Forge & Brew

Garden of Remembrance

2012-02-10T23:33:00.000+11:00

A week ago I sat in the Garden of Remembrance, sad and heart-heavy, and sifted through my memories of my uncle.

They are many, and in a strange way hark back to my earliest memory, more an impression really, of his wedding to my aunt when I was but 10 months old.

Growing up, our two families were close. We shared family holidays, birthday celebrations, schools. And always my cheerful, smiling, big-hearted uncle was there.

One day, when I was still a kid, we were all bushwalking, somewhere in the Otways I think, but I can't be sure, and he bent down to the path and pointed out the tiny delicate plant growing there, its sticky leaves trapping insects. A Drosera, he called it, common name Sundew. The first carnivorous plant I ever saw.

We spent many holidays down in Lorne, where my cousins lived in the house behind my uncle's newsagency. He had a red mini moke, which he used to deliver the papers, up and down the hills behind the town. We used to sit in the back and squeal with delight when he hooned up and down 'the big dipper'.

Later on, he had a hardware store in Melbourne, and every so often we kids would all band together to deliver pamphlets for the latest sale. And when I was older, in high school, I spent a few Christmas Eves manning the cash register on this crazy busy retail day.

Over the years, my uncle made such a habit of arriving at the back door just when we were dishing out the most delicious dessert, that we almost started saving him a serve -- just in case.

So many memories. His love of nature and growing things. His irrepressible energy and willingness to pitch in and lend a hand. Red wine. Classical music, played loudly. I particularly associate Holtz's The Planets with him.

Two weeks ago on 28 January he passed away from Motor Neurone Disease after a very tough year for him and his amazing family, who cared for him so well that he was able to slip away in peace, at home, surrounded by his family. That night several of us went around to join his family in eating home-made pizzas in his honour.

Last Friday, at St George's Church in Malvern, we said our final farewells... and I slipped into the Garden of Remembrance, where my grandparents' ashes are interred, and wrote down some of the memories I have shared above. Tears streamed down my face then, as they do now.

But then we all went back to the family home and celebrated his life with family, extended family, friends of his, friends of his children. And even though I expected him to walk through the door at any second, with his big grin and unassuming demeanour, we gradually started to come to terms with the fact that he is gone.

He will be very much missed.

In need of a time-turner, NOW

2012-01-20T23:30:00.000+11:00

It's been a very chaotic start to the year for me. Two new writing initiatives. Relatively new job. High expectations of myself. Recipe for brian melt-down.

The first week I tried to do everything. I was up every morning before work writing, and after work I was back on the computer trying to catch up on all the Tweeting from my new 'pack' (the other 100 writers doing the blogging/social media platform course), reading lessons and trying to apply them, and on top of that trying to write my 500 words a day.

By the end of the week I was a wreck: high-strung, aggro, exhausted. But I did have the required quota of words!

However, it was pretty obvious to me after that one week that I wasn't going to be able to sustain such a pace. My goal is to write 500 words a day for the entire year -- or at least until I have a novel finished. But I also have to be realistic. I simply cannot do everything. If I'm exhausted, I can't actually do anything.

So I decided to accept that I could probably only do one thing each evening after work -- at least until I stop arriving home so drained. And I decided that burning the candle at both ends was counter-productive. I cannot function on 5 hours of sleep a night. I certainly cannot be creative. Everything suffers.

And I found myself resenting all that time spent with my face in front of the computer.

For the past two weeks I applied this decision. Didn't bother trying to be productive before work. And after work applied myself to one major activity: 500+ words . . . or a blog post . . . or a blog lesson . . . or some other activity out of the house. As a result I'm more sane, albeit still exhausted. But I am also frustrated by my failure to maintain my WIP500 goal. In theory it simply shouldn't be that hard! I can only hope that work will soon stop sapping my energy reserves and that all this blogging and social networking activity will calm down as well.

An unfortunate side-effect of all this activity is that I am having a lot of trouble focusing on one thing when I need to. I used to be really good at this, but these days I seem to have so many things in my head -- mostly things I want to be doing, or feel I should be doing -- that everything takes longer than it should. Especially the novel writing. I really hope I can regain my ability to focus. Maybe I need to do more exercise!

Because that's the other thing I need to try to fit into my life. Right now I don't know how I'm going to fit it in, but I do have plans to get back to the gym regularly. Eventually. Soon.

Simply too many things to do and not NEARLY enough time! I need Hermione's time-turner. Right Now!

My Golf's in good hands

2012-01-11T23:30:00.000+11:00

Is it just used car dealers that are slimy and dodgy, or is it supposed to apply to new car dealers as well? The reason I mention this is because, if the latter, I've had quite the opposite experience during the course of buying and now owning my new car. In fact, I've been so impressed with Barloworld Volkswagen that I'm giving them a plug.

(Except for the first time I went there and I got a total dud sales guy. But I've almost completely forgotten about him.)

My experience over the past couple of weeks proves that customer service still counts. Instead of walking away from the dealership with the keys to the car, never to return, I've been made to feel as though I've joined a club.

Tonight I've been to a new owners' evening, where they took us on a tour of the premises (so we know what goes on behind the scenes) and then had some of their service team talk us through several aspects of our cars. The shiny newness of the workshop, the expanse of the facility, the extent of their hospitality combined to make me feel like I'm in very good hands.

In the workshop -- which is so new and bright and clean, I could imagine quite happily working there myself -- they divided us into three groups and took us through:
1) Basic aspects of the engine (what's what under the hood, what's safe to touch, what's not)
2) Unique features of the deadlocking and electronics diagnostics system
3) Changing a tyre and the realities of the space saver spare wheel

Yes, so that's all rather basic, but still helpful to have pointed out. It also gave us the opportunity to ask questions, and it turns out I'm not the only one with the mysterious 'check deadlock! owners manual!' message flashing at me each time I switch off the ignition. They're looking into this for me...

I know that Barloworld go the extra mile because they want to retain my business, not only for servicing and panel beating (if required), but also for subsequent purchases. All I can say is their approach is working. I already feel immensely reassured to know that if I have any issue at all with this car (especially during the 3-year warranty period) that Barloworld are only a phone call away. They will take it under their wing and make it all better. They will check the oil and top it up anytime I'm driving past (although they did say not to put any oil in until after 10,000km, on account of the special factory additives for running in the engine).

They even prepared a pamphlet that displays all the dashboard warning lights, and what they mean, to save us thumbing through the complete manual.

OK, I'd better stop this before I make someone sick. But I think it's very comforting to have a goto point for all things Golf. The Barloworld team is friendly, and approachable and dependable. Between them and VW roadside assist I'm all sorted and I don't have to worry. Peace of mind is worth a lot.

And they provide coffee.

Working way out west

2012-01-06T23:00:00.001+11:00

Now I have a car, the commute to work is a whole lot easier. Brooklyn (next door to Altona) is well serviced by the Geelong Freeway; public transport not so much.

There's a reason my workplace is located at the edge of the freeway. Trucks. Lots of them. That's what you get in the transport industry. Especially big double and triple semis. And car carriers. These massive vehicles thunder along Millers Rd, and rumble on and off the freeway, by the hundreds.

The Brooklyn/Altona area where I work is all concrete and steel and fumes and rubber. Apparently there is a park (of the flora kind) nearby somewhere, but I haven't found it.

It is not, I have to admit, an ideal place to work. Even if the commute is rendered less annoying by a car (and I'm yet to suffer the grind of regular peak hour -- the traffic at the moment is at about 50%), nothing can really overcome the industrialness of Brooklyn. There are no shady green streets down which to walk, and nowhere worth walking to. There are only trucks and traffic.

Definitely culture shock for me, used to working in Elwood and East St Kilda and then the CBD. In those locations, coffee was not only plentiful but exceptional -- if you knew where to go. And the food options were fabulous. I don't think I took my lunch to work in 10 years, and I never got bored. We used to eat together as a team and chat. Lunch used to be the highlight of the day.

My food options in this new job are terrible. OK, so there's Altona Gate shopping centre. If not for Altona Gate I would possibly be slitting wrists. It's walking distance -- a noisy, smelly walk with too many traffic lights per km -- but most of my colleagues get in the car and drive down. Once you're there, the options are fine -- it's a standard foodcourt -- but the round trip consumes most of my lunch half-hour.

For the first five weeks of this job I was eating Light n Easy meals for lunch, so I didn't need to think about it; but this week I've been exploring other options. I took an avocado in and smeared it on Sao crackers with smoked salmon for two lunches. Once I drove down to Altona Gate to get some supplies in Safeway (yoghurts and muesli bars etc) and grabbed some sushi. I realised almost immediately that it was stupid to drive, but plead the novelty of my new car as my excuse.

Today I decided to walk down to Altona Gate -- to get some exercise, some sunshine, and most importantly to get away from my desk. The awful culture in my workplace is to eat lunch at one's desk and I absolutely loathe this practice. It only makes me stare at the screen of my iPhone for social networks, surf the Internet -- or, worse, keep working. Half an hour isn't really enough of a break. And it definitely isn't a break at all if you remain at your desk. (I consider staring at my iPhone in the foodcourt acceptable...)

So I think I will endeavour to walk down to Altona Gate most days, for the same reasons as stated above. It gets me out of the office, and if I take 45 mins instead of half an hour, I'll wait until someone comments. I don't think they will. I work at least an extra 15 mins a day, after all.

But this brings me to the coffee situation. I developed a habit in 2010 of two flat whites a day -- one first thing at my desk in the morning, the second sometime after lunch. And then last year with my Nespresso machine, I pretty much abandoned instant coffee all together.

So what do I do now? A few times on public transport I grabbed a coffee on the way in, but I like lingering over it at my desk, not juggling it on the train. Fortunately I soon discovered the morning coffee ordered from reception. There's a drive-through coffee place nearby that actually makes decent coffee and -- best of all -- delivers if the order is large enough. So it was in my 3rd week I think that I negotiated my standing order at reception and resolved to pay my $20 coffee fund on the Monday of each week. I still have to bear with instant for my afternoon coffee, but by then I can handle it.

Except this week and next, our coffee place is closed! So I've been making a stop at Altona Gate before arriving at the office. The coffee there is variable. Today I tried coffee from Michel's pastries and it was better than the bitter brew I had yesterday from one of the other cafes.

