Today was an odd sort of day - 3 things stand out:
A collegue's wife had a serious car accident, and it wasn't certain that she would pull through
A seriously pissed off ex-employee of my organisation visited and earbashed me about a range of issues although they all predated my employment here. He got angrier and angrier, and drew his gripes into the conversation from far and wide, to the point where I was trembling (and I promise I did nothing at all to inflame the situation), and I had to walk him out my office to stop his crescendo of anger
I'm all excited about a visit to the mountains this weekend to catch up with my girlfriends!! Mention the word slumber party and I'm all for it!!
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ps like the new colour scheme? had to change the template because the comments server I was using crashed. Hope to bring in pictures and a better sidebar in the near future, but need a techy to help me out...
13 May 2005
Had a dream the other night that I was on a rollerblading obstacle/orienteering course through the countryside – kind of like a corporate extracurricular thing. Had to climb over cyclone fences wearing the skates and everything!! Was in the company of mostly middle-aged men and occasionally their female partners, and C-chan was there with me for this part of the dream. Later, was going along a cliff alone with a gorge below but wasn’t sure if I’d taken the right path.
It seems I was on the right path to finish the race, and the race finished up at my Primary School oval having to do a lap to finish. Found I was actually amongst the first 20 to finish, but was suddenly only wearing a towel around my lower half. My movement felt extremely unnatural as I did this last lap clutching the towel and still wearing roller blades, I think? I somehow managed to finish, but I was just one of many in the race so no big deal and there was no one there to greet me.
What an uninspiring dream. Hardly needs interpretation – there are three themes:
- I am often the only female in my work meetings and teams (I knew that already, but maybe I should think about this some more)
- While what I’m doing at work is complex, everyone else I work with is working on equally complex stuff and everyone else is so busy also that what I do well doesn’t stand out… oh great I’m still a big kid looking for praise…
- I guess I’m struggling with certain things and worried these will be exposed (keeping towel on), yet am facing extraordinary challenges (e.g. rollerblading obstacle course)
Look forward to the next dream where I am effortlessly gliding through the ocean…
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Yay a new hobby!!
Yes there is life after work. Did a beading course at the shop under my apartment block on the weekend…. Learned to make a beaded necklacey thing. Am remaking the one I did in the course as was a bit short. Now have groovy green beads to wear with lime green top.
Hopefully strings of groovy beady bracelets and necklaces will result for all my loved ones!! That’s provided I actually show some skill in this area…
It seems I was on the right path to finish the race, and the race finished up at my Primary School oval having to do a lap to finish. Found I was actually amongst the first 20 to finish, but was suddenly only wearing a towel around my lower half. My movement felt extremely unnatural as I did this last lap clutching the towel and still wearing roller blades, I think? I somehow managed to finish, but I was just one of many in the race so no big deal and there was no one there to greet me.
What an uninspiring dream. Hardly needs interpretation – there are three themes:
- I am often the only female in my work meetings and teams (I knew that already, but maybe I should think about this some more)
- While what I’m doing at work is complex, everyone else I work with is working on equally complex stuff and everyone else is so busy also that what I do well doesn’t stand out… oh great I’m still a big kid looking for praise…
- I guess I’m struggling with certain things and worried these will be exposed (keeping towel on), yet am facing extraordinary challenges (e.g. rollerblading obstacle course)
Look forward to the next dream where I am effortlessly gliding through the ocean…
-----------
Yay a new hobby!!
Yes there is life after work. Did a beading course at the shop under my apartment block on the weekend…. Learned to make a beaded necklacey thing. Am remaking the one I did in the course as was a bit short. Now have groovy green beads to wear with lime green top.
Hopefully strings of groovy beady bracelets and necklaces will result for all my loved ones!! That’s provided I actually show some skill in this area…
04 May 2005
two unrelated ponderings...
Life (for me) is currently like building up the courage to jump off the end of a jetty into the ocean for thrills. Walk up to the edge of the jetty, look down, gauge the height, back a pace, forward again, build up the courage, think a while, bend the knees & poise to jump, worry you might do a mega belly flop, back off, decide you do want to go through with it after all, walk to the edge… jump?
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There is something really off-putting about someone getting off on their newfound power. Especially when that person is totally oblivious to the general ill feeling and suspicion that is radiating back towards them from numerous camps.
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There is something really off-putting about someone getting off on their newfound power. Especially when that person is totally oblivious to the general ill feeling and suspicion that is radiating back towards them from numerous camps.
27 April 2005
Postcard from the wheat belt
That isn't a stylish belt made of dried wheat strung together (but it sounds attractive, doesn't it?!)
Life slows down out here, even when you're having important meetings with people who ultimately have a say on whether you get money.
The land is flat, floodplain land, and the sun doesn't get blocked by hills as it rises and sets. No clouds this time of year, coming off what is normally a wet season, and either end of the day is accompanied by diffuse sunlight and loooooong shadows. Streets are wide, and houses raised to avoid all but the "1 in 100 year" floods. People's livelihoods are at the mercy of the elements.
Talk gravitates to bore irrigation quotas, rainfall, world agricultural markets, and wheat classifications. Memories are long, thinking gaps are inserted between sentences, and fortunately at this meeting, some heartfelt praise is being sent our way for the job we're doing (whew!).
Most refreshingly, talk is straight when you need it to be.
Tonight, I dine with 9 other people who are all male, and mostly farmers, in a ghastly homestead-themed RSL. If we're even lucky, we'll be able to hear the music from next-doors' line dancing class (...G'day G'day... How ya doin?...) as we chew through our vegetarian unfriendly menu. My voice will probably automatically take on a slightly more occer accent to fit in, as this is their world, not mine.
Life slows down out here, even when you're having important meetings with people who ultimately have a say on whether you get money.
