Monday, March 29, 2004
Count down
Only two more sleeps before I'm off to Sydney to visit the family. I'll be leaving behind little but problems and heading towards not much else - has anyone else noticed that 2004 is shaping up to be one of those years where absolutely everyone experiences one or more life-altering changes, none of them for the better? By my reckoning New Year's Eve 2004 is going to greeted with great enthusiasm by all those people who can't wait to turn the page and wipe the slate clean for another year - and it's only frickin March!
How inspiring was Don Chipp on Denton tonight? I've always admired the man, his ideas and his persona, but to see him at 78 years of age, carrying the burden of Parkinsons Disease with such great dignity and having lost none of his decisiveness, or clarity of thought - well...Good on ya Don! You always were a great bloke, now you're a legend!
How inspiring was Don Chipp on Denton tonight? I've always admired the man, his ideas and his persona, but to see him at 78 years of age, carrying the burden of Parkinsons Disease with such great dignity and having lost none of his decisiveness, or clarity of thought - well...Good on ya Don! You always were a great bloke, now you're a legend!
Friday, March 26, 2004
Intimate secrets
That's the whole point isn't it. Unless you are prepared to reveal a whole lot more of yourself than I am, or have absolute passions on which you can interminably track information and/or rant, or a whole community of blogging friends, the blog quickly gets tedious to read. Then you start to wonder, "why am I doing this?" - I can talk to myself verbally, do I really need to write to myself as well? Maybe I should just go back to emailing the couple of people who write back.
I know I'm going to get into it again, just not much for a while, 'cause I'll be away and then might have to buy a new computer, but I will be back and then I'm going to get into it - maybe, probably...
What fascinating facts am I prepared to reveal this week, well to understand my point of view I guess you need to understand that, like many people in Darwin, I'm a long way away from family and friends and under these circumstances, when you work in a small, close-knit unit, these people tend to become...well, something much more than workmates, more like a cross between family and friends.
So, still reeling from the misfortunes of our boss's family, our second most senior person stepped into the breach to co-ordinate our activities for a while. Now he's had a heart attack.
I spent much of the week trying to put out media fires started by some pipsqueak who decided to speak out about his problems with our organisation in a close and personal chat with the Chief Minister on local radio. Spent 3 hours of my day off (yes folks, that's the day a week I don't get paid for) making telephone calls on my private phone about work.
Sitting on Darwin wharf eating Singapore noodles with prawns and pork and an evening at the Trailer Boat Club celebrating a friend's birthday were nice.
Reading: Lunch with Mussolini by Derek Hansen. I read another book of his Lunch with the Generals years ago now and really enjoyed it. This is sort of a reprise on the theme, but an excellent concept and an interesting yarn none-the-less.
Might go have a look at blogger idol for this week.
God, I'm really going to have to invent a life if I want to go on with this!
I know I'm going to get into it again, just not much for a while, 'cause I'll be away and then might have to buy a new computer, but I will be back and then I'm going to get into it - maybe, probably...
What fascinating facts am I prepared to reveal this week, well to understand my point of view I guess you need to understand that, like many people in Darwin, I'm a long way away from family and friends and under these circumstances, when you work in a small, close-knit unit, these people tend to become...well, something much more than workmates, more like a cross between family and friends.
So, still reeling from the misfortunes of our boss's family, our second most senior person stepped into the breach to co-ordinate our activities for a while. Now he's had a heart attack.
I spent much of the week trying to put out media fires started by some pipsqueak who decided to speak out about his problems with our organisation in a close and personal chat with the Chief Minister on local radio. Spent 3 hours of my day off (yes folks, that's the day a week I don't get paid for) making telephone calls on my private phone about work.
Sitting on Darwin wharf eating Singapore noodles with prawns and pork and an evening at the Trailer Boat Club celebrating a friend's birthday were nice.
Reading: Lunch with Mussolini by Derek Hansen. I read another book of his Lunch with the Generals years ago now and really enjoyed it. This is sort of a reprise on the theme, but an excellent concept and an interesting yarn none-the-less.
Might go have a look at blogger idol for this week.
God, I'm really going to have to invent a life if I want to go on with this!
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Get a blog for a life
Having discovered blogging, I've realised you don't even have time for a life, let alone need one.
