Sunday, April 15, 2012
In a New York Minute
Thursday, August 18, 2011
New York to New Paltz
I sobbed my way to the airport and then again as I waited for the plane to leave, and still as we took off the ground. It wsan't until we had left behind the patchwork of greens, golds and browns that make up the landscape of my home that I was able to look forward to the adventure that lies ahead. The cotton wool divide between me and England provided barrier enough for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and start getting excited about my year in America. In truth, I've not felt as I anticipated feeling. With momentary exceptions, I've just not found the explosive excitement that usually accompanies my travels. Still, it's early days yet and I'm sure once I have a room to call home things will start falling into place. I love to sit by the window, despite rendering myself looless for much of the journey. I love to watch the land slip into the sea and back to land again. This time we'd taken a northern route so approximately half way through the flight the seascape turned into small mountains capped with ice. Beautiful. We flew over Canada down to Newark airport. The food was alright; I swear it's better than it used to be, but I missed the slice of plastic cheese! Upon approaching land, my usual jubilation was non existent. The land I saw below me was not a land I knew. It is not my country and not a place I recognise, despite visiting countless times.
Other than my sobbing, the flight was uneventful. Unable to sleep, I watched the inflight films: Gnomeo and Juliet and Gulliver's Travels. Both very silly and remind me why I don't watch films much these days. Gulliver's Travels proved to be yet another vehicle for Jack Black. The third film I watched was Chronicles of Narnia Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The films are a little Hollywood for my liking but as I'm an childhood fan of the books by C.S. Lewis, I'm still fond of them. Though the young girl who plays Lucy should really check her acting, lovely though she is. (Everyone's a critic!). I found myself getting choked up at every single sentimental point in the movie. The worst being the point in Chronicles of Narnia when the characters are saying goodbye. I found my tears starting to flow all over again. My misery was exacerbated by my oh-so-wise choice of a program about West End Theatre. Luckily I spent most of that getting annoyed about current theatre catering to the lowest common denominator with shows based on movies or making up stories from one band or singer. Still, that's where the money lies these days.
I must ask my sister about the make up of an aeroplane and how the hell can it fly?
Arriving in the US, it was raining. A lot. Luckily there is an airport shuttle that takes you directly from door to door. I checked into the hostel in the torrential downpour. My bags were - and are - cumbersome. Thanks to Sonia for helping me get to the airport in London. If I'd gone on my own, I think I would have cancelled the whole trip. My dorm in the hostel was in the same building as last time, so in a way, it was like coming home. It was around twelve by the time I'd checked in. Most of the others were already asleep (they told me later they'd gone to bed early because of the rain). I left to get some water and stopped in for a nightcap in the pub across the street. There's something very weird about American pubs. I think it's because of the TV screens. In England, many pubs have TV screens but they are turned on for big games and don't monoploise the room. In the US, they have walls of them that are on constantly. This changes the atmosphere in the pub. In England, the pub is more about the social side of things rather than about the drink. It's a common place where people can meet their friends and spend a couple of hours chatting or whatever before returning to the obligations of their home lives. Here it seems like a place to drink beer and watch a game. Fine, but it's not the same as pubs back home. I think many people outside the UK think we're all about the drink because people often go to the pub several evenings a week. Not to deny we drink a lot, but other people don't necessarily see that the pub functions as a part of the community, rather than just a place to get pissed. In any case, I ordered a gin & tonic and realised I need to specify the call brands that I know or I need to familiarise myself with 'house' brands here. And I didn't get asked for ID. In fact, I've been here four days now and I haven't been asked for ID once. A depressing fact that now I really do look over 25 - in fact, someone even asked me if I've got kids! What's that about??
The next morning (Monday 15th August) everyone said goodmorning, as friendly people are wont to do. If you're not fussy about privacy, sleeping in a dorm is by far the most social way to travel, not to mention cheaper. One guy, I would soon discover was an Australian called Andrew, saw my hoop on top of my suitcase and asked if he could have a go. It turns out he's really rather good. We got talking and decided to spend the day together. We went to the Guggenheim Museum, a beautiful modern sculpture of a building whcih houses many wonderful works of modern art. The featured artist was a Korean artist named Lee Ufan whose work explores space and the relationship between objects. We also saw Picassos and Kadinskys and Manets. Shortly after leaving the museum, the skies turned against us and wreaked a kind of revenge that would have scared Noah into building another boat. We made our soaked selves as quickly back to the hostel looking and feeling as if we'd been swimming in our clothes. Changing quickly, we made our way the 10 blocks or so down to Times Square where we dined at Bubba Gumps, a Forrest Gump themed restaurant that serve shrimp/prawns by the bucket load in a million different varieties. I had a bucket of shrimp, fish and lobster claws (exchanged the fries for broccolli to save guilt) It's not an elegant meal, but truly yum. Anyway, I'd not eaten for almost exactly 24 hours so I was ravenous. We then proceeded to do New York City in a truly Anglo-Aussi manner by commencing on a mini pub crawl, getting drunk on a mix of beer, gin & tonic and margheritas.
