secret pies

Odd odd odd. Somehow I managed to eat a fruitarian's diet without even planning to. Yes throwing the truism 'you are what you eat' out the window I spent the day munching on fruit and nuts. I snuck off and ate a pie.
The joy of secret pies, every guilty vegetarian knows it. How often I have caught drunken vegan friends at the service station scarfing a steak and cheese or mince with potato top. Carbohydrates you can't beat'em.

dind inah din dinah dididin

That's my extremely musical transcription of the theme to Get Smart. I guess those doors have closed on Maxwell for ever now ... I used to really love that show. I used to watch it after school with my sister. 'Good thinking, Ninety-nine' was a catchphrase for us for ages.

Oh well, farewell, Max, and thanks for everything

p.s this shot from the opening credits would have made an excellent Magritte painting, don't you think...

debts not regrets

So in spite of yesterday's surprisingly upbeat tempo, today I just couldn't get anything done. The book review I wrote yesterday I reread today on the way to printing it off and handing it in. I discovered that it doesn't at all tell the journal audience what is in it for them. Trying to rewrite it means reviewing the articles I thought were too dull and/or too jargony ... what a proceedings full of jargon, surely, not?

So why don't I get things done, is it that I have lost interest in my field? I don't think so ... Do I feel that I am not contributing anything worthwhile? ... getting closer ... I am feeling like I just don't care and possibly because my clients don't seem to care and all the effort I put in is not enough for them, the administration doesn't care and my immediate superior doesn't care so I guess it is hard to find a way to caring myself.

My Dad sent me an email this morning regarding arrangements should he and/or his wife lose their capacities all at the same time. My two oldest sisters are to be given guardianship/rights of attorney and directions were given regarding finding wills and instructions as to funerary rights. All this written in Dad's cheery breezy way. Good on them for being so organised and I think that the two older sisters will do a good job when the time comes ... later rather than sooner, touch wood ... I remember though a nunber of years ago he asked only half jokingly who would come and look after him if he should go gaga. I stunned myself by immediately responding that I would and knowing that as soon as I said it, I would do it.

Even though he noted in the email that they were able to afford care for some time if need be, I wonder with all this rethinking my offer still counts. I think perhaps as an adoptee you feel obligations towards your parents are a little bit closer to the skin. I mean you know they made an effort to raise you. Hell, the even went out of their way to get me from some provincial maternity hospital where unwed mothers were forced to hide out. Not that I think the deal was entirely altruistic. My father wanted a son and all that ideal entails, and it took me ages to understand why that created tension between us. Well pops, you pays your money and you take your pick. It took you a long time to accept that, didn't it.

the greenhouse taking over

um attempt number 3
sorry about the sore neck ....

Anyway, went out this morning in search of caffeine and torches ... the former for myself and the latter for my village brothers who all coveted my two in one fluoro and regular light. On tthe wayback I ended up at the biggest op shop I have ever seen. Bargain heaven, almost as the one in Wakanae underneath the 50ft statue of Mary... I kid you not.
I bought three shirts ... one even may be made of natural fibres. The other two from the heyday of the polyester empire. Perhaps photos to come
I haven't been opshopping in years. So it was like dressing the self of my languid youth.

apols for cross and dull posting

I think I should apologise to you my readers ... and myself ... for having the world's dullest blog. I guess partly because my life is hardly inspiring, but there are no excuses.

At dinner the other night with J we were discussing laziness as I have more than a sneaky suspicion that I am lazy. She couldn't believe my evaluation but I am sure it is true. I mentioned a similar conversation I had recently with the pope, a councillor friend of mine. He told me about Suzy Orbach (my former upstairs neighbour in London)'s theory that there is no such thing as laziness but people who don't want things (hard enough). She proposed that what looks like laziness maybe the result of people growing up never being asked what they actually want. Their dreams went unaired, and as a consequence, they forget how to have desires or goals, or don't put much store in them. While I am not entirely sure that this actually constitutes laziness, it struck me that my parents gave us choices, but not really room to think up those choices. That is, they would ask us, do you want to swimming or play tennis ... not what do you want to do? Beside the fact they came up with the parameters, there was always pressure to prefer swimming as that was something I was heavily involved in.

