Sweet Emotion

I have been accused of being 'clingy'. I was angry at first but my accuser is a believer in ‘conditional’ friendship and not being ‘clingy’ was always one of the conditions so I should have known better but I was emotional - not 'bang down on the floor flailing around in tears' emotional but "Why . .what did I say . . I don't understand . .why are you angry at me . . please don't be mad . .I feel awful . . .what did I do? " clingy and over-stepped the mark! I’ve calmed down a bit now but basically, he was right - I am indeed an emotional animal!

It’s weird because only my most intimate friends see the emotional side of me – most see me as cold, organised and controlling. I’m the coper. The one that steams ahead through adversity. The one who gets things done. I’m the ‘responsible’ one. The one who doesn’t need any help. The pragmatist, the cold fish. The one who is aloof, comfortable in her own skin, capable, opinionated and ultimately sensible and ‘balanced’. If only they knew the half of it! I do tend to rush in with people I like - a bit 'full on'. But those in my inner sanctum see someone different. They are partial to the fragility and my deep and varied insecurities and fears and they understand the clingy thingy. I know I sound a little mad at the moment.

But which is better? To be an emotional cripple and guard your emotions so closely that nobody knows what you’re thinking. To walk away rather than confront issues and work through them? To be unable to enjoy fully functioning interactions and relationships or to be unable to interact with people? I'm sure there's a balance. I don't bottle things up. I let fly.

I looked up some definitions to see exactly where I fit or indeed if I fit.

e·mo·tion·al [ i mṓshən'l, i mṓshnəl ]

Definition:

1. expressing emotion: relating to or expressing emotion

Lately I’ve been expressing a lot of emotion. Sadness at ClareBear’s departure, loneliness living on my own without DrummerBoy, anxious about my insomnia and the house sale, nervous about a new bout of bush rats playing soccer in my ceiling after midnight. Then I get disproportionately upset when someone who is normally pleasant and joyful is rude to me or ignores me. I feel lost when someone refuses to communicate with me or storms off in a huff. When I’m happy, I’m over the moon – seriously I get quite euphoric about the smallest things. When I’m sad I’m totally down in the dumps and disproportionately possessive. Whatever happens to me and around me arouses emotion and usually quite extreme emotion. It’s part of my being and who I am.

2. easily affected by emotions: being by nature easily affected by or quick to express emotions

Absolutely, if someone is nice to me I feel a warm and fuzzy glow it can sustain my psyche for days. If I'm ignored I feel rejected, if I think I've offended I'm remorseful. If someone else is in dire straights or suffering, my heart goes out to them whether I know them or not. If someone close or remote is in pain, I feel for them. If they’re experiencing wonderful things, I try to share their jubilation and excitement. I feel physically sick if there’s discord in any of my relationships, I can’t eat and I can’t sleep, I have this churning pit in my stomach if I think I've upset anyone. Yes, I’m very easily affected by emotions . . mine and those of others.

4. stirring emotions: arousing or affecting the emotions
I’m easily stirred by the sound of bagpipes (don’t ask), the raising of a flag, a gold medal ceremony, a wedding, a graduation, beautiful scenery, the death of an animal (except rats) or when someone unexpectedly does something selfless and completely nice to me I am overwhelmed with joy. Not to the point of tearyness. I don’t cry when I’m emotional generally, tears are saved for moments of abject anger and frustration. But yes, there are events, incidents and memories that significantly stir and affect my emotions on a daily basis. I think that’s pretty normal.

5. inspired by emotion: inspired or governed by emotion, and not by reason or willpower
Instead of listening to the internal voice of reason – it had been reduced to a whisper on Monday night – my heart ruled my head and I went off on all cylinders with an emotional tyrade. Reason was relegated to the back room and I ended up in a tizz.

Frankly I take things way too personally, relationships far too seriously, and I read meaning into random and casual encounters, my heart rules my head and my mouth runs off on its own! The fingers on the keyboard aren’t bad at doing that either!

Ah . . . but it’s better than the alternative . . if I seem ‘over attentive’ (I prefer it to clingy) . . it means you’re one of the few who know me really well and get a glimpse of what many cannot see. Annoying? Definitely. Endearing? Maybe . . .Part of my psychological make-up? Absolutely!

Anyway, me and my anti-clingy friend will be alright I hope. I just have to remember to put my emotions in a box and tie it up and lock it away if our friendship is to continue. Restraint has never been one of my strong points.

Crank it up punters! This is what my head looks like today!

I Disapprove of What you Say . . .

. . . , but I will defend to the death your right to say it. (Voltaire)

I don’t believe in censorship . . well perhaps I do but only in the interest of protecting the young, the vulnerable and the marginalised say from abuse or pornography.

But when it comes to what sites I can access or become unwittingly being blocked because my Government doesn't want me to read something or because worse still, my IP makes a decision on what contains inappropriate, pornography, converse politics, violence, or unsuitable reading material - it is not their right to make that decision. Not at the expense of free speech or information exchange no matter how distasteful we may find it.

Don't get me wrong - I don’t think there should be full frontal nudity on TV at lunchtime and I don't want to watch biased and violent news reports at tea time or drama with excessive vulgar language or explicit sex before 9pm. These should be played later in the evening to avoid exposure to young children. I approve of a film rating system . . the bottom line in this type of censorship - it still allows me to make the choice as to whether I watch or not. I am in control of the remote! I do not approve of banning literature of any type. It's simply medieval to control the reading material of the masses and worse still replace it with sanitised versions off the truth.

Some Internet Providers (IP's) either package or promote ‘spam filters’, ‘disc nannys’, firewalls etc, to stop you accessing what THEY think could be damaging, biased, unsuitable, or even politically subversive information. Unless you have an IT bent, it is difficult to know what is being filtered from your view, what is being decided for you and what in fact you may never see because your security settings deem it unsuitable for your perusal. I'm not talking about pop up restriction here but actual blocking of sites.

If you have the know-how to temper your security settings well and good but I for one, wouldn’t know where to start . . .I only know that I am not overly filtered because I CAN access sites such as Al Jazeera and some others which might be considered contentious by the powers that be but they give me a broader perspective.

My rule of thumb has always been to embrace diversity. I don’t like everything I see or hear, indeed I am often repulsed by sites, books, newspapers and television programmes that I happen along but it's my choice whether to take these on board or move along.

Similarly with opinion on the internet or blogs, I may not agree with you but I will not fall out with you just because you don’t share my view. How are we ever going to learn from each other or understand the external world if we constantly try to stymie free speech among friends and healthy debate between adversaries? Look where a lack of meaningful dialogue has brought world politics! Attempts to censor the internet are insidious. It is not the prerogative of IP’s or software providers to determine what is appropriate for my eyes and what isn’t unless I choose to moderate my security settings of my own free will.

Emerging and non democratic countries are playing catch up trying to censor the internet, email, IM access across the world. It’s proving a difficult and very time consuming task and to some extent. I abhor US companies which are restricting not only the free speech of their own citizens but actively assisting in the prevention of free speech, no free 'criticism', in the emerging world.

The internet is playing a leading role in citizens talking to government and often challenging its rules. A growing number of regimes are experiencing the difficulty of choosing between open communication and economic development or closed communication and controlling ‘dangerous’ ideas. This is not peculiar to developing countries as evidenced by the fact that an IP can actually block you from accessing particular sites unless you know how to change the security settings.

