You haven't seen me lately. That is because fourteen months from now is the final deadline of my thesis, so the absences will continue. I have been reasonably well adjusted since my move at the beginning of the year. Everything seems to be going well apart from the usual messes. I have had 2 dates since I've moved to Brisbane. The first went well, but as usual I liked her more than she liked me. It was all the more telling with the change of her 'Facebook status' just 8 days after we met. The other date was disastrous however, and would have to be the worst I have ever been on. Unfortunately I have had way too many dates to compare this to.
In the last months I have:
Lamented the demise of the greatest TV show that everyone else hated for inexplicable reasons
Sung songs with Julie Andrews
Seen Tripod!
Luxuriated in the wonder of the greatest guitarist in the world
Continued my love affair with Mad Men
Managed to read some great books
Bought tickets to see Swifty!
Saturday, 1 June 2013
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
Meeting Tegan and Sara
So this happened last night.
Yup that's ME with TEGAN and SARA!
They are my two favourite people in the entire universe and meeting them was everything I hoped it would be. We talked for around 5 minutes. Tegan instantly recognised me as 'an Old School' Tegan and Sara fan as the shirt I'm wearing stems from The Con tour of 2007. I then mentioned that I had followed them around the country on that tour and they looked thankful and modest. Especially when I told them about all their shows I've seen.
Then it was off to the merch table where just as I did in 2007 I brought one of every t-shirt and I got a hoodie as well.
The gig itself was first rate, especially the medley of old songs they played during the encore. I was behind the mixing desk. A random person next to me could tell I was a superfan, got this from lighting director GiGi, then gave it to me. Thank you random person!
Truthfully I am just glad I was able to string a series of coherent sentences together!
BEST NIGHT EVER!
They are my two favourite people in the entire universe and meeting them was everything I hoped it would be. We talked for around 5 minutes. Tegan instantly recognised me as 'an Old School' Tegan and Sara fan as the shirt I'm wearing stems from The Con tour of 2007. I then mentioned that I had followed them around the country on that tour and they looked thankful and modest. Especially when I told them about all their shows I've seen.
Then it was off to the merch table where just as I did in 2007 I brought one of every t-shirt and I got a hoodie as well.
The gig itself was first rate, especially the medley of old songs they played during the encore. I was behind the mixing desk. A random person next to me could tell I was a superfan, got this from lighting director GiGi, then gave it to me. Thank you random person!
Truthfully I am just glad I was able to string a series of coherent sentences together!
BEST NIGHT EVER!
Wednesday, 24 April 2013
This is Everything
On Tuesday I will be lucky enough to meet both Tegan and Sara Quin both of whom mean so much to me. I promised myself that when this day eventually came I would not let this opportunity pass me by. I would write them a letter telling them everything I wanted to say, and so I have. You can read the letter below.
Dear Tegan and Sara,
Meeting you today is the culmination of a nine year dream. I am sure you get fan mail like this all the time, but I just want the opportunity to share the impact you have had on my life. You have touched me in such a profound way that you are more than mere role models, you have both been my emotional and spiritual guides through times both good and bad. Your music has been the soundtrack of my life and defined me as a human being.
Tegan and Sara are my band. You are the band of my decade. You are the band of my twenties. That stage of life when all of the possibilities are endless, and the search for identity is eternally frustrating. The decade that has marked more disappointments than victories, but with each victory it is 10,000 times more gratifying because I get to share it through your music. Actually, forget about the band of my decade: You are my once in a lifetime band.
I connect with each of you, particularly in an emotional way, not just through fan boy adulation but also through experience. I regard myself as emotionally fucked up in all the worst ways, unable to communicate my feelings properly unless shielded in a protective cocoon. But you know what? Your songs speak for me. You have taught me that it is okay to be emotionally vulnerable. You are strong enough and brave enough to communicate these feelings on my behalf. I cannot tell you how much that means to me.
Tonight will be the tenth time I have seen you live. My first experience was following you around Australia for three shows on The Con tour of 2007. Without a word of hyperbole I can safely say that seeing you live bordered on having a religious experience. There were tears, screaming, shouting, laughing and heart palpations. I quoted your lyrics like Bible verses. Seeing the band once was always destined to be a memorable experience one way or the other. Seeing you three times in four days however made it destined to be a spellbinding journey. The time I spent with you over those four days was undoubtedly the best time in my life. Sitting in the front row at the Enmore, where both of you could see me, and I could see you was so memorable that I can still remember every minute of the entire performance from five and a half years ago.
Ever since the moment I fell for both of you in June 2004 I have been wanting to thank you from the bottom of my heart: for making music that touches me deep inside my soul, for speaking up on my behalf when I cannot, for allowing your creative genius to be heard by the masses, but most importantly for being your unique selves which has given me a huge creative influence, and emotional catharsis.
You have done more for me than you can ever possibly realise.
Your Biggest Four Wheeled Fan:
Todd Winther
(AKA @toddocracy on Twitter)
Dear Tegan and Sara,
Meeting you today is the culmination of a nine year dream. I am sure you get fan mail like this all the time, but I just want the opportunity to share the impact you have had on my life. You have touched me in such a profound way that you are more than mere role models, you have both been my emotional and spiritual guides through times both good and bad. Your music has been the soundtrack of my life and defined me as a human being.
Tegan and Sara are my band. You are the band of my decade. You are the band of my twenties. That stage of life when all of the possibilities are endless, and the search for identity is eternally frustrating. The decade that has marked more disappointments than victories, but with each victory it is 10,000 times more gratifying because I get to share it through your music. Actually, forget about the band of my decade: You are my once in a lifetime band.
I connect with each of you, particularly in an emotional way, not just through fan boy adulation but also through experience. I regard myself as emotionally fucked up in all the worst ways, unable to communicate my feelings properly unless shielded in a protective cocoon. But you know what? Your songs speak for me. You have taught me that it is okay to be emotionally vulnerable. You are strong enough and brave enough to communicate these feelings on my behalf. I cannot tell you how much that means to me.
Tonight will be the tenth time I have seen you live. My first experience was following you around Australia for three shows on The Con tour of 2007. Without a word of hyperbole I can safely say that seeing you live bordered on having a religious experience. There were tears, screaming, shouting, laughing and heart palpations. I quoted your lyrics like Bible verses. Seeing the band once was always destined to be a memorable experience one way or the other. Seeing you three times in four days however made it destined to be a spellbinding journey. The time I spent with you over those four days was undoubtedly the best time in my life. Sitting in the front row at the Enmore, where both of you could see me, and I could see you was so memorable that I can still remember every minute of the entire performance from five and a half years ago.
Ever since the moment I fell for both of you in June 2004 I have been wanting to thank you from the bottom of my heart: for making music that touches me deep inside my soul, for speaking up on my behalf when I cannot, for allowing your creative genius to be heard by the masses, but most importantly for being your unique selves which has given me a huge creative influence, and emotional catharsis.
You have done more for me than you can ever possibly realise.
