The Red Femme

It ain’t easy being green

2011-09-27T06:30:00.000-07:00

As so perfectly summed up by Kermit the Frog all those years ago, it is indeed hard being green. Even now in this supposed enlightened age with greater access to information and services than ever before, it’s still a struggle. Not because it’s hard to get your cardboard and bottles recycled, or even because it’s still prohibitively expensive for many people to access solar and wind power. And I’m certainly the first to chime in when discussing the difficulties of being greener and healthier by riding a bike to work, don’t get me started!

I’m talking more about difficulties at a political and cultural level. Despite all our improved knowledge and sharing of information, being environmentally friendly or sustainable is still seen – socially and politically – as being a bit fringe. A bit out there. Sure everyone now puts their newspapers and bottles in their recycling bin, but anything slightly out of the ordinary and by golly, are you off hugging trees or something mate?!?! We all WANT to be seen to be ‘green’ but few of us do enough really, and I include myself in that.

And I think the main reason for this is our cultural obsession with materialism. We all want the latest and greatest. Latest fashion trends, new and pretty home furnishings, newer better cars, bigger houses, the list goes on. And I confess I’m a sucker for it. I love walking through the mall and seeing new pretty shiny things in windows. I walk through my house sometimes and dream of how nice it would be to have a big wardrobe to put everything in, or a nicer TV stand or a better coffee table. We've been brainwashed into thinking that having new 'things' will make our lives better, make us look better, make us better people. The problem is that sure having these new things would give me a vague sense of satisfaction and excitement of a new ‘thing’, and they may even make my daily life easier/neater/cleaner/prettier. But at the end of the day, they’re not things that I NEED are they?! I have drawers full of clothes, I have a coffee table that does the job just fine, and though a proper wardrobe WOULD be good, the porta-robe is doing the job for now.

It’s really quite hard, despite my best efforts and intentions, to find a happy balance that I know is not too materialistic yet still allows me to want and have nice things sometimes. I’ve lately really enjoyed getting into vintage and preloved clothes and accessories, not just for the awesome retro fashion but because it’s a great form of recycling and I love to think about the stories behind the pieces, who used to wear them, where they’ve been etc. As much as I love new clothes, it saddens me to know they generally come from some factory in China where women are getting paid minimum wage to churn them out then we get slugged some huge amount. It’s the same with new furniture, being churned out of a factory somewhere in Vietnam or Korea to feed the monoliths like Ikea. Trees being chopped down, chemicals being burned, minerals being stripped from the earth, oil being burnt. When you stop and think about it, it can leave you feeling rather depressed and with a headache to boot.

I know I will never stop buying new things entirely, but for the month of October I’m embracing a new concept and campaign called ‘Don’t Buy Anything New Month’. For the entire month of October, any clothes new to me will be preloved or altered. Any other ‘things’ new to me will be likewise preloved. I will abstain from ‘treating’ myself to some nice but unnecessary body lotion or lipgloss. I have enough really. I’m hoping that it will make me really understand and appreciate how much ‘stuff’ I often buy and how little of it I actually need. Hopefully I may even save some money – hurrah! And by the end of the month, despite my absence from the consumerism carousel, I won’t be seen as fringe or a tree-hugger (though I’d like to put it out there that there’s nothing wrong with hugging trees!), but my new-found sense of reduced materialism will be permanent or even contagious.

I would LOVE to get solar power, I really would, but as a full time student sadly that’s just not going to happen any time soon. I need to reconcile myself and be OK with doing what I can, and understanding that it’s always more than we think it is if we just make the effort. After all, it ain’t easy being green, but that’s no reason not to try a little harder.

It's all in the details!

2011-07-31T05:53:00.000-07:00

As I have made my first stumbling steps as an amateur photographer (and I use the title ‘photographer’ only in the most literal sense – as someone who takes photographs, I am in no way a ‘photographer’ in the professional sense!) it has become very clear to me that I have developed a very clear preference and bias. Which kind of weirds me out as my brain seems to only function when I can believe in a utopian world where everything is equal. You see, I’ve very much developed a taste for details.

I do wonder to what extent this has been influenced by some wonderful photographers whose work I admire, respect and hope to one day aspire to. They too are drawn to details, and not necessarily in the macro sense but rather the way the light plays on something, the texture of something, contrasts and juxtapositions that are interesting and eye catching, moments in time that are special, seeing into someone’s soul when you look into their eyes, their face and posture radiating who they are and how they feel. These kinds of details draw my eye like nothing else. But then I think perhaps I am drawn to the work of these photographers because they see things the way I do (but are much better at capturing it!). Perhaps it’s a little of column A and column B.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that it is in part due to my borderline OCD when it comes to getting the details right. I’ve never been very good at ‘that will do’, every little bit has to be perfect, whether it be cooking dinner or planning my wedding. (Which turned out to be a headache for the wedding planning). But I know that this is just the way my mind works – it worries about the little details, it looks out for the little things. So when I see some beautiful light or textures I’m drawn to it and want to capture it and convey it.

Despite acknowledging that this is the way my brain works, I am still jealous of those who work differently and can see and capture things in a way that I can’t. (Because of course I’m a perfectionist and I want to be able to do everything perfectly). For instance my brother takes amazing landscape photos. He has the patience to wait for the right light, to search out the right composition, to set up all the gear and capture the whole vista in one fell swoop. When we went out shooting together last year he took stunning photos of sunset skies and mountains and fields. I took photos of the leaves on the railway track. His photos turned out infinitely more breathtaking and had that ‘wow’ factor. I admit I was jealous. But as hard as I try I just can’t get landscape shots right. They end up looking dull and flat. Even when I get the composition ok, nothing else seems to work. They’re ok. Passable. Competent. But way under par. Sigh!

It’s hard to accept that this is the way I work and to let go of being sucky at other types of photography. I know I could improve with some lessons and a ton of practice, but why fight nature. My brain likes details. It likes the way light can play such an important role on something small. It likes trying to bring texture alive. It likes shallow depth of field. And so the way I photograph reflects this. When I see frost on a cabbage, I want to capture it. When I see a small patch of bright green moss on a bare brown branch, I want to capture it. When I see golden rays of light playing in the bushes, I want to capture it. When I see something that has an amazing texture, I want to capture it. I want to convey what I see and how I see it to others. I guess this is the essence of why we take photos beyond the happy snaps at birthdays. And accepting that I see things a certain way is a big part of that, and holds the tantalising promise of feeling liberated and at peace.

20 things I am grateful for

2011-07-19T19:06:00.000-07:00

Inspired by a close friend who has done 20 days of gratitude (where each day you write about something that you are grateful to have in your life), I have decided to collapse this simply into my personal top 20 list of things that I am grateful for. It's made me really sit back and take stock of my life and focus on the big and little things, the things that are obvious and the things that are part of the furniture, the things I have worked hard for and the things I have had the immense good fortune to have in my life. SO here they are, in no particular order (well, except maybe the first one)...

