Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Drudge

Wednesday. Hump Day.
Kirsty brings around the payslips at morning tea. Not many people have to wonder what they’ll spend it on, or even have to look to know who much will be there. It’s still enough of a novelty for me that I enjoy tearing along the little perforations and reading how much tax I paid, and perhaps even circling the amount that will be in my account some mysterious time tomorrow. But not today. Today is Hump Day and the day before pay day.
Today my goal is to stay awake and respond to my name when it is called.
It’s 4.40pm – the office has emptied out apart from the lifers.
Made it.

Caricatures & Stereotypes

It's one of the great ironies that every now and then one comes across a person who reminds one of where a stereotype of a personality originates. When this happens, it is so very hard to treat that person with respect, with compassion, with even a straight face. In fact, I find it downright hard not to stare at them in a horrified/appalled/intrigued trance, wondering what utterly predictable thing they'll do next, forgetting that they are in fact a sentient creature, not some lab rat. A creature who can respond, maybe slap one in the face. That kind of thing.

This then was very nearly my undoing in the midst of my first triumph in Trash City. A chance to show my chops in the workplace, take on some responsibility, send some unproof-read faxes, lick a few envelopes off my own initiative. You know what I mean - put it out there. And it was all going just fine until The Mayor turned up.

Imagine The Mayor of a small time town, an E.B Farnum if you will, a local boy made good. Someone with a touch of the TV smiles about him, someone to whom no vote might be too small to chase, no photo op too demeaning to consider NAY demand! Imagine that here in Trash City he likes to know that his name is gold, that he's the man, he's your *mate*. And he is, for he is The Mayor. It's a blue-singlet town, an old style safe Labor seat (with a white flush of Pauline Hanson washing through it every few years) and it's grass-roots party politics all the way. The doctrine of the separation of powers is really only considered a suggestion in Queensland. Really, every pollie seems to consider themselves a benevolent *father* (dictator sounds so harsh) who doesn't need to be encumbered by all those useless rules that lesser mortals must swelter under.

Forgetting all that I had learned in life, in politics and in corporate survival, I made a mistake. I barred the entry of a minor to a licensed premise. Sorry, let me rephrase that: I momentarily interrupted the consumption and enjoyment of a future voter, and a person of influence in the life of an existing voter. Fool. Fool that I am I made it worse when questioned by TM - I said it was the law.
Well.

There is no other law than HIS whim - clearly my wits had fled. I was caught in a dance, not quite as old as time, but certainly not too much younger: it was a predictable crash in slow motion. Floating above my stupid, possibly pointless body, my soul watched and could not stop watching as this simple scene unfolded.

1. Happy People
2. Future Voter given boundaries for behaviour
3. [no complaint WHATSOEVER made by anybody]
4. Storm cloud over brow of TM
5. Question
6. Statement
7. FURY
8. Deferment to senior officers
9. FURY PLOTS REVENGE
10. Staff continues to run event and go on to bump out 2 hours after TM's departure

Epilogue:
1. He calls for my dismissal
2. Senior officers protect me on the grounds I am *still*useful*
3. Grudging acceptance

End of Scene: Applause

Have you every met a petty tyrant? It's fascinating to see how they manipulate, threaten, sulk, bully and fake their way through life. It's not pleasant at all to physically be near, or indeed to experience working with the kind of people who can survive it. It's also constantly intriguing that someone can be such a stereotypical [expletive] and not seem to have any self-conciousness about that at all.