The land is flat, floodplain land, and the sun doesn't get blocked by hills as it rises and sets. No clouds this time of year, coming off what is normally a wet season, and either end of the day is accompanied by diffuse sunlight and loooooong shadows. Streets are wide, and houses raised to avoid all but the "1 in 100 year" floods. People's livelihoods are at the mercy of the elements.
Talk gravitates to bore irrigation quotas, rainfall, world agricultural markets, and wheat classifications. Memories are long, thinking gaps are inserted between sentences, and fortunately at this meeting, some heartfelt praise is being sent our way for the job we're doing (whew!).
Most refreshingly, talk is straight when you need it to be.
Tonight, I dine with 9 other people who are all male, and mostly farmers, in a ghastly homestead-themed RSL. If we're even lucky, we'll be able to hear the music from next-doors' line dancing class (...G'day G'day... How ya doin?...) as we chew through our vegetarian unfriendly menu. My voice will probably automatically take on a slightly more occer accent to fit in, as this is their world, not mine.
19 April 2005
Highlights of the week ending 17/4/05
Started off the week at the conference of a certain horticultural industry. In my conference bag, I received a slightly sexist stubby holder (remind me to show you when you next come over for a beer). The conference had a partners program, and the conference organizer struggled over which language to use (politically correct vs pre-women’s lib) when advertising it’s itinerary to the group at the opening of the conference – ended up being a mish mash of “we’re glad to have the ladies, I mean “partners” along and we have a really great program for them” (read: the lovely ladies will not want anything to do with this nasty science, tractors and chemical stuff, so we’ve provided a girly, fluffy side-program so that the men can focus on the farming stuff and have a big blokely pow-wow instead of adding to the program material relevant to the part of the business that the females usually provide).
Someone made the point of coming up to me just to tell me they think I am doing a good job (this is after a senior staff meeting were I’d received a grilling of questions). This was a pleasant surprise/relief.
Had my quarterly hair cut, and everyone commented on it.
Cooked a mean minestrone.
This could happen to you/hard luck story
A friend of mine recently received a call in the middle of the day from her land-lord’s solicitor saying they were standing in their lounge room, and was there anything they might like to collect before they changed the locks?
And yes - they had paid rent on time, and had not done anything wrong. How did this happen?
It seems Landlord had gotten behind on their mortgage payments, and property had been claimed by lending institution. According to Land Agent, all they are legally obliged to do is:
1. send out notice of eviction by mail 7 days prior (with no obligation to ensure it actually reached tenant)
2. stick notice on door 7 days prior (again, with no obligation to ensure that it doesn’t fall off or actually reaches the tenant)
Obviously, neither of these notices reached my friend or her partner before the eviction date. Their life has been turned upside down, they have access to their belongings only by prior appointment with unsympathetic Land Agent, and are forced to find a new residence within 2 weeks. All this, and the Land Agent is getting narky with them for being upset (which is only understandable), and a solicitor is making things difficult for them re: giving them access to their stuff which they haven't had a chance to move out, because they didn't get any notice of their eviction. But when it comes down to it, it's their word agains the land agent's.
Started off the week at the conference of a certain horticultural industry. In my conference bag, I received a slightly sexist stubby holder (remind me to show you when you next come over for a beer). The conference had a partners program, and the conference organizer struggled over which language to use (politically correct vs pre-women’s lib) when advertising it’s itinerary to the group at the opening of the conference – ended up being a mish mash of “we’re glad to have the ladies, I mean “partners” along and we have a really great program for them” (read: the lovely ladies will not want anything to do with this nasty science, tractors and chemical stuff, so we’ve provided a girly, fluffy side-program so that the men can focus on the farming stuff and have a big blokely pow-wow instead of adding to the program material relevant to the part of the business that the females usually provide).
Someone made the point of coming up to me just to tell me they think I am doing a good job (this is after a senior staff meeting were I’d received a grilling of questions). This was a pleasant surprise/relief.
Had my quarterly hair cut, and everyone commented on it.
Cooked a mean minestrone.
This could happen to you/hard luck story
A friend of mine recently received a call in the middle of the day from her land-lord’s solicitor saying they were standing in their lounge room, and was there anything they might like to collect before they changed the locks?
And yes - they had paid rent on time, and had not done anything wrong. How did this happen?
It seems Landlord had gotten behind on their mortgage payments, and property had been claimed by lending institution. According to Land Agent, all they are legally obliged to do is:
1. send out notice of eviction by mail 7 days prior (with no obligation to ensure it actually reached tenant)
2. stick notice on door 7 days prior (again, with no obligation to ensure that it doesn’t fall off or actually reaches the tenant)
Obviously, neither of these notices reached my friend or her partner before the eviction date. Their life has been turned upside down, they have access to their belongings only by prior appointment with unsympathetic Land Agent, and are forced to find a new residence within 2 weeks. All this, and the Land Agent is getting narky with them for being upset (which is only understandable), and a solicitor is making things difficult for them re: giving them access to their stuff which they haven't had a chance to move out, because they didn't get any notice of their eviction. But when it comes down to it, it's their word agains the land agent's.
12 April 2005
Housemate meme
meme n : a cultural unit (an idea or value or pattern of behavior) that is passed from one generation to another by nongenetic means (as by imitation);
I’ve never done a meme on my blog, but this one is at the suggestion of BSharp (see April, 2005). Whether or not it's interesting to anyone is another matter (this is your cue to comment at end of this entry, especially if you read this from time to time and have never commented!!)
My first ever share house started out as a dream of cooperation and happiness, full of likeminded Post Grad students who didn’t want house matters to be a hassle. We pooled grocery shopping resources, and took it in turns to shop and cook. I realized later that no sharehouse would ever be so good. I had a reunion with 1) and 2) in Italy whilst traveling there in ’98, and am still in touch with 1) who is still with girlfriend plus gorgeous baby.