1. My partner. I am so grateful to have met my best friend and soul mate, and to be able to share my life with such a wonderful human being who supports and ecourages me, respects and admires me, laughs and cries with me, and loves me as I am.

2. My health. Despite getting a little older (though not necessarily wiser) and noticing things slowing down and starting to creak just a little, I am otherwise in excellent health. My organs all work, I have all my teeth, my legs get me to where I'm going, my arms are able to hug, my eyes can see, my ears can hear, my mouth can talk and taste, my skin can touch and feel, and my brain can take it all in and help me get through every day.

3. Fresh air. In this wide open country we are lucky enough to have fresh air to breathe that is not too heavily congested with pollutants. Sure when I'm riding through traffic I hate getting a lungful of stinky fumes from the bus in front of me, but generally my lungs are clear and I am getting all the oxygen I need.

4. Clean water. This is a big one. I am so lucky to be able to turn on a tap just about anywhere and out comes clean drinkable water! Incredible! Half of the world's population doesn't have this. Not only is it clean and drinkable (if a little icky tasting here in Radelaide), but there is such an abundance of it that I can flush it down the toilet! I can shower daily in it! I know it is always there, even in the worst grips of a drought. I guess I can add power to this too. Because I flip a switch and bam, the light goes on. Every. Time.

5. My friends. I have such an amazing network of friends who all love and support me. Some I see more than others, some I am closer to in temperament or spirit or world view, some are old and some are new. But I love them all and they each give me so much in terms of keeping my mind open, learning new things and becoming a stronger more positive human being.

6. My family. Despite our differences - and there are many - we all love each other very much. I know my parents and siblings will always love and support me, regardless of whether they agree with me. I don't just think it or feel it, I KNOW it, and I am blessed to have such stability and certainty.

7. Summer. I know this must seem like a strange one, but it's more symbolic in what it represents. Our climate is so wonderful that for around 6 months of the year you can sit outside to eat and drink, go down to the beach, spend a LOT of time outdoors, get plenty of sunshine on your skin and in your heart, and generally feel wonderful about the world. Sure those 43 degree days are almost unbearable, but they are monumentally outweighed by all the happiness and promise that summer holds.

8. My education. This is a biggie. My family was always strong on making sure we had a good education, and always encouraged me to do my best, to push myself and reach for the stars. They encouraged me to go to University, where I grew exponentially both in knowledge and in spirit. I have always had a deep-seated desire to know more, to understand more, and to make the world a better place. Happily I passed on the Miss Universe pageant and worked my guts out to get to where I am now - PhD land - and will continue to further my knowledge and understanding throughout my life.

9. I am white and middle class. By dint of luck, I was born to a white family living in the Western world. We were never well off, but we had enough to get by and we were rich in love. Since my teens I have been fiercely independent and have fought hard to pay my own way, to learn and to grow, and to better myself. Though I have encountered much sexism and misogyny in my life, an plenty of anti-pom sentiment, I have never know racism, I have never been unfairly judged due to the colour of my skin. I have been able to work with the system to pay my own way and forge a life for myself that i am happy with and proud of. I know I am lucky.

10. The roof over my head. This is tied in with a few other things I have already mentioned, but I am so grateful that I have a stable roof over my head. We can't afford much, but we have enough to pay our rent and buy food to eat and pay our bills. Regardless of the pros and cons of renting vs buying, we live in a wonderful area in a wonderful house. I am so grateful and never take it for granted.

11. Good food. I am constantly amazed at the array of wonderful nutritious food that is available to me. Fresh fruit and vegetables daily, plenty of variety. It is because I have such wonderful access to a wide variety of nutritious foods that I am able to choose to be vegetarian - I don't have to rely on meat for my protein etc because I have access to plenty of other options inlcuding mushrooms and legumes and soy-based products like tofu and nuts and eggs and dairy. I even have enough space where I live (and enough access to water!) to grow my own vegetables and bake my own bread. Billions of people across the world don't have such a luxury, they have very little food and very little variety. Starvation and malnutrition are commonplace. I am so grateful that I will never have to worry about it because I am surrounded by such wonderful good food.

12. Opportunity. I have been blessed with many opportunities in the past and am grateful that there will be many more in my future. When I speak of opportunity I mean in regards to being a productive member of society. I have had many jobs, some fantastic some not so great, but all of which I've learned from and have helped me become the person I am today. I have been given the opportunity to go to University through HECS (the government paying my fees and me being able to pay it back without interest when i can afford it) and through AUSTUDY (a student living allowance from the government), and now through the offer of a scholarship for my PhD. I know that in this country there will be many more opportunities for me when I graduate, some better than others but I am grateful that I have the certainty that when I graduate I will be able to get at least some kind of decent job.

13. Space. Not outer space, though that's pretty awesome in itself, but the space around me. I live in a country, and indeed in a city, where space is in abundance. My house is plenty big for the two of us, my backyard is big enough to grow vegies in while still be able to run around or host dinner parties. My city is well spaced, with plenty of room for me to get around in without cramming against everyone else. There are plenty of spaces in which I can go for a run or a hike and be the only person for miles. Plenty of green spaces with trees and grass and trails. Plenty of sunlight getting in between buildings both in the city and suburbs. Pretty neat.

14. Safety. With one notable exception, my personal safety has always been fairly secure. I live in a country, and a city, where levels of crime are fairly stable and comparatively low on a global scale. I am not being persecuted for my religion, my culture, my politics, my sexuality, the colour of my skin or my name. The government, though not without its faults, does not interfere with my life. I pay my taxes but do not have to worry about paying corrput officials or militia or vigilantes. I do not live in fear of being bombed or shot. I can voice my opinion, I can be different, and I am safe. So many cannot. How lucky am I.

15. Autonomy. I have full political autonomy; I can vote according to my own values and beliefs, ideas and opinions. I don't have to tell anyone how I vote, no-one can tell me how to vote, I can tell representatives of political parties to leave me alone, and I can voice my opnion. Pretty awesome really. I am in charge of my own life, I make my own decisions about what I do, where I go, what I wear, what I think and what I want. I am grateful for this freedom that so many around the world do not have.

16. Feminism. Even though it's often seen as a dirty word or irrelevant - even Margaret Thatcher herself declared that "I owe nothing to feminism" (I don't think she saw the irony) - I feel I owe a lot to feminists past and present. They fought to give me full franchise (see above), they fought to give me full access to education and the workplace. They fought for maternity leave, for equal rights and equal pay. They fought to criminalise sexual harrassment, discrimination and sexual assault. I enjoy all of these benefits and more. Though there is still much to be done in achieving equality, even in this country let alone globally, so much has already been accomplished and I am forever grateful.