I admit to being a bit on the slow side - I can easily spend an hour on such dreadful local rags as The NT News or The Illawarra Mercury- being in the habit of starting at page one and reading pretty much everything up to and including the 'stars', the comics, and the classifieds. Now I find I spend 4 or 5 hours a night checking other people's blogs.
It's like a drug. Once you start clicking those links you just can't stop. I'm stumbling around all day with red eyes and a hangover.
What's worse is how humbling it all is. There are so many erudite and talented people blogging. Are all the clever people in the world spending their whole lives doing it rather than it? Where do they get the time to post all this stuff? The fact the posts contain links to the world's major news stories and fascinating sidelines and distractions indicates they actually spend time reading as well as thinking and writing.
Most of them even seem to have a life!
This is my pick from tonight's smorgasbord; Darwin-based lawyerand friends get stuck into law, politics, Northern Territory issues, news and lifestyle. I chose it because it was listed as the Northern Territory winner of the Aussie Blog Awards, but found enough reading to do me till the end of the year. Look for Ken Parish's posts.
I admit to being a bit on the slow side - I can easily spend an hour on such dreadful local rags as The NT News or The Illawarra Mercury- being in the habit of starting at page one and reading pretty much everything up to and including the 'stars', the comics, and the classifieds. Now I find I spend 4 or 5 hours a night checking other people's blogs.
It's like a drug. Once you start clicking those links you just can't stop. I'm stumbling around all day with red eyes and a hangover.
What's worse is how humbling it all is. There are so many erudite and talented people blogging. Are all the clever people in the world spending their whole lives doing it rather than it? Where do they get the time to post all this stuff? The fact the posts contain links to the world's major news stories and fascinating sidelines and distractions indicates they actually spend time reading as well as thinking and writing.
Most of them even seem to have a life!
This is my pick from tonight's smorgasbord; Darwin-based lawyerand friends get stuck into law, politics, Northern Territory issues, news and lifestyle. I chose it because it was listed as the Northern Territory winner of the Aussie Blog Awards, but found enough reading to do me till the end of the year. Look for Ken Parish's posts.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Truly pissed off
At the moment amongst my most intimate acquaintances are these problems:
Start with the biggie - my boss's wife has inoperable cancer. They have a three year old daughter.
Two couples I know are splitting up
A close relative has to have a major operation on his skull
My internet connection keeps dropping out - last month they billed me for 200 calls most of which would have been reconnecting to the internet
I wrote a childrens' story to be published by my employer and someone decided to get trial copies printed from the first draft without any editing and without reference to me. It looks like a kid's school project. They also neglected to bother to put my name on it as the author - which is probably a blessing under the circumstances.
I spent 8 hours at work in meetings except for composing one email blasting the people who did the above - that took a very long time to edit!
My partner made the worst dinner I've ever tasted tonight - chewy noodles and chicken of inedible toughness swimming in a pre-packaged Laksa sauce that smelled and tasted of nothing but fish and salt...yuk.
Someone very close to me intends working at the Port Hedland Detention Centre - I can't believe I know anyone who could bear to work there
Start with the biggie - my boss's wife has inoperable cancer. They have a three year old daughter.
Two couples I know are splitting up
A close relative has to have a major operation on his skull
My internet connection keeps dropping out - last month they billed me for 200 calls most of which would have been reconnecting to the internet
I wrote a childrens' story to be published by my employer and someone decided to get trial copies printed from the first draft without any editing and without reference to me. It looks like a kid's school project. They also neglected to bother to put my name on it as the author - which is probably a blessing under the circumstances.
I spent 8 hours at work in meetings except for composing one email blasting the people who did the above - that took a very long time to edit!
My partner made the worst dinner I've ever tasted tonight - chewy noodles and chicken of inedible toughness swimming in a pre-packaged Laksa sauce that smelled and tasted of nothing but fish and salt...yuk.
Someone very close to me intends working at the Port Hedland Detention Centre - I can't believe I know anyone who could bear to work there
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Mary River campsite
While looking for something else, I ran across a couple of pages of writing I'd done while travelling around Australia with a camper-trailer about 5 years ago. I haven't even read through them yet, but thought I'd reproduce them here. I'm taking a punt they are gonna be more interesting than anything I've done in the past 24 hours.