China maintains the world's most effective internet censorship, dubbed "The Great Firewall" . Tens of thousands of people are employed to monitor web traffic. Western companies such as Cisco, Yahoo, Google and Microsoft have willingly assisted officials in their goals and ensured that ‘sensitive’ material relating particularly to Taiwan and now Tibet are removed.

This is going to be harder as over 210 million Chinese access the net with 200,000 more going online for the first time every day . This hopefully will lead to a shift in the country's relationship with central power, allowing an opportunity for individuals to challenge government policy.

Iran, especially under the leadership of hardliner President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has led a purging of journalists, dissidents, prominent women and unionists. Yet there are many bloggers there who challenge the mullah’s grip on power while western companies contribute to the country’s isolation. Yahoo and Microsoft quietly removed Iran from the country lists of their webmail services last year.. Google's Gmail service still features Iran on its country list.

Internet censorship is becoming a key human rights issue around the world.

Without bloggers in Saudi Arabia, we would have little idea of the nation's true state.

The internet will not automatically democratise all societies or bring Western-style reform. Many bloggers and activists probably hope for the opposite. Its uncontrolled unpredictability has proven to the mainstream media that local voices can bring their opinions to the world.

In conclusion IP’s , Google, Cisco, MSN, Microsoft whoever . . . DO NOT ASSUME I CANNOT SELF REGULATE. I don’t want everything filtered to the max. I could research this more, I could write a thesis on the need to be allowed to choose what I read and access but I think you get the gist.

Australia’s laws on Internet censorship are, theoretically, amongst the most restrictive in the Western world. However, the restrictive nature of the laws has been combined with almost complete lack of interest in enforcement from the agencies responsible. Bless Aussie apathy!

You internet users - be prepared for an information superhighway that will not only enlighten and elucidate, but will teach you how the other half lives. Be critical in your reading and open in your interpretation and for God's sake learn how to moderate your IP security settings.

Mind you an uncensored internet will also shower you with sexy ladies, large penises, viagra, cialis, cheap meds, free degrees, ringtones and will be sure to make your lady squirm! Me love you long time!

This is interesting: http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=1061

They Dance Alone

It's been a while since a documentary really moved me, I mean made sense beyond the sensational, didn't smack of a silly conspiracy theory such as the World Towers being engineered to fall down or bankers of the world conspiring to subjugate the globe! I'm not a great fan of consipiracy theories, most are whacky, unsupported and not peer tested or reviewed. (Although I have been known to wonder why we've never cured the cold, AIDS or chronic illness such as diabetes and asthma . . the drug companies would go broke!)

Back to documentaries. I love everything David Attenborough being the part-time environmentalist I am. I liked Al Gore's 'An Inconvenient Truth' and whether you believe global warming is attributable to carbon spending or just a natural phenomenon, there is no dispute that it's happening. Incidentally, I also watched 'The Great Global Warming Swindle" and found neither conclusive. I've watched the Mike Moore tabloid docos burst into their headquarters technique and give them grief bullshit (although I did find some truth in Bowling for Columbine) and frankly, the man is biased and obnoxious even if he does present an expose worthy of discussion. I even sat through the rubbish that was "Supersize Me" as if anyone is going to eat Macdonalds food for three months exclusively, absolute trash! But this afternoon, hot, balmy and whilst home alone, I hired The War on Democracy by John Pilger, due in no small part to ClareBear's sojourn into South America and a desire to understand more about what the inhabitants of this huge continent are like.

I respect John Pilger. He's been around a long, long time. I've seen a lot of his work. He's a non-sensationalist protagonist of corrupt regimes from way back and entirely credible to my mind and this film is a piece of genius if you can stand watching man's inhumanity to man and the involvement of the American Empire in South American politics. He's the David Attinborough of the political world and well worth considering in my view. What continues to annoy me, living in the peaceful, arse end of the world that nobody gives a shit about, is man's inhumanity to man and how we allow fascism to not just rear its ugly head but to actually get a grip, albeit brief in some cases but long enough to exact it's sadistic punishment on innocents, to happen. It took Australia decades to support East Timor . . . and I have my own theories about that. I think the Bali Bombings changed our complacent attitude towards Indonesia . . so we went in to help. 30 years after the fact!

Back to the US and there propagation of empire. Yes, I said Empire . . . they call it National Security . . . if anything threatens national security in the US (and lets face it, getting on a plane with a T-shirt bearing the image of George Bush saying "I am a Terrorist" is considered a breach of national security - I rather believe it to be the truth!), they're prepared to invade countries based on fallacious accusations, finance coups, tolerate and promote torture, (Guantanamo bay for fuck's sake!) provide finance or generally commit any act of desperation to secure their position as the world's leading power in the interest of National Security . . . get over your paranoia America and let self-determination take place whether it's in your interest or not. I don't absolve Australia in this, we blindly follow but hopefully the new administration will have a less sycophantic view of the US and make its own decisions or at least informed decisions. Ironically, it will be economics and consumerism that will cause the impotence of the US. . .

Watch this doco, please . . . and I'm not being paid for this commercial. (Sorry about Sting but the lyrics are very appropriate . . . )

Do You Really Need 30 Pairs of Shoes?

The day after Boxing Day, Thursday 27th December . . . thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of Australians will front up at Department stores to snag a bargain. It's traditionally the first day of the Summer Sales which will last for a couple of weeks when stores Australia wide will wildly discount, offer you interest free terms or nothing to pay until 2009 to entice you to buy clothes that don't fit, appliances you don't need, and accessories to clog up the top shelf of your wardrobe (isn't that where they all end up?).

My understanding of economics is scant. I pick up a few things from the Financial Advisers for whom I work but basically, overspending by a country's population and government leads to inflation which causes the monetary regulators to raise interest rates. Simplistic, I fear so but if you can put it more succinctly, please let me know. So what drives these people, overspent by too much indulgence at Christmas, maxed out on their credit cards, to queue in front of department stores overnight, to charge through their opening doors at 7.00am, rummage through the specials tables, abuse shop assistants, grab items out of the hands of fellow shoppers and generally spend, spend, spend at the post Christmas sales?

Is it need or greed? Who needs more than one television, one XBox or PS2, who needs 22 pairs of shoes, 16 handbags or a wardrobe of clothes to make a film star envious. Who needs a new fridge just because it's interest free for 2 years. Who is compelled to go out and buy a car because there's 40% off after Christmas. In fact today, shoppers waited in long queues outside jewellers Swarovski and bag stores Guess, Coach and Oroton in central Sydney because these shops chose to 'regulate' the amount of shoppers they allowed to enter. What! We have homeless youth, problems in indigenous Australia, drug addiction, a failing health and education system and people are queuing to buy jewellery and handbags. It's INSANE!

Sales here seem to be more and more common. Even before Christmas we were shopping for backpacks in Kathmandu and they had a 50% sale BEFORE Christmas. There are the post Christmas sales, the Spring Sales, the half yearly sales the twice a year clearances and offer us cash for a HUGE discount! If they can afford to entice us to buy with low or no interest, 5o% off, Clearances and post Christmas mark downs . . why can't prices be a little more affordable before the event or consistent throughout the year?