Your Biggest Four Wheeled Fan:
Todd Winther
(AKA @toddocracy on Twitter)
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Kill the Dog: Advice on How to Treat Depression
After my own battles with the big black rabid bastard also known as Depression I like to share good bits of advice to combat the illness. Below is probably the best set of tips I have come across.
1) Know that you’re not alone. Know that we are a silent legion, who, every day face the solipsism and judgement of Happy People Who Think We Just Aren’t Trying. There are people who are depressed, people who have been depressed, and people who just haven’t been hit with it yet.
2) Understand that the Happy People are usually acting out of some genuine (albeit misguided) concern for you, that it’s coming from a good place, even if the advice feels like you’re being blamed for your disease. Telling you these things makes them feel better, even if it makes you feel like shit. (If they insist on keeping it up, see #12.)
3)Enlist the help of a professional. See your doctor. You need to talk about the ugly shit, and there are people paid to listen and help you find your way to the light at the end of the tunnel.
4) Understand that antidepressants will only do so much. They’re useful, they’ll level you out and give you the time you need to figure out your own path to getting well. They can be helpful. There are lots to choose from. They may not be for you, and even if they are, they take some time to kick in. Conversely, they may not be for you. Work with your doctor.
5) Pick up a paintbrush, a pencil, an activity you got joy from in the past and re-explore that. Or, sign up for the thing you always wanted to try. There is a long history and link between depression and creativity. It’s a bright light of this condition, so utilize it to your best advantage.
6) Eat nutritionally sound, regular small meals. If you’re having trouble eating, try to focus on what you’d like to eat. I went through a whole six week episode of tomatoes and cream cheese on a bagel twice a day. Conversely, if all you want to do is scarf down crap, try to off-ramp it by downing a V-8 and doing #9 for 15 minutes, and see how you feel. Chucking your blood sugar all over hell’s half acre is going to make you feel worse.
7) While you’re doing #3, get some blood work done. If you’re low on iron or vitamin D, or if your hormone levels are doing the Macarena… these can all contribute to zapping your energy or switching your mood to Bleak As Hell.
8) If you’re in bed and the “insomnia hamsters”, as I like to call them, are on the wheel of your head, watch Nightly Business News on the ABC. This has the effect of Nyquil. Swap out your coffee for herbal tea. If you just cannot sleep, try the next tip….
9) Learn how to meditate. Start by focusing on your breathing. Not sleep, not thoughts. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Meditation is focusing on being present in your body, not careening around in your brain. It may not be as good as sleep but it will give you some rest and recharge you.
10) Face a window as often as you can – at work, at home. Look out into the world. Watch. Observe. Try to find something you find pretty or interesting to focus on. And, handily remember that one in five of those people out there feel the way you do.
11) Cry. Better out than in. Sometimes it’s not convenient or career-enhancing to cry, so find a private place as best you can and let the tears go. Carry Kleenex and face wipes and extra concealer if you wear makeup. You can always claim allergies.
12) Any “friend” who resolutely believes that your depression is because you’re lazy, because you’re not trying hard enough, who blames you for not bootstrapping out of it- that friend needs to be cut off. Polite (#2) is one thing, but there is a limit. You don’t have to explain, you can just not respond. You feel badly enough, you don’t need their “assistance”.
13) Limit your time with people who drain you. You know who they are. Often you don’t have a choice- but you can put the meter on. And, subsequently, be aware of what you’re asking of those close to you.
14) Everyone has shit they’ve got to deal with. What you have been saddled with is your shit. Recognize, just as you’re not alone, you’re also not unique. The grass may look greener, you may be jealous or envious of others who don’t have to deal with depression, but you likely do not know everything that’s going on with them.
15 )Let go or be dragged. This is an old Buddhist saying. It’s a very useful way to frame aspects of depression. Betrayal, anger, fear… letting go is a process – often a painful and difficult process - but it’s ultimately going to show you the path out of this terrible place. Repeating the mantra can help when you’re feeling gripped by these feelings.
16)Wear clothes that make you feel confident. It takes as much time to put on nice clothes as it does to put on sweatpants. You will want to wear the sweatpants. Fight the urge. The whole “look good/feel better” campaign isn’t limited to cancer and chemotherapy. Or women.
17) Avoid fictional drama and tragedy like the plague. You’ve got enough going on In Real Life. Comedy only. Or trashy stuff. Mindless drivel, like the latest CGI blockbuster. Or clever, funny books. Fiction exists to elicit emotion, and the emotion you need to express most right now is laughter.
18) Simple exercise, if you can. It can be something as simple as taking the stairs up a flight, or walking around the block. It doesn’t have to be elaborate, it doesn’t have to involve climbing a mountain or running a marathon. Baby steps.
19) Depression will lie to you. Depression will try to tell you what others are thinking. That you are unloved and unworthy, that others think little of you or don’t care – or even wish you harm. You are not a psychic. Keep repeating that. “I am not a psychic”. Repeat. The only way to know what another person is thinking is to up and ask them.
20) If you are well and truly losing this battle, reach out to someone. I’ve been the random friendly-but-not-close person who has fielded the occasional outreach. I like to think I’m not judgemental and generally resourceful, and others have thought the same, so they called and asked. You know someone like me. And they will help you.
21) Forgive yourself. I’m writing out all these tips, and I can’t always muster the strength to even stick my nose outside, or walk up the stairs, or eat my vegetables. Today, I got outside for ten minutes. I will try again tomorrow. And I will try again the day after that.
1) Know that you’re not alone. Know that we are a silent legion, who, every day face the solipsism and judgement of Happy People Who Think We Just Aren’t Trying. There are people who are depressed, people who have been depressed, and people who just haven’t been hit with it yet.
2) Understand that the Happy People are usually acting out of some genuine (albeit misguided) concern for you, that it’s coming from a good place, even if the advice feels like you’re being blamed for your disease. Telling you these things makes them feel better, even if it makes you feel like shit. (If they insist on keeping it up, see #12.)
3)Enlist the help of a professional. See your doctor. You need to talk about the ugly shit, and there are people paid to listen and help you find your way to the light at the end of the tunnel.
4) Understand that antidepressants will only do so much. They’re useful, they’ll level you out and give you the time you need to figure out your own path to getting well. They can be helpful. There are lots to choose from. They may not be for you, and even if they are, they take some time to kick in. Conversely, they may not be for you. Work with your doctor.
5) Pick up a paintbrush, a pencil, an activity you got joy from in the past and re-explore that. Or, sign up for the thing you always wanted to try. There is a long history and link between depression and creativity. It’s a bright light of this condition, so utilize it to your best advantage.
6) Eat nutritionally sound, regular small meals. If you’re having trouble eating, try to focus on what you’d like to eat. I went through a whole six week episode of tomatoes and cream cheese on a bagel twice a day. Conversely, if all you want to do is scarf down crap, try to off-ramp it by downing a V-8 and doing #9 for 15 minutes, and see how you feel. Chucking your blood sugar all over hell’s half acre is going to make you feel worse.
7) While you’re doing #3, get some blood work done. If you’re low on iron or vitamin D, or if your hormone levels are doing the Macarena… these can all contribute to zapping your energy or switching your mood to Bleak As Hell.