One night at Fitzroy River Resort was more than enough for any sane person. With its acres of short-cut, dusty grass, fledgling trees and modern hotel complex surrounding a swimming pool, it should have been nice, but the presence of 1000 happy campers and caravaners, packed like sardines in a tin over the crisp grass meant you were scratching to get an empty toilet or shower stall. Peace or privacy were simply out of the question. Still, we were glad of a quick dip in the pool after 400ks from Broome along crisp-baked road.
The diesels started up at dawn and, as the procession of caravans began to hit the highway, we packed up and followed.
Someone had told us about a camping area 180ks along the track and we pulled into Mary River just short of 11am. This is the kind of place even a few years ago you would have had to yourself.
The river, like all Australian inland rivers, runs wide and fast, often spreading into flood during the short wet season. But well into the dry, as we are, it now forms a shallow channel of water between deep banks, receding into a series of small pools and billabongs surrounded by dried mud flats.
It's a birdwatcher's paradise with a constant procession of high-stepping greater white egrets, grey-black pacific herons and numerous smaller wading birds competing for the tiny fish trapped by the falling water levels.
Big mobs of white corellas -with their bullet-shaped heads and blunt bodies-perform noisy aerial acrobatics around the tree-tops. Shiny black crows wheel and swoop in competition with the eagle-like black kites, fighting for position over the shrinking line of life-giving water.
Ducks skim across the line of green, daring the resident crocodile who waits soundlessly, crouched low in the water on the edge of a sandbank. The cacophony of bird calls creates the din of a thousand voices.
In these times, when thousands of travellers keep the petrol companies in business with their ceaseless wandering over this remote landscape, this little oasis is far from our own.
At least 50 other vans share our 'solitude'. As dusk falls, every space along the river is filled.
Campfires dot the darkness, spreading the warmth of home and the smell of wood smoke. The murmur of quiet fireside talk wafts with the smoke, punctuated by occasional burst of laughter. A quarter moon rides low in the purple velvet sky of the Kimberley dotted with a million points of light. It's worth the trip to see these skies.
Despite the dust, the lack of facilities - two disgusting pit toilets and an overflowing garbage bin- and the constant movement of vehicles -the turnover must be 100 a day-, Mary River remains a pretty much unspoilt wilderness, a highlight of our 9 months on the road.
We sit here, under the coolibah tree's shade and watch the changing patterns of light and shadow as the sun moves across the sky. We listen to the birds and watch their perfect reflections double-dipping for an elusive meal. We wander along the dry creek bed, dodging the red cows and Brahmin bulls that follow the narrow footpaths and all that marks the passing of our day is the creak of canvas in our well-worn deck chairs.
Mary River is approximately 180 kilometres north of Fitzroy Crossing in the northern end of Western Australia, Australia.
One night at Fitzroy River Resort was more than enough for any sane person. With its acres of short-cut, dusty grass, fledgling trees and modern hotel complex surrounding a swimming pool, it should have been nice, but the presence of 1000 happy campers and caravaners, packed like sardines in a tin over the crisp grass meant you were scratching to get an empty toilet or shower stall. Peace or privacy were simply out of the question. Still, we were glad of a quick dip in the pool after 400ks from Broome along crisp-baked road.
The diesels started up at dawn and, as the procession of caravans began to hit the highway, we packed up and followed.
Someone had told us about a camping area 180ks along the track and we pulled into Mary River just short of 11am. This is the kind of place even a few years ago you would have had to yourself.
The river, like all Australian inland rivers, runs wide and fast, often spreading into flood during the short wet season. But well into the dry, as we are, it now forms a shallow channel of water between deep banks, receding into a series of small pools and billabongs surrounded by dried mud flats.
It's a birdwatcher's paradise with a constant procession of high-stepping greater white egrets, grey-black pacific herons and numerous smaller wading birds competing for the tiny fish trapped by the falling water levels.
Big mobs of white corellas -with their bullet-shaped heads and blunt bodies-perform noisy aerial acrobatics around the tree-tops. Shiny black crows wheel and swoop in competition with the eagle-like black kites, fighting for position over the shrinking line of life-giving water.