17. Wine, cheese and chocolate. Ok, so these are perhaps a little frivolous, but they are my favourite indulgences (hence I have grouped them together) and I am grateful to the many men and women over the years who have discovered and refined these products to what they are today. I enjoy them so much as one of life's pleasures, and thanks to my incredibly lucky access to such wonderful food (see above) I am grateful that I can experience and enjoy such luxury items.

18. Belly laughs. Because they make me feel so damn good. And they remind you that life can be fun and wonderful and invigorating. You know the ones, they scrunch up your face and laughter comes tumbling out of your mouth from way down deep in your tummy. I am grateful for everything that causes these.

19. My creative outlet. That's right, my little camera. I am thankful that I have found a creative outlet that I love so much and that brings me so much joy and satisfaction. From my partner who bought me my camera, to my wonderful friends and family who offer me advice and support and guidance and camaradery, I am forever grateful.

20. Communication. I am grateful for the fact that I can sit at this computer and type this and not only will the internet beam it across to your computer where you can access it, but the jumble of letters will make sense to you and you will understand me (hopefully anyway!). I can pick up the phone and call someone and we can talk, even though we might be miles apart. I can call someone on their mobile phone in the middle of the desert (well, if they're with Telstra anyway!). I can start up the camera on my computer or ipad or phone and beam a live video of me across to someone else, and have a pseudo 'face to face' conversation. I can post some thoughts or some photos to facebook and all my friends and family across the planet can see them. I am grateful to have such a wide variety of technologies available to me. But more than that, communication, be it face to face or a letter or a skype call or a phone call or a blog post or whatever, is about sharing. Sharing ideas and thoughts, perspectives and insights, ways of seeing and knowing, ways of thinking and doing, sharing love. Our written and spoken language, our physical gestures, are all about conveying who we are to each other. Pretty awesome stuff.

slut or not, rape is still rape

2011-06-29T23:24:00.004-07:00

Starting as a localised protest about the remarks made by a policeman in Canada who blamed a woman for being raped because of the way she dressed, Slutwalk has become a worldwide phenomenon of women who are fed up of being blamed for rape. Since the 1960s, women have had to continuously fight against a culture of victim blaming that seeks to maintain the power imbalance between men and women. It breaks my heart that 50 years later, despite many inroads towards gender equality, we are still fighting that fight.

We all know what this culture looks and sounds like, we live it every day. We see it in the media, on the streets, and even in our personal lives.”She was asking for it”, “she was flirting with me”, “she was drunk”, “she said no but she really meant yes”, “she’s slept with others”, “she was dressed like a slut”. These rape myths seek to reinforce sex roles that see men as entitled to sexual fulfilment and in control, and sees women as sexually subordinate and existing for men’s gratification. Men take, women are taken. It is ironic that despite men having all the power and control, women are the gatekeepers of sex. Women are the ones who must say no, must fight back, must not be provocative, and must not get intoxicated. These rape myths all lay the responsibility of the rape at the feet of women.

But they don’t exist in some abstract universe, they exist in everyday people. They are a pervasive and insidious part of our culture. So much so that they have appeared in police statements, medical records, court proceedings and even in judge comments. They are so insidious that they even exist in you and me. It hurts to say it, but it’s true. I grew up with family members who thought this way, with peers in school who thought this way, with media that portrayed it this way. And you did too.

Thankfully as adults we have the opportunity to think more consciously about it and realise that these rape myths are total and utter bullshit. That no woman is responsible for being raped, no matter who she is, what her sexual history, what she had been drinking, how much she was flirting, or what she had been wearing. That no really does mean no. But sadly not everyone takes the opportunity to think consciously about it. Our cultural understanding of rape is dominated by these myths, stereotypes and mistruths.

This is what Slutwalk was about. It was about bringing attention to the fact this our cultural understanding of rape has not fundamentally changed in 50 years. It was about saying enough is enough. It was about using that wonderful term of derision – slut – to take away some of its power, because lord knows, it gets bandied around way too much when discussing women’s behaviour and attire.

I often get asked what I think about “slutty” clothes and behaviour, because it presents a very real and practical conundrum. One the one hand, without a question in my mind women (and men for that matter) should be able to wear whatever they please, and express themselves in whatever way they please so long as it does not harm anyone else. I may think it rarely looks classy, or even sexy, but they are my values and tastes and I won’t impose them on others. However, on the other hand it is clear to anyone that has been out in public that wearing revealing clothing and behaving in a sexualised way will attract attention. Most of that attention is benign, ranging from Grannies shaking their heads to young blokes thinking wahey! But there is also a certain amount of attention that is sexualised, that sees it as an invitation to take advantage. It shouldn’t, but it does.

And therein lies the rub. That is the part of our culture that needs to change. While there are people in our society who think that women who dress or behave “provocatively” (and I use that loaded term loosely) are inviting sexual assault, then there is still a need to keep fighting for cultural change. Because in this day and age surely we all know by now that it’s not just ‘innocent’ women who can be raped. “Sluts” can be raped too. No-one deserves it, and no matter what the circumstances the only person who is responsible is the rapist. Full stop.

look once, look twice, look bike!

2011-06-21T21:34:00.000-07:00

As a regular commuter on my bike for some time, I've seen some pretty poor behaviour over the years. Some of it from pedestrians, some of it from other cyclists, and most of it from mostorists. I have always maintained that it is the responsibility of everyone who uses the road to do the right thing, to behave appropriately and to be considerate.

I believe that sadly there is a certain proportion of people in this world who are selfish wankers. You know the ones, we've all met them or worked with them: they're the people that are always rude, obnoxious, treat other people badly, and think that it's all about them. It turns out that some of them ride bikes, and some of them drive cars. Honestly I've seen some cyclists that give me the absolute shits, blatantly running red lights, riding on the footpath, and generally doing stupid things that inconvenience others. I hate these guys because they give the rest of us a bad reputation. In that grand old tradition of tarring everyone with the same brush, many people who can't think for themselves simply see cyclists behaving badly like this and assume that all cyclists therefore are wankers.

And I've seen plenty of evidence of motorists behaving badly too. Opening car doors onto oncoming cyclists, driving too closely, cutting bikes off, beeping and yelling abuse, not giving way and pulling out in front of oncoming bikes. I see at least one of these thing happen most days that I ride - that is no exaggeration. It would be so easy for me to fall into the trap of tarring all motorists with the same brush ad assuming that they're all wankers. But of course I know they're not, because I'm aware enough to realise that for every motorist that behaves badly, there are countless others who go about their business doing the right thing, and in fact many who are very polite and give way to me when they don't have to or give me a very wide berth just to be safe.