8) If you’re in bed and the “insomnia hamsters”, as I like to call them, are on the wheel of your head, watch Nightly Business News on the ABC. This has the effect of Nyquil. Swap out your coffee for herbal tea. If you just cannot sleep, try the next tip….
9) Learn how to meditate. Start by focusing on your breathing. Not sleep, not thoughts. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Meditation is focusing on being present in your body, not careening around in your brain. It may not be as good as sleep but it will give you some rest and recharge you.
10) Face a window as often as you can – at work, at home. Look out into the world. Watch. Observe. Try to find something you find pretty or interesting to focus on. And, handily remember that one in five of those people out there feel the way you do.
11) Cry. Better out than in. Sometimes it’s not convenient or career-enhancing to cry, so find a private place as best you can and let the tears go. Carry Kleenex and face wipes and extra concealer if you wear makeup. You can always claim allergies.
12) Any “friend” who resolutely believes that your depression is because you’re lazy, because you’re not trying hard enough, who blames you for not bootstrapping out of it- that friend needs to be cut off. Polite (#2) is one thing, but there is a limit. You don’t have to explain, you can just not respond. You feel badly enough, you don’t need their “assistance”.
13) Limit your time with people who drain you. You know who they are. Often you don’t have a choice- but you can put the meter on. And, subsequently, be aware of what you’re asking of those close to you.
14) Everyone has shit they’ve got to deal with. What you have been saddled with is your shit. Recognize, just as you’re not alone, you’re also not unique. The grass may look greener, you may be jealous or envious of others who don’t have to deal with depression, but you likely do not know everything that’s going on with them.
15 )Let go or be dragged. This is an old Buddhist saying. It’s a very useful way to frame aspects of depression. Betrayal, anger, fear… letting go is a process – often a painful and difficult process - but it’s ultimately going to show you the path out of this terrible place. Repeating the mantra can help when you’re feeling gripped by these feelings.
16)Wear clothes that make you feel confident. It takes as much time to put on nice clothes as it does to put on sweatpants. You will want to wear the sweatpants. Fight the urge. The whole “look good/feel better” campaign isn’t limited to cancer and chemotherapy. Or women.
17) Avoid fictional drama and tragedy like the plague. You’ve got enough going on In Real Life. Comedy only. Or trashy stuff. Mindless drivel, like the latest CGI blockbuster. Or clever, funny books. Fiction exists to elicit emotion, and the emotion you need to express most right now is laughter.
18) Simple exercise, if you can. It can be something as simple as taking the stairs up a flight, or walking around the block. It doesn’t have to be elaborate, it doesn’t have to involve climbing a mountain or running a marathon. Baby steps.
19) Depression will lie to you. Depression will try to tell you what others are thinking. That you are unloved and unworthy, that others think little of you or don’t care – or even wish you harm. You are not a psychic. Keep repeating that. “I am not a psychic”. Repeat. The only way to know what another person is thinking is to up and ask them.
20) If you are well and truly losing this battle, reach out to someone. I’ve been the random friendly-but-not-close person who has fielded the occasional outreach. I like to think I’m not judgemental and generally resourceful, and others have thought the same, so they called and asked. You know someone like me. And they will help you.
21) Forgive yourself. I’m writing out all these tips, and I can’t always muster the strength to even stick my nose outside, or walk up the stairs, or eat my vegetables. Today, I got outside for ten minutes. I will try again tomorrow. And I will try again the day after that.
Monday, 8 April 2013
Roger
On a different level Ebert was also a literary inspiration, particulary as he adapted to writing blogs. Unlike any other creature of ‘the old media’ he adapted to the online community better than any other of his contemporaries. In an unfortunate coincidence just about the time he was devouring these new technological advances Ebert lost the ability to speak. The power of his written words became even more precious and he knew it.
My favourite piece of Ebert’s writing is not even a movie review, but rather an unflinching portrait of his own alcoholism. He also wrote about love unlike any other person I’ve ever come across.
Unfortunately in Australia we weren’t blessed to see Ebert’s version of At The Movies, but Margaret and David owe a great debt to his partnership with fellow Chicago film critic Gene Siskel, because they pioneered the 'frenemy film critic' banter that has now become a staple of film criticism on TV.
I can’t write too much more because the loss still affects me deeply more than 72 hours after I first heard it. Instead, I’ll remind you of two great things: his excellent taste in movies, and his razor sharp wit.
I will miss his writing every single day.
Thursday, 4 April 2013
Wanting the Unwanted
Late last week my fourth month of independent living commenced. To celebrate I have written almost 5,000 words on the Hawke era for my thesis over the past 6 days, working two thirds of my conscious time on average. I guess that’s the freedom I was seeking when I started this journey.
In between repeated diagonosies of ‘information overload’ and tiredness, there have been some bright spots: trivia victories and defeats, finally getting to know Brisbane and getting to do things on my own. Don’t confuse this with ‘by myself’. There’s something magical about hopping into town under ones own steam, having lunch and returning back home without having it as intricately choreographed like a 17th century Opera.
Now that I am finally settled in, I’ve reluctantly decided to try and make another concerted effort to date again, despite my best efforts to avoid it. Unfortunately, even though I’ve tried to get other things that I want more, and I’m still confronting the same problems as last time, it is a bigger issue than it needs to be, probably due to my lack of meaningful experiences. It FEELS like a necessity for absolutely no reason and at the same time it is both a touchstone and a building block for my self esteem. I see people who seemingly have less than I do, happier than I am (although I’m a long way from where I was) and I wonder what makes them so special? What do they have that I am missing? These questions should probably make a difference of say 5% if I had to quantify it, but to me it feels more like 20% and I can never work out why: though 80% is still okay considering I’ve never reached 100% of comfort in 29.5 years.
Now that I'm healthy again, I owe it to myself to try and attain perfection, even though its unlikely to ever happen. Quite a good microcosm for my life actually...
In between repeated diagonosies of ‘information overload’ and tiredness, there have been some bright spots: trivia victories and defeats, finally getting to know Brisbane and getting to do things on my own. Don’t confuse this with ‘by myself’. There’s something magical about hopping into town under ones own steam, having lunch and returning back home without having it as intricately choreographed like a 17th century Opera.
Now that I am finally settled in, I’ve reluctantly decided to try and make another concerted effort to date again, despite my best efforts to avoid it. Unfortunately, even though I’ve tried to get other things that I want more, and I’m still confronting the same problems as last time, it is a bigger issue than it needs to be, probably due to my lack of meaningful experiences. It FEELS like a necessity for absolutely no reason and at the same time it is both a touchstone and a building block for my self esteem. I see people who seemingly have less than I do, happier than I am (although I’m a long way from where I was) and I wonder what makes them so special? What do they have that I am missing? These questions should probably make a difference of say 5% if I had to quantify it, but to me it feels more like 20% and I can never work out why: though 80% is still okay considering I’ve never reached 100% of comfort in 29.5 years.
Now that I'm healthy again, I owe it to myself to try and attain perfection, even though its unlikely to ever happen. Quite a good microcosm for my life actually...