Before I end this ramble about my life working in the wild west, I should mention that we are quite close to Seddon and Yarraville and Williamstown, where there are nice cafes. So far I've been to Seddon a few times with some of my colleagues, usually on a Friday, and it's been wonderful to go somewhere with a little more groove. I should also note that we are nowhere near the centre of Altona, which is actually quite nice too, with cafes, parks, the beach and even a wetlands. But everywhere decent requires you to get in the car.

It's fair to say I'm still working out my routine at the moment, trying to work out what will work long term. I daresay I'll get annoyed with the traffic on the way to Altona Gate, so it might need to be a mix. I may need to bring my lunch in on occasion -- and then I'll see if I can find the park. I think the only way to escape my desk at lunchtime is to get out of the building. I think I'll be on a quest to find a lunch buddy as well.

Two exciting new writing initiatives for 2012

2012-01-02T14:38:00.000+11:00

Today I have embarked on two exciting new initiatives related to my writing career.

The first, which I signed up for a few months ago, is an online course called "blogging to build brand". It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to sign-up, made when I had all the time in the world and was often to be found lost in blogland. I think the course goes for a month and I have no idea what it's going to entail, but the idea is to help authors (and aspiring authors) cement their brand on the interwebs through social media.

I've spend a deal of time thinking and reading about online branding over the past year. It's very hard to justify the time needed to read the vast number of interesting blogs, not to mention actually blogging oneself, when it's at the expense of actually writing. After all, what's the point of having a "brand" if one doesn't have anything to hang it on? The wisdom does seem to be, however, that even aspiring authors greatly benefit from having a strong brand, particularly when it comes to agents taking notice. Not in lieu of the writing or the story, of course, but every little bit helps.

Anyway, I decided that for a small fee and a little bit of time spent blogging (which I do anyway) I might as well find out some tips about how to make better use of my writing blog (the other one, not this one). Because the flipside of the "why bother worrying about brand?" argument is "why bother blogging at all if nobody is reading it?".

The course starts this month -- any day now I reckon -- and hopefully will result in some action on the other blog, which, like this one, has been somewhat dormant since I began work again. (I'll continue this blog in the same vein as ever -- a bit of this and a bit of that.)

An unanticipated side-effect of this course, however, is the Twitter interaction. There is a Twitter hashtag (#wana112) associated with our group of 100 or so writers, and we were all commanded to "stop using the Yahoo email group for chat" and instead get onto Twitter and start using either HootSuite or TweetDeck, which are more sophisticated Twitter handling interfaces than Twitter itself. (Many in the group had never used Twitter -- thank heavens I had, at least a little.)

I selected HootSuite in the end, on account of its being hosted in the Cloud, and now I have a dashboard containing several columns of Twitter feeds, all going off at once. This morning there was a flurry of messages and new people following me, and then I had to follow them all back, and between this and facebook I felt as though I was manning a complicated communications consul. It made me giggle. Since most of the other participants are in the USA, I'm going to be out of sync if they post in the evenings (our morning, when I'll be at work), so perhaps it won't be too demanding to keep up most of the time.

But the priority for this year, as already stated, is to complete a draft of a novel -- which brings me to the second initiative. Through one of my new blogging buddies, I was introduced to the #WIP500 project being run by writer, Cara Michaels. I daresay I will cross-announce this with the appropriate links on my other blog soon. It's being run like a low-key NaNoWriMo, where you aim to write 500 words a day for the entire year, and log them into the website daily -- and use the associated Twitter hashtag for chatting with others on the same journey. Since this coincided with my personal aim for 2012 anyway, it seemed a good idea to sign-up and have someone to be accountable to.

So there you have it. Pretty exciting! All I need to do NOW is go and write 500 words for today... and maybe some for yesterday as well.

It's going to be a brilliant year!

Introducing my new wheels

2012-01-01T15:32:00.001+11:00

The year 2012 is already off to a flying start, because I've bought myself a Christmas present...

It's a Volkswagen Golf and it's rather lovely.

Deciding on a make of car was initially daunting. There are so many to chose from! The first time I went looking we took a drive down the strip between Elsternwick and Brighton, stopping at Ford, Mazda, Toyota, Citroen, Peugeot and VW. I was quite impressed at that point by the Ford Focus, the Mazda 3 and the VW Golf -- the last despite the useless sales person, who explained the difference between the Polo and Golf as "having different body shapes with the same engine", and whose method of trying to sell me a car was to ask me how much I wanted to spend and then identifying a specific vehicle that I could have for that price. (Frankly, they are very lucky I went back to that dealer... Perhaps I forgave them because I enjoyed some verbal sparring with that imbecile.)

It was a few weeks before I had time to resume my investigations, by which time I was desperate for a vehicle. My daily commute to work has been two trains and a bus: train to Flinders Street, train to Footscray, bus to Brooklyn. Door to door it has been about 1h 25m on average, but worse has been the lack of flexibility. In the mornings, if I didn't leave by 7:25am all my connections stuffed up, making pre-work activities (such as gym) a bit of a challenge. In the evenings, I wasn't getting home until about 7:15pm. Suddenly, the thought of returning to public transport after the Christmas/New Year break was unpalatable.

So the weekend before Christmas, after more hours poring through downloaded car catalogues to compare features, I went out again to look. In the meantime, the RACV had published its top cars in each category. Interestingly the winners in the small car section were Golf, Focus, Hyundai (X2) and Mazda 3. Seems I had been onto a good thing so I decided to stick with it. I had, however, by this stage ruled out the Mazda 3 on account of a USB media interface being unavailable on any model (this may not seem like much, but to me it's one of the most essential features!!), but I wanted to go and look at the other 4 cars a little more closely...

It turns out that on Sunday afternoons not all car dealerships are open, including the Ford and Hyundai dealers. We went to VW again and got a MUCH more helpful sales guy, and came away with a Golf test drive booked for Christmas Eve. The rest, as they say, is history. Had the Ford place been open, I might have booked a test drive for that as well, but I never did.

I fronted up last weekend for my Golf test drive, fairly decided that unless I hated it, I was getting a Golf. And of course I didn't hate it! In fact, I have to confess I went through the motions of the test drive, already resolved to buy, and all was eventually arranged for a new car to be collected on Friday two days ago.

It is officially "United Grey" and has alloy wheels and five doors and a "liquefied ceramic" coating on the exterior to keep it shiny forever. It also has dual climate control and the all-important USB connection (so I can listen to audiobooks or music without having to fumble around with a separate MP3 player); plus hooks for hanging shopping bags on and heated side mirrors and cup holders in the back as well as the front and and and heaps of other stuff.

An unexpected thrill has been the bluetooth connectivity of my iPhone. My phone contacts have been synchronised with the car, so I can now make and receive phone calls from the steering wheel controls, with my phone in my handbag on the back seat. That wasn't something I thought I needed, but now I have it, it's pretty damn cool!

The best thing about this car is that it gives me the flexibility and freedom I've been needing. Most of this past year I haven't missed having a car much -- only on the odd occasion. I've enjoyed walking a lot, and catching public transport about the place (when not under any time pressure). But I also like to be able to visit Phillip Island on my own for the weekend, to go out at night without wondering how I'm going to get home, and to head off on outings without having to plan ahead how I'm going to get there.

I'm particularly excited that it's going to liberate my early mornings. Whether it's going to the gym or writing, those pre-work hours are going to be essential for me this year. If I have a new year's resolution (other than my already stated goal of completing a full draft of a novel), it's to utilise my mornings. It's always much harder to drag myself to the gym, or make myself write, after work. Besides, I've found in the past that writing before work actually increases the likelihood that I'll also write after work.

So there you have it. Bring on 2012! I'm armed with car and very determined.

It's that time of year again

2011-12-28T23:30:00.000+11:00

I'm spending the Christmas/New Year period with my family down at Phillip Island. Mum, Dad and I arrived here during the afternoon on Christmas Day -- our first 'Christmas' spent at the island, even if Christmas lunch was a ham sandwich and Magnum icecream in the car, and dinner cold meat and salad. It's been a very low key Christmas for our family, particularly after last year's German extravaganza, but I've enjoyed it all the same.

Boxing Day heralded the arrival of my sister and her two boys, my nephews, aged 20 months and 3 years. Their presence here is both delight and distraction. Usually when I come down to the island my aim is to write, read, walk and go out for breakfast. In truth, I nearly announced a few days ago right here on this blog how I was going to do all these things, which have been neglected in the past couple of months (except the going out to breakfast part). A good thing I didn't, because I would yet again be eating my words. When two little boys are present, the days inevitably revolve around their eating and sleeping and entertainment. I love it, but it does mean adjusting my activities and expectations.

The break is nevertheless good timing for me. After nearly two months in a new job I was going a bit mental, and this has given me the chance to stop and catch my breath, if not all the other aforementioned activities . . . and in two more days I will have a car to make my life easier (more on that later).

As the new year approaches, I find myself in yet another new place. The transitional year of 2011 is over and my path seems fairly clear: make new job work for me, carve out writing time, keep fit and healthy. My aim this year will be to not let work consume me, to keep a healthy work-life balance, to write an entire novel. I'll be satisfied with that. I'm not going to make grand plans to get my bathroom renovation done (as I've been saying for about 5 years now) or fool myself that I'll finish all the books on my to-read pile. One novel written. That's the plan.

As always, I find it fascinating to look back over the past couple of years and remember my state of mind as one year faded and another dawned. A year ago, I was in Germany and contemplating quitting my job of ten years. Little did I know then that I'd enjoy nearly a year of leisure. The year before that, it was all about Trailwalker -- training and fundraising. Every year it's something different. There's always a common theme, though: write more, work less!

5 top highlights of 2011:

Quitting my job and taking a career break
Finishing the rewrite of that first novel (even if it proved to be bottom drawer material)
Inaugural MTC subscription
Weekly writing in the pub sessions
World Fantasy Convention, San Diego

Blog Hole

2011-12-17T23:31:00.000+11:00

I really haven't felt much like blogging over the past six weeks. I haven't felt like writing either. My muse has completely abandoned me.

As far as blogging goes, sometimes I can find interesting things to say about the most everyday things. Sometimes I feel driven to share and document things that happen, or things I think about, whether they're interesting or not!