Sharehouse 1.1: Parkside Vunderhaus!!
1) Manfred: der lovesik (sic) Deutschlander!
Manfred was (is) adorable. Big, sturdy frame, gentle manner, and a round expressive face that I suspect made up for his sometimes lacking English. In an accident of visa applications, his long-term girlfriend Doris was not able to join him in Australia, and to make up for this, Manfred worked darn hard, so he could take a long holidays to Germany in the Australian winter, and Doris would stay here for a long visit over the German winter. In between, he cleaned the house, went on regular trips to Adelaide’s surrounding wine regions, worked late on his PhD (grapevines), held wine appreciation evenings, and cooked. Oh – the cooking… pizza, sourdough bread…(mmm) apple cake…(mm mmmm) cinnamonny scroll things called Scheckenudeln (mmmmmmmmmmmm!). He taught me everything I know about yeast cookery!
2) Sandra: the not so lovesick Italiano
Sandra’s long distance relationship with Luca in Italy whilst in Australia for a year was not so happy… many expressive and colourful conversations in Italian were overheard while she talked to him on the phone in the hallway. As well as being a good film and theatre buddy, Sandra taught me everything I know about making risotto, tortellini, minestrone, and the importance of using genuine Parmesan. Most impressive exploit was an after-hours lab-experiment with sparkling alcoholic tomato “wine”!
3) Nick, from The Mount
Nick was a regular, decent bloke from Mt Gambier, who liked footy, and was the only Australian resident I ever lived with in this house. He preferred meat and three veg, especially when cooked by his mum, and once his entire family came to visit from The Mount (Mum, Dad, and 2 brothers), which was an experience…
Sharehouse 1.2: Exit Italiano, enter the Quebecois
4) Karine was a proud, French-speaking Canadian, in Australia for a year of study. Her cooking exploits were less impressive than the other foreign housemates' (e.g. “special Canadian pie” which was basically Shepherd’s Pie but with added carrot), however, her Toblerone fondue was notable! Sadly the victim of a late night drunken pantsdown visit from Tim (see below).
Sharehouse 1.3: Exit Manfred, enter the Scot
5) Keith the Scot was always going to have a hard time living up to Manfred’s champion housemate standards. With Keith came a shift in household dynamic. Keith agreed to everything we said we wanted in the house, then promptly ignored it. Keith raised the level of household slobbishness, and brought into our lives such pleasures as: late night pissing outside my window after the pub had shut (unfortunately, I was in bed trying to sleep on the inside of the window); devouring a BBQ chicken late at night and throwing the bones around the kitchen for us to find in the morning; drunk friends who slept if off on the couch; whisky appreciation (the latter I’m actually grateful for). In the end, Keith revealed himself to be a nasty bully and I ended up having a big argument with him and moving out.
Sharehouse 1.4 Exit Karine, Enter Tim, Keith’s Uni Mate.
[I went overseas on a trip to Europe, and expressly asked that Nick and Keith find another female to move in when Karine went back to Quebec, and that I didn’t want Keith’s mate Tim to move in. Despite this, got back to find Tim had moved in… Keith’s explanation for the dark brown tide marks in the shower was that “we thought you were getting back tomorrow” and that I shouldn’t be so uptight about a bit of mess. However, my main reason for being “uptight” about my new living arrangements had more to do with this episode, a few months earlier…]
6) I woke up early one morning (5am), and got up to investigate a strange hiccupping noise. Karine’s door was wide open and slamming in the breeze… she wasn’t there but Tim (who didn’t live there) was, muttering “Where’s Keith? I can’t find Keith”. Keith was nowhere to be seen. Tim obviously wasn’t sober/straight. I went downstairs and found a very angry and upset Karine huddled on the couch. Tim (6 ft 4) had burst into her room when she was asleep. He’d knocked things over in the dark, and refused to leave her room then, to Karine’s horror, he took off his shoes and dropped his dacks, then flopped on her bean bag. She fled downstairs & feared for her safety all night, while I slept on with earplugs (had put them in earlier in night to block out drunk person noise).
Months later, Tim asked me what had happened that night - he'd had a convenient memory lapse. I refreshed his memory and he seemed appropriately horrified. Only actually lived with Tim for 2 weeks.
Sharehouse 2 – Grly house in Adelaide’s inner west
7) Moved in with a friend of a friend. She was a separatist-feminist, lesbian, vegan, catholic, far-leftist (SFLVCFL). She told me once that she reckoned she’d chosen a difficult life for herself. Had many interesting chats in the kitchen and back yard. Yeah – we were different on many levels, and things got a bit tense at times, but I learned a lot.
Sharehouse 3 – love nest(s)
8) Sooner after meeting than our grandparents would have approved, C-chan and I moved in together. No more house-mate “issues”. Hoorah! Then C-chan moved to Sidonee to get a job…
9) …for a while to be the charmingly attributed the name “Cupboard Boy” (see B-Sharp), while I stayed with my folks…
10) …then we moved into a damp, wobbly, expensive (by Adelaide standards) little town house backing onto a restaurant strip in Newtown (nb – never do this… higher than normal cockroach levels, bottle-collection noise, restaurant noise and smells, break-and-enters, and worst off all – regular visits from the putrid-smelling, gag-inducing grease collection truck). How did we last almost 3 years there? I attribute living there to my body developing a hypersensitivity to common allergens and food chemicals (seems to be subsiding a bit now, thank goodness).
11) Which brings us to our current place. Clean (except for our mess), well ventilated, and sans restaurant noise.
I’ve never done a meme on my blog, but this one is at the suggestion of BSharp (see April, 2005). Whether or not it's interesting to anyone is another matter (this is your cue to comment at end of this entry, especially if you read this from time to time and have never commented!!)
