Meme

Jodi from Blooming Writer tagged me with a Eight Random Things meme. I just love reading these from an anthropological point of view.

Here are the rules:

1. When tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you.
2. Then post the rules before your list, and list eight random things about yourself.
3. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to eight other people.

Okay, here we go with my eight random things:

1. I read all magazines backwards.
2. I detest contemporary Asian design and the colour burgundy.
3. I have an addiction to playing with bluetac while I work.
4. I have lived in 10 different houses in the past 2 years.

5. If my house burnt down I wouldn’t grab anything.
6. In my dreams I know I am dreaming.
7. I collect Christmas decorations.
8. I love cook books but never use recipes to cook.

I don’t actually know eight other bloggers, but here goes;

Sammie – I’m hoping your random list will be about your new lifestyle.
Barry – I’m sure yours will be random but cryptic.
Lara&Claire – You may be up for this but too busyrunning to comment.

Ever Beautiful She Was

One of the blogs I visit quite frequently is TumainiKids. It's a blog written by orphans who live at the Tumaini Children's Center in Nyeri, Kenya. The blog is part of the Hope Runs project which was started by these two amazing girls Lara & Claire (see TrippingOnWords.com) who I've mentioned before.

Normally the kids write an account of their day, or their hopes for the future. It's usually pretty random. But this poem, written by two older kids; Caesar 18 & Gititi 20, just took my breath away.

Ever beautiful she was
The young and optimistic teenager
From the villages to the cities
Everyone had his or her eye on her
The old and the young
Praised her beauty.

Both the old and the young
Whoever felt thirsty in this journey of life
Asked for some water whose source was her
The old and the young
Praised her beauty.

And there she was
Ready to quench anyone with her water
Be it the old and the young
The old and the young
Praised her beauty.

This sudden chilly morning
Disillusionment filled the village
For there lay her skinny corpse
With the spirit already gone
The old and the young claimed
She was once beautiful.

A fortnight was not over
Cries of the affected filled the air
From morning to evening, day after the other
Funeral ceremonies conducted
All weak and dying said
She was once beautiful.

Why this suffering and afflictions?
Was the cry of the few left
The cry of the lucky survivors
And innocent children.

Just a minute's warmth, changed
A family and a village to a pool
Of orphans, widows and widowers.
A signal of the foreseeable poverty
As all weak and dying said
She was once beautiful.

Weak and dying cursed the once beautiful
But where was she?
Far beyond the beautiful white clouds
Only to be followed by
The ignorant and the innocent.

Carnival of Flowers

Not to be confused with the Rio de Janeiro Carnival, the Carnival of Flowers is a more sombre affair. I was asked to put my saving the world (carbon footprint project) on hold for a week to help out with building our shire's flower display, and here are some of the pics:

Following the red thread

Gee, it was almost two months ago that I went to Melbourne for a Local Government Sustainable Development Conference. I was back in the city of street art and hare krishna.

I stayed at The Oaks on Collins, which I highly recommend. The rooms are super chic and you can enjoy your coffee in the breakfast bar while admiring the 19thC Rialto Towers through floor to ceiling windows.

I want to put a BIG THANKS out to Daniel & Kelly for hosting me on Friday night – and Saturday night too (not that I came home!). You two are hilarious and the chemistry between you makes me believe in love again.

Tom & Doug’s birthday celebrations were of course mad. If anyone has photos of the stick on moustaches episode – please let me know. Everyone piked and Sasha, Gilly and I were left to wander through the Botanical Gardens which lead us to our home turf– the legendary Revolver. Recovery club? No way, this is where the party really takes off.

The vibe is like out of a Kahlua commercial – such a warm, uplifting atmosphere.

3am - Flinders Street Station

Also a shout out to Jade and Neats – our conversation flowed at St. Jeromes like honey and it was soul warming to catch up on the last two years. PS. Neats I owe you one for the Kinki Gerlinki session at Hells Kitchen!

The glam entrance to St Jeromes


Monkey's graffiti lights up the walls

I miss you all so much! Keep enjoying those hidden laneways and crazy bars, I’m already counting the days till we party again.

Mwah!

Hakuna Matata

After six years of licensed driving I finally have my own car. Problem is I’m too scared to touch it. At the moment it’s at home sitting in the driveway.

You see I had plans to buy a Hyundai Getz like Sammie’s however one weekend Dad cunningly drove me past the Suzuki dealership and since we had no other plans we took the new release SX4 for a test drive. We speed down the range though I was more distracted by all the blocks of land for sale than the car’s attributes.

The following Saturday I again found myself at the Suzuki Dealership. I had fallen for all the corny brochures and movies:

http://www.sukukisx4.com/

I wanted another look but found that I had no eye for cars, I couldn’t even tell the models apart and couldn’t grasp what Dad was going on about with Alloy Wheels, All Wheel Drive, Trim etc. Finally, as we stood behind a line up of Swifts and SX4s Dad pointed out the aerials which I had completely missed (too busy comparing colours). Straight away I took a dislike to the thick black antennae sticking up in the middle of the roof - very un chic – it looked like a Warthog, actually rather like Pumba from the Lion King. “Pumba!” I exclaimed.
“What?” Dad replied with furrowed brow.

Now I knew that the first rule of farming is DO NOT name the animals that later in the season you’ll be sending to the abattoir. But it was too late. I had named the SX4 - Pumba, and from that moment I was going to have to find a way to take it home.

...and they even threw in a free jumpsuit.

Such an exciting moment; even the camera man's hands are shaking

International Gala 2007

I always wondered, how did a dancer become a Principal ballet dancer? Was it freakish talent, the persona of a total bitch, having a Sugar-Daddy, or a pushy Mother? On Friday night at the International Gala of Ballet I found the answer quite simply. Somewhere between the Korean Pas de Deux and the interval I leaned over to my host and whispered, Who is she? He knew who I was talking about straight away and casually dropped,

Well, that’s Rachael Walsh. The Principal.


So the answer is not talent, nor image, technique or contacts it is pure and unadulterated charisma. It was as if the whole company were merely her backdrop. I was mesmerised by her eyes, the way she portrayed the emotions of the piece without resorting to cheap facial expressions. I was drawn into an Havana Nights fantasy as she performed with Samuel Colbey, who from row D is the image of Diego Luna. The score from Gladiator had my soul soaring into the rafters of the Playhouse as Weir’s chorography of The Gathering took shape across the stage. The group dance was a spooky contemporary piece which reminded me of cult scenes from Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut and in my opinion, the locals stole the show.

Am I living my dash?

One of the Crows Nest Shire Councillors has a business called; Livin' the Dash. This made no sense to me so I asked his wife when I saw her at the Hampton Food & Wine festival. She'd already had a few to drink, and so was very fluent in telling me what the philosophy was all about. She started off reciting a poem but realised she'd forgotten, but it didn't matter, I'd understood the gist of the story. She gave me a sloppy High Five with a big grin on her face and wandered back into the crowd. I made a mental note to google the poem:

I know of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning... to the end. He noted that first came the date of birth, and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

1948 - 2001 for that dash represents all the time spent alive on earth...and now only those who loved that person know what that little line is worth. For it matters not how much we own, the cars...the house...the cash...what matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard...are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left and what you can rearrange. If we could just slow down enough to consider what's true and real, and try to understand how other people feel. And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we've never loved before. If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile... remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy is being read with your life's actions to rehash...will you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash? (Anon)