed off on me. I would never go for a lot of that kind of stuff for myself, but I appreciate its beauty and allure for other people (well, other brides anyway, I’m not so sure about the grooms...). Now that it’s all over, I miss the joy and creativity it brought me.
But I also realise that now that the wedding is over, the marriage is what’s left. And that’s the most important – and best – bit! It was never about the wedding, but about the marriage. We publicly declared to our loved ones that we had found each other and would never let each other go, and we celebrated that with them (we had an after-party rather than a reception!), and now we LIVE it every day.
I’ll just have to get my wedding fixes elsewhere!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
the 'F' word
Given my work and research interests are around women's health and justice, I get asked a lot if I am a feminist. Which I don't mind being asked - or answering - but I have noticed that it is often said with a slightly bemused or disgusted face (and their reaction to my affirmative doubly so). Some people seem to spit the word out as if it tasted bad in their mouth.
I have to admit that for a long time this suprised me. I thought that regardless of your political persuasions (or apathies) most people understand what feminism is and what it has acheived for women over the last century or so. But the more time that goes by, the more I understand that people actually don't really understand what feminism is or who feminists are.
Many people's notions of feminism are ill-informed, based on stories and images of women burning their bras, marching for control over their reproductive choices, and fighting for equal pay and against violence towards women. Images of hairy hippies spring to mind, of 'butch' lesbians, of women who hate men. Does any of this ring a bell?
But when you push past those pre-conceived notions of hairy-pitted men-haters (not that the two are mutually inclusive), you realise most people just don't understand it in the context of the here and now. In these modern times of hyper-sexuality and materialism, where women are more than ever financially and socially independent, surely this term - this ethos - is moribund?
So I ask if they think men and women are equal in worth? The answer is always yes. Then I ask if they believe men and women should have control over their own lives, have autonomy, be makers of their own destiny? The answer is a resounding yes. To which I then reply, these are the fundamental tenets of feminism - that men and women are equal in worth and should be equal in status within society. It wasn't always so. And there are still areas where this is clearly not the case. So feminism isn't redundant, there are still major shortfalls to cover, still fights to be fought to make sure no woman is worth less than any man. When I ask people to really think about it - are women of equal status in our society, do we have total autonomy - many suddenly realise the answer is no, not really.
It's not a dirty word, and it's no longer about burning our bras. Sadly there are some women who hate men, just as there are men who hate women (incidentally the original title of Stieg Larsson's book, adapted to English as the girl with the dragon tattoo). But this isn't what feminism is about, it's not about hating men but recognising that our society doesn't value men and women equally and that we must fight to make this happen. If you agree that women and men should be equal in worth and social value, you're already fundamentally a feminist.
You just didn't know it yet :)
I have to admit that for a long time this suprised me. I thought that regardless of your political persuasions (or apathies) most people understand what feminism is and what it has acheived for women over the last century or so. But the more time that goes by, the more I understand that people actually don't really understand what feminism is or who feminists are.
Many people's notions of feminism are ill-informed, based on stories and images of women burning their bras, marching for control over their reproductive choices, and fighting for equal pay and against violence towards women. Images of hairy hippies spring to mind, of 'butch' lesbians, of women who hate men. Does any of this ring a bell?
But when you push past those pre-conceived notions of hairy-pitted men-haters (not that the two are mutually inclusive), you realise most people just don't understand it in the context of the here and now. In these modern times of hyper-sexuality and materialism, where women are more than ever financially and socially independent, surely this term - this ethos - is moribund?
So I ask if they think men and women are equal in worth? The answer is always yes. Then I ask if they believe men and women should have control over their own lives, have autonomy, be makers of their own destiny? The answer is a resounding yes. To which I then reply, these are the fundamental tenets of feminism - that men and women are equal in worth and should be equal in status within society. It wasn't always so. And there are still areas where this is clearly not the case. So feminism isn't redundant, there are still major shortfalls to cover, still fights to be fought to make sure no woman is worth less than any man. When I ask people to really think about it - are women of equal status in our society, do we have total autonomy - many suddenly realise the answer is no, not really.
It's not a dirty word, and it's no longer about burning our bras. Sadly there are some women who hate men, just as there are men who hate women (incidentally the original title of Stieg Larsson's book, adapted to English as the girl with the dragon tattoo). But this isn't what feminism is about, it's not about hating men but recognising that our society doesn't value men and women equally and that we must fight to make this happen. If you agree that women and men should be equal in worth and social value, you're already fundamentally a feminist.