Every so often I read back over this blog and marvel at June 2007 when I posted almost every day . . . I wrote a lot of fiction that month too. Back then the words bubbled out of me and whipping up a post was a breeze. I couldn't stop writing.

For some reason the regularity of my posting on this blog has been down this year. One might have thought I'd post more regularly with all the leisure time I've had. Ironic, huh. I think I slipped into a dreamy drift of days.

But the past six weeks (since I rejoined the workforce) have been different. I haven't wanted to write. I've had nothing to say. I've been exhausted and very time poor. Even when I've done something I might once have blogged about, I simply haven't been able to rouse the energy to put the words together. It's very sad. I feel like there's something missing.

My other blog has been neglected as well. All the words sucked into the great Blog Hole.

And so now I've resorted to stupid posts like this. Just for the sake of posting something. Pathetic!

Gotta love Earnest

2011-12-07T23:30:00.000+11:00

Last week I saw Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest, staged by the Melbourne Theatre Company. This really is the most amazing play. It's so well plotted and scripted that even a children's production would have the audience on their feet. As one reviewer put it: The brilliance of the play is in the dialogue. I emphatically agree.

I enjoyed the MTC's production, particularly the staging, which utilised an enormous pop-up book that was opened by one of two marvellously funny-but-very-different butlers (played by Bob Hornery) to reveal each of three backdrops. Geoffrey Rush played Lady Bracknell in a more understated fashion than I expected, which in hindsight was probably a good thing!

I was really looking forward to seeing the play, which caps off my inaugural MTC season with friends, and it proved to be the perfect play to finish on. Light-hearted, hilarious, brilliant.

Why you might not want a cat

2011-11-23T22:01:00.001+11:00

This morning: Stumbled out of bed to feed the devilcat at approx 5:30am. Stumbled back into bed.

Half an hour later: Dragged myself out of bed and . . . holy firetruck! DEAD RAT on the floor of my bedroom, right where I should have stepped on it. Intestines streaked across the floor.

Much gagging and screeching at devilcat. Nearly miss train owing to cleanup and disinfectant operations.

Just now: Cleaned up rat's blood from floor of my bedroom -- RIGHT NEXT TO MY BED -- where I didn't notice it this morning.

Resignation and revulsion.

In which Wendy Rule sings

2011-11-21T22:24:00.000+11:00

Saturday night found me at the Caravan Music Club (Oakleigh RSL) to see Melbourne singer/songwriter, Wendy Rule. Whenever I go to a music gig, I always wonder why I don’t do it more often. Awesome music aside, in this particular case it might have had something to do with the fact that the intimate and cosy venue was local with easy street parking, or that the gig started early and was over by 11pm, or maybe that our seats came with a gingham-clothed table complete with candle and a glass of red. OK, we had to buy the wine (at RSL subsidised prices); but how civilised to sit back with glass in hand and listen?

And how we did listen.

I had not heard Wendy Rule before, and I enjoyed her music a lot. It’s an acoustic blend of folk, world and jazz (ish), delivered by a remarkable voice that is perfectly made for chanting (as she does) and which has the capacity to go amazingly deep. As I listened to Wendy sing, I imagined her testing out that voice as a child, figuring out what it could do, and composing music to suit. It’s a mighty instrument. She was accompanied by the dulcet tones of a cello, guitar and drums.

Wendy’s songs were heavily themed towards paganism, spiritual belief systems and classical mythology. She opened and closed with a chant designed to first close and lastly reopen the circle, singing tributes to the north, west, south and east. (I took the opportunity to pull out my new iPhone with compass app and check she had the directions right.) Then her various songs paid tribute to the likes of Venus, Artemis, Hecate, aspects of nature, the moon . . . My kinda stuff, really.

Wendy Rule would not be out of place at the Port Fairy Folk Festival (I bet she’s played there before) and it made me realise how much I’m going to miss going to that every year. I intend to keep an eye out for upcoming Caravan Music Club gigs and attend a little more often, particularly the folk-oriented performances. For a slick and far more accomplished review of Wendy’s gig, visit Jason’s review here. He’s a long time fan and knows stuff like the names of songs and albums.

Status update: How my life is like a children's dress-up box

2011-11-13T18:34:00.001+11:00

My life is presently like a box into which I am trying to jam an entire lifetime of belongings. Imagine bulging sides, bursting seams, stuff hanging over the edges, other stuff abandoned and strewn haphazardly in a three metre radius.

It looks like a children's dress-up box after the hordes have abandoned it.

While on work-hiatus I fear my life expanded to fill the time available (Parkinson's Law?). Now I seem to have no time to do anything. Right now it's the end of the weekend and my to-do wish list is woefully incomplete.

The list of unread posts in my Google Reader is frightening . . . I haven't looked at (or even thought about) my novel WIP in weeks . . . I still need to research the best superannuation companies. And cars.

On the up side, my house is half clean, the washing is done, and I have enjoyed a final weekend of eating out before I launch into a LitenEasy campaign tomorrow.

Work. I knew I didn't have time for it.

Having said that, the new job is going well so far. The people seem nice and the company culture seems good. After two days of head spinning, I was productive for the final three days of my first week. But the commute on public transport is not good, with two trains and a bus the most reliable route. It's a lot of messing about, which hasn't been fun in the rain. And it's a lot of time that could be far more effectively utilised. I need to figure out how to fit in writing (daily) . . . and exercise. Therefore a car will be required . . . once I get the time to research which one.

Anyway, this is just a short update. At least I now have a smart-phone with which to stay in touch during the working day. (My Internet use at work is both restricted and monitored!) After a year of enjoying perpetual social media, I really don't think I can bear being cut-off from it all day. So a smart-phone was an essential aquisition for this weekend.

Something Borrowed

2011-11-10T20:45:00.001+11:00

OK, I'm going to share something a little embarrassing. But it's also funny. And weird.

It all started on the flight to San Diego two weeks ago, when I watched the RomCom movie Something Borrowed. It's a perfect movie for a plane -- light, funny, happy ending . . . So at the end of the flight, after watching X-Men First Class and catching some zzzz's (on my three seats!), I watched Something Borrowed again.

I don't normally repeat-watch on a plane, but something about this movie really grabbed me. On the surface it's nothing special. Six years ago, Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin) introduced her best friend Darcy (Kate Hudson) to Dex (Colin Egglesfield), Rachel's fellow law student, who she has a crush on but thinks he'd never be interested in her. Now Darcy and Dex are engaged, with Rachel the maid of honour, but an offhand remark from Rachel in which she admits having had a crush on Dex during law school, leads to Dex admitting similar feelings and the two end up having a guilty affair . . .

Not everyone agrees with me, but I like the chemistry between Rachel and Dex, and I love the setup, because it feels like something that could really happen. The moral dilemma is brilliant. Sleeping with your best friend's fiance is BAD BAD BAD (as is sleeping with your fiance's best friend), but somehow I'm really moved by the scenario of Rachel and Dex actually liking each other first, realising feelings they've buried but which have not gone away. Should they pretend nothing has happened? Should Dex marry Darcy, who he realises is the wrong woman? Should he break up with her without pursuing Rachel?

The story is made slightly more palatable by depicting Darcy as an obnoxious character, who cheats on Dex, but Rachel, essentially a good person, is still riven with guilt . . . and yet strives to win Dex for herself. There is no neat answer. Someone is always going to be hurt.

Anyway, I liked it. So on the return flight . . . after watching Rise of the Planet of the Apes and Larry Crowne . . . I watched Something Borrowed again.

And then, when I was passing JB HiFi and browsed the DVD section . . . yes, all right so I'm a tad obsessed. And I watched it again last Saturday night!

So now I've watched the movie four times in two weeks. And then (this is so embarrassing) I downloaded the original novel by Emily Giffin onto my kindle and I'm er . . . reading it. In my defence, it makes a good public transport read for my tedious commute to Brooklyn (more on that later).

I really cannot explain what it is, but there's something about this movie that won't let me go! Don't think too badly of me. And if you've seen it (or read it), let me know what you think!

Sightseeing in San Diego

2011-11-04T19:20:00.000+11:00

San Diego Old Town

This year's work-free sabatical culminated last week with a short trip to San Diego to attend the World Fantasy Convention. It was an awesome trip. I'm blogging about the convention itself elsewhere, but I did have a couple of days at the end for a spot of sightseeing...

Last Monday I trekked off with some friends to the San Diego Zoo, reputedly one of the greatest in the world. It certainly is large and impressive, and we didn't manage to see everything. But I got the general idea!

Highlights for me were the Giant Pandas (putting on a show with their bamboo), the eagles (so massive, although in disturbingly small enclosures), the hummingbird aviary (tiny birds like giant insects)...

Giant Panda

I think that what the animals are doing determines how interesting they are, so I wasn't too inspired by the sleeping polar bear, or the sleeping hippo, or the lazy gorillas... But the otter that swam down the 'stream' was pretty cool!

The next day I was own my own and took the trolley two stops from the hotel/resort to San Diego Old Town, which is a sprawling tourist destination comprising craft shops and reconstructed buildings from the early days of the town. It reminded me of a low-key and free version of Sovereign Hill in Ballarat.

Shrine for Day of the Dead

Festivities at Old Town were heightened for the two-day Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), a Mexican festival celebrated in San Diego, owing I suppose to its proximity. This meant numerous alters, beautifully decorated, to commemorate specific individuals (e.g. Frieda Kahlo and Marilyn Monroe). It also meant lots of food specials (mostly Mexican! I ate a lot of Mexican while in San Diego), and artisan demonstrations. I had a lovely chat with the blacksmith (who seemed very keen to recruit interested parties to the craft), and bought HEAPS of stuff from assorted shops to cart home!

Midnight in Paris (movie)

2011-10-28T21:16:00.000+11:00

I went to see Midnight in Paris as part of the Girls' Night In fundraiser event, hosted by Curves Carnegie. It's the latest Woody Allen movie, and tells the story of successful Hollywood screenwriter Gil Pender (Owen Wilson), holidaying in Paris with his fiance and future in-laws -- but he would rather be working on his Great American Novel and dreams of living in the halcyon Parisian days of the 1920s.

What follows is part-fantasy and part-dream, as Gil encounters some fascinating new friends while strolling the streets of Montmartre (at midnight).

I really enjoyed this movie, perhaps because it was about a writer meeting his idols, and finding new inspiration and self-confidence. The first night of Gil's adventures is particularly marvellous and made me grin broadly. The Paris of dreams depicted in this movie -- a character all of its own, really -- is one every writer could envisage themself living in.