Andrew and I went for breakfast the next morning again in Times Square. Well, if it's on your doorstep, why not? We ate this time in Planet Hollywood for the shame, or touristy fun. The rest of the day was uneventful. We both sat around at the hostel planning subsequent trips, travel and accomodation. We lunched at Wendy's - they do the most fantastic apple and pecan salad - before arranging to leave town. I hailed a yellow New York cab and drove off to Port Authority Bus Station on 42nd Street. Somehow I managed to haul all the luggage that seemed to have accumulated during my two days in NY (This was amazing as I'd not actually bought anything) to the bus that would take me to my home for the next year: New Paltz.
Observation: New Yorkers are as friendly as Londoners.
It took no longer than 10 minutes of the journey for the landscape to alter beyond recognition. The cityscape disappeared and in it's place were hills blanketed in green upon green upon green. I spotted many deer along the route as well as a groundhog! I'd not seen one of those for 6 years.
I have spent the last day or so exploring the town. The first thing I saw was a big old purple house advertising psychic readings. It's a hippy town. Lots of veggie shops and hippy clothes and the whole thing smells like incense.
More on New Paltz to come.
Friday, August 12, 2011
USA OKay
I have paid little attention to this blog for the last few years. I think it comes from the thought that if you have time to publish how much you are enjoying something, you are probably not enjoying it as much as you claim.
This is, however, before I was accepted to spend a year of my degree studying in New York. I have had many requests for me to start a blog so I'm rekindling this one. Here y'are folks! Get happy.
I'm panicking about the weight in my suitcase at the moment. And doing everything I can to avoid the issue altogether. Hence epidsodes of Midsomer Murders and now a bottle of wine. So, with a day and a half to go, I bid you adieu.
Bucket List
My list of things to do before I die...
Friday, April 22, 2011
When I Rule The World
There will come a time when I shall be appointed ruler of the Earth. At this point, life will be good, and happy and safe. There will however, be certain rules that must be obeyed and punishment for disobeying will be draconian.
I have a small but increasing Ministry. I would like to introduce you to my ministers.
Minister of Crime and Justice
Minister of Education
Minister of Military Offence
Minister of Trade and Labour
Minister of International Affairs: Asia
Minister of Political Debate
Minister of Athletic Activity
Minister of Religious Passivism
- People who drop litter shall be shot in the knee. This shall be known as kneecapping.
- There will be no chewing gum, just a plethora of mints
- People caught spitting will also be shot in the knee
- Everyone will be trained whilst young to use a toilet, and have catch up sessions regularly.
- There will be a device installed to detect if people have used soap after using the loo. People who haven't shall be subject to electric shock.
- Cafes shall be instructed to stay open longer as they are a far better environment to study than pubs.
- Prostitution will be legal and all practitioners will be housed and tested regularly. (What's the point in opening up the store if you give the goods away?)
This list is subject to infrequent updates and ammendments.
.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Because I could not stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death
by Emily Dickinson
.
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –
Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
Since then – ’tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –
.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Ugh
I haven't really touched this blog in a few years. I've been too busy living the London life and going out, drinking and eating out.
I've taken classes at Central School of Speech and Drama, spent far far too much money at Harrods, seen more theatre than I've done...ever. Been to concerts both local gigs and huge shows at the O2. I've gotten drunk and done stupid things, I've had to re-learn how much alcohol I can tolerate (turns out it's not a lot). I've spent the night locked in a graveyard, spent countless nights trying to get home after a late night out. I have had six places to call home in the last three years, missed my Home home terribly and then remembered why I left in the first place.
I've had friends from every country one can imagine without stepping outside my own, and learnt to value the things that are truly British. I've had weekends in Austria and Paris and planned many, many more places to visit.
It's been fabulous and although I've not given up on that, I've suddenly found myself being very broke and I'm looking for ways to keep me occupied that leaves no temptation to spend money. Sometimes I go to museums and galleries, but they have irresistable gift shops. Shops with books. And as I have two severe problems; compulsive spending disorder and compulsive book buying disorder, I have to steer well clear.