It would be wonderful if everyone, cyclists and motorists, could stop and think for a moment and realise that despite that small proportion of cyclists and motorists who do the wrong thing and behave badly, there is a huge proportion who get on with it and do the right thing, are considerate and polite, and follow the road rules. You tend not to notice them as much as the bad eggs because they fade into the background, because they're behaving the way that they should. And without wishing to sound like a Miss Universe contestant, wouldn't it be nice if we could all just get along for once.

But I would like to make one distinction. Without a doubt bikes can be very dangerous and cause a lot of damage. But cars and other vehicles, they are deadly weapons. The amount of damage they can cause to each other is vast and undeniable, let alone to a cyclist. I posted last year about a crash I had where a car cut in front of me without seeing me, sending me careening into the side of the car at around 30kmph. Needless to say the occupants of the car were completely without physical impact - though they were visibly upset and shaken - whereas I ended up covered in bruises, stiff and sore, with my wheel buckled. I was lucky to not receive more serious injuries because I was able to stay upright. This power differential is undeniable, and will never change. I believe that it therefore places an extra onus on motorists - as the drivers of vehicles that can cause a serious amount of damage - to take greater caution around cyclists (and others in general).

I want to relay one other story. A couple of weeks ago I witnessed some of the worst road rage I have ever seen. Another cyclist overtook me (yes, sadly he was much fitter than I!) completely legally, and I even had time to look over my shoulder as he did so and noted that there was plenty of room in the lane to do so with a 4WD behind him in the lane. However, the driver of the 4WD took umbrage that this cyclist was in front of him (shock horror, he couldn't accelerate as fast as he would have liked, which woudl actually have been pointless as there was a red light up ahead) and proceeded to chase down the cyclist and swerve into him. The cyclist, shocked as he was, was able to get out of the way in time, and as the light turned green he took off again (might I add I was right behind the other cyclist this whole time, and we were both following the road rules and doing everything right), when the driver swerved again into where we were riding, narrowly missing both of us. We had to stop as he had completely blocked our path. He then proceeded to get out of his car, which he had stopped in the middle of a busy lane in the city, and verbally abuse the other cyclist. The other cyclist looked bewildered, said that he was sorry if he felt inconvenienced, and then managed to ride off again. At the next set of lights the driver did the same thing again, swerving into us and narrowly missing both of us, before he opened his window and yelled abuse again, then sped off. I was so shocked and upset I had trouble cycling all the way home. That man had gotten into such a rage over a trifling minor inconvenience which was completely legal, and used his massive car as a weapon. He could have easily knocked one or both of us off our bikes if we weren't being so careful and anticipating his erratic and boorish behaviour.

Think about that for a moment. A perceived slight resulted in a great big 4WD being used essentially as a weapon to intimidate if not harm. I can't imagine what made him think that was reasonable behaviour, even if the cyclist had done something wrong how could that ever be an acceptable way to react. Yep, he was definitely one of the aforementioned wankers that happens to drive a car.

There was a TV campaign when I was a child in England that went "look once, look twice, look bike" to raise awareness of cyclists and the rights and responsibilities of sharing the road. I believe it applies as much today as ever. I really do wish we could all just share the road fairly and responsibly and do the right thing, but I also know that as long as a small proportion of motorists think it's acceptable to behave so badly towards cyclists, the massive power differential will mean that cyclists will always feel more vulnerable and therefore defensive.

Stay safe on the roads, and remember to not just look for cars or a pair of headlights, but look for bikes and little flashing lights too!

Parochialism at its worst

2011-05-25T22:32:00.000-07:00

I am so excited to see that politicians are finally starting to talk again about the science of climate change. There was so much momentum 4 or 5 years ago, and the community was starting to realise that it wasn’t something we could stick our heads in the sand about. People started to understand that rampant industrialism and consumerism was causing our planet significant damage. That WE were responsible.

Then it disappeared and in the interim years we have had very little science and a whole lot of misinformation. Dressed up as concern for the financial and social impact of decreasing pollution and carbon emissions, it included insidious refutation of the science, seeking to confuse and obscure the consensus of the scientific community.

And Australians fell for it. Big time. We have gone so far backwards in our understanding and acceptance of the science and our fear of the possible short term financial and social costs of switching to cleaner greener power, that the recent update and concise presentation of recent scientific information about climate change – the Climate Change Commission’s Report entitled “The Critical Decade” – elicited a greater number of misinformed and ignorant comments than I’ve ever seen. And the two themes that seem to keep cropping up – apart from the standard “the world’s climate has been changing for millennia and it’s natural” – are that the financial burden is too great for our society to bear, and that Australia is so small in total global emissions that any change would not only be insignificant globally but leave us hanging high and dry alone.

These two points seem to reflect to me all that is undesirable about Australian parochialism. Yes we have a wonderful laid back view and pace of life and a she’ll be right mentality. But we have allowed ourselves to become so parochial as to think of nothing but ourselves and our hip pockets. So narrow-minded and guided by fear and loathing as to shirk all that is difficult and different. So focused on short-term costs and benefits that we are unable to lift our gaze to the future. It breaks my heart.

I may not be an economist, but even I can see the potential for great financial and social benefit to our society if we make the switch to green energy. A shift to manufacturing and producing products such as solar panels and wind turbines represents jobs and a boost to the economy. A greater focus on research and development of cleaner and greener transport, manufacturing methods, fuels and other forms of energy generation would place us at the forefront of this area. A price on carbon (whether you call it a tax or otherwise) is essential to wean big business off high carbon emitting methods, and would be even more effective if coupled with incentives to switch to greener methods. Which would be easier to do if we had the industry and resources here to do it. All of these things go hand in hand, and though there is likely to be a short term rise in the cost of electricity and fuel and goods, the long-term benefits are undeniable.

Recent arguments that it doesn’t make sense for Australia to lead the world on a switch to clean energy and on pricing carbon are now void and redundant. We can’t and won’t, because the UK and some states in the USA are already doing this. It is currently being considered in the EU. At the rate we’re going we’ll be late to the party and have lost every chance at the advantages of being at the front of the pack. The fact that this argument is still trotted out shows the ignorance amongst the community, either innocent or wilful, about what else is happening in the world, and simply provides a paper veil to hide behind so they can either stick their heads back in the sand or conceal even greater scepticism in the guise of seeming rational and concerned.

It’s time we as Australians woke up to ourselves and this herd mentality. Is it so hard to not only think for ourselves but to also take action? To inform ourselves through reading and critical thinking, and to start to think long-term not only for our sake but for the sake of every future generation. It’s time to take off the blinkers that politicians and much of mass media would have us wear to keep us pliable and gullible. It’s time for us to grow up as a country and to take action rather than sit in the corner like a sullen teenager crying “he’s not doing it so why should I”? Parochialism can have its benefits, helping a community feel more cohesive and a sense of identity and common ground, but at the moment we are a greedy lot who think only of ourselves, hate change and difference, and collectively can’t think past tomorrow.