Thursday, 21 March 2013
Cancer
An ALP leadership challenge was brought on by former leader Simon Crean, hoping that Rudd would stand against Gillard, only for it not to happen. Confused? So is the rest of Australia.
If the last leadership change was a divorce, today the ALP and I are now in fourth stage terminal cancer. Aside from counting Rudd out, my Back to the Future series highlights the same problems for the ALP as the ones that occurred today. You should read those posts.
Today I have nothing more to say.
If the last leadership change was a divorce, today the ALP and I are now in fourth stage terminal cancer. Aside from counting Rudd out, my Back to the Future series highlights the same problems for the ALP as the ones that occurred today. You should read those posts.
Today I have nothing more to say.
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
Still Into You
Best non Tegan and Sara release of 2013 thus far
Lord, how I wish the song was around 4-6 months ago
Lord, how I wish the song was around 4-6 months ago
Monday, 18 March 2013
A Post Union Future
The
ALP isn’t dead.
It has just been bludgeoned unconscious, is in a forced
coma, unable to open its eyes to make sense of the world.
The party is too
monolithic to be declared dead for at least another generation. Two former
leaders used two very opposite platforms last week to declare that the party can still
thrive, but they only succeeded in proving the opposite. Elaborate think pieces on the ALP’s future have turned into a cottage industry and may be the only thing
keeping the Australian publishing industry afloat. I am guilty of this too. Unfortunately my fellow prognostergators lack some much
needed insight.
Mark
Latham and I go way back. I have argued that he is one of the few sensible voices to be heard when diagnosing the many ills of the ALP. I for one was looking
forward to the Quarterly Essay that promised a new way forward for Labor. This
time though he was stuck in the mud. Obviously, he positioned himself as ‘the
ghost of Labor’s past' to add authority to his conclusions. But he chose to enlighten the reader with statements of a half decent first year university student:
The problem for Labor, with its concentrated base of union affiliations and financing, lies in the organisational imbalance between the new economy and old-style unionism. In the workforce, unions have become a minority influence, whereas inside the ALP, through the strength of the factional system, they have maintained a majority complex, exercising control over party decision-making.
We
all know union and party membership are dwindling. The question is what to do about it? Follow 'The McKell Model' appears to be Latham's answer. In doing so he touches on the very point he fails to comprehend.
Reaching back more than 70 years to fix today's problems is certainly not the answer. Less than half the
retirees in Australia (incidentally Labor’s core membership base) know who
McKell was, let alone the model he created. Latham has fallen into the obvious trap.
He is thinking inside the existing paradigm. It no longer works.
Unionism as a
political force in Australia is gasping for air, dying a slow, painful death.
Ten years from now you can sign its death
certificate. Latham fails to acknowledge this and it renders the grand
pronouncements he makes on future policy directions meaningless.
The
question should now become:
How
can a supposed ‘left of centre’ (major) political party survive in Australia without the union movement?
As I
continue to progress with my PhD that is the central question I repeatedly
ask myself. Nobody inside the ALP is bold enough to ask that question, let
alone answer it, as they continue to clutch to the unions for survival. I was
hoping Latham may have come up with a well thought answer, but it seems to
allude him as well.
For
what it is worth, Kevin Rudd is unsurpringsly, in more denial than Latham.
Launching Troy Bramston's collection of Greatest Labor Speeches on Saturday, his ironically lacklustre speech essentially said ‘We’ve done more things than
the other guys and that’s what makes our party great’. That’s another problem
with Labor, history won’t save them as much as they hope it will. Harking back
to the days of Curtin, Whitlam and Hawke doesn’t tell them anything about how to approach a post
union future.
What
exactly does this post union future look like? The easiest and most awful
solution would be for the ALP to merge with the Greens, gaining back much of
the hard left vote whilst sharing their organisational infrastructure. Going by
historical precedence the only thing that will rescue the Centre Left from its
own stupidity is a fourth and final Labor split (over what? Immigration? Don’t be silly!) that renders the party rudderless (Pun!). Then a political
visionary must pick up the scraps to forge an entirely new path.
Obviously
from the above paragraph you can tell that I am not that person. Latham and Rudd though
have that potential. However, the first step is admitting you have a problem.
How many electoral defeats will that take? Hopefully just the one, but I’m not
counting on it.
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
The Great Entertainer: The Legacy of Judy Garland
'If you have to be in a soap opera try not to get the worst role.' Judy GarlandMost people can remember the first time they saw Judy Garland. It is usually in connection with The Wizard of Oz. The moment tends to spark emotions full of vulnerability and tenderness in a child. I remember the first time I saw Oz, and I had no such experience. I had just turned 6, found its black and white prologue boring, and then the actual story terrifying, so terrifying that I actually wet my pants, literally. ‘What happened to the girl who played Dorothy? I asked after. ‘She got sick and died, it was all very sad.’ I was told. That about sums up the popular perception of Judy Garland.
Judy Garland was perhaps the greatest entertainer that ever lived, the equal to only Michael Jackson I would contend. There are books, documentaries and movies that discuss her life, career and tumultuous personal life. Those I know by heart now, as people with only a glancing interest in Hollywood history do. That is not my task here. It is to explain why she was the best of the best, an unparalleled star of the musical genre.
Her best known work was when Judy was a star at MGM, a studio with expertise in the traditional movie musical. Between 1936 and 1950, she made around twenty five films: straddling between child and adulthood. Of course the populist approach would claim Oz to be her greatest work, but not me. Instead my favourite movie of Judy’s during her MGM years was also released in 1939. Babes in Arms was the High School Musical of its day, and it was also the first movie of ten in which she starred with Mickey Rooney. At age 17, Judy was just beginning to blossom into her talent and has the perfect mixture of innocence and confidence. Her chemistry with Rooney was also undeniable.
Aside from Oz, Judy is probably best known for Meet Me in St Louis, which includes the wondrous and iconic Trolley Song. Although that is an undoubted highlight, as a whole I prefer her last film for MGM, Summer Stock starring alongside Gene Kelly. Despite turmoil throughout production, the film radiates joy from start to finish. It is a showbiz tragedy that her Golden Era ended with that film when she was only 28.
The last decade and half of Judy’s life is well known as a professional and personal rollercoaster. For every landmark album there was a disaster, and this is where her legacy tends to get murky. Just this past weekend I attended a play detailing the last concert tour of her career. End of The Rainbow is set in London at the beginning of 1969 where she is escorted by her fifth husband, Mickey Deans and her loyal accompanist, Anthony. The play makes two things remarkably clear: she was a sensational performer, but also an addict with major psychological issues. While both these cannot be disputed, it is a tragedy that 'Judy Garland' now seems to be stereotypical shorthand for the ‘Hollywood Burnout’
Judy Garland's legacy is far more complex. After viewing her entire filmography and owning a great deal of her music, I can safely say that there is not a moment where I feel angry, depressed or disheartened when watching her movies or listening to her music. I just love to watch her numerous spellbinding performances because when Judy smiled, the whole world smiled with her.
Thursday, 28 February 2013
Two Kinds of Love
First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.
Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.John Steinbeck: 1958
Wednesday, 13 February 2013
14.2
I had to write a Valentine’s Day message for a column that is set to appear on the web tomorrow on that (not so) special day. Maybe I perceive it as ordinary because I have never had the overtly typical dates that you see in Hollywood on Valentine’s Day (probably because I had a curfew and 0 self esteem a serious lack of attractive company). It seems fitting that the comment you will see in the coming days is nasty, vengeful and darkly funny. You could characterize all my attempts at romance in this fashion, really.
Valentine’s Day is so much like New Year’s Eve in the way that the ‘celebration’ is as confected as the expectations it creates. I’ve spent the last decade wishing, and hoping about a number of women who I would charm, seduce and bed all in a single night. This is helpful and sad in equal measure. But it just makes me feel like Ducky.
So this year I have decided to try something different. The biggest problem on Valentine’s Day is that I am a sucker for romance and I think I am entitled to both give and receive some. 2013 is not the year for that as I hoped it would be, so this year I’ve tried something different: instead of watching this, crying for the millionth time and drowning in self pity, I’ve decided to go see this on the big screen with a new friend. Further, I sent a present to another new friend, just because I felt like it. It was nothing romantic, just a present that said ‘I love having you as a new friend’. Not that I am merely doing these things for good karma, but maybe I’ll get to have a little romance on 14/14.
In the meantime...
Valentine’s Day is so much like New Year’s Eve in the way that the ‘celebration’ is as confected as the expectations it creates. I’ve spent the last decade wishing, and hoping about a number of women who I would charm, seduce and bed all in a single night. This is helpful and sad in equal measure. But it just makes me feel like Ducky.
So this year I have decided to try something different. The biggest problem on Valentine’s Day is that I am a sucker for romance and I think I am entitled to both give and receive some. 2013 is not the year for that as I hoped it would be, so this year I’ve tried something different: instead of watching this, crying for the millionth time and drowning in self pity, I’ve decided to go see this on the big screen with a new friend. Further, I sent a present to another new friend, just because I felt like it. It was nothing romantic, just a present that said ‘I love having you as a new friend’. Not that I am merely doing these things for good karma, but maybe I’ll get to have a little romance on 14/14.
In the meantime...
Friday, 18 January 2013
It Has Happened Before, It Will Happen Again.
It was 1996, her name was Cassie.
I had expensive taste back then. I was in grade 7. She was the most popular girl in school and by far the best looking girl. It may have been sixteen and a half years ago, but I’m sure if we crossed paths now she would be the most beautiful woman I would ever see. It was pure lust. She had perfectly tanned skin, chestnut brown hair, legs for decades and the most radiant smile. I was never shy about my crushes. As soon as I was able I told her with all the faux confidence I could muster that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Of course, I was expecting a negative response, but was secretly hoping for the opposite. To my complete and utter amazement she said:
‘Of course I’ll go out with you, Todd. I’ve been hoping you would ask me out. I want to spend some time with you. Meet me on the school oval tomorrow at lunch time.’
In all my life I had never wished for 21 hours to go faster. That night I understood what puberty was for the first time. All those things the books tell you, the boners, the hormones racing and sex eliminating every other thought in the male brain.
Overnight the news of our improbable courtship had reached all three classes of Grade 7. What was going to happen? Would I get to kiss Cassie? Would she ask to sit on my lap? My journey to the oval was like leading a brigade of soldiers to battle in formation. I was so nervous.
There was Cassie waiting with her best friend Eliza who I had always loathed. When I saw them in tandem I knew I was doomed. I approached Cassie: she only said one sentence:
‘Why would I ever date a fucking cripple? You are the ugliest thing I have ever seen. You think you are so smart, but we fooled you.’
Cassie and Eliza laughed their heads off and high fived each other. I turned around in tears. The whole of grade 7 looked on in astonishment. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was fooled.
Unsurprisingly it is an unforgettable moment in my adolescence. Before Cassie shot me down in flames I was a naive but happy kid. I knew I was in a wheelchair, but it didn’t really bother me outside of my inability to play footy or cricket. That one joke hardened me though. It made me hate myself. It was the beginning of the jaded and cynical author you are reading today.
Throughout high school it happened a few more times. ‘You’re in a wheelchair so we can’t be friends’. It is the most nonsensical excuse possible, but if you can come up with credible excuses for this appalling behavior in teenagers there are many. Peer pressure, stupidity, and the cold superficiality of teens all are excuses to hide behind.
None of those excuses applied last night.
You already know that I am making every effort to find new friends now that I have moved to the Capital. Last week I thought I had found someone I had lots in common with. She is about to turn 30 in a few weeks. A scribe by trade she writes in a number of worthy publications on a subject, which I adore. In fact before connecting up with her I read a number of her columns without knowing her identity. ‘The Critic’ (as I will now call her) and I were a good match for a potential friendship. She has an outstanding breath of knowledge; we shared the same taste in literature, cited the same television shows as crucial influences and liked to go to the same places. Jackpot!
Conversation flowed, but I was being circumspect. I was strictly occupying the friend zone. Perhaps we might go to a movie, gig or have a coffee in the next week or two?
Then last night I got an email containing a lengthy explanation as to why ‘The Critic’ and I could never be friends. It essentially can be summarised, like it was in 1996:
I can’t be friends with you because you’re in a wheelchair.
Her reason? She cares too much about people!
You see ‘The Critic’ just broke up with a boyfriend who had a ‘chronic illness’. They had apparently broken up because of it. ‘The Critic’ became too invested in his welfare and not that of her own.‘The Critic’ was apparently so selfless she became totally dependent on him. Her goals were tied to his medical well being. ‘The Critic’ didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes again. This was the most flimsy of the ‘It’s not you it’s me!’ excuses.
I was utterly flabbergasted. The critic had advertised herself as a forward thinking progressive, with an interest in ‘Human Rights’. Perhaps she considered herself as the world’s only human? Nonetheless I thought I was reasonably measured in my immediate response: writing in an email that I was willing to cite this as a case of hesitancy while pointing out that my disability was not chronic. I was looking for a friend: not a nurse or a carer. I was not asking for sex, or a relationship just someone to hang out with. I thought all the points were pretty reasonable.
Except all I got was a retread of the same excuses in reply.
My second response was far more succinct:
‘Some day karma is going to bite you in the arse. I hope it bites hard. I’m disgusted.’
Initially I was skeptical about telling the above stories. But they need to be told. Patriots often claim that Australia is a tolerant and accepting society. It is not. Yes these are two extreme and harsh examples, but they are merely emblematic of the struggles my crippled compatriots and I fight on a daily basis.
Society thinks we are stupid.
Society thinks we cannot speak for ourselves
Society thinks we are not worthy of love
Society thinks that we are both a responsibility and a burden.
Society denies us basic human rights on a minute by minute basis.
Society thinks we are just like our chairs, a machine with no feelings: merely a tool for movement.
The worse part about those statements is the likely response to them. The community at large will laugh off all these claims and deny, deny, deny. I am apparently just an angry crip who exaggerates for dramatic effect.