Another day - another facet revealed of this mysterious gem: the Sheltered Workshop of Trash City.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Family BBQ in Booval

We all ended up at Yvj & Don's place today having a barbie in the 34degree heat, slamming back dad's moonshine, telling tall tales, and whinging in a freeform, group kinda way. The nieces stayed ensconced in the room with the digital media, making forays away from the Simpsons bonanza only for sangas & sauce, or to make plaintive requests for ice-cream. Good on em. After Don bought the house, the *first* thing he got was a giant barbie, and today in his bright new blue singlet, he was the very picture of emancipated australian manhood. Proudly pronging the sangas to get the juices squirting out of 'em, tinny in the other hand, he was the man of the moment. They're all moved in, he's had a few repayments, and the plans for the renos are now hitting high beam - just as the money has pretty much troughed out. They're going to have to live with that hideous bathroom for a while longer.
But this is a success story! Moving here marks a net increase in their assets, even though the general quality of life has taken one to the kidneys culturally speaking. It means a house and a yard, and neighbours extra meters away on each side, room for kids, and a shed! A Shed! Yeah, Nahh, today's it's all good, and it was bloody brilliant to sit back and tuck into me veggie burger (the forbidden pleasures of a fluffy white roll included) , me can of lemon squash, and me family around me doing what they do best. Sure I got heat stroke and nausea, but that passes. I'm left with sore cheeks from laughing and a day spent together.
Noice.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

The Brass Monkey

isn't it amazing what you learn on navy websites....
You have probably heard the expression 'Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey' , but what does it mean?
In the 17th and 18th centuries, cannon balls were stored on the decks of a war-ship in a pyramid shaped pile using a frame called a monkey to keep them in place. Sometimes these frames were made of brass, which could contract substantially in very cold weather and the balls would roll out of the frames. Hence the expression!
http://www.royal-navy.mod.uk/server/show/nav.3806

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Piggsie

The Pig type is usually an honest, straightforward and patient person. She is a modest, shy character who prefers to work quietly behind the scenes. When others despair, She is often there to offer support. This type of person is reserved with those they do not know too well, but as time passes and they gain confidence, those around them may discover a lively and warm-hearted person behind that mask of aloofness. Despite those born in the year of pig having a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, they have few close friends who understand them and share their inner thoughts and feelings. It is easy to put trust in pig type; he/she won't let you down and will never even attempt to do so. Such people simply want to do everything right according to social norms.
It is important to remember that these people are not vengeful creatures. If someone tries to take advantage of him/her, the pig type tend to withdraw to reflect on the problem and protect themselves. All they need in such situations is a little time to find a constructive way to respond. The people of the pig type are conservative creatures of habit. They dislike being made to travel too far from familiar surroundings, unless it is a trip to the countryside. They love nature and are never happier than when they are out somewhere, far from the city.

There is a tolerant and peaceful side to their character. Such people are never afraid to allow others their freedom of expression; they do not want to cause arguments and if there is any way to avoid arguing, they will probably take this option. They are not weak, however, and if the situation forces them to fight these people will rise to the occasion, whether it is to defend themselves or those close to them. People of the Pig type are the most admired by others.

Happy New Year

I meant to write this on the weekend – but here we are – Happy Year of the Golden Pig!!

In the past I have not usually volounteered the information that I am a pig, but part of being me now, is all about owning the whole package. Giant hips, poor knees, failing memory - all part of who I am. Likewise, the pig. BTW I much prefer pig to boar. Sounds too much like bore for my taste, so if you could, thanks.
Anyoldhoo, further to my previous meanderings on being a muslim in orbit (thanks to Beth for her comments), I read today a much more balanced view, and this was either on the BBC or a webpage called "the conservative voice" which I found from an *image* search. Sure Reagan and Schwarzennegger are both pigs too, but that doesn't mean anything.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/6368383.stm

"For the first time in its history, Indonesia introduced a special set of postal stamps to mark the Lunar New Year. But concerns over Muslim sensitivities led the postal service to drop plans to put a large pig on the stamps. It chose a Chinese temple instead.
"We took the middle path," said Hana Suryana, director of the Indonesian postal service."

We took the middle path - what a great quote. That guy has a future in politics!!

Anyway - Happy New Year!
I'll put all the great stuff about being a pig in another post.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Occidental & Oriental

Watched "Last Samurai" last night - Yes, I know it's Tom Cruise sans 4111 etc, but is actually good. Makes a nice nod to Kurosawa without getting bogged (excuse the pun) down in it, and managed a hollywoodesqe ending without going OTT in that direction either. but that was *after* they did a rosebud.
huzzah!
and it had ponies.
kinda like a western in japan.
oh deadwood! oh firefly!
maybe it's because i largely missed out on the film-noir thing for the "honourable man in a dishonourable world" trope until it was too late (and no ponies, ever, in noir) but was suckled on westerns, and then westerns in space (star wars 4, 5 & 6, outlands, alien2).
then yesterday, i googled deadwood + feminism, and whatdya know?! but there's a call for papers.
hmmm.
am i up to it?