So, that leads me to here. I've been reading Julie and Julia, the story of Julia Child and her 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking' and Julie Powell, the woman who blogged about working through all the recipes fifty years later. I remembered I had this blog thing here and though I have nothing as interesting to talk about, it might stand as a diary to innane activities.
I spent the last week scoffing the best part of a biscuit factory. Suddenly realising I'm travelling to the States in August and it's going to be hotter than hell, I should lose weight so I can get some summer clothing without looking like a hippopotomus has squeezed into a sundress.
I'm observing Lent, which basically means I've given up chocolate, alcohol and bread (major weaknesses) and minimised the amount of dairy products I am using. This was great for about three weeks until I realised that certain biscuits have no dairy in them. Then I got hungry. Now I'm finished, I can go back to being good.
So, my basic diet will be largely fish and salad or vegetables. The hardest days are when I'm not working, because there's too much time to sit around and feel hungry. Still, I've given up bread which is the hardest thing of all! And cheese too... I love cheese.
That's sacrifice for you.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
MoonStruck
Look to the Moon
When She is round
Good luck to you will then abound.
What you seek for shall be found,
In sea or sky or solid ground.
.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Important Lesson
Four worms were placed into four separate jars.
The first worm was put into a jar of alcohol.
The second worm was put into a jar of cigarette smoke.
The third worm was put into a jar of sperm.
The fourth worm was put into a jar of soil.
After one day, these were the results:
The first worm in alcohol - dead.
Second worm in cigarette smoke - dead.
Third worm in sperm - dead.
Fourth worm in soil - alive.
Lesson:As long as you drink, smoke and have sex, you won’t get worms.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Time Now...
Ladles and Jelly Spoons,
It is with deep regret that I have to inform you that this blog is a pile of ... cabbage. The writing isn't good and hasn't been for some time now. I enjoyed it in the beginning, but it became just somewhere to bitch and whine.
So, I'm moving to London. I'm getting a life. I'm going to live until I die.
I made up my mind back in Chelsea, when I go, I'm going like Elsie!!!
Goodbye, goodbye....
Chez xoxo
Monday, March 12, 2007
*Cheers*
I work behind the bar in my local pub. A small dark pub, we don't get all those lager louts in. They can't comprehend a bar without a pool table/fruit machine/television/jukebox. We just get all the old sods, the middle aged mutton-dressed-as-lamb tramps and the occassional 'bohemian' young misfit. The builders and plumbers cram up one end, the business people and teachers take up the other and everyone else fills the space in between. The younger people tend to use the tables, and the outside in the summer.
Disclaimer: I love my job. I really, really do. I've had some fabulous times behind that bar, and some fabulous times the other side! Most of the people who come in to drink are wonderful. Even after a few!
My favourite customers are the ones that seem to think that you've reached the height of your potential by serving a (bloody good) pint in the local. And that, of course, is what you've dreamed of all your life.
And what about those who ridicule you for being....how shall I say this.....odd? Goodness, what would life be like if we allowed all these oddities in our personalities to show through? Can you imagine? There would be people running (well, probably walking - running would show too much enthusiasm) around being...gasp...different. All because their lives are so very interesting with their wake up, get dressed in some attractive shade of grey, and go to their very-well-paid-but-is-it-really-what-you-dreamed-of work and come home and go to the pub EVERY NIGHT! Are people not allowed to be a bit 'colourful' these days? What about dreams? Have they flown too? So what if I'm not the same? And so what if I am still here? SO WHAT? Do you really think that telling me "No one is going to do it for you" is going to help or inspire me in any way at all? Why the heck don't you just leave me alone and stop trying to give me your advice. Oh yes, I can see it worked so well on your own life you have to inflict it on mine. I'll live the way I want to live, when I want to live it. Go away, you stuck up fools.
Hey! You know what? Did you know that when you, as a customer, are rude to the staff, or dismiss them completely, it actually makes their day better? They'll give you all their attention if you wave your glass or money at them - or just hold out your glass and nod. Please and thank you's are so last century. And it really makes them want to smile and serve you well. Don't worry about them spitting in your drink!
What about mumbling? Or even better - chewing. Only enough mind, so the person serving you can't quite make out what you are saying and has to ask you to repeat it three times. For an extra treat, you can look at her as if she's stupid and ask her if she's deaf. Go ahead. Make her day. Don't forget to stick the gum under the bar before you leave! Whispering in the corner with one of those fifty year old women who dress like they think they're sixteen (complete with lip and navel piercings) is a good way to make the staff want to serve you, especially when you raise your voice on certain words that show them that you are taking the effort to involve them in your conversation. Ensure that you stop talking when they come near though, so you can give them your full attention.