I was neither saddened or angered by last night’s events. I did not cry, and didn’t express any anger outwardly. There was just a feeling of resignation. It has happened too many times to do anything about it. I have to accept that there are more people like Cassie, Eliza and ‘The Critic’ than society cares to admit. I will cop their prejudice and ignorance because I am an easy target. I am powerless to do anything more than share my story and hope that another crip is spared this bigotry just once.
Because it will continue to happen.
I had expensive taste back then. I was in grade 7. She was the most popular girl in school and by far the best looking girl. It may have been sixteen and a half years ago, but I’m sure if we crossed paths now she would be the most beautiful woman I would ever see. It was pure lust. She had perfectly tanned skin, chestnut brown hair, legs for decades and the most radiant smile. I was never shy about my crushes. As soon as I was able I told her with all the faux confidence I could muster that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Of course, I was expecting a negative response, but was secretly hoping for the opposite. To my complete and utter amazement she said:
‘Of course I’ll go out with you, Todd. I’ve been hoping you would ask me out. I want to spend some time with you. Meet me on the school oval tomorrow at lunch time.’
In all my life I had never wished for 21 hours to go faster. That night I understood what puberty was for the first time. All those things the books tell you, the boners, the hormones racing and sex eliminating every other thought in the male brain.
Overnight the news of our improbable courtship had reached all three classes of Grade 7. What was going to happen? Would I get to kiss Cassie? Would she ask to sit on my lap? My journey to the oval was like leading a brigade of soldiers to battle in formation. I was so nervous.
There was Cassie waiting with her best friend Eliza who I had always loathed. When I saw them in tandem I knew I was doomed. I approached Cassie: she only said one sentence:
‘Why would I ever date a fucking cripple? You are the ugliest thing I have ever seen. You think you are so smart, but we fooled you.’
Cassie and Eliza laughed their heads off and high fived each other. I turned around in tears. The whole of grade 7 looked on in astonishment. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was fooled.
Unsurprisingly it is an unforgettable moment in my adolescence. Before Cassie shot me down in flames I was a naive but happy kid. I knew I was in a wheelchair, but it didn’t really bother me outside of my inability to play footy or cricket. That one joke hardened me though. It made me hate myself. It was the beginning of the jaded and cynical author you are reading today.
Throughout high school it happened a few more times. ‘You’re in a wheelchair so we can’t be friends’. It is the most nonsensical excuse possible, but if you can come up with credible excuses for this appalling behavior in teenagers there are many. Peer pressure, stupidity, and the cold superficiality of teens all are excuses to hide behind.
None of those excuses applied last night.
You already know that I am making every effort to find new friends now that I have moved to the Capital. Last week I thought I had found someone I had lots in common with. She is about to turn 30 in a few weeks. A scribe by trade she writes in a number of worthy publications on a subject, which I adore. In fact before connecting up with her I read a number of her columns without knowing her identity. ‘The Critic’ (as I will now call her) and I were a good match for a potential friendship. She has an outstanding breath of knowledge; we shared the same taste in literature, cited the same television shows as crucial influences and liked to go to the same places. Jackpot!
Conversation flowed, but I was being circumspect. I was strictly occupying the friend zone. Perhaps we might go to a movie, gig or have a coffee in the next week or two?
Then last night I got an email containing a lengthy explanation as to why ‘The Critic’ and I could never be friends. It essentially can be summarised, like it was in 1996:
I can’t be friends with you because you’re in a wheelchair.
Her reason? She cares too much about people!
You see ‘The Critic’ just broke up with a boyfriend who had a ‘chronic illness’. They had apparently broken up because of it. ‘The Critic’ became too invested in his welfare and not that of her own.‘The Critic’ was apparently so selfless she became totally dependent on him. Her goals were tied to his medical well being. ‘The Critic’ didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes again. This was the most flimsy of the ‘It’s not you it’s me!’ excuses.
I was utterly flabbergasted. The critic had advertised herself as a forward thinking progressive, with an interest in ‘Human Rights’. Perhaps she considered herself as the world’s only human? Nonetheless I thought I was reasonably measured in my immediate response: writing in an email that I was willing to cite this as a case of hesitancy while pointing out that my disability was not chronic. I was looking for a friend: not a nurse or a carer. I was not asking for sex, or a relationship just someone to hang out with. I thought all the points were pretty reasonable.
Except all I got was a retread of the same excuses in reply.
My second response was far more succinct:
‘Some day karma is going to bite you in the arse. I hope it bites hard. I’m disgusted.’
Initially I was skeptical about telling the above stories. But they need to be told. Patriots often claim that Australia is a tolerant and accepting society. It is not. Yes these are two extreme and harsh examples, but they are merely emblematic of the struggles my crippled compatriots and I fight on a daily basis.
Society thinks we are stupid.
Society thinks we cannot speak for ourselves
Society thinks we are not worthy of love
Society thinks that we are both a responsibility and a burden.
Society denies us basic human rights on a minute by minute basis.
Society thinks we are just like our chairs, a machine with no feelings: merely a tool for movement.
The worse part about those statements is the likely response to them. The community at large will laugh off all these claims and deny, deny, deny. I am apparently just an angry crip who exaggerates for dramatic effect.
I was neither saddened or angered by last night’s events. I did not cry, and didn’t express any anger outwardly. There was just a feeling of resignation. It has happened too many times to do anything about it. I have to accept that there are more people like Cassie, Eliza and ‘The Critic’ than society cares to admit. I will cop their prejudice and ignorance because I am an easy target. I am powerless to do anything more than share my story and hope that another crip is spared this bigotry just once.
Because it will continue to happen.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
I Was Wrong
Not for the first time a pronouncement I made on this blog was horribly, terribly, heartbreakingly wrong. At the time I
made it with the best of arrogant intension: ‘I found somebody I like, and she likes
me and she is sane, finally!’ only to be kicked in the balls and ignored. Ignored
so much that it took me 3 weeks to get the message, because I had to guess what
the message was. Problem was I’m no mind reader and I always search
desperately for closure. Closure doesn’t seem to be in anyone else’s
vocabulary. More likely nobody gives a shit about being courteous and
respectful.
I resolved that things would get better
when I moved. That moving to the city would provide me with better/more
opportunities to meet attractive women. Since moving I’ve done an array of uncomfortable
things to try and broaden my networks. I hate meeting new people. I hate having
to start at 0 with people. It scares me. And I have had to do it so often recently.
I have not been expecting miracles. All I
wanted was to try and make a few friends as a starting point. Yet almost every
new person I’ve met since I moved has ditched me for no apparent reason. It
would be fine if a person were to say ‘You know what? You’re a boring shit’
That would be better than not showing up at a scheduled meeting or blocking me on chat without explanation. That hurts more because now I feel like I have social gonorrhoea. And you wonder why I hate meeting new people?
I don’t want to ignore my standards and take
what I can get. That would only leave me with old, fat, ‘disability support
workers’ with obvious crippled fetishes. I know I deserve better. I know I need
better. I also know that I am desperately lonely.
Friday, 28 December 2012
Liberation
Ahh the simple pleasures in life...