Saturday, February 17, 2007

mobile friends

people go travelling and some people I know are doing so *right*now*
these links will end up in y sidebar, but for the moment here they are:
Roger & Stringy: http://www.ballofdirt.com/members/77143.html
Marianne & Owen: http://www.maritiming.vox.com

One hot, the other cold.
Viva la difference!!

ps. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Where's Mecca?

Inspired by Lee's story of finding an arrow in a drawer while staying in a hotel in Malaysia, I decided to try and find out what direction Mecca is from our farm (nearest town Aratula). My Dad insists that it's just west or north, or something equally simplistic (and WRONG) and naturally we didn't have an atlas to hand (curse my stuff being in boxes!!!). So I did what we all do, I turned to Google and was *immediately* sidetracked by the practical difficulties faced by Islamic astronauts.

Then, I discovered the CIA World Fact book (!) has a listing of major places latitude and longitude: Mecca (city) Saudi Arabia 21 27 N 39 49 E, but having only read Neal Stephenson, and not being a geography geek in my own right, I can't immediately tell if this is enough minutes of accuracy, or how to make a bearing from here (despite having my compass with me right now). Strangely, the CIA factbook has no listing for Aratula, or even Ipswich. Mustn't be the hotbed of libertine activism I'd hoped for.... but they do have Brisvegas. Brisbane (city) Australia 27 28 S 153 02 E. Excellent.

Roughly then, we'd need to go 114 degrees west and 48 degrees north to get to Mecca from our place. That's West North-West isn't it? Maybe now I need one of those fandangled maritime compass things. Or, I could just go to the library at lunchtime and look at an Atlas.

Basically though, I'm surprised there's not a simple tool where you put your city in, and it tells you which way to face. Don't you think that's odd? I just think it's polite to at least have an idea.

Unexpected Valentine Wish

Oh Valentine, my valentine, my love for you does flow
I wag my tail and shed a tear whenoff to work you go
I mope arounf the house all day and chew on an old bone
'till 6 o'clock when my heart's delight comes driving back to home
I run & jump, you scratch my back, & throw squeaky time after time
You are my joy my master- you are my Valentine.
Whoff! Whoff!

Riley.

(as transcribed and faxed to me at work by Dad)

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Howard's Foot in Mouth

What a blessing Howard has given us this week, a gaffe so monumental that no-one can ignore it, he can't say "I was misunderstood" (like last week over climate change), that even the Americans have turned the flame of their scorn on him. Hehehehehe, and he does love the Americans so.
Here's a quote from the paper "Mr Howard sparked the row on Sunday when he said: "If I was running al-Qaeda in Iraq, I would put a circle around March 2008 and pray, as many times as possible, for a victory not only for Obama, but also for the Democrats.""
Genius.
Does he thinkBush will send him flowers for this? Meant perhaps to deflect attention from the mounting pressure to take actual action on climate change, Howard has debased his own credibility beautifully. Is he loosing his version of mojo? If I prayed, I'd be praying now that he comes out swinging on this one and buries himself long before we need to deal with another election.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Dubbya