You just didn't know it yet :)
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Autumn
Winter officially starts on Tuesday. Though to be honest it feels like it started a couple of weeks ago, when the temperature dropped, and then stayed, below 20 Celsius, the nights got into the single digits, and the leaves have started falling off the trees and going mushy in the rain.
It's prompted me to reflect on autumn and what that season brings. It's a strange season here, because in my memory it seems to go pretty quickly between summer and winter, barely registering spring or autumn. But this year autumn seemed a more recognisable change, it seemed to last a little longer and show itself more clearly.
It's brought a lot of rain this year (which is a good thing here)and very changeable weather. It started with long mellow days, then mild fresh days, and finally cold and dark days. The days seemed to grow shorter at a phenomenal speed.
But most of all, autumn this year revealed its true colourful splendour in all its glory. Crisp blue skies, trees ranging from green to yellow to red to brown, grass shooting new green leaves where once there was dry brown dirt. A true cacophony of colour, nature's final flourish before sleeping for the winter.
I can't wait to see what spring holds.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
the joy of flowers
My partner got me flowers yesterday! aawwww!!!!! It's not something that happens very often, maybe twice a year, so it's extra special when it happens, especially when it's "just because"!
I love the colour (and sometimes smell) flowers offer the house. They lift even the lowest of spirits, and seem to bring light and positive energy into a room. I love all flowers, but my favourites are tulips, lilies, orchids and sunflowers.
Here's a short history of some of the flowers I've received over the years...
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
the hazards of riding
I commute to work on my bicycle. It's only about 10km each way so it's great for my fitness (as well as the environment and my hip pocket) but not too arduous.
On Thursday last week my worst riding nightmare came true. I was hit by a car. As I came down the left of banked up traffic, a car turned right in front of me leaving me with nowhere to go but straight into the side of him at about 35kph. Amazingly neither myself nor the bike are badly damaged. I got some scrapes and bruises, but nothing broken. My trusty bike barely registered a dent.
To be fair to the driver, neither of us could see each other until it was too late. I'm a stickler for rules, especially road rules (and resent fellow cyclists who flout the road rules and give the rest of us a bad reputation) and I know that it was his responsibility to ensure there was no oncoming traffic (including me) before conducting his manoeuvre, but unless he stopped mid-manoeuvre (and mid-rush hour traffic) to check, there was no way he could see me, despite me wearing high visibility clothes and flashing lights. And I know we're all guilty of rushing and not checking properly, especially in a stressful siuation like that.
Therefore I'd just like to caution everyone - drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians, to be extra careful, to remember to take that time to check your blind spots, your mirrors etc and watch out for each other. I may have been in the right, but that's not much use if I'd been killed.
Stay safe!
On Thursday last week my worst riding nightmare came true. I was hit by a car. As I came down the left of banked up traffic, a car turned right in front of me leaving me with nowhere to go but straight into the side of him at about 35kph. Amazingly neither myself nor the bike are badly damaged. I got some scrapes and bruises, but nothing broken. My trusty bike barely registered a dent.
To be fair to the driver, neither of us could see each other until it was too late. I'm a stickler for rules, especially road rules (and resent fellow cyclists who flout the road rules and give the rest of us a bad reputation) and I know that it was his responsibility to ensure there was no oncoming traffic (including me) before conducting his manoeuvre, but unless he stopped mid-manoeuvre (and mid-rush hour traffic) to check, there was no way he could see me, despite me wearing high visibility clothes and flashing lights. And I know we're all guilty of rushing and not checking properly, especially in a stressful siuation like that.
Therefore I'd just like to caution everyone - drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians, to be extra careful, to remember to take that time to check your blind spots, your mirrors etc and watch out for each other. I may have been in the right, but that's not much use if I'd been killed.
Stay safe!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Bonjour!
This blog is an avenue for all my musings, theories, postulations, and observations about life and society. A creative dumping ground if you will.
But first a little about me. I am passionate about politics, the planet, music, photography, women's issues, food, wine and weddings, just to name a few. An eclectic mix I know!
I chose the Red Femme for a number of reasons which I'm sure I'll divulge over the course of a few blogs, but for now suffice it to say that red is not only the colour of my hair but of passion and strength, and I am a femme!
But first a little about me. I am passionate about politics, the planet, music, photography, women's issues, food, wine and weddings, just to name a few. An eclectic mix I know!
I chose the Red Femme for a number of reasons which I'm sure I'll divulge over the course of a few blogs, but for now suffice it to say that red is not only the colour of my hair but of passion and strength, and I am a femme!
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