Send your drink back a few times as well. The barperson probably has a hangover and didn't realise that you've changed to vodka and tonic today when before you've always had vodka and diet coke. (Here's a good point to offer coke to the bar person). Be real specific with your order as well....Whisky and soda in a tall glass filled half way up with ice. When you get a tall glass of whisky and soda filled up half way with ice, don't bother to stop to think about what you ordered. Try that look we practised before that lets them know you think they are stupid, and demand an exchange. A few extra ice cubes will never do. It ruins the whole drinking experience don't you know. This works really well if you can arrange it so that this whole exchange happens right in front of the barperson's friends.
When you eventually get around to paying for your drink, stroke the barmaid's hand as you hand the coins to her. It'll send shivers up her spine - if you know what I mean. Oh, and make sure that whenever she turns around she can always meet your gaze, you know that the eyes are the windows to the soul and if she could only see deep enough she would know what a genuine soul you are. When she goes on a break, make sure you are standing so you can see her at all times. You don't want anyone else getting too close to her now!
What about the jokes? They've only heard that one oh, I don't know....seventeen times before! Tell it again! Tell it again! It can only get funnier! If you are feeling really clever, when you ask for your drink, you can change the names of the beers to something much more amusing. (Some grand ones are Dynamite into Dynorod, Swill into Swilly, Comfortably Numb into Uncomfortably Numb and Tiger into Roooaaaar!) This one always gets the barmaid going. And when you go to give her your money, you will seem really young and cool if you call it shrapnel, or shillings and whatever....wise and cool and young. The barperson really needs the exercise, so ordering one drink at a time is great - she'll appreciate the opportunity to run up and down the bar seven times per customer. And after all that running around, they'll obviously need a break, so order the stout (Guinness, Murphys) last, she can catch her breath while she waits for it to pour, very, very, slowly.
If you walk behind her, the barmaid would love to have her ass grabbed. I really mean it. Go ahead. You know you want to. She'll love you for it. If you're not quite up to that, or if you are too Fat to squeeze through that five foot gap behind her, you can softly put your hands around her waist and move her out the way, she'll appreciate your gentleness.
Of course, the barmaid will get her tits out for you, if you'd only ask. And she really, really wants your number. If she has neglected to ask you for it, you could always use your initiative and 'borrow' her number from one of her friends' phones when they aren't looking. After you've exchanged numbers, you couldn't possibly walk her home could you? Protect her from those horrible monsters hiding in the bushes! Tell you what, if she's too shy to accept an escort home, you could always quietly follow her about ten paces behind, just in case.... you'll have to dodge behind trees if she happens to look your way though.
Now you have her number, don't forget to text her three or four times a day. She'll most appreciate it if you tell her you'll pick her up from college and the two of you can go out for a meal. If she hasn't any money to reply to your messages, try leaving a letter or three behind the bar for her next time she works. Make sure it's not less than two double pages long though! She will delight in the time it takes to read your marvellous penmanship. Leaving money with it will make her feel extra special! If you're worried it'll make her seem like a whore, you can always leave it in the form of vouchers for one of her favourite shops. (Of course you will have made the effort to find this out) Listen in to all her coversations with other people, just in case there is something she forgot to tell you. Let her know how disappointed you were that she didn't talk to you much last week by sulking or banging your head on the wall. You won't get anywhere if people don't know how you feel, you know!
One final word: Make sure you are absolutely shit faced by last orders, and spend the next half hour trying to persuade them into serving you more alcohol, just one more! You'll drink it very quickly! If you can manage it, you might throw up half the drink you've had that evening, plus that kebab you ate earlier. Try and aim it so it goes on the floor, on the seat and at least three other customers' shoes. Double points if you hit one of the staff as well. Then curl up on a seat in the corner and show them you've enjoyed your evening so much by staying until all the lights are off and they are holding their coats ready to go home.
Welcome to my world.
Enjoy your next night out!
Heavily editied for an underage audience
Friday, March 09, 2007
Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird,
and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Just Plain Chez
I am seven hundred and fifty three years old, and after too long in the confines of structured education and the meagre shanty I call home, I now feel ready to grow and discover the delights this planet has to offer.
I am a dynamic and memorable member of society, and have had the opportunity and good fortune to be able to visit many other worlds, aided by nothing but my own knowledge and considerable imagination. The worlds' I visit are glorious, each one surpassing the last. I have encountered many fascinating beings during my explorations, some similar to our own physical selves, others existing in forms beyond the limits of the average human comprehension.