Ducks skim across the line of green, daring the resident crocodile who waits soundlessly, crouched low in the water on the edge of a sandbank. The cacophony of bird calls creates the din of a thousand voices.
In these times, when thousands of travellers keep the petrol companies in business with their ceaseless wandering over this remote landscape, this little oasis is far from our own.
At least 50 other vans share our 'solitude'. As dusk falls, every space along the river is filled.
Campfires dot the darkness, spreading the warmth of home and the smell of wood smoke. The murmur of quiet fireside talk wafts with the smoke, punctuated by occasional burst of laughter. A quarter moon rides low in the purple velvet sky of the Kimberley dotted with a million points of light. It's worth the trip to see these skies.
Despite the dust, the lack of facilities - two disgusting pit toilets and an overflowing garbage bin- and the constant movement of vehicles -the turnover must be 100 a day-, Mary River remains a pretty much unspoilt wilderness, a highlight of our 9 months on the road.
We sit here, under the coolibah tree's shade and watch the changing patterns of light and shadow as the sun moves across the sky. We listen to the birds and watch their perfect reflections double-dipping for an elusive meal. We wander along the dry creek bed, dodging the red cows and Brahmin bulls that follow the narrow footpaths and all that marks the passing of our day is the creak of canvas in our well-worn deck chairs.
Mary River is approximately 180 kilometres north of Fitzroy Crossing in the northern end of Western Australia, Australia.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Bucketin' down
Tonight I'm so tired (from staying up till 2am fiddling with my blog again) that the only thing I can think of to write is that there's a cyclone forming in the Gulf and the rain is bucketing down. When it rains in Darwin, it pours. Not so much large, heavy drops as dense, heavy curtains. We had a big storm and a couple of hours rain last night, another this afternoon and now again. But it's so cool - a balmy 29 degrees today- so my evening walk along the foreshore was really pleasant.
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Sitting in Judgement
I got an interesting chain-mail type email the other day.
"If you knew a woman who was pregnant, who had 8 kids already, three who were deaf, two who were blind, one mentally retarded, and she had syphilis, would you recommend that she have an abortion?"
Leaving aside the conscience vote on abortion, if one looked at this question as asking would you believe the woman would be better off without this new baby, I believe most of us would have to answer, 'yes'.
The rider to the question was, if you answered 'yes', you just killed Beethoven.
Other interesting scenarios questioned seemingly common-sense judgements in much the same way.
I must confess, I often leap to judgement. My own paranoia kicks in and I attribute bad motives to sometimes innocent actions. This person is stupid because they don't come to the same conclusion as me; that person has bad taste in clothes, home decoration, friends or partner. This person spends money in unsuitable ways, that one doesn't have integrity, is a user or manipulator.
Often my judgement is clouded by my own insecurities or inability to understand all the ramifications of the situation. I just think I know best but this silly little email made me take stock and vow to be kinder, to allow that each person is entitled to their own opinions and ways of behaving and it is not up to me to judge them.
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to try to see things from the other guy's point of view. But I'm sure that trying to do so will make me a better person.
"If you knew a woman who was pregnant, who had 8 kids already, three who were deaf, two who were blind, one mentally retarded, and she had syphilis, would you recommend that she have an abortion?"
Leaving aside the conscience vote on abortion, if one looked at this question as asking would you believe the woman would be better off without this new baby, I believe most of us would have to answer, 'yes'.
The rider to the question was, if you answered 'yes', you just killed Beethoven.
Other interesting scenarios questioned seemingly common-sense judgements in much the same way.
I must confess, I often leap to judgement. My own paranoia kicks in and I attribute bad motives to sometimes innocent actions. This person is stupid because they don't come to the same conclusion as me; that person has bad taste in clothes, home decoration, friends or partner. This person spends money in unsuitable ways, that one doesn't have integrity, is a user or manipulator.
Often my judgement is clouded by my own insecurities or inability to understand all the ramifications of the situation. I just think I know best but this silly little email made me take stock and vow to be kinder, to allow that each person is entitled to their own opinions and ways of behaving and it is not up to me to judge them.