My first ever share house started out as a dream of cooperation and happiness, full of likeminded Post Grad students who didn’t want house matters to be a hassle. We pooled grocery shopping resources, and took it in turns to shop and cook. I realized later that no sharehouse would ever be so good. I had a reunion with 1) and 2) in Italy whilst traveling there in ’98, and am still in touch with 1) who is still with girlfriend plus gorgeous baby.
Sharehouse 1.1: Parkside Vunderhaus!!
1) Manfred: der lovesik (sic) Deutschlander!
Manfred was (is) adorable. Big, sturdy frame, gentle manner, and a round expressive face that I suspect made up for his sometimes lacking English. In an accident of visa applications, his long-term girlfriend Doris was not able to join him in Australia, and to make up for this, Manfred worked darn hard, so he could take a long holidays to Germany in the Australian winter, and Doris would stay here for a long visit over the German winter. In between, he cleaned the house, went on regular trips to Adelaide’s surrounding wine regions, worked late on his PhD (grapevines), held wine appreciation evenings, and cooked. Oh – the cooking… pizza, sourdough bread…(mmm) apple cake…(mm mmmm) cinnamonny scroll things called Scheckenudeln (mmmmmmmmmmmm!). He taught me everything I know about yeast cookery!
2) Sandra: the not so lovesick Italiano
Sandra’s long distance relationship with Luca in Italy whilst in Australia for a year was not so happy… many expressive and colourful conversations in Italian were overheard while she talked to him on the phone in the hallway. As well as being a good film and theatre buddy, Sandra taught me everything I know about making risotto, tortellini, minestrone, and the importance of using genuine Parmesan. Most impressive exploit was an after-hours lab-experiment with sparkling alcoholic tomato “wine”!
3) Nick, from The Mount
Nick was a regular, decent bloke from Mt Gambier, who liked footy, and was the only Australian resident I ever lived with in this house. He preferred meat and three veg, especially when cooked by his mum, and once his entire family came to visit from The Mount (Mum, Dad, and 2 brothers), which was an experience…
Sharehouse 1.2: Exit Italiano, enter the Quebecois
4) Karine was a proud, French-speaking Canadian, in Australia for a year of study. Her cooking exploits were less impressive than the other foreign housemates' (e.g. “special Canadian pie” which was basically Shepherd’s Pie but with added carrot), however, her Toblerone fondue was notable! Sadly the victim of a late night drunken pantsdown visit from Tim (see below).
Sharehouse 1.3: Exit Manfred, enter the Scot
5) Keith the Scot was always going to have a hard time living up to Manfred’s champion housemate standards. With Keith came a shift in household dynamic. Keith agreed to everything we said we wanted in the house, then promptly ignored it. Keith raised the level of household slobbishness, and brought into our lives such pleasures as: late night pissing outside my window after the pub had shut (unfortunately, I was in bed trying to sleep on the inside of the window); devouring a BBQ chicken late at night and throwing the bones around the kitchen for us to find in the morning; drunk friends who slept if off on the couch; whisky appreciation (the latter I’m actually grateful for). In the end, Keith revealed himself to be a nasty bully and I ended up having a big argument with him and moving out.
Sharehouse 1.4 Exit Karine, Enter Tim, Keith’s Uni Mate.
[I went overseas on a trip to Europe, and expressly asked that Nick and Keith find another female to move in when Karine went back to Quebec, and that I didn’t want Keith’s mate Tim to move in. Despite this, got back to find Tim had moved in… Keith’s explanation for the dark brown tide marks in the shower was that “we thought you were getting back tomorrow” and that I shouldn’t be so uptight about a bit of mess. However, my main reason for being “uptight” about my new living arrangements had more to do with this episode, a few months earlier…]
6) I woke up early one morning (5am), and got up to investigate a strange hiccupping noise. Karine’s door was wide open and slamming in the breeze… she wasn’t there but Tim (who didn’t live there) was, muttering “Where’s Keith? I can’t find Keith”. Keith was nowhere to be seen. Tim obviously wasn’t sober/straight. I went downstairs and found a very angry and upset Karine huddled on the couch. Tim (6 ft 4) had burst into her room when she was asleep. He’d knocked things over in the dark, and refused to leave her room then, to Karine’s horror, he took off his shoes and dropped his dacks, then flopped on her bean bag. She fled downstairs & feared for her safety all night, while I slept on with earplugs (had put them in earlier in night to block out drunk person noise).
Months later, Tim asked me what had happened that night - he'd had a convenient memory lapse. I refreshed his memory and he seemed appropriately horrified. Only actually lived with Tim for 2 weeks.
Sharehouse 2 – Grly house in Adelaide’s inner west
7) Moved in with a friend of a friend. She was a separatist-feminist, lesbian, vegan, catholic, far-leftist (SFLVCFL). She told me once that she reckoned she’d chosen a difficult life for herself. Had many interesting chats in the kitchen and back yard. Yeah – we were different on many levels, and things got a bit tense at times, but I learned a lot.
Sharehouse 3 – love nest(s)
8) Sooner after meeting than our grandparents would have approved, C-chan and I moved in together. No more house-mate “issues”. Hoorah! Then C-chan moved to Sidonee to get a job…
9) …for a while to be the charmingly attributed the name “Cupboard Boy” (see B-Sharp), while I stayed with my folks…
10) …then we moved into a damp, wobbly, expensive (by Adelaide standards) little town house backing onto a restaurant strip in Newtown (nb – never do this… higher than normal cockroach levels, bottle-collection noise, restaurant noise and smells, break-and-enters, and worst off all – regular visits from the putrid-smelling, gag-inducing grease collection truck). How did we last almost 3 years there? I attribute living there to my body developing a hypersensitivity to common allergens and food chemicals (seems to be subsiding a bit now, thank goodness).