If you're a saver, I guess high interest rates are fantastic but how many of us have NO debt? No credit card outstanding, no mortgage, no personal loans? Not many I'll wager. What makes us want to buy, acquire, own? Personally, I've had to deal with the 'estates' of three members of my own family and the bulk of what they 'bought' is just junk to be disposed of by those of us who remain. I'm not a minimalist in the white-walled, white-tiled, single-chair in a room fashion but I don't believe in purchasing 'things' just because someone else has them or because they're cheap or necessary to 'acquire'. I don't see the need for a lettuce spinner or a rice cooker in the modern kitchen. I don't need an electric peppermill or a cappucino machine (they never taste as good as Barista bought anyway!). I don't like designer dresses that are made in sweat shops or shoes made in China then badged by some silly designer with their name and sold for $300. I don't need a TV that extends accross an entire wall. Don't get me wrong, I like my little luxuries but they're practical, economical and useful and I could live just as well with a few simple implements as a kitchen full of gadgetry.

I have friends who have a TV in every room so they don't speak much to their children who also have their own PS2's or X Boxes. They have air-conditioning, dryers, gadgets and gizmos and have lost the art of doing things intuitively and simply. They have electric garage doors because it's too difficult to get out of the car and open a door. They have the latest coffee makers, the flashest cars. They have GPS systems because it's too hard to look up a Gregorys or UBD and buy water which in Australia is no better quality than that which comes out of the tap. They are dripping in jewellery, handbags and shoes . . . but these things don't always make them happy and in many cases, they just surround themselves with debt and the knowledge that they've managed to keep up with the Joneses.

Please Australia, think before you buy: Do I need it, Do I want it and if so why? Can I live without it? Will it really make me happy? What effect will my purchase have on the economy? And in my case . . .can I really afford it. The answer is invariably no.

Then I've never been much of a shopper but I have still managed to get myself into credit card debt. I 'need' a new computer but hey. As long as the old one has legs, I can wait for five minutes while it navigates its way around the web. I need a new car but basically $250 spent on new brakes will tide me over. I need a new washing machine but if I spin stuff twice, it's dry enough to peg out. I need very little actually. I need my friends, my family, a roof over my head and a hot shower each day. I need a minimum of implements and mod cons. I need my dog, a standard fan and a stereo to fill my house with music. I need a coldy in the fridge, food in my belly and the love of my children. Needless to say, I will not be smashing through the doors of Myers because basically, there's nothing more that I need! And lets face it, I certainly don't need another rise in interest rates when the Reserve Bank meets on the first Tuesday in January!

Waving to God and Speaking in Tongues

Spot the black, fat lesbian in a wheelchair? No? She's not welcome in this place!

I must be in a serious mood this weekend. Lots of thoughts flowing between the ears (Amazing since there isnt much else in there). One of the commenters on this blog is a cleric. He’s a Minister in the Church of Ireland. He’s very intelligent, funny, politically and geographically aware, the sort that you would probably enjoy hearing a sermon from on any Sunday. Interesting really, as a non-believer, I find his site thought-provoking and his comments on my and other blogs unusually secular. It struck me that in a comment criticising the ”God Squad” that I might have hurt his sensibilities, I think not as he’s very broad minded but it also made me want to clarify the comment.

I am not religious. I was raised an Anglican, the Church of England variety and completed all the usual sacraments. I taught Sunday School in my teens and enjoyed the social side of church life, particularly in Melbourne at a little Church we attended in Donvale many years ago. The move to Sydney disconnected that nice feeling as we found it difficult to find a Parish that emulated it's close knit community and delightful Minister.

My mother was a Welsh Evangalist, quite religious but searching for a Church that suited her so we were dragged through the Baptist, Methodist, Wesley and numerous other breakaways in the hope of finding an ‘appropriate’ venue for my mother to Worship. None really worked for her and our churchgoing life was suspended. My father was Church of England and highly principled yet the Priest who attended him during his dying days was the son of a beloved friend and a Catholic, he always considered himself a non-denominational Christian. I married a Catholic and whilst I didn’t convert, I became accustomed to attending Mass and raised both children through the Catholic Education System as promised. I studied Judaism at University and attended the Great Synagogue on several occasions and dabbled as one does in Buddhism many years ago. So, I’ve had some pretty wide exposure to organised religion. Whilst I don’t believe in God in the traditional sense, and I have great scepticism about the e Church at large, I have deep respect for organisations such as the Salvation Army, St Vincent DePaul, Anglicare and similar philanthropics that do great work for the marginalised, underprivileged and the needy. So, why am I so down on the God Squad? Well I'm not. It's just this particular branch of pentacostal ratbags for whom I have no respect.

About 500metres from my leafy little enclave of acreage, suburbia is encroaching. At the end of our road is a large shopping centre, an ice skating rink, a light industrial park (offices and the like) a Convention Centre and the “Till on the Hill”. This is the Australian Headquarters of the Christian Life Centre – Hillsong. Inspired originally by an ex-pat Kiwi, it is an evangelical and pentacostal religious organisation.

They attract their parishioners very cleverly by offering an alternative to the conventional, a new age bible, rock and roll services, merchandising, counselling, medical centres, youth and women’s conventions and a focus on becoming wealthy through knowing God. It’s a safe place for younglings who have not yet forayed into the sinful world of sex, drugs and Saturday night binge drinking. It’s somewhere kids can go before they terrorise the streets on their P plates and it obviously fills a void that conventional Churches have been so far unable to do.

So what’s the harm? They believe in a benevolent and forgiving God. Hillsong's A-Z service delivery is immense, offering something for everyone from medical practices and psychiatric counselling to coffee shops. They encourage moral behaviour, no sex before marriage, respect for God and each other. They’re normal law abiding citizens, bringing religion into the modern age and believe that living your life blessed is better than living your life rich – or do they?

It is all about money and control. They preach that the more successful and wealthy you are, the better equipped you are to support the fiscal needs of the church and their work. They have commercialised religion beyond its biblical simplicity and now have a tangible, strong, influential and fully emerged business and political influence. Ironic that their medical and psychiatric practices have the pseudonym “Emerge”. The atmosphere during services is unrestrained, friendly and emotional, the responses loud and heartfelt. Hillsong promotes that God wants people to live "healthy and prosperous lives in order to help others more effectively". It is a message of "personal effectiveness" so people can make a bigger difference to the world. They are more like an Anthony Robbins motivational conference than a Church gathering.

At last count there were 1100 Assemblies of God churches in Australia under the presidency of the senior pastor of Hillsong, Brian Houston. They enjoy tax free status, as do all Churches in Australia and the evangelising of the masses has led to a complex web of financial arrangements that is impossible to detangle. Whilst they welcome checking of their accounts ‘via appointment’ any attempt by their parishioners do so is ‘frowned upon’.

Houston told ABC television's Australian Story in August 2005 that in the previous financial year, Hillsong had an income of $50million, and had $100million in "facilities". Little has been said about their worth since then. They hold “Miracle Offering Weekends” to raise cash for their multi-million dollar building projects, one of which includes the massive convention centre that sits beside the current Till. An excerpt from a letter to parishioners requesting their financial generosity to repatriate child soldiers in Uganda read:

“Our commitment is that we will give the greater of either 10 per cent or the first $500,000 of the Miracle Offering. Hillsong Church is not built on the gifts and talents of a few, but on the sacrifice of many."