We need to change, before our climate does irrevocably.

A treatise on marriage

2011-05-09T23:02:00.000-07:00

At the wedding of one of my best mates on the weekend, I found myself reflecting on my own feelings about the institution of marriage, and the evolution of my thoughts and feelings regarding the subject. So what better opportunity to express those thoughts than here! I want to try and keep it short and simple because in reality the meaningfulness of marriage, in my eyes anyway, is very simple indeed. And although by keeping it short and simple I'm not really writing a treatise in the strict sense of the word, I hope you can bear with me.

Keeping aside the separate issue of weddings (which are indeed separate and different to marriage), it took me a long time to come around to the idea of marriage. I felt very strongly that I didn't need to be married to prove my love or commitment to my partner, that I didn't need the blessings and legal recognition of the state or any God, and that I didn't want to change what we already had which was pretty close to perfect in my eyes.

After some serious reflection and pondering I came to the realisation that getting married is not about proving anything, changing anything or seeking social approval and sanction. If you get married to change your relationship, then you're getting married for the wrong reasons. If you feel you need to prove your love and commitment, then getting married is not the way to do it.

You see, I feel that getting married should change nothing about your relationship. And I know that this then opens up the question, then why do it at all?! Indeed, I would ask this question myself. But I've come to the realisation that this is a false dichotomy, a false supposition that change is important and that marriage should or should not be the catalyst for it. Because of course relationships change every day, and yet they remain constant. Little things change, and sometimes big things change. It is inevitable because it involves two people, and humans by our very nature grow and learn and change and develop. Two people doing this will lead to constant changes throughout a relationship, in priorities, in ways of communicating, in health, in libido, in all sorts of things. But relationships are also constant, the love and commitment and sharing of life is always there. This is why it's such a false premise to assume that one should or should not get married based on whether change may or may not occur.

The other major obstacle for me was feeling that marriage was in some way proving to everyone else how much you loved and were committed to your partner, that it was the ultimate social mechanism for doing this. But that this somehow made it hollow and less meaningful. After all, I need prove to no-one except my partner how much I love and respect them, and there are myriad ways to do that other than marriage. I believe that this still holds true. If you feel you need to prove something to other people then there's something wrong, either with them or with you. Again this argument about needing to prove your love and commitment is false and misleading. Marriage isn't about proving anything, and if it is then you're starting off your marriage on the wrong foot which is potentially very dangerous and destructive. Proving your love or commitment actually isn't about your love or commitment to your partner, it's about issues you have with other people either specifically or generally and your need to feel accepted or approved. And if getting married isn't truly about your love and commitment to your partner, then you shouldn't be getting married at all.

You see, I slowly came to the realisation that if you strip away all the fluff from the institution of marriage (and the wedding stuff) it comes down to one thing.

You. I choose you. I choose you to share my life with. To grow old with. To be my partner, my lover and my best friend, my confidant and my co-conspirator. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I will always love you and hope you will always love me too. And as a symbol of this, I will sign this bit of paper. It says that I choose you. And you choose me.

Everything else is gravy...

Easter greetings!

2011-04-22T21:20:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter to one and all, and to all a happy Easter! it's that time of the year again when we stock up on overpriced chocolate, indulge in some hot cross buns, and relish the hugely long weekend with loved ones. The weather is even nice this year!

But a spate of discussions lately about the "real" meaning of Easter, and in particular a very interesting debate on the 7pm Project with the always interesting Father Bob about whether non-believers should get to have Easter off too, I can't help but examine my own thoughts on the issue. Which of course means writing them down here!!!

So first off, the question of the "true" or "real" meaning of Easter. We all know that in the Christian faith, Easter is marking the occasion when Jesus was crucified on the cross and his resurrection. Nobody would argue that this meaning is important to Christians. However, it is important to acknowledge that not everyone shares this faith, and therefore these meanings. And as surely as it is important that the meaning that Christians ascribe to Easter should be respected, so too should the meaning others give to it. Otherwise it becomes a fight over whose meaning of Easter is more worthy, more deserving, more 'right'. A terrible prospect indeed!

For centuries, Easter coincided with the Pagan tradition of celebrating the spring (or vernal) equinox. This is where the traditions of eggs comes from, as eggs symbolise fertility and new life, the essence of spring. The dates for Easter have varied over the centuries due to changing calendars being used (eg Julian, Gregorian etc) although always based on the Sunday following a particular (Paschal) full moon. I may sound heretical here, but I find the very fact that the date is determined by the church itself based on the moon's cycle as rather, well, pagan-like. As with Christmas, over time the traditions of the two celebrations practiced at the same time were brought together. I mention this not to diminish the meaning some people give to Easter, but to indicate that it has historically been interwoven with other traditions and celebrations. This very fact indicates that there are other meanings given to the Easter weekend that do not involve the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Which moves me onto the second point about whether non-Christians can rightfully claim to have the Easter holidays that those of religious faith do. My answer is absolutely yes. We are not a divided country where those of different faith are at odds with each other or completely removed from the realities of each others' lives. We are a secular society that promotes acceptance, diversity and respect. As with previous incarnations where Christian religious observances coincided with other celebrations within society, so too does Easter today. Good Friday and Easter Sunday and Easter Monday are public holidays. And as with all public holidays, they apply to everyone. How you choose to observe the day is up to you. The meaning you ascribe to it is up to you. They have retained the names from Christianity as this is historically how the Easter weekend was valued and understood.

There are many other public holidays that are not connected to religious observances (such as New Years Day and Labour Day), and there are many religious observances that are not connected to public holidays (such as Ramadan and Diwali, or even Palm Sunday). If public holidays were faith-based then the separation of different sections of our society would be beyond repair as each section becomes more and more insular and separate. And what of those of no faith? are they to have no holidays at all, as punishment for not believing? And can anyone explain to me what Easter Monday is actually about? There are no specific religious meanings, rituals or traditions for this day that I know of - so is it a religious holiday or is it an extra day tacked on to Easter? If it is just tacked on to Easter, does that mean everyone can enjoy it, or still only Christians given that it's called "Easter" Monday?

Public holidays are just that - they are public, they are for everyone. It is up to each person to do with that day what they please, to give it the meaning they wish, and to practice any observances they wish. It doesn't matter if people of no faith partake of hot cross buns or chocolate eggs, because they are giving Easter their own meaning (calorific though it may be!) perhaps of time with family, or with friends. Those who are of Christian faith give it their own meaning too, and observe a number of religious traditions and rituals that they feel gives meaning to Easter.