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to try to see things from the other guy's point of view. But I'm sure that trying to do so will make me a better person.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Blogger Idol Week 8 favourites
Blogging is so very time-consuming and I haven't yet done my duty by my fellow entrants in week 8 blogger idol. Here are my favourites together with their own summaries and mine. I'm too slow at all this yet to pick 5; it's taken me an hour to go back and get the info I needed to post 3!
Uptown Girl » My family is large talks a lot and spends much to much time together. When they are together we eat and talk. We tell stories. We gossip. We critique. We criticize. The food may be anything, but there is always one side dish that has been a staple to our family diet for as long as I can remember. Guilt!
My comment: This place sounds just like 3 George Street! (That's where I lived when I was a kid)
Kennamatic
» A military operation gone wrong.
My comment: Anyone who ever had a brother they tormented and blamed will identify with this one.
American Diatribe
» I confess...I'm just another Blog Whore
My comment: In American movies, I think they call this sort of thing smart and sassy. Well-written and nice design.
Uptown Girl » My family is large talks a lot and spends much to much time together. When they are together we eat and talk. We tell stories. We gossip. We critique. We criticize. The food may be anything, but there is always one side dish that has been a staple to our family diet for as long as I can remember. Guilt!
My comment: This place sounds just like 3 George Street! (That's where I lived when I was a kid)
Kennamatic
» A military operation gone wrong.
My comment: Anyone who ever had a brother they tormented and blamed will identify with this one.
American Diatribe
» I confess...I'm just another Blog Whore
My comment: In American movies, I think they call this sort of thing smart and sassy. Well-written and nice design.
Darwin Daze
I promised a taste of the tropics in this blog and somehow it hasn't happened yet. When the icy winds of winter start blowing down south, and we've stopped sweating up here at the top of Australia, then I'll begin to crow but for now, I'll give you a snapshot that for me encapsulates something of the feel of living here.
I got involved in a focus group last week. A market research company approached me and they were paying $50 'expenses' for me to sit with 6 strangers for 2 hours and give my opinions related to tourism in Darwin.
Now anyone who knows me knows I'm a pretty opinionated sort of person, so the opportunity was just too good to refuse. One of the questions each person was asked was to give a verbal snapshot of something that typified Darwin for them. This was mine.
My unit overlooks a park, a cycleway and the Timor Sea. Because it gets pretty hot up here, in the middle of the day there are virtually no people around, but at dusk the cycleway, the park and the beach come alive. Joggers, dog-walkers, cyclists, roller-bladers, pram-pushers, power-walkers and just plain plodders cram the foreshore and watch the sun sink into the sea. I heard it said once that Darwin is the only place in the world where watching the sun set is a religion.
Every afternoon an old man brings two folding chairs and a small esky with a few cans of beer and sits where the jetty and boat ramp meet the cycleway. Everyone says hello or nods to him. Sometimes a mate will sit and talk for a while. Sometimes a family will stand around and yarn with him. The thing is, he's always there, like part of the scenery. It's the kind of place where an old guy on his own will take his chair and his beers and sit in the fresh air and find some company. Down south, this same guy would be sitting inside his lonely bed-sit unit listening to talkback on a tinny transistor radio or hanging around a smelly, dingy pub in the suburbs. Here, everyone knows him. I don't know how many friends he's got, but he's got lots of company. Oh - by the way - he's blind.
My Territory
I got involved in a focus group last week. A market research company approached me and they were paying $50 'expenses' for me to sit with 6 strangers for 2 hours and give my opinions related to tourism in Darwin.
Now anyone who knows me knows I'm a pretty opinionated sort of person, so the opportunity was just too good to refuse. One of the questions each person was asked was to give a verbal snapshot of something that typified Darwin for them. This was mine.
My unit overlooks a park, a cycleway and the Timor Sea. Because it gets pretty hot up here, in the middle of the day there are virtually no people around, but at dusk the cycleway, the park and the beach come alive. Joggers, dog-walkers, cyclists, roller-bladers, pram-pushers, power-walkers and just plain plodders cram the foreshore and watch the sun sink into the sea. I heard it said once that Darwin is the only place in the world where watching the sun set is a religion.