There was always talk about Dubbya in Sydney - or at least in the circles I was in. Maybe that's part of the Inner West lifestyle - being engaged with world politics and the issues our country embroils itself in. Reading "Rabbit Syndrome" by Don Watson is a great stimulation to think about our relationship with America in a different light and with more context. It's a great essay, and I can recommend it wholeheartedly. I've been thinking longingly of lingering over a coffee up on King street and discussing the interesting point in it about our constitution, and America's love of capital punishement. But I digress.
Here in Ipswich there's a lot of talk about Dubbya too. But Dubbya here is an object of reverence, gratitude, almost love. Yes, granted this is the area that spawned the One Nation party but that's not quite it either. You see, it's Big Dubbya who really rules here. If you can't buy it at Big Dub, well, it's probably not worth having, or you're a wanker. Opening hours are right up there with interest rate rises as discussion topics. Not even Satate politics have much of a profile here it seems, unless it's water. Everyone suddenly has an opinion on water. There's no interest in national concerns or foreign policy, but say out loud that you'll be heading to Big Dub and there's a clamour of input, offers for tips on parking, suggestions about when's best, or how to handle the food court. The only ace over Big Dub here is Maccas, still and forever the golden-crowned king of aimless consumption.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Many Faces of Ipswich

I had originally thought to call this "the other ipswiches", but just try saying "Ipswiches".
I constantly feel slightly pissed "Ips swicsh Schitty Counssil" all starts to run together and sound suspiciously like too much Bundaberg Rum. But back to business: Ipswich the Worldwide Phenomenon!

1. United Kingdom: Britian, Suffolk, on the Orwell Estuary on the North Sea.
2. United States of America: Massachusetts, inland from Plum Island Sound on the Atlantic Ocean.
3. United States of America: South Dakota. Anbody?
4. Australia: Queensland, on the Bremer River.
5. United States of America: New Hampshire. This one is called "New Ipswich" Yeah - like that helps.

Please insert some homily here about quilts or tapestries and the wonderful threads of meaning we carry from place to place and link ourselves to each other across time and history blah blah blah.

Pain of New Shoes

I've known I've needed new shoes for the last 8 weeks - ever since my other pair's sole broke laterally, and the sole rubber wore through and started falling off in clumps. Yeah - that's time - but still I clung to them. Until I was seduced yesterday by the cutest little flats in the world - and on sale too the vixens! Last pair - in nearly my size!
So now I am hobbling around with the gorgeous shoes that are just too tight across the top and nipping at the back and stabbing that right foot that is a quarter size bigger than the left. It's ok though, I have the old trusty pair here for in another hour or so when the pain is too much to bear. As I polished the old shoes this morning, it came back to me the first day I wore them, and how tight and unhappy they were to be leaving their box, a memory long faded in the 2 years since.
Then, as I made my morning cuppa, standing watching the tea bag do its thing, it aoccured that new shoes are a great metaphor for the process of leaving hearth and home and moving to the hot dusty frontier. It hurts, it rubs, it's hard to believe it will ever get any better and you forget why you wanted to change.
With material like that, I could be writing for Readers Digest!

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Ipswich City Council

Or the ICC as of course it gets called.
Working here (as I have been for 5 weeks, 2 days and one and a quarter hours)is as close as I'll ever get to experiencing socialism.
No where else could so many people with so few skills find such gainful employment? I haven't written much about my new life in the last few weeks. Mostly because I still have a very strong injunction that "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all". That crack about socialism is as close as I've been able to come about finding something "nice" about Ipswich.
By the way, that's Ipswich, QUEENSLAND ... not any one of the other 5 places in the world called Ipswich. Five! I wonder what the others are like?

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Cowgirl Barristas!

In the paper today, I read that Seattle (home of coffee apparently) is leading the world in the new marketing phenomenon for coffee (like caffeine needs any help in selling itself)... Lingerie themed stores (including drive-through windows - good for leaning out of). Yes, America now has Cowgirls Espresso, Moka Girls, The Sweet Spot Cafe, Bikini Espresso and Natte Latte. All are already chains of stores.
Here's a quote from Associated Press:
"Candice Law, leaning provocatively out the drive-through window in a black bra that didn't quite cover her shiny purple pasties, and Toni Morgan, wearing a skimpy halter top, see-through red lace panties and chaps, seemed to know every customer.
Most of the customers declined to give their names or be interviewed - "Nobody wants to admit to their wives that they're here," Law says. One who did, a 25-year-old diesel mechanic named Mike West, says he comes every day for the coffee.
"I couldn't care less what they wear," he says."

Indeed.