It is marvellous to go to bed when you want, not when someone else is tired. Although I did not abuse the privilege like I will in the future, last night was the first time I went to bed without it being contingent on someone’s schedule. The first time in my whole life.
I am not even 36 hours into independent living, and I know it is something I will cherish for the rest of my days. My first night was a simple, but revolutionary affair: watching TV at cinematic volume, in the dark with air conditioning on. Then at 10pm making some notes for the new PhD chapter, whilst listening to Tegan and Sara at full blast before I called it a day at Midnight.
Whilst it may seem mundane to you, this is what I call utopia.
Today I got up at my normal hour, got dressed and showered just in time for the first ball of Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test, Kindle at the ready. I was left alone from 930am til 2pm when I decided I wanted some food. No carers arrived halfway through my book or in the middle of play: this was freedom.
And in a final somewhat vulgar note, the most pleasant and liberating surprise is being able to sit on the toilet without someone in the next room impatiently waiting for me to finish. I’m beginning to think ‘Just buzz me when you are done’ might be the most beautiful phrase in the English language.
Viva Toddocracy!
It is marvellous to go to bed when you want, not when someone else is tired. Although I did not abuse the privilege like I will in the future, last night was the first time I went to bed without it being contingent on someone’s schedule. The first time in my whole life.
I am not even 36 hours into independent living, and I know it is something I will cherish for the rest of my days. My first night was a simple, but revolutionary affair: watching TV at cinematic volume, in the dark with air conditioning on. Then at 10pm making some notes for the new PhD chapter, whilst listening to Tegan and Sara at full blast before I called it a day at Midnight.
Whilst it may seem mundane to you, this is what I call utopia.
Today I got up at my normal hour, got dressed and showered just in time for the first ball of Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test, Kindle at the ready. I was left alone from 930am til 2pm when I decided I wanted some food. No carers arrived halfway through my book or in the middle of play: this was freedom.
And in a final somewhat vulgar note, the most pleasant and liberating surprise is being able to sit on the toilet without someone in the next room impatiently waiting for me to finish. I’m beginning to think ‘Just buzz me when you are done’ might be the most beautiful phrase in the English language.
Viva Toddocracy!
Thursday, 20 December 2012
My Year in Pop Culture
Now is about the right time to list my favourite songs, books and TV shows for the year, especially considering I filled out my ballot for Triple J's Hottest 100 yesterday. The trouble being of course that the station has an annoying limited playlist designed to attract the hipster douchebag. As I am a man of many musical loves, consider the following list of songs as an addition to those mentioned in the link above.
Best Additional Songs
Movies (Alphabetically, Reposted)
DAMSELS IN DISTRESS
DEEP BLUE SEA, THE
GOODBYE FIRST LOVE
LIKE CRAZY
MARGIN CALL
Best Additional Songs
Best Books I read (In order of enjoyment)
Best TV Shows (In order of preference)
Movies (Alphabetically, Reposted)
DAMSELS IN DISTRESS
DEEP BLUE SEA, THE
GOODBYE FIRST LOVE
LIKE CRAZY
MARGIN CALL
Sunday, 16 December 2012
Trying Hard, Failing, But Still Trying
Perhaps because I have had to work for everything I have gained I experience my highs and lows more dramatically than others. These sentiments could apply as easily to this week where I gained a house, and lost a friend. Or more broadly to the entire year where I have successfully and slowly gained independence, whether it be physically or emotionally. But I have also lost ground with so many life goals. Even though I have internalised my feelings more than ever before, the losses that I have experienced this year were felt more keenly than those previously. This contradiction is evident again when I think that creatively I have felt more frustrated this year despite making some progress on the thesis, beginning a manuscript, and continuing to update this blog on a semi regular basis.
It is much tougher to grasp how I feel emotionally at this particular point in time. Upon turning 29 a month ago I began to feel that time is passing me by. That I no longer feel that I have time to make the naive mistakes that characterise my life. I have to take more responsibility for the course that my life takes. I am (hopefully) through a third of my life and so many life goals remain unattained. They are not minor ones either. They are the big ones, to do with life, relationships and legacy building. I feel like I am so far behind my contemporaries in terms of life experience. Most people I know would likely scoff at this notion, but these thoughts terrify me. I am hopeful that I will catch up now I get to live my own life and make my own choices. In fact I am counting on it.
When describing the move to Brisbane I told a friend that I may never get what I want straight away. Instead I work harder than anyone I know to achieve my goals and I get there eventually. That of course is ideal when striving towards the tangible goals: occupationally, intellectually, and materially. It is however the intangibles that worry me: the things I cannot control. I cannot make anyone love me, as much as I may love them. I cannot expect other people to inforce the high standards of respect and integrity that I place on myself. I cannot convince people to adopt my arguments even when I know that I am right. Most importantly I cannot wish away this dilibating disease that holds me back in every aspect of my life.
I guess I shall look back at this year as one of transition. The one in which I left my latest bout of depression behind and found a group of friends who I care about. For the first time in a long, long time, the future looks promising and not one in which I continually mourn the life that I wish I could have had. It is so much harder for me to focus on the good aspects of the constant challenges because there are not that many. But now the constant grieving is easier because I have things to look forward to.
It is much tougher to grasp how I feel emotionally at this particular point in time. Upon turning 29 a month ago I began to feel that time is passing me by. That I no longer feel that I have time to make the naive mistakes that characterise my life. I have to take more responsibility for the course that my life takes. I am (hopefully) through a third of my life and so many life goals remain unattained. They are not minor ones either. They are the big ones, to do with life, relationships and legacy building. I feel like I am so far behind my contemporaries in terms of life experience. Most people I know would likely scoff at this notion, but these thoughts terrify me. I am hopeful that I will catch up now I get to live my own life and make my own choices. In fact I am counting on it.
When describing the move to Brisbane I told a friend that I may never get what I want straight away. Instead I work harder than anyone I know to achieve my goals and I get there eventually. That of course is ideal when striving towards the tangible goals: occupationally, intellectually, and materially. It is however the intangibles that worry me: the things I cannot control. I cannot make anyone love me, as much as I may love them. I cannot expect other people to inforce the high standards of respect and integrity that I place on myself. I cannot convince people to adopt my arguments even when I know that I am right. Most importantly I cannot wish away this dilibating disease that holds me back in every aspect of my life.
I guess I shall look back at this year as one of transition. The one in which I left my latest bout of depression behind and found a group of friends who I care about. For the first time in a long, long time, the future looks promising and not one in which I continually mourn the life that I wish I could have had. It is so much harder for me to focus on the good aspects of the constant challenges because there are not that many. But now the constant grieving is easier because I have things to look forward to.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
In Case it Really is the End of the World
I did this survey about this time last year, its time to do it again
1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?
I moved.
2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I made plenty, some I kept, some I didn’t but I tried my best with all of them
3. What countries did you visit?
None
4. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?
More stable relationships
5. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory?
September 17th, the best day of the year, August 31 where it all began, November 19th A Chorus Line with The Novocastrian, November 23rd & December 2nd both heartbreaking
6. What was your biggest achievement of the year??
Getting stronger
7. What was your biggest failure?
Everything to do with my thesis, I feel way behind (Still)
8. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No.