The other message in this movie, though, is to appreciate life as you know it. Many of the characters in this film are yearning for a life they cannot have, and it only makes them dissatisfied... Gil learns to live in the moment and follow his dreams. The style is typical Woody Allen whimsy, and Owen Wilson does it well.

Making new friends with Build-a-Bear

2011-10-25T17:47:00.001+11:00

I only recently discovered the Build-a-Bear workshop. This isperhaps understandable, given the usual workshop demographic of 4 to10 year olds, but . . . well . . . give me leave to be a child atheart.

It all started early this year when my youngest nephew was given abuild-a-bear monkey by Nana for his first birthday. At this stage, Iwas still oblivious to the full significance of the gift, but severalof us spent some time coming up with a suitable name for the newaddition . . . now known as Sir Monkalot.

And then I was introduced to the shop at Southland, where . . .OMG . . . you can choose your own personal bear (or creature) andthen fill it with love and stuffing (out of a massivefairy-floss-like machine) and then you can choose an outfit for yournew friend to wear.

At this first visit, we purchased AFL colours for Sir Monkalot(it's a Pies household), and I completely fell in the love with theconcept . . . Was I too old for a new friend?

Perhaps yes. So instead we decided to save it for when my niecesand nephew were to visit from Germany – which is now! So today weall traipsed down to Southland to visit the Build-a-Bear workshop.

The kids at first had no idea what was about to happen . . . theyseemed a little perplexed at first . . . and then the fun to be hadbegan to dawn on them. What followed was a classic display ofpersonality as each child chose and bonded with their new friend.

First decision: choose a 'bear' from at least 20 options(as-yet-unstuffed). Number three (J, aged 5-1/2) was the mostdecisive. Within 30 seconds she had homed in on a fluffy pink bear,and declared she had already decided on a name. Number two (W, aged6-1/2) took a few minutes longer, bouncing between a dinosaur and adragon before finally settling on the monkey reasonably quickly.Number one (H, aged 8-1/2) had the hardest time choosing. Shetest-cuddled the 'camo' bear (in camouflage colours) and the dragonat least three times each, before suddenly discovering and settlingon a different bear all-together – Champ bear.

Next came the heart ceremony. Each bear gets a soft red heart,infused with all the love of its new friend. The heart ceremony was ajoy to witness, with each child hugging and rubbing and kissing andwishing and dancing and warming and energising the new heart. Thiswas then slipped inside the new toy . . . then each toy was stuffedto the precise cuddle-ability – soft or firm – as requested. Andtest-cuddled before being sewn up – just to make sure!

New friends were then taken to the bathing station, and scrubbedclean. (Using a brush to fluff up their fur – no water wasapplied.)

Now to choose an outfit! Once again, Miss J took . . . perhaps oneminute this time to come up with two choices: a glittering sequinedpurple ball gown and an elegant pink satin dress. The purple won,deemed exactly the right look for the newly named 'Rosie'.

Mr W's monkey – Mr Jack – first tried on a casual outfit oforange T-shirt and denim jeans, but ultimately preferred AFL colours(Bombers in this case).

As for Miss H, a tomboy, her criterion was 'unisex'. Being aswimmer, she first had her eye on a bear-sized wetsuit, complete withsnorkle, flippers and mask. Hmm, quirky, but perhaps . . . Therewasn't much in the way of unisex outfits, but to keep with theswimming theme, we did find some board shorts and a rashie in ratherstriking blue, green and yellow. Yess!

And then it was time to print birth certificates and – oh no! –now H had to come up with a name! The stress of making such animportant decision (I totally understand this)! Some fast thinkingand consultation with the bear-naming book eventually yielded thename 'Tex'.

So now three little children have threenew friends – Tex, Mr Jack and Rosie – and I confess I'm a littleenvious! (One of these days I may just yield to temptation and returnhome with a cute bunny with floppy ears, called . . . ?!)

Status update: What I will miss

2011-10-19T16:30:00.000+11:00

This is my last week of no-holds-barred leisure. Next week I board a plane to San Diego for the World Fantasy Convention and following that I'm to start full-time work again.

Yes, I'm very pleased to report that The Awful Task is completed and I have accepted a position as 'marketing & communications specialist' with a global supply chain management/logistics company. It sounds like a diverse role, covering internal and external communications, and will allow me to leverage all the great skills I already have, while learning a whole lot of new ones.

I'm tentatively excited: it will be good to get some enforced structure back into my life, rev up my brain again, meet some new people and of course there's the small matter of dollars. Yet, for good and bad, it's the great unknown. I've met exactly three people in the company and haven't laid eyes on the everyday working environment. (Maybe my workstation will be the size of a pea and located outside the toilet. I have no idea.)

I've had such an awesome year. This coming Friday it will be exactly one year since I boarded a plane for Paris and commenced my 10-week trip through France, Spain, England and Germany. In the entire time since, I returned to work for exactly 3 weeks, a mere blip. To all intents and purposes, I've had an entire year without working. Never did I imagine this would be possible.

It's rather incredible -- and a little disconcerting -- how normal it feels to not work. I'm certainly not looking forward to having to compress all the things I've been doing into the spaces around this new job. I know that I've probably suffered from Parkinson's Law all year (work expands to fill the time available) but I am just so relaxed because of it. Going back to full-time work is going to completely shock my system.

This is what I'm going to miss:

Creative writing
This is the big one, obviously. One of my primary goals for this year was to focus on creative writing, from producing words to honing craft to engaging with the industry. I wanted to reconnect with myself as a writer of fiction, take myself more seriously. In finishing one novel, recognising its flaws, and embarking on another I feel that I'm on the way to achieving this. I might not have progressed the new novel as far as I'd have liked (the culprit being my usual tendency to rewrite), and I might still be a long way from publication, but I have moved forward and realigned my priorities. This has been an essential outcome.

But what's going to happen from here? Aside from the past couple of months when I was focusing on career stuff, I've been able to devote whole afternoons to creative writing on a regular basis. And it isn't just the time, it's the head-space. I know from experience that it's very hard to write at the end of the day after work. Most writers who work full-time utilise the early hours, and my experience of this has been positive. But it requires a LOT of discipline. This is something I'm going to have to figure out.

Social networking
I've spent a lot of this year social networking online. My daily ritual has been to follow breakfast with about an hour (or two) of checking email and facebook and sometimes twitter and sometimes reading blogs and links. There's usually something of interest to click across to.

Yes, OK, I shudder when I tally up the hours I must have spent doing this. And these are the activities that I'm going to have to scale back if I'm to get any writing done once I'm back to work.

In addition to the morning ritual, I've also had the leisure to monitor facebook (and twitter) all day and respond to topics of conversation as they come up. For someone at home without anyone else to talk to, these 'chats' have been brilliant fun. I love feeling connected to all my friends via facebook. It really is a virtual conversation sometimes. Somehow I doubt I'll be able to keep this up in a new job. (Not a very good look.)

My blogging time will invariably suffer as well. I've been trying not to spend too much time blogging during the prime daytime hours, but sometimes I give in to the urge. But blogging is something I've been fitting in for years now -- I'll just have to make sure it doesn't take precedence over my other writing.

Meeting friends/family in cafes
This is kind of self-explanatory, really. I've had a wonderful time meeting up with friends who either don't work or who work flexible hours. Some weeks I've had lunch out every day. I've been telling myself that I might as well enjoy the benefits of not working while I can. (What I won't miss is my expanding waistline as a result of all this decadence.)

I've also been able to meet my sister and my two nephews for coffee on an almost weekly basis. We descend upon the cafe like a bomb going off and they have to disinfect the table after we've left it, but it's been so amazing to have this regular time with the two little kids and their baby-cinos.

Writing in pubs and cafes
For most of this year, we've had a regular writing session in the Elsternwick hotel, mostly on Tuesday afternoons. We drank wine. We talked shop. We wrote. We ate chicken parma for $12. (Another reason for the expanding waistline.) It has been brilliant.

Even on my own, I've spent quite a few afternoons in local cafes with my computer, sometimes because I wanted to get away from the Internet (and social networking etc), sometimes because I just needed to get out of the house. Despite the whole 'writing in cafes' thing being a bit of a cliche, I've loved every minute of it. And found it surprisingly productive as well. The cafe staff know me quite well by now. I wonder if they will miss me?

------------

There are heaps of other things I'll miss as well, even if it's just the freedom to be spontaneous -- to dash down to the shopping centre with my mum, or attend a random writing seminar.

Probably what's missing from this list is the ability to get projects done -- and that's because I haven't done any. Not one. I'm a little disgusted with myself, really. I was supposed at the very least to get my bathroom renovation happening. A large reason for my failure in this area is due to my not having a car. It's very hard to get out and make stuff happen when you can't get around very easily. But c'est la vie.

I will look back at this year with perhaps a little regret (for the things I didn't get done while I had the time), but mostly with a great deal of satisfaction for the opportunity to chill out with friends and family and with myself. Most importantly, I've reconnected with myself as a writer. I stated at the beginning of the year that 2011 was about taking control of my life (I even dubbed it 'the year of the writer'), and I feel as though I've done this.

The heel that crippled me

2011-10-16T23:50:00.000+11:00

I don't have much of a relationship with high-heeled shoes. I've never been a shoe junkie, I don't sigh with desire at the sight of the latest Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo. In fact, I'm rather astounded I even know what these are. . .

It's flats all the way with me -- and not those dainty little ballet flats you see some people wearing around the place. I like a shoe that I can walk in, stride out in, walk home from work in if I need to. Like Birkenstocks. Yeah, Birkenstocks are my thing (and some of them are quite smart these days).

Having said that, a few years ago I acquired a pair of Wonders wedge-heels that met all my comfort criteria -- rubber soles and a comfortable fit. I could walk properly in these heels, despite the fact they were about 10cm high (which is not really very high, but . . .), and they proved ideal for work. They're a bit old now, and not as comfortable, but I still drag them out from time-to-time.

But now there's a problem. I wore these shoes last Sunday and they crippled me. As soon as I arrived home and took them off, the ball of my left foot went into shock and I could barely walk.