11) Which brings us to our current place. Clean (except for our mess), well ventilated, and sans restaurant noise.
06 April 2005
Revenge of the geeks
When I was a kid it was kind of geeky to take piano lessons and be interested in science. I guess that makes me a geek!
Boosting science enrolments - check out this article, if you sympathise with issues surrounding science. If you want my opinion (and if you don't, click off!), it has a lot to do with high school science teachers like my yr9 teacher - Mr Pavlowsky, who seriously wore socks, sandles and shorts, and whose lips didn't move beyond a circle shape when he talked in his monotone. Rote learing is probably a bit of a fizzer also, instead of fostering curiosity.
Now, onto piano... lately have seen 2 concerts that have rocketed up into my "top 5 concerts".
1) Ben Folds @ the Enmore Theatre (Sat night)
This was a seriously fun concert. Consisted of him + piano, bassist and drummer. Raced straight into a version of "in between days" which was a suprise. Played tracks from his new album which are growers. Had amusing anecdotes about what inspired the songs ("This really happened, I promise..."), jammed at the end of songs, and somehow incorporated a few minutes of "popcorn" into one of them. This guy seems to be able to do anything with 10 fingers and a keyboard.
The most fun was had with songs from his first album and from his former band (Ben Folds Five). In some of the songs (such as "Army"), he taught the crowd 2 or 3 part harmonies to make up for a lacking horn or vocal section. The musical talent in the audience was such that it worked well! He did a version of "Bitches ain't shit" (written by Dr Dre) - the lyrics of which are awful, but came across as just hilariously lame when played with a 3 piece band instead of rapping.
What got me was that he is a REALLY talented piano player, and that I have never had so much fun at a concert. GO SEE HIM WHEN HE TOURS HERE NEXT.
2) Rufus Wainright @ the Basement in Sydney (a few months back)
Played his (slightly dramatic) songs in a one-man show, either on his piana or guitar. This son of 2 prominent 60's folk artists belted his voice out to perfect pitch, improvised, and charmed the audience with his camp, witty humour. Had a little story to tell about many of the pieces he played. (ie no "1.2.3.4 waaa"). You left the concert wanting to become his best friend. Better to see live than to listen to on CD (his pieces are a bit distracting on the home stereo, due to very dramatic phrases that interrupt your thoughts/discussion etc). A mesmerising show in intimate settings (shame we didn't have a seat, though).
Boosting science enrolments - check out this article, if you sympathise with issues surrounding science. If you want my opinion (and if you don't, click off!), it has a lot to do with high school science teachers like my yr9 teacher - Mr Pavlowsky, who seriously wore socks, sandles and shorts, and whose lips didn't move beyond a circle shape when he talked in his monotone. Rote learing is probably a bit of a fizzer also, instead of fostering curiosity.
Now, onto piano... lately have seen 2 concerts that have rocketed up into my "top 5 concerts".
1) Ben Folds @ the Enmore Theatre (Sat night)
This was a seriously fun concert. Consisted of him + piano, bassist and drummer. Raced straight into a version of "in between days" which was a suprise. Played tracks from his new album which are growers. Had amusing anecdotes about what inspired the songs ("This really happened, I promise..."), jammed at the end of songs, and somehow incorporated a few minutes of "popcorn" into one of them. This guy seems to be able to do anything with 10 fingers and a keyboard.
The most fun was had with songs from his first album and from his former band (Ben Folds Five). In some of the songs (such as "Army"), he taught the crowd 2 or 3 part harmonies to make up for a lacking horn or vocal section. The musical talent in the audience was such that it worked well! He did a version of "Bitches ain't shit" (written by Dr Dre) - the lyrics of which are awful, but came across as just hilariously lame when played with a 3 piece band instead of rapping.
What got me was that he is a REALLY talented piano player, and that I have never had so much fun at a concert. GO SEE HIM WHEN HE TOURS HERE NEXT.
2) Rufus Wainright @ the Basement in Sydney (a few months back)
Played his (slightly dramatic) songs in a one-man show, either on his piana or guitar. This son of 2 prominent 60's folk artists belted his voice out to perfect pitch, improvised, and charmed the audience with his camp, witty humour. Had a little story to tell about many of the pieces he played. (ie no "1.2.3.4 waaa"). You left the concert wanting to become his best friend. Better to see live than to listen to on CD (his pieces are a bit distracting on the home stereo, due to very dramatic phrases that interrupt your thoughts/discussion etc). A mesmerising show in intimate settings (shame we didn't have a seat, though).
01 April 2005
Omigod what day is it again?
I have had my head down & buns up, submersed in the structure, funding, strengths and failures of Uni-dom for the past week.
Review, review, review. [For heavens' sake move on - HECS was introduced in the early nineties, and it's time to make the Faculties act like businesses they've been told to be, leave the managing to Managers (maybe even without a Dr in front of their name!), and let the research geeks get on with what they are good at, instead of forcing them to fill out forms and come up to speed on good HR policy/financial management practice overnight without training....]
On the up side, I have come across some sensible management speak within the ivory towers in the past couple of weeks, which has been very refreshing. For once, people are talking of supporting important areas and talented people instead of routinely cutting back due to no dollars. Whether or not we can make this message stick at the right time to the right people is the challenge...
Can't wait for the weekend :-)
Going to see this guy (modern day piano hero, father of 2) on Saturday night...
Also planning to have my regular Sunday morning dip in Drummoyne pool, read, and get out in the open air (bearing in mind that Sydney air is nowhere near as nice as air in other places... such as the Blue Mountains where we went last weekend). I might even tackle my most procrastinated (is that a word?) task ever - organising the wedding photo album!! I just have to convince myself it's more creative and exciting than it really is!!