I am an observer of people and use what I have learned to interact with the inhabitants of other worlds, and to create scenes that would cause explosions in the heads of a normal human being.
In the night I wander through the sunlit lands of the Alaskan deserts, and during the day I rest in the deep jungles of South Texas.
I love to move and dance. I move with the wind to foreign lands where I use the native dances to create visions of unseen light and music.
I've lived my little dramas with all the world as my stage. Unfortunately mankind was too young to be an appreciative audience so I flew to the netherworlds where I ate dragons' eggs, thus causing the extinction of their species.
I play the cello and once seduced a whole pack of trolls when I played in the inbetweens. My favourite classical piece is the Flower Duet from Lakme (or at least it was my favourite until it was abused by British Airways advertising) which I once sung with Jocasta before she gave birth to the child who would later cause the death of his father.
I invited the three Witches from Macbeth to join my coven, but they declined when they discovered my favourite colour was octarine, a colour favoured by their immortal enemies.
I hate football, but only since I was kicked in the shin by a football glove. Swimming is what I really love. I once swam with Moby Dick and made love to Captain Ahab before breakfast.
I was a wicked child who once put vaseline on the stairs of the convent halls before the Nuns' came down for Mass and burnt down theschool's attic. Incidentally, I was not the one who struck the first match.
Once, whilst on a holiday in the Pyranees, I saved my family from a pack of evil Moose(s?). The Moose(s) disappeared and we drove into the mountains unscathed.
Every ten years I buy shares in bottled spring water and gift them to the first person who gives me a red rose.
On tuesdays, I sing with a choir of Angels and paint rainbows across the skies. I commanded the Starship Enterprise to go where no one had gone before. I looked into the abyss to rescue a little lost pig before the abyss looked back into me.
I had intended to spend the next few days following the second star to the right and flying on till morning, but alas, I have to go to work.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
That Old Feeling
Have you ever had that feeling when you wake up in the morning? The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the sky is bluer than it has ever been and everything is just perfect.
Then, you trip on your way down the stairs and hit every single step - hard.
Well, I've hit just about every step and I'm jumping off the stairs before I hit the next one.
That's all.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Still Fat
Yes - I'm Still FAT! In Fact, I'm More Fat! When Is This Reign Of Terror Going To End? See - And I Thought My New Red Underwear Was Nice!
| Age | 23 |
| Nickname | Chronic Obesity |
| Location | In The Fridge |
| Occupation | Professional Pie Swallower |
| Hobbies | Food, Eating, Watching TV. Poking Marshmallows. |
| Pets | I Had A Dog. I Sat On Him. I Didn't See Him, I Swear! I Think He Died Of Shock Or Broken Bones. |
| Latest News | Now I think I might just go hang myself in the oven. Perhaps I'll munch on that roast chicken left over from dinner last night whilst I'm in there. It'll make the heat and the death part less miserable. |
| Fears | Not Enough Food. And The Scale. I Swear It's Busted. I Only Stood On It Once And Now It Sparks - If I Can Find It! |
| Favourite Quote | "Eat to the Beat" "Pull Up A Seat While You Dine At The Fridge" |
Sunday, January 28, 2007
One Fine Day...
One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight,
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other,
One was blind and the other couldn't see
So they chose a dummy for a referee.
A blind man went to see fair play,
A dumb man went to shout "hooray!"
A paralysed donkey passing by,
Kicked the blind man in the eye,
Knocked him through a nine inch wall,
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all,
A deaf policeman heard the noise,
And came to arrest the two dead boys,
If you don't believe this story's true,
Ask the blind man he saw it too!
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Kubla Khan
Kubla Khan
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Death is Nothing at All
My Grandmother died. I am beside myself with grief. She meant so much to me, that old woman. So so so very much. I cannot even put into words how much I am going to miss her.
I have been asked to read at her funeral. She had written in her prayer book a poem she wanted read.
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away in to the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way you used to.
Put no difference into your tone,
Laugh as we always laughed,
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household name it ever was,
Let it be spoken without effort,
Without the ghost of a shadow in it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
What is death but a negligable accident?
Why should I be out of mind,
Because I am out of sight?
Somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The Sad Passing Of Common Sense
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years.
No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place.
Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Panadol, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.
Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault. Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realise that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.
He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm A Victim.
Not many attended his funeral because so few realised he was gone.
If you still remember him pass this on. If not join the majority and do nothing.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Cheese Please
Cheese is good.
Cheese is yellow. Cheese is orange.