Even now, when people ask me what do you want to do, I never know what to say. I don't have a life plan, and really I don't know if I want them. Things, up till now, have been pretty interesting, being pushed by the tide of affairs of men as J. Caesar (I think) Shakespeare has say. And sometimes when I have a dream like I would like to live facing the hills of Tokamaru, it doesn't occur to me that I could plan a path to get me there.

J said it struck a cord with her, too, for differing reasons. Her mother was unable during her childhood to afford the emotional or financial investment her children's dreams may have cost. J sees that as one of the reasons she drifted for quite a while, and the reason that her older and only brother is somewhat of a princess.

So I would like to plan for a better, happier more invested blog, but I am sorry I truly think I don't know how.

I can though in the interest of visual appeal, since the narrative of self presented here so far is less than rivetting, present some some indirect evidence of my existence. Below is proof that I have abandoned any plans of gardening and had not until yesterday entered my hothouse for oh 3 months:

well it appears that that little plan failed ....

just to say

Long time no typey typey, and yet I am still in the land of the living. Elections have passed by and still no result but am more convinced of a labour victory. Evil smug 'a vote for me is a vote for mainstream nz' shot himself in the foot when people decided they didn't want to be categorised alongside him.
Other than that have been giving kick ass lectures to uninterested clients at the home institution and to incredibly excitable students at former instituition. Get me, special guest star.
Just got home from a shithouse day at the chalkface as the Australians would say brightened by alate afternoon phonecall from J who was in Palmengrad for the day. Went to relax the best restaurant that nobody goes to and ate tasty treats and caught up about her extended family and other bods and sods.
Oh well this sounds like a dull report, so I will sign off and get back to work, whingeing slacker that I am

The wet spot

Quiz question: What band is named after the average volume of ejaculate?
My answer: Loving spoonful
Real answer: 10cc
Doesn't that seem an awfol lot?
Anway we WON the quiz. My team-mates immediately constructed themselves as perpetual winners, and wondered out loud if they would get bored winning every week.

Steven has been staying with me, and well all those other posts about how I am a terrible host .... it turns out that this only applies to family member guests. So or you unrelated types feel free to come on down (especially you MM).

On the work front, the 'clients' are away at the moment, and I have been getting some research done, and enjoying it. Going to Wellibu to give a couple of free lectures to the cool kids of that fine city. Yesterday I went to a work related baby shower. It was kinda fin to bust in on what is usually secret women's business, but they were desperate for numbers. All was going swimmingly until the other revellers(?) demanded that the very very soon to be mother unpack the baby buggy and put it together.... NOt a good idea to get a room full of academics to try and construct a real world tangible useful object. Luckily my colleague's wife who is immensely practical and loathes timewasting let the academics puzzle over it for about 15 minutes then put it together quietly in oh about 2mins flat.

While America fights in Iraq a little black girl waits...

So America, the richest nation on earth, occupiers of other sovereign nations around the globe can't save New Orleans. The news here in the southern hemisphere showed the devestation, the crowds chanting help help help and the (American) commentary helpfully told us that these were the poor people who couldn't get out of the city. They didn't seem to be able to bring themselves to articulate the obvious point, they seemed ALL to be black. Institutionalised racism seems to extend to evacuation plans?!?! After the news, Red Cross runs ads advising us of the 0800 number to donate for flood relief, and the footage is pretty compelling. But as I reach for the phone I remember where Louisiana is. It's part of the richest nation on earth. This is not the tsunami, this is not the devestation of Nauru, Southeast Malakula or the Cook Islands. This is America. We are also told of the looting. We would have to define this in most cases as a survival tactic surely? Since people need food, water and housing, and Bush seems reluctant to provide, people are looking to their own needs. As for the rapes and shootings, we can't condone them, but we can understand desperate times result in desperate acts. Leave people in crowded dirty uncomfortable environments, limit their access to basic human requisites of decent food, water and shelter, slap them in the face with the insult of sending in troops before food, and what do you expect to happen?