Every afternoon an old man brings two folding chairs and a small esky with a few cans of beer and sits where the jetty and boat ramp meet the cycleway. Everyone says hello or nods to him. Sometimes a mate will sit and talk for a while. Sometimes a family will stand around and yarn with him. The thing is, he's always there, like part of the scenery. It's the kind of place where an old guy on his own will take his chair and his beers and sit in the fresh air and find some company. Down south, this same guy would be sitting inside his lonely bed-sit unit listening to talkback on a tinny transistor radio or hanging around a smelly, dingy pub in the suburbs. Here, everyone knows him. I don't know how many friends he's got, but he's got lots of company. Oh - by the way - he's blind.
My Territory
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Bi-polar
Can you believe this? I took the test on ABC TV Catalyst tonight. This scientist, Jack Pettigrew, has a theory that our thinking is not controlled by the whole brain, but by either the left or the right brain, and we switch from one to the other - left brain controlling the big picture and right brain the detail. The test was supposed to show how quickly your brain changes from one to the other. This would indicate what type of work you are most suited to. I think the examples they gave were musician or mathematician. They showed dancers whose brains apparently shift very quickly from right to left, enabling them to perform thinking, movement and balance in quick succession.
The test consisted of three bright white stars set in a pattern of small blue moving dots. The bright stars being the 'detail' and the blue dots the 'big picture.' You had to stare at the top left hand bright star and at some stage the other two stars would disappear, meaning your brain had shifted from right (detail) to left (big picture). The two bright stars you were not focused on were supposed to appear and disappear a number of times. The number of times you saw the bright stars in a given time frame indicated how quickly your mind shifts from left to right. The average, or normal, was 4 to 6 times.
I lost the other two bright dots quite quickly -and they never reappeared . Oh, sometimes one of them and sometimes two appeared greyly beckoning but then disappeared again. They never came back bright. Just as I was wondering what this could mean, the answer was given. Apparently people who are bi-polar or manic-depressive shift very slowly - but what about not at all? I don't think this was covered, but I might have missed that bit while I was worrying what was wrong with my brain.
The presenter told us that if we missed the test, we could take it again on-line at Catalyst. Wanting to try again and perhaps take in more details of the results, I rushed to the web only to find a brief synopsis of the story; and no test.
I've felt a bit depressed on and off during most of my life and come to think of it, I've been getting worried lately about getting lost and forgetting names and words (not taking in the details perhaps!) . I thought it might have been the onset of old timers disease but now I'm so relieved; it's probably only manic depression.
Now I'm really depressed and probably won't sleep all night!
Okay, I couldn't leave it at that; couldn't let it rest and at least try to sleep - no, I had to find that test. I found it and more at Jack Pettigrew's website check out Bonneh's Illusion. And joy of joys it turns out I can see them switch and they switch back and forwards quite quickly - so maybe I'm not bipolar after all! Now it's only the old timers I have to worry about!
The test consisted of three bright white stars set in a pattern of small blue moving dots. The bright stars being the 'detail' and the blue dots the 'big picture.' You had to stare at the top left hand bright star and at some stage the other two stars would disappear, meaning your brain had shifted from right (detail) to left (big picture). The two bright stars you were not focused on were supposed to appear and disappear a number of times. The number of times you saw the bright stars in a given time frame indicated how quickly your mind shifts from left to right. The average, or normal, was 4 to 6 times.
I lost the other two bright dots quite quickly -and they never reappeared . Oh, sometimes one of them and sometimes two appeared greyly beckoning but then disappeared again. They never came back bright. Just as I was wondering what this could mean, the answer was given. Apparently people who are bi-polar or manic-depressive shift very slowly - but what about not at all? I don't think this was covered, but I might have missed that bit while I was worrying what was wrong with my brain.
The presenter told us that if we missed the test, we could take it again on-line at Catalyst. Wanting to try again and perhaps take in more details of the results, I rushed to the web only to find a brief synopsis of the story; and no test.
I've felt a bit depressed on and off during most of my life and come to think of it, I've been getting worried lately about getting lost and forgetting names and words (not taking in the details perhaps!) . I thought it might have been the onset of old timers disease but now I'm so relieved; it's probably only manic depression.
Now I'm really depressed and probably won't sleep all night!