10% well that was big of them - taking the term tithe literally I note. What about the other 90%! They raised $7.2 million! Oh and they can pay via cash, cheque or credit card. I am not averse to fundraising for charitable causes all Churches do it . . . but little is said about the charitable causes and in this case, so little is actually contributed . . . most is sunk into the purchase of valuable land and the building of megalithic facilities and the establishment of new businesses, not to mention lining the pockets of its initiators, Brian and Bobbie Houston.

"If you believe in Jesus," says Hillsong’s leader Brian Houston, "He will reward you here on earth as well as in Heaven”. It is this prosperity gospel teaching that puts him at odds with conventional religious leaders.

And don’t even get me started on Bobbie Houston’s philosophy on women. Young Hillsong women go to high schools to teach female students about make-up and skin care. Fat is out. Do some exercise. Bobbie Houston (the wifey poo) "If I carry weight I feel like a retard.” (I was unaware that being intellectually challenged was linked to weight gain) ... And then there’s this – “How are you going to do anything to surprise your man when you need a hydraulic crane just to turn over in bed?" She also recommends having plastic surgery, if it makes you feel better and it is for the right reasons, and "girls, pelvic floor exercises - can you believe I am saying this? - you know, I have heard that orgasm is not as strong if you are really sloppy in that area". and on her CD She Loves and Values Her Sexuality. Which is all about ‘catching a man’. If you don't look great, you won't get a decent looking husband and, if you already have one, to quote Bobbie, “he'll leave you!”

Tomorrow I will post something funny . . . promise!

Sometimes I am Serious

Two of the most memorable experiences of my life, the most wonderful, the most intimate were the birth of my two children. Within seconds of the arrival of each, the pain, the puffing, the waiting all faded into obscurity as each little slimy bundle was handed to me. This little miracle made from nothing but pure love (OK and a little slap and tickle). All jokes aside - and I could tell you a few - they arrived perfect, all pieces intact, kicking and screaming . . . healthy, defenseless and the most precious people in my life then and now. Little bundles of noisy leakage at both ends. Hurting them, shaking them, sexually abusing them was and is inconceivable. Even the thought of piercing ClareBear's ears as a toddler or circumcising a four day old son were abhorrant. Why would I mutilate such perfection. I didn't want to change anything about them. Even though they were denied a father at a very young age, they have been raised with love, warmth, respect and honesty which has helped them to become the amazing young adults they are.

Today, A cross-border investigation into a European wide child-sex network led to 92 arrests in eight countries. It involved 18 European police forces and the Australian authorities, Operation Koala led to 40 arrests in Britain, 21 in France, 11 in Spain, eight in Sweden, five in Belgium, four in Italy, two in Iceland and one in Denmark. Using the name of such a cuddly marsupial to challenge such an ugly operation seemed more than disgustingly ironic.

The main suspect was nabbed in Italy, laden with cash and large quantities of paedophilic materials. Italian police arrested him as he was apparently trying to leave for Ukraine, where the vast majority of the victims are from. The news story continued: Often young girls aged nine to 16, the victims were lured into a Ukrainian studio where photo shoots would become increasingly explicit and end with the victims being sexually abused, the investigation found. They were lured with promises of modelling careers in the west. According to Europol, 21 of the 23 victims were from the Ukraine. The other two were Belgian girls whose father forced them to take sexually explicit pictures. He was arrested last year for their rape - his own daughters - He was their FATHER! Over 2,500 clients accessed . . .wait for it . . .
1.5 million paedophilic images by internet. They are as bad as the abusers. Degenerate in every sense of the word. And we want to pass legislation against smacking our kids?

So who are these perverts, these awful downtrodden psychopaths. Surely to abuse children or to watch children being sexually mistreated must be the province of the deranged, the lonely, the sexually frustrated or deficient, the mentally retarded, the outcast . . you think? "Customers come from all layers of society - lawyers, school teachers, students, people with no jobs,"

We're all aware of the focus lately on Catholic Priests abusing positions of trust. Or the odd teacher who inappropriately 'handles' a child but this goes beyond disgusting, beyond imagination, these men, and they are invariably men are worthy of castration and incarceraton. Whether wanking over the internet or perpetrating the acts and recording them on film.

These stories make me sick. They are far too prevolent. How many times must we hear of some 40 year old businessman setting up house in Thailand and keeping young boys for his sexual pleasure. It moved me to tears. These maggots get away with unimaginable pain and suffering inflicted on their victims. What makes these men adore the nubile, the young, the vulnerable?

These predators need to be stopped. Not just those who are actively involved but those who get their jollies off watching little children abused in such a way. At risk of trivialising this, there is obviously a 'thing' about some sexual predators with the childlike form. The smooth skin, the hairlessness, the innocence, the ability to manipulate the betrayal of trust, their vulnerability. I'ts like rape - a crime of passion? Bollox, it's about control and manipulation of the weak. It's revolting. I see this androgenism in models who are portrayed as waifish, asexual beings with a Brasilian wax to make them look like 10 or 12 year olds. Stop it! I'm serious. Stop trying to be something you're not. Beyond the age of 12 you are not supposed to look like a pre-pubescent nymphette. You're supposed to gain body fat, gain shape, grow pubic hair, mature physically. Stop appealing to the perverted sexual desires of twisted men.

I am fortunate to have been raised in a highly moral, loving family, where values about the sanctitiy of the body and sex have been discussed and valued. Where touch was important but it was the stroke of the hair or a bear hug that suspended breathing it was so filled with affection. I have passed these values on to my own children who are highly respectful of their opposite sex and not at all expliotationist. Remember, these little darlings, wooed by the hope of a better life are forgoing all innocence with some slobbering 50 something who isn't 'man' enough to attempt a relationship with a real adult. There are things we can do to prepare our children:

• Be suspicious if an adult seems more interested in spending time with your child than with you.
• Be wary of people who are overly kind, affectionate or loving towards your child or who give your child lots of gifts. Remember, most people have good intentions, so don't jump to conclusions.
• Be very choosy about leaving your child with others. Ask your child how he feels about being cared for by that person. If there's any reluctance . . . don't do it.
• Teach your child about different parts of the body and which are his own private parts. Let them know that it's inappropriate for someone else to touch them there.
• Teach your child to try and get away as quickly as possible from any person who makes him feel uncomfortable or frightened and to then tell people he trusts about what has happened.
• Teach your child never to keep secrets that make him feel uncomfortable or bad. Always listen to your child and trust what he says even if you are shocked by it. Act upon the information so your child feels supported by you.
• Teach your child that adults are not always right. This will help your child if a paedophile tells your child the abuse is okay and not to tell anyone.
• Supervis their internet access and know who they are talking to. Tell them to never reveal their real name or address. Install a Disk Nanny or password so they can't access without your supervision.
• Ensure they are supervised going to and from school or are aware of Neighbourhood Watch safe houses
• Teach your child never to go into public toilets alone. Never let a child under 10 go to the toilet alone.
• Ensure you know where your child is at all times.
• Always answer your child’s questions honestly and at a level that he can understand, even if you are embarrassed.
• Things you teach your child will help, but they will not guarantee your child's protection. Children are not able to totally protect themselves. It is up to adults to do this.
• Love them with every fibre of your being until they are old enough to know the difference between sexual predators and the joy of sex.