These are shoes I've worn loads of times and they've been the most comfortable pair of 'heels' I've ever had. I've stood in exhibition halls for days on end. I even walked 4km in them once. So I was a little astounded at my foot's reaction.

I thought maybe it was cramp, that it would settle down and all would be back to normal the next morning, but alas this was not to be the case. I still couldn't put any weight on the ball of my foot, let alone push off. I could only put weight on the outside of the foot, making walking a tad tricky.

By Wednesday it was improved, but I was still hobbling so I decided to get a podiatrist to look at it. And it turns out that I have stretched the ligament that runs beneath my second toe. Just from wearing a shoe. There was no specific incident, no moment when I thought I'd pulled something. It's completely unfathomable.

Anyway, it's apparently not a serious injury, just damned inconvenient. I've been advised to avoid wearing heels for . . . well . . . ever (within reason). But I think this is just a podiatrist's blanket rule. Nonetheless, I'm happy to comply -- I more or less do anyway.

But the fact remains that there are some times when wearing a heel is the expected thing. And now that I know what I know -- which is that by rarely wearing heels I am more prone to this kind of injury -- it's going to make me really nervous next time.

Clybourne Park (MTC)

2011-10-13T19:01:00.000+11:00

Clybourne Park, a play by Bruce Norris, won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama this year, and I think I can see why. It's cleverly constructed and tackles the sticky subject of racial prejudice in a way that's both sobering and entertaining.

The plot
The first act takes place in 1959 Chicago, as a middle-aged 'white' couple prepare to move out of the house which holds sad memories surrounding the death of their son, a veteran of the Korean War. They are assisted by their 'black' housemaid, whose husband comes to collect her, and forestalled by the local priest and passive-aggressive neighbour (with pregnant deaf wife), who have discovered that the house has been bought by an African-American family. These so-called 'friends' try to bully the grieving couple into defaulting on the sale, on account it would lower the tone (and price) of the neighbourhood.

After the interval, Act 2 zooms forward to 2009, taking place in the same living room of the same house during planning negotiations among neighbours. This time, it's a young white couple moving into what has become a black residential area, and they want to demolish and rebuild. Only it turns out that the African-American couple they're negotiating with have ties to the family who originally bought the house in 1959... What starts off as real-estate and building plan wrangling degenerates into a racially founded conflict.

The big issues of community and racial conflict tackled in this play are well done and offer much food for thought. But, even though I felt the first act took a while to get going, it was the clever writing and construction that particularly appealed to me.

Inversion & irony
The same cast of seven actors tackle the roles in both acts, and Norris has made wonderful use of symmetry, inversion and irony in the dual casting:
- Grieving father Russ in Act 1 spends much of the act promising to drag down a trunk from the first floor (containing letters etc from his dead son), which he ultimately buries in the back yard; the same actor plays a tradie (Dan) digging a trench outside in Act 2, interrupting events in the living room, and ultimately digging up that same trunk and discovering the contents.
- Karl Lindner, the passive-aggressive neighbour, and his wife Betsy transform into the WASP couple (Steve and Lindsey) seeking to move into the neighbourhood . . . still pregnant. (Their lawyer in the second act turns out to be the daughter of their first incarnated couple.)
- The priest (Jim) in the first act is played by the same actor who plays the mediator in the second act . . . who turns out to be gay.
- The African-American couple in Act 1 (Francine the housemaid and her husband), who could never hope to live in such a house, metamorphose into the Act 2 couple (Lena and Kevin) making life difficult for the newcomers to their neighbourhood. In both acts they have 3 children. At the end of Act 1, the husband lays restraining hands on Russ, who shouts "don't you touch me!". This is inverted at the end of Act 2, when his alter-ego yells the same words.

A Raisin in the Sun
The other interesting fact about this play is that it's a response to the classic 1958 play A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry, which was based on real-life events surrounding a black family's experiences in a Chicago neighbourhood. In fact, the African-American family who have bought the house in the first act of Clybourne Park is the Younger family, whose story is told in the earlier play. The minor character of Karl Lindner in 'Raisin' (the only white character) is the very same passive-aggressive neighbour in Act 1 of Clybourne Park, and has just come from his scene in 'Raisin' when he enters 'Clybourne'.

In this way, Clybourne Park hypothesises what might have led to the sale of a nice house in a white neighbourhood to an aspiring African-American family, and explores what might have ensued thereafter.

Production
The MTC production of this play was directed by Peter Evans. I felt it took a while to get going, with the timing on the opening inane debate about the origins of the word 'neopolitan' a little rocky -- not to mention a bunch of awkward American accents. Then the priest (Luke Ryan) comes in to offer council to Russ (Greg Stone), but it's not until the entrance of the obnoxious Karl (Patrick Brammall) that things really start to get interesting. Brammall's Karl is certainly one of the most memorable characters, and Laura Gordon does a great job as his deaf wife. Alison Whyte ably plays Russ's wife Bev, with Zahra Newman as Francine the housemaid and Bert LaBonté as her husband.

The second act opens with most of the characters amid negotiations, and it took me quite a while to figure out why they were there and what all the individual roles were. Due to its contemporary setting, the scenario (conflict over building permits) was much easier to relate to, although it did degenerate into a bit of a slanging match. Everything came full circle, however, with the discovery of the buried chest -- although it could be argued that this and a final tacked-on 'ghost' scene were largely unnecessary.

Overall I enjoyed this play a great deal, despite its imperfections. There was certainly a lot in it for a writer to admire, plus plenty of entertainment value underpinned by serious themes. Here's a link to a more thorough and insightful review . . . (I think I've got some way to go in the theatre review stakes!).

Crazy Stupid Love (movie)

2011-10-06T23:42:00.001+11:00

Just saw Crazy Stupid Love. This is a movie that seems to have split the viewers, and I came down on the side of liking it. I found it laugh-out-loud funny and unpredictable, not your average rom-com at all.

Cal (Steve Carell) is moping in a bar trying to deal with his impending divorce, when womanising Jacob (Ryan Gosling) decides to take him in hand and give him a makeover -- in both appearance and personality. (Jacob declares that Cal needs to learn how to be a man again. He's become boring.) Carell branches out a little bit (including a fling with Marisa Tomei), but really wants his wife Emily (Julianne Moore) back. Jacob meanwhile meets Hannah (Emma Stone) who just might be his match... Also suffering the pangs of love are Cal's 13YO son Robbie, who has eyes for his 17YO babysitter Jessica, who in turn has a crush on Cal. (There's also a sideline with Emily and her work colleague, played by Kevin Bacon.)

It's definitely Cal's story, but the supporting storylines add complexity, are entertaining and entwine together in surprising ways. In fact, I would have liked more weight given to Jacob's part of the story -- he unfortunately fades out of the script in the last part of the film, and it's weaker for it.

But overall I enjoyed this movie a lot. Even if it is a little too long. There's a fabulous climactic moment, which you think is going to be the end, but then it all keeps going. The last little section doesn't quite live up to the rest of the movie, and leads into an ending that's overly sentimental (and a little bit controversial). I guess you can't have everything!

The Help (movie)

2011-10-03T22:19:00.000+11:00

One minute everyone is talking about the book, The Help, by Kathryn Stockett . . . and the next minute it's a movie starring the suddenly ubiquitous Emma Stone. And, even if Margaret and David found the film lacks sufficient gravitas as warranted by the subject, it's still a film well worth seeing.

Set amid the 1960s civil rights movement in the USA, the story focuses on Skeeter, a young white woman from the 'in crowd', who decides to interview and write down the personal stories and day-to-day experiences of as many African American maids as she can convince to talk with her. Initially it's just two, Abileen and Minny, but ultimately she wins the trust of dozens, and the result is a book that takes society by storm.

It's hard to believe that as short a time ago as 1963, African Americans were treated with such discrimination -- and, as one of my friends pointed out after our viewing, the subject matter of The Help is relatively benign compared with much of what else went on. (The murders of black activist Medgar Evans and JFK are mentioned.) But the plight of the domestic servants serves to illustrate -- without all the violence -- just how inhumane some white people could be. The maids really were at the mercy of their employers, who could sack them with little provocation -- and ensure they would be unable to work again.

In addition to the obvious major theme of racial equality and civil rights, the story also explores the challenge of standing up for what you believe in, as Skeeter forges ahead with her project and is forced to realise how shallow and cruel (and weak) her erstwhile friends have become. Moreover, in this particular case, voicing equality sentiments was actually illegal, and could have resulted in severe repercussions for the maids who participated (if proven).

One criticism of the film has been that it's overly sentimental, filled with caricatures, rather than characters. I agree with this to an extent, although this may be derivative of the novel (I don't know). Certainly Skeeter, with her complete lack of prejudice and courage of her convictions, must have seemed too good to be be true to these women whose voices she made heard. And her 'friends' were also rather polarised in their nasty/vindictive/weak behaviour. Yet the character of the maid Abilileen had good depth and texture, and I rather enjoyed Allison Janney's role -- alternately comic and poignant -- as Skeeter's sick mother, desperate to find a husband for her daughter.

To sum up, I'm definitely glad to have seen it, because I think these are important issues and it never hurts to reflect on the dark shards of our past. But it doesn't leave me with a desire to read the book. It's not the style of novel I'm generally partial to, so I'm happy to have it presented to me as a film.

French toast

2011-09-30T23:27:00.000+10:00

I'm a bit of a fan of french toast. I find it very difficult to resist. Inspired by today's meal, I thought I'd reflect on some of my favourite french toast experiences.

Today I sampled a rather decadent brioche french toast at one of my local haunts, Pound. Brioche as french toast? Mmmm, so naughty, but so yummy. It was served with vanilla infused ricotta and fresh banana. Alas, this was a special and not a regular menu item (possibly a good thing or I might never order anything else).

One of my most memorable french toasts was from years ago, served at a modest shopping centre cafe. A couple of slices of egg-soaked fried toast were accompanied by a generous serve of fresh fruit salad and drizzled in maple syrup. I keep wondering why more cafes don't offer this simple and relatively healthy version. I have been known to order a separate serve of fruit salad with my french toast in an attempt to recreate it...

And then there's the cinnamon toast with grilled peaches offered by Goat House. Alas, they've taken this off the menu, but I managed to order it a few times before this happened. Basically it was cinnamon sugar-coated french toast served with grilled peaches and double cream (except I substituted the cream for natural yoghurt). The first time I had it I declared it my favourite french toast ever.