Review, review, review. [For heavens' sake move on - HECS was introduced in the early nineties, and it's time to make the Faculties act like businesses they've been told to be, leave the managing to Managers (maybe even without a Dr in front of their name!), and let the research geeks get on with what they are good at, instead of forcing them to fill out forms and come up to speed on good HR policy/financial management practice overnight without training....]
On the up side, I have come across some sensible management speak within the ivory towers in the past couple of weeks, which has been very refreshing. For once, people are talking of supporting important areas and talented people instead of routinely cutting back due to no dollars. Whether or not we can make this message stick at the right time to the right people is the challenge...
Can't wait for the weekend :-)
Going to see this guy (modern day piano hero, father of 2) on Saturday night...
Also planning to have my regular Sunday morning dip in Drummoyne pool, read, and get out in the open air (bearing in mind that Sydney air is nowhere near as nice as air in other places... such as the Blue Mountains where we went last weekend). I might even tackle my most procrastinated (is that a word?) task ever - organising the wedding photo album!! I just have to convince myself it's more creative and exciting than it really is!!
12 March 2005
Negotiating technique #3 - the leapfrog
This technique is best tried by only the quickwitted, but may work on average speed wits if you have had lots of coffee that morning. It is useful for finding out things that you are not necessarily meant to know.
Prepare by taking snippets of conversations you have had with a certain person you work with on a certain critical task. Work these up in your mind, and imagine the worst possible scenario. Imagine things collapsing in a big heap, and that everyone you work with has a sub-normal level of competence. At the same time, meditate, and achieve the mindset that you alone are the sole expert on this particular matter.
Begin by suddenly appearing behind the person's desk, and request that they "come and speak to you for a sec", and walk off before they can answer "no, actually...". (Startlement and interruption is important for setting the mood of your negotiation).
Start to question them with a series of indirect questions - at no stage should the person see at once what you are actually trying to find out. If their answers are not giving you what you need, this is where you employ the fully fledged leapfrog. Latch onto anything the person says that you can, and make the conversation tangential. Bring up any past failures you can think of (theirs personally, or those of others involved with the project), and imply that the same thing is happening again. If nothing critical is divulged, change the topic again, and repeat. Watch as the person gets more and more exasperated by your sudden changes in topic and systematic wearing down of their self-confidence.
With luck, they will have by now told you what you want to know. If not, wind down the conversation, and start to look busy with something else - the person will get the hint and leave the room.
Prepare by taking snippets of conversations you have had with a certain person you work with on a certain critical task. Work these up in your mind, and imagine the worst possible scenario. Imagine things collapsing in a big heap, and that everyone you work with has a sub-normal level of competence. At the same time, meditate, and achieve the mindset that you alone are the sole expert on this particular matter.
Begin by suddenly appearing behind the person's desk, and request that they "come and speak to you for a sec", and walk off before they can answer "no, actually...". (Startlement and interruption is important for setting the mood of your negotiation).
Start to question them with a series of indirect questions - at no stage should the person see at once what you are actually trying to find out. If their answers are not giving you what you need, this is where you employ the fully fledged leapfrog. Latch onto anything the person says that you can, and make the conversation tangential. Bring up any past failures you can think of (theirs personally, or those of others involved with the project), and imply that the same thing is happening again. If nothing critical is divulged, change the topic again, and repeat. Watch as the person gets more and more exasperated by your sudden changes in topic and systematic wearing down of their self-confidence.
With luck, they will have by now told you what you want to know. If not, wind down the conversation, and start to look busy with something else - the person will get the hint and leave the room.
Sapien watch (1)
This week I witnessed a curious phenomenon in a fellow human being. I don't know what to call the condition, at this stage... maybe something will come later.
Said human being had made a pertinent point at a (rather badly chaired) meeting, then the discussion continued on. I had nothing to add to the discussion, and rather hoped we could just move on to the next agenda item. I looked around to see what other people were feeling about the situation. Pertinent point guy was no longer speaking, but sat there, silently mouthing words and tipping his head as if he was speaking.
I have no idea if he was reliving his moment (in which he made a valid point, but unfortunatley didn't conclude the mindnumbingly boring discusion), or if he was rehearsing for a future conversation he was anticipating having with someone.
Said human being had made a pertinent point at a (rather badly chaired) meeting, then the discussion continued on. I had nothing to add to the discussion, and rather hoped we could just move on to the next agenda item. I looked around to see what other people were feeling about the situation. Pertinent point guy was no longer speaking, but sat there, silently mouthing words and tipping his head as if he was speaking.
I have no idea if he was reliving his moment (in which he made a valid point, but unfortunatley didn't conclude the mindnumbingly boring discusion), or if he was rehearsing for a future conversation he was anticipating having with someone.
01 March 2005
Merry Risa channels Thelma
Well, I seem to have kicked that cold, but only after a whole weekend of doing stuff-all. Good I suppose.
A funny thing happened on Friday. Was having a conversation with someone Senior, to use the phraseology of the day (thanks BSharp). It was a hot day, and we happened to be in an unairconditioned office. Mid-sentence, my contact lens fell right off my eye. Both of us had to stop talking and scrounge around on the floor looking for it, just like Thelma from Scooby Doo when she had her glasses knocked off!
Found the lens, and held it on my finger, only to find that to my horror, senior person picked right up with the cross-purposed and conclusion-leaping conversation. After about 10 minutes of holding the lens on my finger right in front of senior person, I had to interrupt and tell him that if I didn't clean it and put it back on soon, the lens would dry out. "Of course, of course!"
Ah - cheers. To Life and all it throw at us....
A funny thing happened on Friday. Was having a conversation with someone Senior, to use the phraseology of the day (thanks BSharp). It was a hot day, and we happened to be in an unairconditioned office. Mid-sentence, my contact lens fell right off my eye. Both of us had to stop talking and scrounge around on the floor looking for it, just like Thelma from Scooby Doo when she had her glasses knocked off!