Of course, this assumes that you are a caring, cautious, wise and loving parent . . .unfortunately, the parents of many abused children are in fact the perpetrators.

OK. I'll jump off my soapbox now.

Diamonds in My Eyes

Many years ago, I worked for a multi-national Direct Selling company that had an in-house art department. They produced more magazines than Vogue, newsletters, packaging, labelling, promotional posters bla bla bla . . . I was priviledged to work in that department doing their corporate copywriting with a host of talented graphic designers, art directors and typographer. They were happy times with the Happy Mondays playing on Fridays and the Gypsy Kings Bombalayaying after lunch.

Times were happy, not because of the money grubbing multi-national but because of the amazing people in the Creative Department. A few of us have kept together and have our long lunches each quarter. This time round, it's been a while but today Overall, Yummy Mummy and her two princesses, and BikerGirl came for lunch. I love a long lunch and one with these three is a treat indeed. They are nature's gentlepeople. Fun, reminiscent, talented and each very different. The Greek couldn't make it sadly, working on a Saturday, that's a bummer! We have no problem connecting after months apart and I love their bones. Biker Girl is doing her instructors course in between racing and work commitments and is all loved up once again which is fantastic. She looks great, happy, pretty, serene. I love her to bits. Overall is busy doing curriculum pieces for the Abu Dabi Educational council and as usual turned up with another novelty T shirt, her hallmark. Although we all want one that says "I'm very important and I'm extremely busy". Yummy Mummy is working on her own designs in greeting cards, TShirts and has a market stall on Sundays in between raising two rambunctious fairies and baking lemon citrus tarts and making the best marmalade I've ever tasted.

As always, the company was great as we lingererd over brie, olive bread and tapanade, tomato and basil bruschetta, chicken filets with basil pesto and a balsamic salad, finished not with my raspberry tarts but with YummyMummy's lovely home made citrus tart and a delicious dollop of King Island Dairy's best. A good measure of the bubbly stuff and great conversation, good company and a shit load of washing up. We reminisced over the Designer who is now working overseas and PurpleGirl with whom we've had no contact for a long time. These girls are salt of the earth, honest, funny, sincere, irreverent and time with them is time well spent. Thanks ladies for a lovely day. Seriously, I don't have a load of 'friends'. I'm a bit of a loner but I can count about 20 people who I seriously care about outside my family and these three are definitely amongst them. Bless you ladies . . .you're diamonds in my eyes.

The only downer is the fact that I don't have a dishwasher . . (being eco friendly has its downside) how four people can make so much washing up amazes me and the fact that I chipped a tooth on a friggin' pecan nut! How do you break a tooth on pecan? Damn my 30 year old fillings. I think I'm paying for Painless Pete's Christmas Holiday!

Hysterectomies are Hysterical

There are few events that lead to me eating Conoisseur Gand Marnier Ice Cream with choc coated almonds from the tub and alternating with Weiss Passionfruit and Cream icecream or washing my curtains. These apparently are my deep stress release valves.

Why am I indulging in these mad antics? Well I don't talk about my health, I am rarely unwell apart from moaning constantly when I get a cold and I don't particularly like old people who go on and on about their varicose veins or sit at the table rubbing their tennis elbows and arthritic knees. I can't stand being peered at over bi-focals and listening to complaints of failing eyesight. Of course I'm sympathetic to the frail and ill but there is the tendency to go on about it just a tad too long, just a smidge too often. And, in my lifetime, I've only ever been in hospital to have my tonsils out, a quick de-coke and valve grind after a miscarriage and two babies.

However today I have had to absorb a lot of information - too much information. Besides the Crimson Wave turning into a Sunami over recent months I've enjoyed rude health. However, recent examinations into the explosion of mensus have revealed that my reproductive system, useless as it is, is in fact not worthy of being carried around by me any longer. I wanted to lose weight but this is ridiculous. A decent sized lump on my left ovary and a thwacking great fibroid in my once productive womb have necessitated a number of humiliating probes and prods and more blood tests than I care to admit to. Now that I have tracks on my inside arm and the digging and delving is over I have finally acquainted myself with a rather handsome South African gyneocologist who has seen more of me than any of my lovers ever did and managed to smile through the process and talk about old times.

Apparently, I am to have my womanhood removed on 29th November (I checked out his hands to make sure they weren't shaking) . . . so look out Thommo, Struth Ruth, TheTeacher, Arky and Sparky . . . my visit with you next month is the last big bang and I intend to behave badly.

At least 6 days in hospital and an inability to drive for 4 weeks will be long enough to kick the bad habits. Who knows, I might finally achieve my New Year's resolution of losing weight, giving up smoking and getting laid (well the first two are on the cards). If I ask him nicely, I wonder if he'll throw a tummy tuck into the bargain. And, I avoid that menopausal thing apart, I am told, from a tendency to flush hot now and then. Oh joy and in the summer heat to boot!

So don't feel sorry for me. I'll do plenty of that myself. But here's your big chance to get it off your chest, compare scars, tell me your stitched up stories . . . I want this to be light and entertaining so no staff infections please.


. . .now . . .who's gonna lend me a laptop six days without blogs or email and I'll go ballistic!

Fighting Spirits and Lost Souls

Yesterday an Australian soldier was killed in Afghanistan. It’s the third Australian death in both Iraq and Afghanistan (except for one guy who was fighting with the RAF). We're great at ducking bullets unless they're from our own guns. The first was a young private suspected of accidentally shooting himself with his own firearm in Iraq. The second, a 41 year old member of the Afghanistan Reconstruction Task Force - the victim of a roadside explosion. The third killed in an anti tank mine accident also in Afghanistan

The media fuss that has followed the death of these unfortunate men is alarming, maudlin, parochial and lamentable. We seem surprised when this happens . . . I don't want to detract from the tragedy because these men were someone's husband, brother, uncle, father but in this instance, they were also combatants put in harm's way and by their own volition. Isn’t that the general idea? They’re trained to fight not just look good in a Dress Uniform! It’s the nature of the job. I wish tabloid TV and the anti-war lobby would realise this and focus on the dickheads that send our troops into frey's that aren't ours. (I'm speaking of Iraq here, I endorse our peacekeeping in Afghanistan which is where the whole attention of the Coalition of the Willing should be focussed to my mind!)

The military has become a convenient way to achieve free qualification, especially for enlisted personnel. Or, you can enrol in the Australian Defence Force Academy and try for a degree along with your military training. Once finished with all the free education and training, there is some expectation that our preciouses may actually go to war. Despite the public outcry! What are they supposed to do stay home and spit and polish their rifles.

Peacekeeping, war, military policing and support for reconstruction is not a Sunday Picnic. It involves fighting, seeing sights you never want to see, taking risk, it’s not for the feint-hearted. Militia embarking on such sorties need a total education on what they’re getting into. Returning soldiers need proper debriefing, psychiatric assessment and ongoing support – sometimes for life.