Sometimes Cheese is even blue.
Cheese is pleasing.
Cheese comes big. Cheese comes small.
Cheese comes in virtually any size at all.
I like Cheese. Do you?
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Embraceable You
Definition of 'Hug' from Dictionary.com
1, To clasp or hold closely, especially in the arms, as in affection; embrace.
2, To hold steadfastly to; cherish
3, To stay close to
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I've been feeling pretty low recently. Not that I-want-to-kill-myself kind of low, just a little down in spirit. I just love hugging. I think it's the greatest thing in the world! And it's low-fat! I think quite often that a hug is all you need. I know I could do with one right now. No creepy people need apply.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hugs For Health says:
When sharing hugs huggers MUST follow the rules to safe hugging also known as:
Hug Etiquette:
1. Be respectful of one another, as not everyone is a hugger.
2. Ask permission when sharing hugs.
Sometimes I just want to cry, I think I need a hug. Just someone to walk up to me and say "You're looking down today" and hug me. Actual physical human contact. A warm friendly hug. Someone who wants nothing more than to hug me. A hug that doesn't suggest anything more. A hug that doesn't involve a pat on the back and a removal, like one removes and offending piece of dust from one's clothing.
I want to smile again, I want to laugh. Really laugh, because I am happy, not because a laugh seems appropriate. I want to walk with a spring in my step and be glad the sun has risen and the day is new. I want to be glad to see the people around me, and to engage in happy and witty conversation. I don't want to drag them down with me.
I want to know why everything that happened, happened. I want to know why I can't let it go. Why it haunts my every waking thought and infiltrates my dreams. I want to know why I just don't care about anything, or anyone around me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I want to sleep, sleep for a thousand years.....and wake to a brand new day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself"
Saturday, November 12, 2005
The Fat of The Land
I weigh so very much. I'm Fat. There's no getting around that fact. Fat, fat, fat, fat. The fattest of them all. Thunder thighs, lard arse, double chins, saggy belly...you name it, it's there - poking out and telling everyone how awfully fat I am. I don't know why people can stand to look at me. It's gross, it's disgusting. And that is with clothes on!
So, I've decided to do something about it. No matter how much it hurts, it's got to be better than eating myself into an early grave. Grossness.
You Are Fat, You Know You Are,
Lose That Weight And You'll Go Far.
You're A Size That We All Hate,
Lose It Now And Be Size Eight!
Lose That Weight!
Lose That Weight!
After all, you can never be too rich or too thin.
Click *Here* To Listen To My Meditation
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Katrina, Part 2: The Week In Hell
Emma, Sara, Lauren and Chez on the pickup truck just before we left for our $10 per person trip to the Superdome. There were 8 of us, and all our luggage on that truck! I found this picture on the website of Sydney Anglicans, an Australian Christian Newspaper that had done an article on Emma.
Pete, Emma, Sara, Chez and Lauren - before we knew what we were getting into!
Mick, Jo, Emma, Sara, Chez, Sirisom and Lauren's bum. See how the wind was blowing? It was whipping up loads of sand and blowing it hard into our faces and legs. It was actually quite painful. Epecially when it got in our eyes.
Queing sunday afternoon
Getting closer!
The line splits to two entrances - we still had about an hour to go before we got inside. We were interviewed whilst we were waiting by a TV crew.
The ramps around the dome, above the seating area. These quickly got to be disgusting.
Two children sitting behind us. We made 'hurricane' bracelets. I do hope they are safe and well.
Sirisom and the two children
Inside the dome. This is where we ate, slept and spent most of our time until we got out.
Over crowded, over heated and dirty. A delightful situation.
My dearest friends, Sirisom from Thailand and Sara-Lisa from Canada
The storm hit monday morning. We were kept away from the doors.
When the roof started to come off, they moved everyone to the corridors. No lights but far more comfortable than those plastic chairs!
The light broke through the holes in the roof.
We spent the days following the light around the dome.
Finally on tuesday, they let people outside. Smokers only at first, then everyone. Everywhere was destroyed and the water was still rising.
People broke through the barriers into all levels of the dome.
Samuel and Emma at a message board put up for people to leave notices of their location.
Outside, but limited space.
The sun started shining again almost immediately. It was so very hot.
People crowding outside to avoid being inside in the gloom and the stench. We were already aware of trouble brewing because of the appearance of more military people and the displays of weapons. Jo and I were making our way outside for a cigarette when we heard a group of people chanting. We looked at each other, it sounded quite like a riot. But our curiosity overwhelming us, we went closer and the chanting turned into singing. There was a group of people singing gospel songs outside. Celebrating that they were all alive. It was one of the most amazing sounds I have ever heard.