9. What was the best thing you bought?
Books
10. Whose behavior merited celebration?
TCF and The Novocastrian for always being there, and Miss Gravy for being my biggest cheerleader.
11. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
They know who they are
12. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
A Chorus Line, Jersey Boys, The Noosa and Brisbane Writers Festivals
13. What song will always remind you of 2012?
The 'Happy' Mashup
14. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?
Much happier.
15. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Enjoy the precious time I had before I lost it again
16. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Brutal honesty
17. How will you be spending Christmas?
It is my last Christmas living with my parents, so with them.
18. Did you fall in love in 2012?
Yes.
19. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
God, Yes.
20. What was the best book you read?
Gone Girl: Gillian Flynn tied with The Marriage Plot: Jeffery Eugenidies
21. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Rediscovering old show tunes
22. What did you want and get?
New friends, a place of my own, fleeting moments of contentment
23. What did you want and not get?
Prolonged moments of contentment
24. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 29, suitably quiet day, with a Clarke double hundred and dinner with TCF and her boyfriend.
25. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
See 23.
26. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
Shabby. I don’t care about what I wear, I only choose what I wear if I want to impress someone.
27. What kept you sane?
Kindle, TV shows, and TCF (in that case literally)
28. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Lena Dunham
29. Who was the best new person you met?
The English Lass, it is not even close.
30. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011?
People are shit except those I like. It is blunt but very true
1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?
I moved.
2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I made plenty, some I kept, some I didn’t but I tried my best with all of them
3. What countries did you visit?
None
4. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?
More stable relationships
5. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory?
September 17th, the best day of the year, August 31 where it all began, November 19th A Chorus Line with The Novocastrian, November 23rd & December 2nd both heartbreaking
6. What was your biggest achievement of the year??
Getting stronger
7. What was your biggest failure?
Everything to do with my thesis, I feel way behind (Still)
8. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No.
9. What was the best thing you bought?
Books
10. Whose behavior merited celebration?
TCF and The Novocastrian for always being there, and Miss Gravy for being my biggest cheerleader.
11. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
They know who they are
12. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
A Chorus Line, Jersey Boys, The Noosa and Brisbane Writers Festivals
13. What song will always remind you of 2012?
The 'Happy' Mashup
14. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?
Much happier.
15. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Enjoy the precious time I had before I lost it again
16. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Brutal honesty
17. How will you be spending Christmas?
It is my last Christmas living with my parents, so with them.
18. Did you fall in love in 2012?
Yes.
19. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
God, Yes.
20. What was the best book you read?
Gone Girl: Gillian Flynn tied with The Marriage Plot: Jeffery Eugenidies
21. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Rediscovering old show tunes
22. What did you want and get?
New friends, a place of my own, fleeting moments of contentment
23. What did you want and not get?
Prolonged moments of contentment
24. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 29, suitably quiet day, with a Clarke double hundred and dinner with TCF and her boyfriend.
25. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
See 23.
26. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
Shabby. I don’t care about what I wear, I only choose what I wear if I want to impress someone.
27. What kept you sane?
Kindle, TV shows, and TCF (in that case literally)
28. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Lena Dunham
29. Who was the best new person you met?
The English Lass, it is not even close.
30. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011?
People are shit except those I like. It is blunt but very true
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
My Quest is Over, Now to Become A Statesman
Our greatest happiness does not depend on the condition of life in which chance has placed us, but is always the result of a good conscience, good health, occupation, and freedom in all just pursuits. Thomas JeffersonLife changed for me yesterday. A whole new world has opened up for me. My two year quest to become independent will finally be at an end on December 27. In just two weeks I will be moving out of my parents' home on the Sunshine Coast (about a decade too late) and begin living independently in the city lights of Brisbane.
A few months ago, you may remember that the Queensland Housing Commission offered me a house to live in. However, there was a catch. I had to come up with the funds for 7 hours of in home support a day to help with my personal care needs. I was told this would cost upwards of $100,000 per year. Given that the Queensland Premier has cut everything except his ego this was not a viable option.
Last week I reached the end of my rope and turned up to the local Disability Services Queensland (DSQ) Office uninvited. My political skills were put to good use because I had to outline the gravity and urgency of my particular situation in intimate detail. Given all the shit I have given DSQ publicly and privately over the past two years, the bureaucrats I encountered were enormously helpful and sympathetic.
Enter YoungCare. Whether it be through happenstance or organised chaos DSQ were able to find me a place at the Sinnamon Park complex of units, located between Brisbane and Ipswich, which will provide me with guaranteed personal care 24 hours a day, seven days a week. When the two bureaucrats described the set up in the complex I had to admit I was very skeptical. As I was well aware, the trade off for 24/7 care is that I would have to share resources with other people with disabilities. Experiences of others I knew taught me that such ventures were tantamount to institutionalisation: the very thing I had been working hard to avoid my entire life. I had a week between my meeting with DSQ and my tour of YoungCare to dream up worst case scenarios in my head that would make stories of A Current Affair look like Play School.
Thankfully my visit to YoungCare yesterday made those fears turn out to be utter nonsense. The complex is equipped with the best set of facilities I have ever seen. Including a private unit, and my choice of whether I want to be involved in communal activities or not. I was continually jealous of my contemporaries in my native South Australia who always had superior disability services to the backward looking Queensland. Now they will be jealous of me, because I will have complete autonomy to live the life I want as independently as possible. Those without disabilities take for granted their freedom. The ability to stay out late, get pissed, pick up a girl (or three), take her (or them) home, and wake up the next morning with a stupid self congratulatory grin on their face. Now it is my turn!
Through an extraordinary amount of sponsors and donors the complex is also equipped with everything I could ask for: wheelchair accessible vehicles, cable TV, a gourmet chef, internet access and air conditioning. This also applies to things I never want such as therapy and exercise equipment.
What I cannot get across in mere words is how life changing this development is for my family and I. A lifelong goal for my Mum, Dad and I is about to be reached in a safe, secure environment without compromising any of my values. For the first of many, many times I am asking friends and readers to donate whatever money you can to YoungCare. With the gift I have been given I now have the responsibility to change someone else’s life, just as mine will be.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
My Top 5 Movies of 2012
Television program At The Movies has an annual (Australian) viewer poll to see what they rank as the best movies of the year. Each viewer can make up to 5 selections. Mine in alphabetical order are:
DAMSELS IN DISTRESS (Released: 6/09/2012)
DEEP BLUE SEA, THE (Released: 12/04/2012)
GOODBYE FIRST LOVE (Released: 5/04/2012)
LIKE CRAZY (Released: 1/03/2012)
MARGIN CALL (Released: 15/03/2012)
DAMSELS IN DISTRESS (Released: 6/09/2012)
DEEP BLUE SEA, THE (Released: 12/04/2012)
GOODBYE FIRST LOVE (Released: 5/04/2012)
LIKE CRAZY (Released: 1/03/2012)
MARGIN CALL (Released: 15/03/2012)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)