In an effort to bolster dwindling interest in the armed forces, our Government in its wisdom is now recommending a try-before-you-buy program to recruit into the military. Yep, 1 year’s paid service to see if you like it! Not a bad plan . . . spend your gap year between school and tertiary education or gainful employment learning how to blow shit up and take over the world. (DrummerBoy managed to learn that with a bottle of vinegar and some pool chlorine but that's another story). The recruitment marketing even includes downloadable online gaming to encourage the young to pick up a rifle and fight for Queen PM and country. Is it working? Absolutely. Extreme Battleships and Supreme Air Combat are giving our online gamers a taste of the real thing and recruitment is up for our young would be combatants. But this ain't no Halo pal . . this is war!

What happens to these men an women when they return from the theatre of war. My cousin-in-law was a career soldier. He served in the first Gulf War, Bosnia, Sinai, Lebanon and other combat zones, he worked for the UN, he grew from an active grunt to top brass and retired a happy man at 55. He’s well adjusted.

Another relative was on a pension long before retirement age after flying helicopters in Vietnam. His nerves are shot, he can’t work, drive or function in the normal world but it took 20 years for his PTS to manifest itself. He came home with no debriefing and a raging community who were completely against the war and those who participated in it . . .he was made to feel guilty for being in the army and simply stopped talking about it.

Whatever you think of the current conflicts where Australians are involved, it’s vital that when they come home the balance is maintained. It’s a job. They enlisted but we also need to be cogniscent of their mental state upon their return. It’s important that our military men and women are not demoralised by ongoing criticism of the conflict or left to rot in their own psychosis. It’s we who should take responsibility and our elected politicians that should be criticised. Whilst our soldiers should fight, navy should sail and fly boys must fly, we need to be judicious about the conflicts in which we get involved. Vote with your feet people . . .there’s an election coming up!

There’s a tag or a meme or an idea going round at the moment. Your ‘Eight Rules To Live By.” I found 8 a bit restrictive and since I don’t mind being tagged, I’m not much of a tagger so consider yourselves all tagged and have a go. After thinking about my rules for life, they weren’t vastly different to this Nepali Tantra Totem which I’ve had for quite a while, tucked somewhere in the recesses of my C Drive:

• Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
• When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
• Follow the three R's: Respect for self. Respect for others. Responsibility for all your actions.
• Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
• Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
• Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
• When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
• Spend some time alone.
• Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.
• Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
• Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back,you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.
• A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life. Do all you can to create a tranquil, harmonious home.
• In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.
• Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.
• Be gentle with the earth.
• Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.
• Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
• Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
• Call your mother.
• Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon

Where Do I Start . . .

Where to start? I'd rather do this as a world wide round table but the blog will have to suffice. Absolute Vanilla recently posted about the atrocities taking place in Sudan. We are all aware of them, unless you've been living under a rock for the past 10 years. The increasing number of refugees (although still very small by comparison) in Australia are testament to the problems there. We're all cogniscent of the plight of Zimbabwe and remember the awfulness of Rwanda. We abhor human rights violations in China - where they make the families of execution victims pay for the bullets that kill their relatives for Christ's sake. We are constantly remined about the treatment of the Tibetans, corruption in India, and as a citizen of a country that is part of the Coalition of the Willing - no matter what you thought of Saddam Hussein, his country is in a worse place now thanks to our baseless and ill-informed invasion.

I haven't even touched on third world farmers who are being ripped off whilst growing tea, coffee, cotton and cocoa or the poverty in Brasil or the constant subjugation and mutilation of women in third world countries - dowry bride murders and female circumcision - or the hundreds of bloodlust conflicts all over the world that will be fought . . .lost . . .then drizzle into the 'what was that all about category' (Ireland, Serbia, Croatia, Vietnam, Cambodia, East Timor) and I'm a pathetic geography student so I'm sure there are more. Even our own Aborigines live in third world poverty, stricken with conjunctivitis, deafness caused by untreated ear infections, glaucoma and malnutrition, damned to a life of endemic chroming, petrol sniffing and physical and sexual abuse. We have homeless people, abused children, impoverished elderly in a so called welfare state. Yet our trainee doctors, occupational therapists and physiotherapists would rather tag their regional studies onto an overseas holiday and spend 6 weeks in an African village drinking cheap beer or go surfing in the Solomons. With little intention of returning to do some real good. Although massive kudos to Thommos daughter for asking for pledges to the Moshi Disabled Network and Tuleeni Home for Orphans in Tanzania instead of 21st birthday presents. Love you for it Strawberrygirl.

So, feeling shameful that I don't do enough beyond the odd donation to the Make A Wish Foundation or sponsoring a child through Care Australia, or paying for the odd guide dog for the blind, Australian Conservation Foundation, Cancer Council and Heart Foundation . . what do we do about these bigger world conflicts? One of my favourite - no - oft used sayings is "Good people do nothing while bad things happen". I know so many 'good' people. Those who genuinely yearn for world peace, an end to poverty and war but how can we contribute in a meaningful and genuinely helpful way?

There must be something positive we can do. Amongst us are eloquent writers, political commentators, military men and women, angry youngsters with the energy to follow through. We have a collaboration of talent, youth, experience and realism so why can't we collaborate and form a useful, noisy and productive united front.

There are those who are afraid to give money to war-torn nations for fear that their donation will simply educate and raise another little suicide bomber or machete toting anhilator. Those who believe that 'charity begins at home' and use it for an excuse to do nothing, those who throw money at the plethora of charities that ring them each night just around tea time out of guilt rather than philanthropy. Those who knit blanket squares and woolly jumpers for children in Mongolia who are freezing in the winter, those who make up food packages for sunami victims in Indonesia and Sri Lanka. Others who support their Church charities to bring help to third world nations. Hell, I've even sent clothing packages to Fiji for children who can't afford a school uniform (although what the fuck that matters I don't know). Indeed, I am one of these fairweather philanthropists but is my contribution really making a difference?

The conundrum is where to start. There are a zillion organisations, charities, good causes . . . what we need is one . . . it used to be called the United Nations. It used to have the power to embargo, the power to make a difference, the power to intervene but has become a paper tiger. Now there are countries where it's representatives won't venture. Then there's Medicines sans Frontiers . . . even they have no go-zones although the work they do is simply amazing. This isn't a lecture, this is a plea . . .I want to help . . . I want to contribute . . . but beyond just throwing money at corrupt governments I don't have an answer. I don't know how to stop the bleeding, the hurt, the heartache, the abuse, the murder, the brutalisation, the separation, the marginalisation. I often feel guilty for moaning about my own situation, guilty for being happy, healthy, educated and most importantly safe.

My kids call me a snob and on the surface I guess I am. Asians can't drive, Abo's can't dance or sing and Lebos scare me shitless . . . but comedy aside - I want to make a realistic and meaningful contribution. I now have time on my hands and time is free right? I can't afford a big financial contribution but I can do some service. I just don't know where to start . . .It makes me weep. DrummerBoy may have it right . . humans are a virus dedicated to over consumption, slowly killing the planet, not with carbon but by sheer weight of numbers, cruelty to each other and will be the shortest living organism in evolutionary history - it's a self-fulfilling prophecy of destruction and decimatio thanks to the obscene consumerism and materialism of western culture. He's even reviewing whether he would like to have children and he's only 20 years old!