I'll use ANZAC day as my final example. It falls on Easter Monday this year, so an extra public holiday will be held on the Tuesday. This poses an interesting conundrum. Are they being given two separate public holidays so that they can be observed separately? or just so that we can all get our proper allocation of public holidays? What of those who wish to observe the significance of ANZAC day, can they do it on the actual day or do they have to wait until Tuesday so that the "Easter" Monday can be kept separate? What of those who despite a deep respect for ANZACs do not wish to partake of any specific observations or rituals on ANZAC day, are THEY any less deserving of the public holiday? My argument is simply this - whatever your religious persuasions, public holidays are given by the government so that EVERYONE can have the day off and enjoy it in whatever way is meaningful to them. Easter has been kept as a public holiday (or three!) due to the particular significance that this event holds to a significant number of the population, and the same with Christmas. Christians should count themselves lucky that they get a public holiday off to help them celebrate and concentrate on their meaning of the occasion. And that they have the time and space to celebrate it with loved ones, of faith or not, who also have the time off.

Enjoy the long break for Easter, and whatever meaning it has for you!

The PhD journey so far...

2011-04-04T18:40:00.000-07:00

When I applied for my PhD I knew that getting it entailed myriad obstacles and challenges. I knew that it meant at least 3 years of borderline poverty, missing out on many of the adventures and acquisitions of our peers including home buying, holiday making, furniture, clothes, eating out and buying nice wine and many other little luxuries. Even the simple things like having health insurance (which should be totally unnecessary in Australia but that’s a whole other post!) and going to Womadelaide are on hold for 3 years. I also knew that it would be a mental and emotional rollercoaster of epic proportions, with tight deadlines, high expectations, insane hours, tedious writing and planning, and any amount of stress you can name. All in the quest for the ultimate prize – a PhD.

But ‘knowing’ those things, and experiencing them, are two so completely different things disconnected from the reality of each other, that I wonder about really ‘knowing’ what I was getting myself into in the first place. The material compromises have definitely been hard, I can’t deny it. It’s a strange kind of sensation watching your friends and loved ones go about their lives and achieving great successes and great gains both professionally and personally. I am insanely happy for them, there’s really nothing quite like watching the grin spread across your friends’ faces when they buy their first house, or learn that they’re expecting a baby, or are about to embark on a fantastic world trip, or are going from strength to incredible strength in their career. But there’s also something dark and forlorn in my heart at the same time, I call it a little jealousy wrapped up in guilt. I miss being able to just buy that dress because I like it, or just drink that bottle of wine because it’s delicious and not have to worry too much about the price (within reason of course!). And although I’m certainly not ready for the whole baby question yet, I’m certainly sad that despite our reticence in becoming fully fledged adults and embarking upon traditional paths of house buying and furnishing and getting promotions, there’s a very tangible sense of missing out a bit.

But way beyond that is the mental and emotional rollercoaster the past 5 months have represented, and wow what a ride. The dizzying highs of enlightenment and achievement, the soul destroying lows of self-doubt and inadequacy. The workload started out seemingly achievable, reasonable even, and then time started ticking by and before long it seemed like there was still half a mountain left to climb and not enough time or energy to do it. I was stuck on Everest without an oxygen tank or a Sherpa. And on top of it all my thermals were starting to look a little threadbare. Yep, the study strategies I had relied on in the past to keep me from sinking were suddenly becoming woefully inadequate and irrelevant. On top of all the work, I needed to learn a new set of time and data management strategies and coping mechanisms.

Now I’ll be honest, time management has never been my strong point. I can write a list and fill in a diary like a pro, but I am a procrastinator of the highest order. I can utilise substitution and diversion tactics like you wouldn’t believe! Dishes and vacuuming suddenly become attractive, running errands suddenly becomes urgent, and doing some exercise becomes my highest priority. Because after all, if I’m not studying, then I need to be doing something productive that is benefiting me. Something worthy. Something noble. Something…. Well, anything really. It’s no accident that my camera battery is constantly running low – my photographic odysseys around the backyard and neighbourhood are becoming more and more frequent. All in the name of avoiding study… er, I mean, advancing my knowledge and skills as a photographer. Because it’s a worthy substitute, right?!?!

But in all seriousness, no one could have prepared me for the hardest part. The times when even a photographic odyssey can’t salve the conscience. The times when you doubt yourself so much that you feel ready to give it all away and mop floors for a living because that’s all you feel capable of. You see, a PhD challenges you in a way that no amount of reassurances from your friends or family can ever quite counter. The expectations are high, and though everyone assures you that you’re smart and capable enough because hey, they gave you the scholarship after all, there’s that nagging feeling that any moment now someone is going to discover you for the fraud that you are, jump up and shout ‘aha! You’re not smart enough for this at all! What are you doing here?! Get back to mopping floors where you belong’! (not that mopping floors requires no intelligence, and in fact it’s a very valuable job and I’d just like to give a shout out to the millions of cleaners that do a thankless job and keep the world functioning). You read books and articles every day that use a language that you can’t fathom. They understand things that you don’t, and try to explain them in a way that usually just makes it even worse. And everyone else seems to get it, so why don’t you?! You start to wonder what you’re even trying to achieve with your research, and wonder whether it will ever even get off the ground because all of a sudden it looks so amateurish and irrelevant. SO you wander morosely through each day kicking yourself for thinking you’d be able to do it.

Thankfully these moments pass, and you become rational again and realise that it’s all part of the process of learning. It’s an academic apprenticeship after all, and what apprentice knows everything at the beginning?!?! And so you soldier on, hoping that you stay logical enough to write something sufficiently coherent to hand up to your supervisors. And you fumble along ever closer to that point midway through your first year where you try to get approval for your research by pretending like you know what you’re doing, by fake-talking the talk, and fake-walking the walk. After all, fake it til you make it right?! And this is where I’m at now, having turned numerous corners both academically and personally, overcoming physical and mental and emotional barriers to this point where it all culminates in a 10,000 word proposal that all the ‘high up’ people look at, pass judgement on, and deliver their verdict.

I predict a rapid repeat of the familiar oscillation in my near future. Lows and highs, I’m ready for you. I think.

Happy 100th!!!

2011-03-09T15:44:00.000-08:00

Two days ago was the 100th International Women's Day. It's celebrated each year on 8 March, the day women finally financially catch up on he previous year's earnings made by men. Yep that's right, women have to work a little over 2 extra months to achieve pay parity with men who work in the same role. This takes into account part-time work, which women regularly do due to trying to balance parenthood and working, just so that anyone who would like to argue that "of course women earn less because they go pat time when they have kids" know that it's been taken care of in the analysis. As have female-dominated work areas such as caring services and administration. Education, qualifications and skills are also accounted for. And still women earn less.