Found the lens, and held it on my finger, only to find that to my horror, senior person picked right up with the cross-purposed and conclusion-leaping conversation. After about 10 minutes of holding the lens on my finger right in front of senior person, I had to interrupt and tell him that if I didn't clean it and put it back on soon, the lens would dry out. "Of course, of course!"
Ah - cheers. To Life and all it throw at us....
27 February 2005
WOE is ME!
Feeling sorry for self as have caught cold! (sniff)
Cold has caused me to miss a birthday party (boo hoo), miss going swimming (again), and have little energy to do anything much (boo). Cold came on on Friday night (boo). On the up side, have slept 15 hours yesterday (yay), found some lonzenges that actually seem to have an effect (yay), watched the Brits fight the Gerries in an afternoon war movie (hoorah!), have had my brow mopped by nurse C-chan (yay) whose expertise in the area of my cold is enhanced by the fact that he is coming out the tail end of the exact same cold.
Will I ever rise again? Only time will tell.
Cold has caused me to miss a birthday party (boo hoo), miss going swimming (again), and have little energy to do anything much (boo). Cold came on on Friday night (boo). On the up side, have slept 15 hours yesterday (yay), found some lonzenges that actually seem to have an effect (yay), watched the Brits fight the Gerries in an afternoon war movie (hoorah!), have had my brow mopped by nurse C-chan (yay) whose expertise in the area of my cold is enhanced by the fact that he is coming out the tail end of the exact same cold.
Will I ever rise again? Only time will tell.
17 February 2005
It's all in your jeans...
My current pair of jeans is wearing out.
Last time I bought a pair of jeans, it was astoundingly easy… I went into the store, found some jeans that were the same style number as last time, tried on the same size and they fitted! Better still, they had some jeans that were not only my size, but my length, which saved me from having to get the jeans altered to fit my shorter-than-average legs. “Fantastic!” I thought! They are now making shorter length jeans, and next time I buy jeans, I can go and buy this exact style and I’ll be able to practically walk out of the shop with them on. I was thrilled, having never had this happen to me before. I have spent the past 2 or so years content in the knowledge that jeans-shopping would never be hard ever again.
But I was sadly wrong…I recently went to jeans store and sought out “my” correct jeans style. First worry - they looked different. After a check with the shop assistant, this particular style of jeans had:
- changed style (despite keeping the same number) to be much higher-waisted
- no longer came in shorter length
- no longer came with button fly option
The first feelings of panic set in. I pushed aside memories of teenage clothes shopping traumas, and decided to try them on anyway, ignoring stick thin shop assistants’ suggestion that I might like to try the larger size. The jeans that had so easily covered my curves 2 years ago now pushed things in where they shouldn’t be and were dreadfully uncomfortable (and no, I haven’t put on weight). Looking at other jeans shops for next couple of hours was fruitless – could not find jeans that flattered me and were a nice colour and style (let alone length). It seems the style of jeans that suits me is no longer in style. Where does that leave me for the next fashion cycle, I wonder?
Most probably jean-less. I think I’m going to explore other options for my casual lower-half outer wear. But my search does raise a few (I think) pertinent questions:
Why would a common brand of jeans give a style of jeans an easily remembered number, only to change that style every couple of years anyway, removing the usefulness of the number? Why not make it clear you are bringing out an entirely new range of styles?
Why do clothing chains uses the word “Jean” in their title as if they are a one-stop-jean-shop, yet mostly sell tops, shorts and skirts, and not cater for the full range of body shapes and leg lengths in their jean range?
How does anyone sit down comfortably wearing high-waisted jeans?
Last time I bought a pair of jeans, it was astoundingly easy… I went into the store, found some jeans that were the same style number as last time, tried on the same size and they fitted! Better still, they had some jeans that were not only my size, but my length, which saved me from having to get the jeans altered to fit my shorter-than-average legs. “Fantastic!” I thought! They are now making shorter length jeans, and next time I buy jeans, I can go and buy this exact style and I’ll be able to practically walk out of the shop with them on. I was thrilled, having never had this happen to me before. I have spent the past 2 or so years content in the knowledge that jeans-shopping would never be hard ever again.
But I was sadly wrong…I recently went to jeans store and sought out “my” correct jeans style. First worry - they looked different. After a check with the shop assistant, this particular style of jeans had:
- changed style (despite keeping the same number) to be much higher-waisted
- no longer came in shorter length
- no longer came with button fly option
The first feelings of panic set in. I pushed aside memories of teenage clothes shopping traumas, and decided to try them on anyway, ignoring stick thin shop assistants’ suggestion that I might like to try the larger size. The jeans that had so easily covered my curves 2 years ago now pushed things in where they shouldn’t be and were dreadfully uncomfortable (and no, I haven’t put on weight). Looking at other jeans shops for next couple of hours was fruitless – could not find jeans that flattered me and were a nice colour and style (let alone length). It seems the style of jeans that suits me is no longer in style. Where does that leave me for the next fashion cycle, I wonder?
Most probably jean-less. I think I’m going to explore other options for my casual lower-half outer wear. But my search does raise a few (I think) pertinent questions:
Why would a common brand of jeans give a style of jeans an easily remembered number, only to change that style every couple of years anyway, removing the usefulness of the number? Why not make it clear you are bringing out an entirely new range of styles?
Why do clothing chains uses the word “Jean” in their title as if they are a one-stop-jean-shop, yet mostly sell tops, shorts and skirts, and not cater for the full range of body shapes and leg lengths in their jean range?
How does anyone sit down comfortably wearing high-waisted jeans?
02 February 2005
C-chan and Merry Risa's christmas road trip to Adelaide
or - "There and back again..."
The drive there...