Okay, I couldn't leave it at that; couldn't let it rest and at least try to sleep - no, I had to find that test. I found it and more at Jack Pettigrew's website check out Bonneh's Illusion. And joy of joys it turns out I can see them switch and they switch back and forwards quite quickly - so maybe I'm not bipolar after all! Now it's only the old timers I have to worry about!
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Blogging is fun!
Hours go by while I wrestle with some detail of technological know how, then I consult my personal expert (thanks Nicholas!).
More hours go by while I try to interpret the advice and put it into practice but Yahoo! I eventually figure it out and have the satisfaction of correctly linking a post to Blogger Idol or adding Titles or comments to my blog. And blogging makes me look at other people's blogs - geez there are some beautiful designs and clever writers out there - humbled but undaunted!
More hours go by while I try to interpret the advice and put it into practice but Yahoo! I eventually figure it out and have the satisfaction of correctly linking a post to Blogger Idol or adding Titles or comments to my blog. And blogging makes me look at other people's blogs - geez there are some beautiful designs and clever writers out there - humbled but undaunted!
I Confess
I confess is the subject for this week's Blogger Idol. For those who haven't found it yet, it seems the idea for Blogger Idol is based on that other Idol show on TV. It's a catchy title but for me, that's where the similarity ends. Blogger Idol suggests a topic each week. Bloggers can write or picture the subject and link to their entries. The site stresses this is not a competition - it's really a forum where new people can read your posts and you can get to know other bloggers. At least, as a very new blogger, that's how it seems to me. Anyway, I like the idea of being given a starting point to expound on, so, providing I can work out how to do the technical stuff, here is my entry into this week's Blogger Idol.
I confess to being very unsure whether the old adage that confession is good for the soul has much truth to it at all.
The very words I confess have overtones of guilt and regret. Perhaps it is better to deal with guilt and regret on a private and personal level. To think it through and keep your own counsel rather than to 'confess'. Who are you going to confess to? If it is to your god (in whatever form that takes), then surely it is unnecessary to use an intermediary - doesn't your mind speak directly to your god? And if God is the recipient of your confession, then why is it necessary to confess. After all, God is all-seeing, all-knowing.
Confessing to another human being is fraught with danger - even the best-intentioned best friend is likely to think it is okay to just tell one other person whom they trust implicitly. The question is, do you trust their best friend with your guilty secret?
If one really must confess - then the safest recipient on this earth is probably the dog or cat - your confession will be safe with them.
Perhaps the best way to handle the confession is to confess to yourself that you handled things badly that time, learn the lesson and move on.
I confess to being very unsure whether the old adage that confession is good for the soul has much truth to it at all.
The very words I confess have overtones of guilt and regret. Perhaps it is better to deal with guilt and regret on a private and personal level. To think it through and keep your own counsel rather than to 'confess'. Who are you going to confess to? If it is to your god (in whatever form that takes), then surely it is unnecessary to use an intermediary - doesn't your mind speak directly to your god? And if God is the recipient of your confession, then why is it necessary to confess. After all, God is all-seeing, all-knowing.
Confessing to another human being is fraught with danger - even the best-intentioned best friend is likely to think it is okay to just tell one other person whom they trust implicitly. The question is, do you trust their best friend with your guilty secret?
If one really must confess - then the safest recipient on this earth is probably the dog or cat - your confession will be safe with them.
Perhaps the best way to handle the confession is to confess to yourself that you handled things badly that time, learn the lesson and move on.
Monday, March 08, 2004
Discipline
What does the term discipline mean to you? Tonight, for me, it means sitting down and writing this post -simple.
Last night I started this blog. It took a bit of fiddling. It was 2.45 am when I last looked at the clock. This left me approximately 4 hours sleep before duty called me to face the new day. I'm no spring chicken any more and 4 hours sleep before a full day of work is not quite enough. Tonight I'm tired and uninspired but discipline is dragging my reluctant fingers over the keyboard. I said I was going to have a blog - I've started it -now I WILL write in it.
Discipline got me dressed and into the car this morning. Hey I have 4 years' worth of sickies built up but I'm not about to use them on self-inflicted pain.
Discipline kept me struggling with the computer at work till 6pm. Why? Well there was something that needed to be finished before tomorrow's concerns became today's.