The big question is why. Why on earth in this day and age does this happen? When all the usual answers are accounted for (part-time, lower valued work areas, lower qualifications etc) the disturbing answer you're left with is because women are valued less in our society. We aren't worth as much. And I think a big part of this has to do with reproduction.

Women are of reduced value because of two sides of the same discriminatory coin. We are all potential drains because of the likelihood that we will one day fall pregnant, take maternity leave, come back possibly part time, and generally be seen to be a hassle. Expensive not only in leave entitlements but also in replacement costs to cover the leave and job sharing arrangements to cover any part-time return to work. We are also socially expected to take on the bulk of the child rearing. Motherhood is seen as incompatible with full-time work because women are expected to be the ones to care for their children, breastfeed for as long as possible, take time off and nurse them when they're sick, ferry them to and from school and sports, make their outfits for the school play, prepare nutritious meals for them 3 times a day every day, sit down and help with homework... Phew, I'm tired just writing it, and I've only scratched the surface.

With this dual constraint of perceived financial drain due to possible motherhood, and social expectations regarding actual motherhood, it's no wonder women are devalued in the workplace. And it's one of the great scandals of this day and age that it continues to be so, that this status quo is perpetuated ad infinitum.

I'd like to bring your attention to a wonderful blog post by Annabel Crabb, who says what I want to say so much more eloquently and brilliantly that I'll just post the link to her post so you can read it for yourselves (go on, do it right now...)

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2011/03/08/3158400.htm?site=thedrum

Perhaps we should start a new show, move over farmers, the wives want a wife!!!

all at sea

2011-02-20T20:13:00.001-08:00

I’m exhausted. There’s no other way of saying it. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I feel like I’ve been chewed up by a giant energy-eating machine and spat out the other end. The kicker is that this is an entirely new experience for me. Well, maybe I’ve been sick before, and drained before, and stressed out and run down and spent before. But never to this extent and for this long. And I can only sum up how I feel about it in one word. Bleeeehhhhhhh...

Ok, so that’s not really a word, more of a vague representation of the sound I make when I think about how I’ve been feeling for the last 3 months. But it’s the best I’ve got right now. I won’t bore you with the details (partly because it’s gross and partly because I’ve already bored some of you with the details!) but suffice it to say some nasty virus took hold of me around the time of our first wedding anniversary and has refused to let go. I’ve battled with ear infections, chest infections and now chronic sinusitis. My physical energy levels regularly dip to barely above comatose, my mental energy is barely sufficient to absorb a page of information, and my emotional energy was entirely spent back in December. I have nothing left to give.

This particularly sucks because I am now faced with the prospect of trying to manage my PhD deadlines while facing down the barrel of likely surgery. This trifecta of no energy, likely surgery and looming deadlines is a deadly mix. No wonder my blood pressure is going haywire! But the worst part of it is the frustration.

It’s killing me not being able to do the things I normally take for granted. Take exercise for instance. I may not be a super fit gym bunny but I love to exercise and try to get a good dose in every day. It makes me feel good and is great for my health and fitness. But riding in to uni kills me most days and I can do it maximum 2 days a week. Even my regular Pilates video is a struggle. On the days I do decide to get some exercise I crash and burn badly afterwards and struggle through the rest of the day. Studying has become almost impossible, I can’t concentrate on anything and my brain is so fuzzy I’m only taking in half of it anyway. But the worst is the emotional energy.

Now I’m no Mother Teresa, not by any stretch of the imagination, but one thing I really try hard on is being there for my friends. To listen to their problems, to offer support, to celebrate or commiserate with them, to help with little things like loaning a book to big things like moving house. And right now I don’t have the energy for any of it, I have nothing left of myself to give. And it’s an awful feeling, it makes me feel so selfish. And I hate selfish people.

So what’s a girl to do? How does one maximise the chances of getting better through rest and relaxation yet still maintain a life that is fulfilling and rewarding? It’s a question that’s eating away at me lately. I have no idea how to balance my desire to get better with my desire to lead a normal life. Any advice, ideas and experiences would be greatly appreciated, because right now I’m feeling all at sea with not a rescue boat in sight.

maintaining the rage

2011-01-27T19:23:00.000-08:00

So even though I haven't set myself any new years resolutions to break, I still feel guilty for not posting sooner. Go figure! But a very belated happy new year to anyone reading! I've been insanely busy with my PhD proposal which is due in about 5 weeks, and those coming 5 weeks are going to be crazily busy! They are the chief cause of my complacency with blogging, taking up not only my time but also most of my mental and emotional energy.

My PhD is essentially how women are treated by staff in an emergency department when they seek help after suffering violence, and whether intoxication at the time of the attack affects the treatment they receive due to the attitudes and beliefs of the staff that are duty bound to provide care to them. I believe clinical staff, particularly doctors and nurses, have a pivotal role to play in not only the care for these women but also in leading and advocating for societal change in how we view these women, given medicine's level of authority and influence in so many spheres of our life.

I wanted to write about why I feel this is such an important issue, and after struggling with where to start I thought that the best way to do that was to use some excerpts from my literature review...

Violence against women, both nationally and globally, is widespread, with the UN indicating up to 70% of women will experience some form of violence in their lifetime (UN Secretary-General’s campaign UNiTE http://www.un.org/en/women/endviolence/situation.shtml). It knows no boundaries of ethnicity, socio-economic status, religion, postcode or education. Not only is it a major public health problem but a violation of human rights (UN universal declaration of human rights http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/index.shtml). It takes many forms including physical assault, emotional abuse, rape and sexual assault, stalking, harassment, trafficking, femicide and ‘traditional’ practices such as forced marriage, female genital mutilation and so-called honour killings (WHO fact sheet 239 http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs239/en/). Women aged 15-44 across the world are at greater risk of domestic violence and sexual assault than cancer, car accident, malaria and war (World Bank Discussion Paper 255 1994). Injury from sexual assault and physical assault (including domestic violence) is the most common form of violence against women that results in them seeking help from medical services, particularly emergency departments.

The Women’s Safety Australia survey conducted in 1996 (which sadly has not since been replicated) of 6,300 women provides the most comprehensive picture of violence against women in Australia (Women's Safety Australia 1996). It found that 7.1% of women had experienced violence in the last 12 months (5.9% physical violence and 1.9% sexual violence) which based on the Australian population at the time they extrapolated to equate to 404,400 women who experienced physical violence and 133,100 women who experienced sexual violence (p9). Over their lifetime, 33% of women had experienced physical violence and 18% had experienced sexual violence, which based on population figures at the time equated to 2.2 million women who had experienced physical violence in their lifetime and 1.2 million women who had experienced sexual violence (p12). Data from the Australian Bureau of Statistics indicates that 41% of all physical assault victims were female and that 2.4% of all women respondents had been victims of a physical assault in the past 12 months (ABS 1370.0 – assault 2010). Globally, the World Bank reports that between 11-60% of women report experiencing domestic violence in their lifetime (world bank 1994). Other studies have identified between 24- 52% (Tjaden Thoennes 1998; Martin et al 2008; Moracco et al 2007) of women experience physical assault in their lifetime.