Although I do prefer fresh fruit to accompany, quite a few places offer french toast with a fruit/berry warm stew/compote. Marmalade in East Brighton does a hugely generous serve with berries, and Saloop in Gardenvale does one with caramelised banana and walnuts. Both are delicious, although I find them a little on the sweet side.

There's obviously a trend here. French toast tends to come most often with fruit of some kind -- and I'm not complaining. But here's a diversion. A couple of months ago I sampled a rather elaborate concoction at Della Nonna QV in the city: french toast with bacon and banana and maple syrup... and fried eggs as well. Totally OTT and bad for you, but delicious.

But finally, one of my favourite french toasts of all time -- which is alas no longer available either -- is the challah french toast that used to be on the menu at Hopscotch in Elsternwick. This was totally savoury and awesome: french toast made from challah bread, served with smoked salmon, grilled/roasted cherry tomatoes and wilted spinach. Absolutely divine.

District 9 - frighteningly familiar

2011-09-23T17:08:00.000+10:00

I watched District 9 last night, and OMG does it pack a punch. It's a movie I wanted to see when it was released (2009) but never got around to it, so I recorded it a couple of weeks ago when it was aired on TV.

This South African film is set in Johannesburg 20 years after around a million alien asylum seekers arrived from a distant planet in a broken-down mothership (that has remained suspended gloriously above the city). The authorities decide it's time to forcibly relocate these aliens (derogatorily referred to as 'prawns') from the slum-ghetto known as District 9, which has been their home for the past two decades, to a specially built facility 200km distant.

It's partially presented as a documentary, incorporating comments from 'experts' and live-to-camera addresses from the man assigned to oversee the eviction -- Wikus van de Merwe. This helps establish the scenario and history, but as the film progresses the doco style fades away (more or less) as events play out.

This film explores some serious topics -- racism, treatment of asylum seekers, exploitation of the helpless, greed and capitalism -- and it does it amazingly well. These are issues that we confront every day, and in Australia particularly the subject of asylum seekers is hotly debated. My heart went straight out to these aliens who are treated as less than human, don't seem particularly violent, are clearly from a far more advanced civilisation, and just want to survive -- or in the case of one rescue his people from deplorable living conditions.

I also really appreciated the way my opinion of Wikus swung around. His treatment of and attitude to the 'prawns' at the beginning is despicable, but then he becomes the victim of a government/corporate conspiracy/genetic experiment and I found myself sympathising with him. My sentiments continued to swing back and forth until the very end of the film.

District 9 is really worth watching, but I didn't find it an easy film to experience. It's violent with lots of gunfire and things getting chopped up, plus the terrible way in which humans treat these aliens is quite confronting. Perhaps the doco style made it harder to distance myself from it. It's so well done, with fantastic performances and effects, that it didn't feel like science fiction at all to me -- it felt frighteningly familiar.

New cafe screens Metropolis

2011-09-21T14:40:00.001+10:00

Found a new little cafe on Glenhuntly Rd today. Located along a stretch of road I don't often frequent, it's called Untitled and fronts an art studio (where they run classes) and an art supply store. It's only been open for four weeks.

The cafe itself is simple yet ultra-cool, offering awesome coffee (5 senses) and a silent movie experience -- Metropolis (sans music) was beamed onto one of the smooth white walls. Although the coffee is a little on the pricey side ($4.50 for a large flat white) and they don't have a full kitchen (meaning food is limited to soup, toasted pides and slices etc), I can see myself escaping here with baby computer for a change of writing scene... Not sure if it's open on the weekend though.

Status update - where I'm at

2011-09-19T13:26:00.001+10:00

For most of this year I've relished the luxury of not having to work. It has given me time to relax, to write, to see friends, to spend time with family (especially my two young nephews), to exercise (but not, alas, to lose any weight). It's amazing how normal it feels to hang out (mostly) at home every day.

Some mornings (Tues, Thurs, Sat) I'm up early and off to the gym, other days it's considerably later when I drag myself out of bed. And I have other weekly rituals: Tuesday afternoons tend to involve writing in the pub; Wednesday mornings often include meeting my sister, her kids and usually my mum for coffee at Edna's Place; Fridays at 11am it's a walk along the beach with a friend, followed by lunch.

The rest of the time is filled up with other stuff: random lunch dates, shopping trips and outings, writing (and reading) blog posts . . . and, until the last couple of months, working on my latest novel project. (But you can probably see why I haven't got quite as much writing done as I planned - what with all the distractions.)

Unfortunately, my writing productivity has dropped off considerably in the past couple of months. "Protect your writing time," they say, and I thank every spiritual being under the sun for those Tuesday pub sessions, because without them I suspect I would have completely lost the plot (cliche and pun intended!). Tuesday afternoons are sacrosanct, but I am finding it increasingly hard to write outside of this session, no matter how determinedly I plan writing time into each day..

The Awful Task
The reason of course is the Awful Task of seeking gainful employment. I suspect it would not be such an awful task if a) I already had a job and could afford to wait until exactly the right job came up, b) I knew what exactly the right job was, c) it wasn't 10 years since I'd had to look for a job, d) I wasn't trying to transition careers more or less. Since all of these things apply, it's a total nightmare.

It's taken me a good two months to figure out what the hell I'm doing. I started out by consulting with a careers advisor . . . and while it was good to have some "therapy" I'm not sure it really achieved all that much. Then there was compiling the resume, which after 10 years was rather a task -- and remains an ongoing process as recruiters continue to offer suggestions as to how I should expand/improve it.

And then there's the process of convincing someone to employ you. Whether responding to advertised positions, talking directly to recruiters about what I'm interested in, or trying to network myself into a job, it's really hard.

The challenge for me is that my experience to-date is very "vertical" to use HR speak, which means I have a huge amount of experience and expertise in a relatively narrow field. Sure, I have transferable skills. Heaps of them. And I know that any organisation would be lucky to have me on their team.
But . . .

But.

What I don't have is demonstrated experience (and in some cases knowledge) in all key selection criteria for the types of positions I think I'm interested at moving into. Employers are not interested in someone with the ability to learn core skills on the job. They want someone who already knows how to do the core skills. This is particularly the case with contract positions, which I've been investigating as a means of quickly gaining new skills (and some form of income stream). Fair enough, really.

This all leaves me in a not-fun place. Here am I with masses of ability and experience, lots to offer and no-one to appreciate it. I'm either too experienced (and expensive) for the generalist position that will allow me to diversify my skills while kicking butt on the other stuff, or not experienced enough in the areas that matter. I simply don't tick any of the boxes.

Now, I do not doubt that the right job is out there somewhere. But the process of finding it is mind-numbing and not a little soul-destroying -- and meanwhile I am seriously broke. My goal at the moment is to find something for the short term while I continue to look for something more suitable. (But even that is hard.) I am certainly considering a series of short courses to improve my knowledge in certain areas.

I am blogging all this for a few reasons:

1) My well-meaning friends and family want to know where I'm at. They also want to help, want to give me pep talks. But I do not always want to talk about it. In fact I usually do NOT want to talk about it, because it makes me very grumpy. Nor do I always want to listen to advice, no matter how well-meaning. So please do not pepper me with public comments telling me what I should or should not do. But I thank you all for your continued support.

2) It's cathartic for me to write about it.

3) This blog is a record of my life milestones, and I want to be able to look back on this difficult period and appreciate that I got through it.

Final word
The upshot of all this is that I have little head space for writing my novel at the moment. I've been finding it impossible to focus, and instead have been grabbing hold of any little distraction (such as watching AFL games on TV I have zero interest in). Perhaps after downloading here today I finally have a clear-enough head . . . but then again I really should kick-off the Awful Task for this week.

I miss those weeks/months earlier in the year when I prioritised writing. Now my rhythm is all over the place and my creativity well is sucked dry.

But I have a habit of falling on my feet. This is merely part of my ten-year cycle of self reinvention and redefinition. I'm like a chrysalis, currently in my cocoon. When I emerge I will be transformed.

Invested in sport

2011-09-18T17:33:00.000+10:00

Why do we get so invested in sport? When watching it, I mean. Were I blissfully unaware of the Davis Cup World Group play-off currently underway, I would be quite happy to hear the result and not get in too much of a lather about it; but because it's on the TV and I am watching it, it seems terribly important that Lleyton Hewitt wins the 5th and deciding rubber against Switzerland to get Australia back into the World Group (and hence able to play for the actual Davis Cup in 2012).

YESSSSS! (Lleyton breaks back to go two-all in the fourth set...)

My heart-beat is up and I'm holding my breath as Lleyton ("Australia's best Davis Cup player ever," say the commentators) slogs it out against Stanislas Wawrinka. The crowd is right into it. I wince as the ball hits the net cord.

Put any sport in front of me and I can't help picking a side or competitor to go for. But when I like and follow the sport, it's so much more intense. If it's live netball, and Australia or the Vixens are playing, I can't look away. During the recent World Netball Championship final, when Australia beat NZ in double extra time yet again, my entire body was scrunched up on the couch, frozen solid, fingernails in mouth. Winning that match meant everything at the time. Life and death important.

I mean, really. It's a bit ridiculous. I can kind of understand it when it's a case of national pride -- as with Davis Cup Tennis or Ashes Cricket or the World Netball Championships. But why do I go so nutty for the Vixens during the netball season -- and why do Melbournians go absolutely mental for their AFL team (whether or not they are watching it)?

And now Lleyton's match goes into the fifth set. Sigh.

Remembering nine-eleven

2011-09-11T20:51:00.001+10:00

Today is all about the 10 year anniversary of the terrible events now broadly referred to as "nine-eleven". This is a date that will always be synonymous with terrorism and violence; the cracking of the world as we knew it.

Like many people, I remember it vividly. It was late evening. I was watching TV in bed (an episode of one of the Star Trek franchise I think) when Sandra Sully came onto the screen with the breaking news that a plane had just crashed into one of the World Trade Centre Buildings in New York. Replays were shown. At that point in time I (probably naively) assumed it was an accident, and I know I had absolutely no idea of the implications.

But the coverage continued and we all know what unfolded.

I recall watching in horror as the first tower collapsed in the background, while the talking head talked on -- a live-to-air disaster that the whole world watched before the reporter on screen was even aware it had happened. Seeing that collapse in real time packed a massive punch.