Once home, discipline made me pick up the phone for 3 necessary calls and search the files for the missing dishwasher warranty - you guessed it, it's not only broken down but the warranty is 2 months out of date...grrr!
Discipline, to me is the structure that keeps me going. If there is a day to fill and no structure - well I won't get up till noon, then I'll read a book till 4 and before you know it, not just today but life has passed by.
I don't think of myself as a disciplined person, far from it. Discipline to me is the imperative that makes me listen to and act on my conscience. I need it, so I seek to impose it on myself. Get a job and go to it; finish what you start. Discipline is the fence that holds my life together.
What does discipline mean to you?
Last night I started this blog. It took a bit of fiddling. It was 2.45 am when I last looked at the clock. This left me approximately 4 hours sleep before duty called me to face the new day. I'm no spring chicken any more and 4 hours sleep before a full day of work is not quite enough. Tonight I'm tired and uninspired but discipline is dragging my reluctant fingers over the keyboard. I said I was going to have a blog - I've started it -now I WILL write in it.
Discipline got me dressed and into the car this morning. Hey I have 4 years' worth of sickies built up but I'm not about to use them on self-inflicted pain.
Discipline kept me struggling with the computer at work till 6pm. Why? Well there was something that needed to be finished before tomorrow's concerns became today's.
Once home, discipline made me pick up the phone for 3 necessary calls and search the files for the missing dishwasher warranty - you guessed it, it's not only broken down but the warranty is 2 months out of date...grrr!
Discipline, to me is the structure that keeps me going. If there is a day to fill and no structure - well I won't get up till noon, then I'll read a book till 4 and before you know it, not just today but life has passed by.
I don't think of myself as a disciplined person, far from it. Discipline to me is the imperative that makes me listen to and act on my conscience. I need it, so I seek to impose it on myself. Get a job and go to it; finish what you start. Discipline is the fence that holds my life together.
What does discipline mean to you?
Sunday, March 07, 2004
7/3/04 My first post on my first blog. What a lot I have to learn but what an exciting challenge and an opportunity to subject the world to my random thoughts! My first question:
Q: Does it matter whether anyone reads your posts - or is the act of publishing sufficient reward?
My Answer: I often muse on a similar question when listening to ABC Darwin radio, as is my wont. On weekday afternoons, sometime between 5.30 and 6.00pm when I am driving home from work, they broadcast something called 'The News-hound Quiz'. The quiz used to consist of 5 questions based on the news broadcast throughout that afternoon on that radio station. Typically for the ABC, the prizes are not great - the person who answers question 5 goes into a draw to win a video, an ABC cap or some such gem at the end of the week. Lately the questions have reduced to 3. Sometimes it takes the presenter 10 minutes to get anyone at all to ring up. Does this mean I am the only person listening I wonder half seriously? Yet what I do really wonder is how that makes the hard-working producer and presenter of the show feel. How does it feel to put your intellect and your energies into broadcasting -or publishing- to have your words eaten up by a vast silence. Is there anybody out there?
I'd love to hear your views but, since this is my first post, I have no idea how to facilitate comments on this blog.... hopefully I will learn soon. Sweet dreams from the night-rider.
Q: Does it matter whether anyone reads your posts - or is the act of publishing sufficient reward?
My Answer: I often muse on a similar question when listening to ABC Darwin radio, as is my wont. On weekday afternoons, sometime between 5.30 and 6.00pm when I am driving home from work, they broadcast something called 'The News-hound Quiz'. The quiz used to consist of 5 questions based on the news broadcast throughout that afternoon on that radio station. Typically for the ABC, the prizes are not great - the person who answers question 5 goes into a draw to win a video, an ABC cap or some such gem at the end of the week. Lately the questions have reduced to 3. Sometimes it takes the presenter 10 minutes to get anyone at all to ring up. Does this mean I am the only person listening I wonder half seriously? Yet what I do really wonder is how that makes the hard-working producer and presenter of the show feel. How does it feel to put your intellect and your energies into broadcasting -or publishing- to have your words eaten up by a vast silence. Is there anybody out there?
I'd love to hear your views but, since this is my first post, I have no idea how to facilitate comments on this blog.... hopefully I will learn soon. Sweet dreams from the night-rider.