The miliary rations. They sure beat camp food!!
On the third day, they ran out of food. Here are eight children sharing one packet of crackers.
The 'internationals' gathered together back on the plastic chairs. It was getting dangerous for us to be scattered around separately. All the guys sat around the girls with bags around them. They feared we would be targetted for being white. Jo and I were warned not to speak to any of the locals and not to talk whilst we were separate from the group as our accents gave us away. People were aware that the military were trying to get us out.
On wednesday, they took all the 'internationals' to the basketball arena a few feet away. They were using the arena as a medical centre.
Safe , at least temporarily, from the brewing anger in the dome, we could only look at the devastation around us.
We volunteered to help with the sick people in the arena. I was a pharmacy runner for triage and helped out with general other bits. There was one woman in there (Marigold Lewis, I think her name was) who was having panic attacks. The doctors said there was nothing medically wrong with her but they couldn't let her go in that state. I thought she was going to die right there in front of me. She couldn't breathe, her drip was bleeding and when the doctor checked it, he took it out and went to insert it in another place but she had had needles inserted into her so many times, there was no where else to put it, he couldn't do anything but leave it out. I held some padding against the bleeding would because it was bleeding quite heavily and began talking to her. She was angry at me, accusing me of lying to her for repeating a report I had heard that they were trying to move people from the dome into better conditions. She said she had been separated from her family and she didn't know what had happened to them. I carried on talking to her though, about her family, my home, favourite things. We talked about a singer, Della Reese, and she told me she wrote gospel music. She asked if she could sing one of her songs. It was beautiful. It took a while but when she left, she was calling me an angel. I really, really hope she is okay now. She gave me something special to remember.
In the Superdome, they had an emergency generator to provide light. In the arena, there was only the flashing strobe effect of the emergency lighting. It was nauseating. In addition to which, there was a siren that had been activated when the arena lost power. In the seating area the only light that could be seen was from outside during daylight. It looked something like this:
When the people in the dome started rioting and breaking through the security barriers, the military were evacuating everyone from the adjecent buildings. The first people to go were the sick people, and the doctors went with them. All the international people were told to gather their belongings together and to be prepared to have to leave most of them behind. Sara and I went back to check everyone was upstairs with the group and one of the doctors tried to kidnap us. He told us to follow him, and knowing he was one of the doctors, we did. When we saw he was going to get on a truck waiting in the arena, we stopped and objected. He started telling us that it was dangerous to stay, and asking us if we'd ever been in a situation like this before. Of course, we answered no and he told us we were the same age as his daughter and he said that he would be beside himself if he knew she was in this sort of situation. Even so, we refused to go with them. All our friends (and our belongings) were upstairs. I think that hit home the situation even more - when the trained medical staff were leaving because they were scared. We ended up staying another day in New Orleans, but we were all together.
After the doctors left and whilst the last few sick people from the arena were being evacuated, we were made to walk single file, in silence, from the room we had kept our belongings. (I want to say where we had slept but I think few of us did, I know I only collapsed with exhaustion sometime in the early hours of the morning), to the lower level where we were going to be picked up. We had to wait there for over an hour, I don't know how long it was in the end - we had done so much waiting that week.
This is Sirisom - she lightened the whole week for me. She's modelling the stylish plastic socks we made from umbrella bags to protect our feet as we walked through the flood waters. Alas, I could not protect my trainers/sneakers.
The infamous fruit truck (with the whole in the floor) that we were all crammed into like....well....fruit. We were told we couldn't be taken out on military trucks as the people in the dome would see us. I don't know the reason why people were so angry about us. Whether it was because we were simply getting out and they weren't, or whether they thought the white people (though not all of us in the group were in fact white) were being given preferencial treatment, or they knew we were international people and they thought that the American Military should be worrying more about the American people. I don't know - I've heard so many stories I don't know what to believe any more.) The females were told to go first, and that we could only take one small bag with us. We surrendered our bags and said goodbye to the guys as they were helping us on to the truck.