I remember waiting in dread for the second tower to fall. I remember seeing people jumping out of the windows and falling . . .

My parents were watching elsewhere in the house, and I think at some point I joined them. I must have gone to bed eventually, but it would have been hours later. At the time I didn't realise how much our world was going to change. It didn't occur to me that I was witnessing history. That came later. At the time it was confusion, panic and pandemonium.

I heard on the news last night that one firm lost all 650 of its employees that day -- out of nearly 3000 lives lost in total. And that includes all the fire-fighters and rescue-workers who died as well. The sheer scale of the devastation is still hard to get your head around.

But it's not just the number of deaths, because natural disasters and accidents can be just as devastating -- and have been in recent years. It's the impact the nine-eleven events had on the global psyche. The fear. The paranoia. The violence in retaliation.

On the news tonight they said it had been a "decade of war". That snagged my attention, because it's true. I find that depressing.

Rising Water

2011-09-07T22:30:00.000+10:00

Just a very brief post about the MTC production of Tim Winton's play, Rising Water, which I saw a couple of weeks ago. It's set on the decks of three boats moored permanently side-by-side in a marina, where three loners live and hide out from the world -- while interacting abrasively with each other from their individual vessels. When a loudmouthed drunken English backpacker turns up and looks like falling in the water, Baxter's (John Howard) chivalrous spirit kicks in and he takes her onboard his dilapidated craft. She proves to be the catalyst for confrontation and the revelation of a scandal.

This one didn't really work for me. It was a little slow, and although it was easy enough to follow, the main themes never really coalesced into a cohesive whole. I was left bemused and unsure what was the point of it all. In the fortnight since I saw it, most of my other thoughts have dribbled away, leaving a feeling of vague dissatisfaction...

A walk in the bush with vanilla slice

2011-09-04T16:05:00.000+10:00

It is over a year since I completed the Melbourne Oxfam Trailwalker event with an intrepid group of friends, but some of us reunited today for a walk along a short section of the now-infamous 100km trail in the Dandenong Ranges.

We dusted off our trailrunners, loaded up our backpacks, prepared snack bags and hit Grant's Picnic Ground (Kallista) at the civilised time of 9:00am. And it was fabulous to get back out into the bush and relive some of the memories. We spent a great deal of time at Grant's over the months we were training, and became rather fond of their famous vanilla slices. So reliving that particular experience was high on our agenda -- so high in fact that we pre-purchased them for after our walk, just in case they ran out!

After some discussion, we decided not to do a car-shuffle in order to walk a complete stage, and instead walked out of Grant's for the first section of CP3-4 and then retraced our steps via the Sherbrooke Falls. This meant a shorter walk and less bother with logistics -- probably a good thing, since this was the first decent walk some of our group had done in a while. We were also joined by one of our original support crew, and it was lovely to share the trail and experiences with her.

We finished up with lunch in the picnic ground, and then into the tea rooms for a well-earned coffee and vanilla slice.Very yummy.

I was interested to note this week that the trail was changed for this year's event (and presumably future events) and no longer passes through Grant's Picnic Ground. I feel a little sad for all those walkers who are missing out on those vanilla slices during their training sessions!

Sweet bunnies in Watership Down

2011-09-02T21:03:00.000+10:00

The recent book of the month for my reading group was Watership Down (published in 1972) by Richard Adams. I only read about 10% of it, so instead watched the 1978 animated film to gain the gist of the story. Turns out I wasn't the only one in the group, so our discussion was as much about the latter as the novel itself.

As far as the book goes, I enjoyed what I read, which covered the exodus of the rabbits from the warren (due to Fiver's prediction of doom) and the early part of their journey. Each short chapter deals with an obstacle or setback in their journey -- such as a river-crossing, or a near escape from a predator. Unusually for me, I rather enjoyed the omniscient viewpoint and dominant voice of the narrator/storyteller.

Watching the DVD was an interesting experience. The last time I watched it I was still in primary school, and the film scared me silly. I have these vivid memories of the vicious general rabbit and his nasty black minions, who chase the good guys through the fields and rip them to shreds when they are caught. My memories of these scenes are so horrific that I felt genuinely reluctant to re-watch the film (and I think it might have led to my not wanting to read the book, as well). Despite knowing logically that my 40-year-old self would not be scared, I was truly apprehensive to relive the experience.

Anyway, I forced myself to watch the movie, and of course it was nowhere near as violent and terrifying as I remembered. But I can definitely see why small children get frightened. The music in particular is very dramatic (in that corny 1970s way).

My adult take on the film is that it's a wee bit dated -- particularly in terms of the animation, which is almost too basic to be believed. And that "Bright Eyes" scene (sung by Art Garfunkle) -- where Fiver goes searching for his brother/leader-rabbit Hazel who's been shot in the leg by a local farmer -- is sooooooo corny.

Anyway, I gather the story of the film is pretty close to that of the book -- certainly the parts I read were. Although after reading the Wikipedia summary of the plot, it seems there are a few minor differences in the second half. This is where, having safely arrived at their new warren on Watership Down, the rabbits realise they have no female rabbits (doh!) and decide to seek some out. It involves initially negotiating (in the book) and then infiltrating a nearby warren (headed up by the evil General Woundwort) to steal away some of their females.

Overall, it's a simple story, so simple that many have gone searching for allegories in order to tease out deeper meaning. Maybe it's a political comment on styles of government -- contrasting the different leadership structure of the four warrens mentioned in the book. Others have identified religious symbolism. But apparently Adams intended none of this, saying it was just a story he made up during long car trips for his daughters.

Thus, at heart, it's a fairly basic and sweet "coming of age" story -- albeit with a fairly comprehensive rabbit mythology (told through folk tales) and vocabulary. My impression is that, despite the evil general and his minions, things happen a little too easily and conveniently for modern sensibilities. The main conflict is big and bold, but it's all too linear and predictable. Sweet bunnies aside, I'm afraid I don't really see what all the fuss is about.

Fitness mission - week 5

2011-08-28T09:51:00.000+10:00

This is the final post in my "fitness mission/C25K" series. After some deliberation, I abandoned the C25K program last week on the grounds that it was making me grumpy. There were simply too many odds stacked up against me and I faltered. (Turns out that running does not make me feel better.) Having made the decision, which has been coming on for a couple of weeks, I feel as though a weight has lifted.

I am still going to Curves, however, and splurged on some funky new gym gear from lululemon. Gee, they have some lovely stuff. It could be the onset of a new addiction -- and the best thing is that every time you buy yourself a new workout top, the first thing you want to do is go to the gym! Does that make it bribery or a reward?

Movie: Friends with Benefits

2011-08-27T19:17:00.000+10:00

Been seeing quite a few movies lately! The latest was Friends with Benefits yesterday evening... This is a snappy RomCom starring Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis. The opening scene is a ripper, and I also particularly enjoyed the first 10 minutes or so in which headhunter Jamie (Kunis) tries to talk online blog whiz Dylan (Timberlake) into taking the art director's job with GQ Magazine.

From here it's likable and easy enough to take, if predictable. The two leads are fine -- I daresay Mila Kunis will be the next flavour of the month. It presents a slightly different perspective on New York, which I liked; and Jenna Elfman as Dylan's sister, looking after their father as he slowly succumbs to Alzheimer's, gives a lovely performance.

Overall, though, the movie seemed a little lacking in depth and complexity, even for a RomCom. It moves through the various stages of their relationship in much the manner you'd expect (turning points on cue), making it seem formulaic. The subplots are too peripheral as well. Just not enough substance or heart for me. Entertaining enough for a single viewing, but not one I'll be seeking out again for a Friday DVD night.

Nature Direct - here's to healthy housework

2011-08-25T16:57:00.000+10:00

Just a short post about Nature Direct (because I like to be thorough). This is a direct-selling organisation specialising in non-toxic, eco-friendly cleaning solutions.

One of the mandates of the company is to educate people about the nasty toxins some people spread around their homes, disguised as air-fresheners, insect spray or bathroom cleaners (to name a few). If you read the fine print or directions on many common products, you start to wonder why on earth you would use them. (I feel this way about bleach -- fume masks and tough gloves are recommended. Why would you put yourself through that?)

So it's not just about the environment -- it's about our health as well.

All Nature Direct products are pH-neutral and made from 100% natural ingredients. They are not expensive. My only complaint is that there are not enough options. At the moment you can get a heavy-duty cleaner (for bathrooms, kitchens etc), spray-and-wipe cleaner, glass cleaner, carpet/upholstery/prewash solution, and the 'EnviroMist' spray, which is a spray disinfectant. There is also the immensely wonderful EnviroAir, which bubbles away in the corner deodorising and cleansing the air circulated around a room. I think they could do with adding some dishwashing detergent as well as laundry detergent to the range.

I am still a pretty big Enjo user, but am now supplementing with some Nature Direct products. I just don't understand how anyone could use bleach et al after they've seen the alternative.

A pared-back version of Jane Eyre

2011-08-23T17:50:00.000+10:00

Another decade, another version of Jane Eyre, that oft-filmed eternal favourite. Starring Australian Mia Wasikowska (Alice in Wonderland) as Jane, and German(!) Michael Fassbender as Rochester, this latest movie is a windswept, pared-back interpretation that still manages to capture most of the essential essence of the novel.

In my mind, it was always going to be difficult to surpass the 2006 BBC television series (starring Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson) and I probably still prefer that version, largely owing to the more comprehensive treatment. There's a lot of essential dialogue missing in the new movie, and while I thought Wasikowska gave an impressive performance, I couldn't help wishing sometimes that she'd speak rather than use her amazingly expressive face.

Yet the script covers all the essential plot points, and utilises a creative adaptation to the structure of the story. By starting with Jane's flight from Thornfield Hall, the film opens with a mystery (if you don't know the story) and then cuts between this usually rather dull 'Rivers' section and Jane's equally dull childhood. I thought it worked really well. (The 2006 version adheres to a more conventional structure from the start, but interleaves the Rivers section with flashbacks to the passionate scenes between Jane and Rochester in the aftermath of the non-wedding. This works too.) I did notice that this film version decided to omit the ridiculous coincidence that Jane is related to the Rivers -- good job!