In their seminal study conducted on a national sample of college students, Koss and Cox found that over 15 percent of female respondents, or approximately 1 in 6, identified experiencing behaviour that met the legal definition of rape (Koss Cox 1988), findings that are consistently reflected in other studies (Easteal 1993; Kilpatrick Edmunds Seymour 1992; DeKeseredy and Kelly 1993; Gavey 1991; Beattie 1992; Brener, McMahon, Warren & Douglas, 1999; Elliott Mok Briere 2004). In Australia, one study revealed that 24% of the women in the survey reported experiencing at least one completed rape in their adulthood, and 31% reported experiencing at least one attempted rape (Spangaro 1993), while recent data from the Australian Bureau of Statistics shows that there were 89 victims of sexual assault (including rape) per 100,000 of the population (ABS 4510.0 2010). However, as noted by the ABS, “there are a number of personal, social, cultural and institutional barriers that may prevent people reporting incidents to the police or reporting incidents in surveys, therefore, it is likely that survey reported victimisation rates underestimate the true incidence of sexual assault” (ABS 1370.0 – sexual assault 2010).

Physical and sexual assault can have serious impact on a woman’s physical and mental health. Studies have shown experiencing violence is linked with fatal and non-fatal injury, both trauma-specific and generalised pain, gastrointenstinal disorders, gynaecological problems, sexually transmitted diseases, unwanted pregnancies, disability, disfigurement, sexual dysfunction and mental health problems including post traumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety and suicidality (Kramer etal 2004; Moracco et al 2007; Resnick et al 2000). This not only affects the quality of life of the victim, but also impacts her family and friends. Experiencing violence also leads to a wide range of emotions including fear, anger, shame, disgust, nervousness, distrust of others, guilt and self-blaming (Campbell 2006). It is unsurprising that even after the physical injuries have healed, the mental and emotional scars can last much longer.

Estimates and studies of the prevalence of alcohol involvement in instances of violence against women vary. Population surveys are one method of gathering prevalence data, and although they rely on self-reporting they provide an important insight. An analysis of the US National Violence Against Women Survey revealed that 19.9% of victims reported intoxication at the time of the assault, and 63.5% perceived that their assailants were intoxicated (Brecklin 2002). In Australia, the Women’s Safety Survey conducted in 1996 revealed that alcohol was present in 41.1% of physical assaults and 38.1% of sexual assaults during the last 12 months (ABS 4128.0). Research studies consistently find that between one third to two thirds of physical or sexual assaults against women involve the perpetrator and/or the victim consuming alcohol (Abbey et al 2003, chase up their refs; Kaysen et al 2010; Brecklin 2002).

Researchers have consistently found that intoxicated victims of physical or sexual assault are deemed more responsible, more blameworthy and having a greater causal role in their victimisation that non-intoxicated victims (Aramburu 1991; Quigley 2006; Cameron 2003). A recent survey conducted by Amnesty International in the UK found that 26% of respondents thought a woman who was drunk when she was raped was partially responsible, and 4% thought that she was totally responsible (Amnesty International 2005). Finch (2007) found that many third party observers hold intoxicated victims at least partially responsible for their victimisation and that these attributions were generally based on different aspects of the victim’s conduct. Quigley and Leonard (2006) argue that this attribution of responsibility for their own victimisation stems from the line of thinking that a person is to blame for choosing to become intoxicated and therefore to blame for their behaviour while intoxicated. Much of the attribution research has been carried out with college students or lay people in mock juror situations. Stewart and Maddren (1997) argued that the findings may not be easily generalised to other groups. They looked at the attributions of blame among police officers, who have specialist knowledge, training and experience in dealing with intoxicated victims of violence, and argued that this specialist knowledge would impact their attributions of blame in such instances. They found that police officers blamed drunk victims more than sober victims, and considered drunk victims “responsible for their victimisation by either provoking the violence or not evading the violence”.(p931) This has significant implications for other professionals with specialist knowledge and skills in dealing with intoxicated victims of violence, particularly health professionals, suggesting that despite the specialist knowledge and training, they may still hold attitudes that seek to blame the victim.

This is clearly a massive problem, both for the victims and for society as a whole that we can foster this level of perpetration and acceptance of violence against women. This is why I'm doing this research. To increase knowledge and change attitudes that will both help the victims and reduce support and acceptance of violence against women across our society. As a survivor. As a woman. And most importantly, as a human being. (I'm happy to provide the full references if anyone would like).

where did the time go?!?!?

2010-12-19T15:47:00.000-08:00

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!

favourite photos - Venice

2010-11-04T20:10:00.000-07:00

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...

favourite photos - Dubai

2010-10-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

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.

favourite photos - England

2010-10-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

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.

favourite photos - Paris

2010-10-18T22:27:00.001-07:00

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!

favourite photos - Croatia

2010-10-18T21:42:00.000-07:00

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!

black sheep baaaaa

2010-10-12T17:08:00.000-07:00

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...

the Champs-Elysees is a busy street!

2010-08-25T18:49:00.000-07:00

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!

pretty as a posy

2010-08-14T22:34:00.001-07:00

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!

election selection?

2010-08-05T18:56:00.000-07:00

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!

the shadow of victimhood

2010-07-28T19:14:00.001-07:00

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.

the dress mess

2010-07-15T19:06:00.000-07:00

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!

the pink and blue blues

2010-07-13T00:16:00.000-07:00

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!

animals is animals, no matter how you cut it

2010-07-11T17:54:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-07-06T00:36:00.000-07:00

my favourite kind of red

2010-06-29T05:11:00.000-07:00

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!

ginger ninjas rock!

2010-06-27T17:27:00.000-07:00

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...

back up

2010-06-20T22:55:00.000-07:00

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!

a weighty issue

2010-06-16T22:04:00.000-07:00

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!

finding my give-a-shit

2010-06-09T17:05:00.000-07:00

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?!?!?!

reliving memories

2010-06-06T23:10:00.000-07:00

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...

confessions of a wedding-aholic

2010-06-01T23:54:00.000-07:00

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!

the 'F' word

2010-05-30T22:55:00.000-07:00

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 :)

Autumn

2010-05-29T01:44:00.001-07:00

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.

the joy of flowers

2010-05-27T23:12:00.001-07:00

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...

the hazards of riding

2010-05-26T17:42:00.000-07:00

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!

Bonjour!

2010-05-25T23:40:00.000-07:00

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!