But in the interim . . . if anyone has any ideas of how we can contribute to really help, not just soothe our egos or feel better that we are making a difference, please let me know. I started today with Amnesty International but it means a blind kid won't get a dog this month. !

Help Me Rest In Peace

I promise I won't get in the habit of lecturing but this one's close to my heart.

It’s really important to get your affairs in order while you’re alive and kicking, sane and sanguine. My father was so drowsy and disorientated in the later stages of his cancer that he could barely stay awake and my close friend Pauly who’s brain tumour turned off all powers of communication could not be understood. Now another friend, who’s partner has passed whilst on holiday in South America, is trying to get his affairs in order. This is often made impossible by lack of communication or organisation. These three events have left a legacy comprising a mish mash of papers, total confusion, hurried bank withdrawals, surprise discoveries of companies and assets. It’s a heartbreaking shamozzle blundering through and trying to sort their affairs all whilst in a state of heightened emotion and stress.

After three family deaths and as the Executor of 2 wills, I now know what I’m doing . . . I don’t want my family to go through this. So, I have my affairs in order and feel comfort in the fact that should I be hit by a bus crossing that bloody zebra crossing outside work (for that is surely the way I will go, splattered all over some four wheel drive windscreen and decorating their bull bar with my innards), I want to know that my beneficiaries, don’t have to go to such extraordinary, upsetting lengths to settle my affairs.

Get a Will . . I am surrounded by clients who think they’re not ‘worth’ anything. Then you ask if they own their own home and what assets they might have . . .they’re worth about $800,000! Now that’s why you need to make a will. Otherwise most will go in tax and it’s upto the public trustee as to how much goes to your beneficiaries. Plus it’s out of contention for months while probate goes through. Even if you’re a youngling with a bit in the bank GET A WILL (now confess . . .who doesn’t have one!)

Add a Power of Enduring Guardianship/Power of Attorney – this enables your nominee to act in your place if you are incapacitated or to make decisions about your medical care. Rules are different in different states and countries so you need a solicitor to do this. You want someone you trust to turn off your life support, not some doctor who needs the bed for another patient.

Note down all your assets and liabilities including location of statements, share transfers, holdings, bank accounts, pin numbers . . . when you die, your assets are generally frozen. You can only access funds to pay for funerals/wakes. Obviously keep this in a very private place, telling only someone you trust with your life.

Centrally file all your necessary papers and let someone you trust know where they are - These might include:

• Bank Statements
• Credit Card Statements
• Loan documents
• Insurance Policies
• Mortgage
• Title Deeds/Birth Certificates/Citizenship Papers/Passports
• Wills/POA/Testamentary Trust docs
• Car Registration, Cheque books and tax return statements

Allocate any special treasures. My Grandmother had a darling bracelet that all the girls in the family wore as a wedding bracelet. It’s now in the possession of HippyBro who is childless and already married . . . what the? My mother’s gold charm bracelet which also had a few charms I’d bought on my travels was given to my sister in law! For fucks sake I bet she doesn’t even know where it is. My mother in a moment of madness or without consulting anyone, divvied up said possessions. I scored two wedding rings and her engagement ring which didn’t have any sentimental value to me . . .and buckleys of fitting my rather square Celtic mitts. if only she’d asked, I would have loved the “Love Knot” bracelet and the Swiss Chalet charm. Similary, I have made it clear to my mother-in-law that I do not want the chiming clock promised to my first born!

Make your wishes clear. Talk about cremation, burial, being scattered or plonked in a plot. Leave a list of people you would like to be notified of your departure. Although bad news travels fast, they’ll know soon enough. Me, I’m for the oven and recycling on the rose bed!

Now I’m serious folks. . . I see it ALL the time. Get your affairs in order and make life easy for those you leave behind . . . you’ll be feeling no pain but they’ll be shovelling shit from here to eternity!

And after I'm scattered, you can use it as a cookie jar . . .

We're All Bruised Beneath the Skin

The blues have been on the blogosphere for the past few weeks. A combination of summer flu and winter colds, facing the ordinary, pressures of home life and performing below par in exams. Some have closed their blogs, some have resorted to anti-depressants, others have just medicated or drunk their way out of viral lethargy or decided to back off and have some quiet time. For me, it’s been a pain in the arse at work because I work with a couple of wankers that make the whole experience difficult and the frustration of knowing that financial freedom depends on the revival of the Real Estate boom and the fact that three grown adults are living in a house barely big enough for Mrs Tiggywinkle. Even Jeremy fisher had a long back passage!

Then there is always that person that lights your day, makes you realise that your problems are absolutely nothing or if they are serious, give you the comfort that they are being shared by others and that if they can deal with their misfortune, then so probably can we.

There is such a man. He works next door to me. I may have mentioned him before. He’s tall, about 6’ 4” with long legs and an athletic build. He has a bum, unlike most men his age which I’m guessing is early 40’s. He hasn’t deformed the back of his trousers by inserting a bulging wallet, on the contrary, his bulges are exactly as they should be! He has a really decent bum. He dresses casually but well-tailored and obviously expensively. He has an enormous and confident stride but there’s something very tragic about him.

The first time I saw his face, I took a breath. Not one of those “OMG he’s drop dead gorgeous breaths”. No, it was one of those embarrassingly audible “Jezus what happened to you” breaths. This fellow has obviously been in a fire. A severe one. His face is just about melted and he has no ears. Reconstructive grafts have done the best they can to give his lidless eyes some expression and I suspect his lips have been formed from the darker skin on his inner thigh (that’s where they get ‘nipple’ skin for breast reconstructions apparently). He has a Michael Jackson nose ‘nuf said. His fine brown hair grows over 75% of his head but simply won’t take root just above what is left of his right ear. What is there, is impeccably trimmed and well groomed. His hands too have been ravaged by flames and a couple of his fingers are missing but this man smiles . . . greets strangers confidently and gives the impression that he’s just glad to be alive. I suspect he is much loved.

We all have our crosses to bear I guess, and I’m happy to help anyone bear theirs if they need a friend but it’s nice to know that we are all basically of the same ilk. Touched by blessings and tragedy alike and as some will tell you, sometimes they come together in the same package.

He doesn’t avoid the gasps and gazes, he strides confidently up the hill back towards his office carrying his juice and sandwich. He has an energy that shows even though he’s been dealt the cruellest blow, he’s full of life. He tips his head and every time I see him he says ‘G’day . . nice day”. I’ve never had the courage to ask him his name or what left him in such a state but I look forward to our little meet and greet at lunchtime . . he makes me feel very humble when I complain about the trivial but also makes me feel rather relieved and amazed because he seems to treat the gazes of others as part of life and not worthy of disdain, he’s just getting’ on with it!

The Be All and the End All

We all want our children to be educational successes - well don't we? We pay for private education, out of hours tutoring (well I didn't but many do), we make them sit selective school exams, we nag about homework, attend Parent Teacher evenings and reward them if some $35,000 a year teacher says they're great and berate them if they're not. We frame their certificates, display their trophies, send them on excursions to Japan and Vanauatu that we can't afford and take great kudos from their academic achievements as if they are the best in show. But the bottom line is, all you can give your kids is a good education and that's not just via the school system. I don't necessarily mean an expensive private education but pay attention to what they're doing at school, support educational initiatives at home and let them know what is available to them when they make that year 12 choice. It isn't easy at 18 to decide what you want to be when you grow up and it certainly isn't made easier when parents have the expectation that their fabulous young prodegy will become a Rocket Scientist.