Within an hour of leaving home, we witnessed a bizarre smash on the road, in which a car careened into the back of a semi @ 120kph (prob'ly asleep at the wheel) and the semi went on driving as if he didn't even know he'd been hit. This did much to unsettle our poor nerves, and meant that we had to set aside our new Burt Bacharach compilation for a few hours until happy music seemed appropriate again. The first day was v eventful, with bibical scale locust plagues, cows on the road, Ruth Rendell CD-novel murder mysteries, and temperatures in the high 30's as we made our way to Mildura for the first night .
Arrive at the city of churches and after many family reunions, we start to slide into holiday mode. Went to Victor Harbour, relaxed in a pool, on the tennis court, played with nephew, caught up with brother and Mi-chan, and incredible shrinking parents (parents have both been losing weight).
Back to 'delaide for much to-ing and fro-ing between parents' houses, allergic reactions to pets and dust on sofa beds, and poor communication between all parties about what is going on, when. (We are going to stay in Siddonee for Christmas this year, we've decided). Watched tense, Mother/daughter-in-Law dynamics evolve everywhere we looked. My god, why can’t mother-in-laws let partner/wife of their sons do things their way and accept it as being “different” rather than “wrong”? Why do people lose their ability to put "issues" in perspective where extended families are concerned? I guess it's one of those things that will never change.
The nephew...
Oh how cute yet exhausting. Best moments include:
- nephew bowing (Japanese style) at mannequin dressed as airline pilot outside travel agent
- 5 fully grown adults dancing to ABBA at 11pm in effort to wear out 20 month old, but only suceeding in wearing selves out.
- look of pure delight on his face has he has his first proper swim in the ocean @ Balmoral. Didn't want to get out, despite lips going blue.
I have decided that being an Auntie is fun – you get to try out being a parent, without the full responsibility (no nappy changing). Can act like a silly git, and most of the time a sub-two-year-old will laugh at you adoringly.
Home again, home again, jiggeldy jig!
Drive back home was uneventful, save a spectacularly stuffed up pub meal, in which…
Meal took over an hour to produce, despite there being only 2 other parties in the dining area. Our 2 steak sandwiches somehow got served to someone else, who apparently didn’t realize it wasn’t their lamb cutlets and chicken kiev (how???). Waitress looked extremely stressed, and offered us the latter meals, which was not a good compromise given the lamb cutlets were DEEP FRIED (I kid you not), and so possibly was the Chicken Kiev (although it could have been bathed in oil before baking).
Things now getting ridiculously late, embarrassing and irritating (staff had no skills to deal with mixed up orders), we asked for part of our money back and took the chicken, thinking we could at least cut the chicken out from greasey casing. But we were WRONG WRONG WRONG!! C-chan cut into it, and grease poured out, putting at risk the only remaining edible foods on the dish (cauliflower cheese, chips, carrot, baked potato). Ate what we could and snuck out the side door….
The drive there...
Within an hour of leaving home, we witnessed a bizarre smash on the road, in which a car careened into the back of a semi @ 120kph (prob'ly asleep at the wheel) and the semi went on driving as if he didn't even know he'd been hit. This did much to unsettle our poor nerves, and meant that we had to set aside our new Burt Bacharach compilation for a few hours until happy music seemed appropriate again. The first day was v eventful, with bibical scale locust plagues, cows on the road, Ruth Rendell CD-novel murder mysteries, and temperatures in the high 30's as we made our way to Mildura for the first night .
Arrive at the city of churches and after many family reunions, we start to slide into holiday mode. Went to Victor Harbour, relaxed in a pool, on the tennis court, played with nephew, caught up with brother and Mi-chan, and incredible shrinking parents (parents have both been losing weight).
Back to 'delaide for much to-ing and fro-ing between parents' houses, allergic reactions to pets and dust on sofa beds, and poor communication between all parties about what is going on, when. (We are going to stay in Siddonee for Christmas this year, we've decided). Watched tense, Mother/daughter-in-Law dynamics evolve everywhere we looked. My god, why can’t mother-in-laws let partner/wife of their sons do things their way and accept it as being “different” rather than “wrong”? Why do people lose their ability to put "issues" in perspective where extended families are concerned? I guess it's one of those things that will never change.
The nephew...
Oh how cute yet exhausting. Best moments include:
- nephew bowing (Japanese style) at mannequin dressed as airline pilot outside travel agent
- 5 fully grown adults dancing to ABBA at 11pm in effort to wear out 20 month old, but only suceeding in wearing selves out.
- look of pure delight on his face has he has his first proper swim in the ocean @ Balmoral. Didn't want to get out, despite lips going blue.
I have decided that being an Auntie is fun – you get to try out being a parent, without the full responsibility (no nappy changing). Can act like a silly git, and most of the time a sub-two-year-old will laugh at you adoringly.
Home again, home again, jiggeldy jig!
Drive back home was uneventful, save a spectacularly stuffed up pub meal, in which…
Meal took over an hour to produce, despite there being only 2 other parties in the dining area. Our 2 steak sandwiches somehow got served to someone else, who apparently didn’t realize it wasn’t their lamb cutlets and chicken kiev (how???). Waitress looked extremely stressed, and offered us the latter meals, which was not a good compromise given the lamb cutlets were DEEP FRIED (I kid you not), and so possibly was the Chicken Kiev (although it could have been bathed in oil before baking).
Things now getting ridiculously late, embarrassing and irritating (staff had no skills to deal with mixed up orders), we asked for part of our money back and took the chicken, thinking we could at least cut the chicken out from greasey casing. But we were WRONG WRONG WRONG!! C-chan cut into it, and grease poured out, putting at risk the only remaining edible foods on the dish (cauliflower cheese, chips, carrot, baked potato). Ate what we could and snuck out the side door….
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