We were taken to the Hyatt hotel just over the road from the dome. More waiting. Someone said that we had been to hell and now we were back in hell's waiting room - or Purgatory. They were joking but it's exactly how it felt. They guys soon joined us and our bags were brought separately. Many of us believed we wouldn't see them again, so it was a nice suprise to see our bags again. At first we weren't allowed to go upstairs and we had to sit in the lobby and stay quiet. There was no food or water, only what we had managed to save from the last few days. There were no toilets either and we were told we had to use plastic cups. Jo and I went to find some secluded spot to use. We were told that we should have two people looking out for us at all times. I needed to go as well, so Jo went first with me and Lauren looking out. As Jo finished, a woman went round the corner with a plastic bag to use. A security guard came round and shouted at the woman telling her she can't just squat in a corner. The way he looked at her was awful. It was as if she was some disgusting animal. We tried to explain to him that she had a plastic bag, but he didn't want to hear. He just stormed off. I didn't go at all then. Later, they sort of allocated a stairwell where we could take the plastic cups. That was simply brilliant. Not only did you have to watch the door, you also had to make sure no one was coming down the stairs. Plus, you had to manage peeing into a cup whilst standing on the stairs. They had a bin to put the cups but that soon overflowed so the stairwell smelt awful as well. Not as bad as in the dome mind.
We spent yet another night here. It wasn't really a surprise to us by this point. However, most of us agreed that it was better that they get the people from the dome out of the city first. At least we were away from the conditions in the dome. We spent the night on the ballroom floor. It was the most comfortable sleep we had had all week, even if we did have to lug all our bags up the longest escalator ever made - with no power!
Later on in the evening (at least I think it was the evening...) the phone lines came back on so we were able to phone home. They also managed to hook up an internet connection so we could all queue and send some emails out. We met some more interesting people in that queue. And a group of us stood together and read the news on the internet. This is where we finally managed to get in contact with our families and friends. On the friday. We had been out of touch since sunday.
This is Emma, bless her. She models the expression most of us were wearing permanently by the end of that week.
This is me. A week without sleep or showering. Ugh. I can't even discribe how awful we all felt. I thought I felt dirty at camp!
This is France - she was the most ungrateful pig I have ever met. The military and the doctors had saved our lives and all she did was complain that they didn't get us out quickly enough. We found a boarded up window and were writing messages of thanks on there...well, most were thankful!
Saturday morning. We were finally getting out of New Orleans!! I've never in my life been so glad to get out of anywhere! It was quite an emotional time. Glad beyond words to be getting out of there, sad to be saying goodbye to all the people we had become so close to over the week. It seems strange that it was only a week. It felt so much longer. We took photos of our group together before we left. Here are Patrick, Pete, Mick, Lauren, Jo, Sara and Chez
We had to walk through some more water to get on to the buses. But it didn't matter. We were safe, we were alive and we were finally getting somewhere else! And to a shower!! A shower!! Oooohhh! We had to walk our bags back down the powerless escalator and queued up for the buses, I remember thanking just about every military person on the way out. As we were leaving I heard one woman make a comment about how they were taking the people from the fancy hotel out before them and how we'd all had showers and had our bags with us....I guess she couldn't have been looking at us well (or been able to smell us!) as we looked as bad as she did. That comment stung quite a bit actually, because we had been through one hell of a lot as well as them, and just because they took us out of the dome on wednesday instead of friday, they only took us a stones throw away to the arena:
where we had had only a strobe light after the sun went down, combined with a loud siren that was triggered when the power went down. We also had the possibility of extra contamination from the illnesses that were in that place. Also, the majority of us were volunteering in the medical centre and spent hours working through the evening and well into the night. The only benefit we really had was the fact that there weren't so many people in the arena as there were in the dome. That's it as far as I can see. I object to the people who seem to think we were living in the lap of luxury. Most of the people from the dome were evacuated from the city before us and we still had no beds, no showers and no toilets! And the only reason we still had our bags with us was that we had clung to them for dear life....almost.
These were some of the last images we have of New Orleans. Fires, floods, people who couldn't get into the dome. It was a mess. A huge, huge mess. I hope they manage to recover from this. I can't imagine what it must be like. I hope I can go back one day....
What we had thought would be a day or two spent safely, if pretty uncomfortably in the SuperDome, turned into "just one more day", "soon" and another "one more day". Imagine the most confined, trapped feeling you have ever felt, then make it last a week, fear for your life, add thirst and fear for using the toilet, take out the light, sleep on a plastic chair in the boiling hot atmosphere and make the area wet. And to top it off, add the most revolting smell you can think of, a smell that makes you want to vomit the whole time you are there and for months afterwards. That's pretty much what you had that week.
Thanks to Sirisom, Pete, and Paul for these pictures.
I heard that Oprah had done a show about New Orleans and Katrina so I went on to her site to check it out. What I found was a series of videos showing her taking to the Mayor and going into the Dome (Brave woman) It was hard for me to watch but it shows what it was like in there.....or gives an idea at least, a very real, horrible idea.