My two have both attended university. ClareBear sort of likes what she does as a Graphic Designer but is now thinking of moving into Account Management or Web Design. My son is close to the end of his Horticulture degree and one of only 4 students who passed year 3! He's thinking of event management. (Just as well because he's a shit gardener). My niece is a really bright girl. Went to uni and is now serving in a bar and living with a DJ. Another niece scored a great university admission indicator - pursued Optometry for 3 weeks and ended up as a shop assistant. Both my brothers are Electricians and earning more money than I could ever hope to achieve. My brother-in-law is a plumber and simply doesn't do poo any more. My year 10 qualifying sister in law is managing a major health fund branch and making more than I am. My uber bright nephew mucked around in high school and with an intellect that could have seen him achieve an academic career, simply didn't have the application but now he has a trade that will see him well into the future. I'm a teacher who couldn't cop the pace as a youngling and became a copywriter and very ordinary administrator.

My point? Take the pressure off. It's great to have kids who are in the gifted and talented class in 3rd grade, to flash their report cards or brag about their reading age but it's no indication of what they'll become, study or achieve. It's crazy to expect an 18 year old to make a career based decision and choose an educational path to get them there which is why so many flounder in second or third year apprenticeships and university.

Years ago, in a more affluent time, I had cleaners who came in once a fortnight to do bathrooms and floors . . their income was double my so called degree vocation and far more satisfying. They cleaned like dervishes, the house was visibly fantastic when I came home and smelled all disinfecty and wonderful. Neither could read or write but enjoyed an overseas holiday each year, set their children up with a small deposit on their homes and retired fat and happy to Queensland.

As someone who has survived the rigors of good employment, bad employment, temping, redundancy and now a job that pays well but is ultimately unsatisfying, I really wish I hadn't felt the parental pressure to attend university. I would have had so much more satisfaction out of nursing or social work or even dog breeding . . . we are the sum of our parts and educational achievement is a nanospec of our many capabilities and talents. Let's help our younglings discover what's available - only with knowledge comes the ability to make an informed decision about their future - and if it's a wrong decision . . .it's not a hanging offence, there's always time to begin again and try something new.

Here endeth the first lesson.

Nellienomics

Maybe there's someone out there who can explain in simple terms some basic economic principles to me. We are in a resources boom. Consumer spending is up, debt levels are at an all time high, unemployment at an all time low, the dollar is .88 cents to the greenback, the economy is booming and an election is looming so why, please tell me why, would the Reserve Bank put up interest rates! We're at a point of all time prosperity by Australian terms but mortagees are defaulting, housing has slumped, credit card and mortgage debt is unrealistic and the hope of the Australian dream - owning your little 500sqm block of land with an eve-less house and no room for a dog - is becoming a fading reality. Surely if things are prosperous, the population benefits but I just don't get it. Who's pockets are being lined? Not mine that's for sure.

When I bought my first home, interest rates were 16% and we had a further 'first home buyers' loan which was government sponsored for 12%. Inflation was at 7% and the country was so close to being fucked it wasn't funny. Vegetables were cheap, meat was cheap, services were cheap. Today, we're paying 7.5% tops in mortgage interest . . .things are good. OK broccoli is expensive today $7.00 a kilo for the smelly florette, but most people don't like broccoli. Meat is unaffordable - for a country that has survived on the sheep's back, lamb is more expensive than lobster and I bought two Atlantic Salmon tails for DrummerBoy and I tonight at $26.00 a kilo. Farmed locally in Tasmania! WTF? The drought has broken or so we're told so why, oh why are things so expensive and why the need to charge us more. It's enough to make me embrace socialism to be honest.

My income - generous by most standards (but sadly single) is considered the average. Fuck knows how people on less than me survive. I really need to bone up on economics because it seems the more prosperous the country gets, the more the individual pays and I'm jack of it quite frankly. I can't be placated with tax cuts that will see $6.0o a week show in my net income and a social security system that doesn't consider superannuation an 'asset' in their assets test. (sorry retirees) Just as things seem to be going good - the 'economists' preach doom and gloom and spoil it. So if you can explain to me why in one of the most prosperous nations of the world, interest rates might rise . . I'm ready to listen.

Is Monogamy a Myth

I just watched a little documentary on divorce. Three billion dollars a year is spent on Australian weddings. You know the full merangue dress, 200 guests, flowers, cars, marquee's or harbourside venues, romance and photographs but six billion is spent on divorce. This program featured, 'normal' people, working class, middle class, swingers, family people and yet the promise hadn't come to fruition for them, men or women.

Then ClareBear emerged from her bedroom saying "I can't understand why men find women so impossible to understand". She has an interest in a fellow who doesn't seem to comprehend that she has an interest. He flirts but that's it. She's made it perfectly clear that she's interested but he just doesn't get it. Is that our problem? We just don't get each other?

I have good relationships with men, boys, in-betweens but the rift between the sexes is difficult to bridge. I often wonder (and I think I am 'wondering' now) whether I would have stayed married had my lovely boy not passed so young. I was 32, he 35 we had a two year old and a four year old, a mortgage that was breaking our back but by and large we were happy. We didn't fight, but our hours were weird. I was a stay-at-home mum, keeping daytime routines with small children, him working evenings and often not coming home until late. How long could we have sustained this ships in the night arrangement? I really don't know and it's a question that for some reason preys on my mind. Not that it matters.

There seem to be three waves of separation. The first 4 years. When the magic of the glamfest fades and issues such as family and becoming seriously financially committed raise their ugly head. One partner is ready, the other isn't. Then there's the famous 7 year itch which in my experience is more like 10 or 12 years when it all just gets too hard and the trials of owning the Australian dream and raising a young family just springs to breaking point like a perished rubber band and one partner decides it's too much. Then there's the 20 year "Who the hell are you?" when all that family and career stuff has been achieved and two people find themselves locked in a relationship without really knowing each other. Now this is a simplistic analysis to say the least but it has borne out in my experience. Then, to contradict this theory (I sometimes hate being a Libran) there are the childhood sweethearts and I know a few. One relationship that has held through the decades and beyond the kids leaving home. I envy those but wonder whether the people involved ever wonder what it would be like to 'be' with someone else.

I'm just throwing this out there. I admire fidelity and no matter why people don't get on and resolve to go their separate ways, I find it really hard to tolerate infidelity. Cheat and you're gone . . . but I guess we have to look beyond the cheating as to the reason for it. I think some people get so safe in their relationships that they think a little fling won't cause too much havoc.

The bottom line: I have a theory that monogomy isn't natural, we're meant to have several partners - not necessarily at the same time of course - but it is what society expects and when you decide to cohabit or marry, fidelity is one of the most important ties that binds. I don't know whether our relationship would have stood the test of time. I know that I haven't really been looking for another but after all these years, I can be more objective. Then the romantic in me hits hard. I'm still looking for that knight in a shining boiler suit for all I care, as long as he's intelligent, funny, reliable and promises that monogomy is not a myth.