Of the other characters, I thought Jamie Bell as St John Rivers was OK, although not particularly memorable -- and Judi Dench was predictably brilliant as Mrs Fairfax, despite limited screen time. All the other characters were very pared back, but served their purpose. However, I did come away feeling that the Mason angle was underplayed and a tad too peripheral. Perhaps much of the story, abbreviated as it was, suffered from this. I don't think you get the same sense of Jane's total powerlessness and vulnerability as an orphaned and poor woman in this version, either.

Ultimately, my greatest lasting impression of the film is of the windswept moor and of course the Jane/Rochester love story. I've heard it said that this portrayal of Rochester is more severe than most, but it didn't overtly strike me that way. However, I did feel the impact of the contracted storyline in the development of their relationship.

Overall, if you're anywhere close to being a fan of Jane Eyre . . . or the Bronte sisters . . . or Gothic Romance in general, this film is definitely worth seeing. The cinematography is fabulous (I've read that many of the interior shots are filmed using candle-lighting) and the performances also. Even though it's possibly missing a few of the usual intricacies and depth of theme, at heart it's still a tremendous story.

Fitness mission - week 4

2011-08-21T15:05:00.001+10:00

So another week of gym/Curves workouts and C25K walk/jogging, another week of feeling virtuous and vigorous.

I'm still really enjoying the gym workouts, especially the fact they ensure I'm out of bed and exercised, showered and breakfasted by 8:30am. The workouts themselves are fun and social, and in my view this is definitely the way to do exercise!

On the other hand, I'm still not much enjoying the jogging, especially since C25K week 4 was a huge step up from week 3. The program for week 4 consists of [3 min jog - 90s walk - 5 min jog - 2.5 min walk] X 2 sandwiched between the 5 minute warmup and warmdown walks. That final 5 min jog saw me shuffling along like Cliff Young in his gumboots.

I've only done two sessions of week 4 so far, because I substituted the 3rd session for a hill-training session instead. This morning saw me with a couple of friends in the Dandenong Ranges National Park on the popular 'Kokoda Memorial Trail', otherwise known as the 1000 steps. We climbed the steps twice (15-20 min each time) which was a good aerobic workout, oh yes indeedy! A lovely Spring-like morning too. I dug out my trailrunners for the first time since last April and gave them something to do.

I'll do the 3rd session of C25K week 4 tomorrow and assess whether I'm ready for week 5, which is another massive step up. Something tells me there's a good chance I'll stick with week 4 for now and move on to week 5 the following week.

Solar really shines

2011-08-19T00:30:00.000+10:00

One of the things I find most irritating about much of the mainstream messaging on carbon and energy and why we should produce or use less of it, is the emphasis on money -- either commercial imperatives or 'cost to families'. Gah! Why the human race should consider that cutting down on carbon emissions in order to save the planet should necessarily be cheaper than polluting practices is beyond me.

But this is not going to be a rant about stupid attitudes to the Australian carbon tax (which I support) or other environmental issues; it's actually going to be about Ian McEwan's latest novel, Solar (2010), which comments on the decay (both global and personal) derived from human excesses, while exploring our immediate need for renewable energy.

Michael Beard is a nobel prize-winning physicist in his 50s, resting on his professional laurels as he chairs a centre for research into renewable energy. He is also experiencing the disintegration of his 5th marriage. The culmination of a marvellous first act, in which we also meet Beard's brilliant post-doc Tom Aldous and Beard's wife's disreputable lover Tarpin, sees Tom's notes about a theoretical revolutionary new solar energy technology fall into Beard's hands . . . The 2nd and 3rd acts take place five and then another four years later respectively, each one providing a snapshot of Beard en route to developing the technology into a commercial enterprise, until it all comes crashing down.

Beard is a thoroughly unlikable and extravagant protagonist. As a serial womaniser, his attitude to women is deplorable. He overindulges in food, getting fatter and fatter with each passing act, and shows signs of being an alcoholic. His ego overrules his professional ethics, and he is the master of rationalisation, self-delusion and self-denial. And, to top it all off, his motive for developing the solar technology is almost all pure self-interest -- both commercial and to restore his failing professional reputation. This all makes him the perfect allegory for the human race and our many vices. McEwan holds us up to the repellant Beard as a mirror and shows us just how much we have to answer for.

I enjoyed this novel immensely. It's the first McEwan novel I've read, and I understand he is renowned for his 'set pieces', which in Solar are laugh-out-loud funny. (Even when reading in a cafe!) This novel has in fact been described by many critics as a comedy, and, although I wouldn't have necessarily called it that, it does have a light touch. Certainly the character of Beard is simply too revolting to be believed.

I particularly liked the first act, which circles around through various events as Beard worries about his wife's affair, has an altercation with his wife's lover, fobs off the theories of Tom the post-doc, goes on a visit to the arctic to 'witness' global warming . . . and returns to the Climactic Event of the act that tightens all the slack strings into a neat bow and left me awe-struck. It is so skillfully done. All through the novel the writing is fabulous -- such brilliant descriptions and super-effective use of narrative action to convey exactly the right mood.

Usually I don't like novels where I can't relate to the characters at all, but in Solar the writing and storycraft is so skillfull that I was totally absorbed. Even the science sounds feasible. Interestingly, it seems other McEwan fans don't like this as much as his other books, so now I am really looking forward to reading some more of his works.

Conan the Barbarian

2011-08-17T03:30:00.000+10:00

Earlier this week, I somehow found myself rocking up to the Jam Factory to see a preview screening of the latest Conan the Barbarian movie in order to review it for Festivale Online Magazine.

Part of my brain told me that of course I should go see it, because it's a fantasy movie, and that's my thing. Sure, the previews made it look a bit mindless with a lame plot, but there was still the possibility that it might have hidden depths not shown in the previews. Failing that, at least it would be visually spectacular . . . (It does star Jason Momoa, after all.)

At least I didn't pay to see the movie. In addition to being mindless with a lame plot (the previews didn't lie, after all), it's also really violent and there's not much depth to any of the characters. Not even the visuals made up for it -- unlike the breathtaking world brought to life in the TV series Game of Thrones, Conan's world is bleak and underwhelming. However, to quote myself, I did think Jason Momoa was "muscularly spectacular".

Here's my full review at Festivale, and my thoughts are probably best summarised in the sixth paragraph: I think my biggest disappointment is the lack of sophistication and subtlety. Here was a chance for the filmmakers to completely subvert expectation, to explore the inner complexities of Conan, his world and the other key players; but instead we are treated to a hackneyed and clichéd rendition of the evil overlord, the innocent-yet-feisty girl, the battle-hardened ‘hero’.

I should qualify my views by stating that I've had no other exposure to the "legend" that is Conan, so am really judging this film in isolation. I just don't get why a filmmaker would resort to remaking Conan the Barbarian, when there is so much intelligent and insightful modern fantasy around. A wasted opportunity in my view.

C25K - week 3 - Curves 1.0

2011-08-13T15:34:00.001+10:00

This week my exercise regimen stepped up a notch . . . three walk/runs for the C25K program and three workouts at Curves gym. Rest day on Sunday -- and OMG do I need it!

The C25K routine (week 3) involved: 5 min warmup walk - [90s jog - 90s recovery walk - 3min jog - 3min recovery walk] X2 - 5 min cooldown walk.

Surprisingly I found that a 3 min jog, although insanely hard, was not twice as hard as a 90s jog. The weather was cooler too, so I didn't get quite so hot and bothered. I completed the program along the canal and through the park on Mon, Wed, Fri . . . It took an extra special effort to get out on Friday afternoon, because my 'usual' morning timeslot was substituted for a regular walk-along-the-beach with a friend.

I'm still having to fool myself into 'going for a walk to see how I go', but of course sheer determination and obstinacy -- once I'm out there -- takes care of the rest. But I'm seriously not looking forward to week 4, which seems to be an enormous step up in difficulty.

The new Curves endeavour, on the other hand, is a more attractive proposition for several reasons: 1) It's companionable/social, 2) There is no 'out' because I'm getting picked up at 6:40am, 3) It doesn't involve a public exhibition, 4) I actually find muscle workouts easier and more enjoyable.

I feel the Curves workouts complement the more aerobic C25K workouts really well. Even better, they're making me get out of bed at a far more acceptable hour . . . so I can utilise more of my day. (Conversely, the thought of a walk/run serves to keep me in bed.) Our Curves days are Tues, Thurs and Sat, leaving no room for deviations in the C25K schedule!

I certainly believe I deserve my rest day after all that activity, and feel much better for having done it. My next quest is to get my eating habits under control to see whether I can shake off a few kg while I'm at it!

Loco Coffee

2011-08-11T21:30:00.020+10:00

Loco Coffee in Elsternwick is my goto place for coffee, all-day-brekky and afternoon writing retreat. It's a funky little cafe with an eclectic mix of timber tables (old desks and kitchen tables -- round, square and oblong) and grungy old chairs. The scuffed-up brown linoleum floor means it doesn't get too noisy, and instead the place hums with comfortable chatter, the clink of china and the incessant grinding of beans.

There are so many things to like about this cafe. The service is fabulous -- within 30 seconds of me/us taking a table, someone has brought water, menu and taken a coffee order. Then coffee is usually on the table within a few minutes. Frankly, what happens after that doesn't much matter, but the good service keeps coming . . . and they never annoy you before you're ready.

But it's obviously not merely the service that maintains Loco's very loyal customer base. Its flagship offering is the coffee, which is consistently fabulous (and sold separately). I think it's the best on Glenhuntly Rd. They're renowned for their lovely latte art too -- some of their baristas create gorgeous little faces in the foam.

The brekkies are also excellent. Over the years I've tried many of them, although there are a few I keep coming back to. Usually it's poached eggs of some description for me -- a recent delicious addition to the menu is the 'combit', featuring poached eggs on pesto, olives, avocado and roasted cherry tomatoes -- but I recently tried the bircher muesli and every so often I order the french toast. Even when I go for lunch, I tend to order one of the all-day brekkies.

Loco is also a great place to spend an hour or so with a coffee and my baby computer -- particularly in the afternoons when the crowd slacks off a bit. I've been known to do this on the weekends, but have been able to enjoy the experience more often midweek while I've been off work. Somehow, writing in cafes is productive for me.

And, since Loco is opposite Coles, I sometimes take my book/kindle with me for a coffee before I go shopping. (Any excuse for a Loco coffee!)

Loco would definitely be one of the cafes I frequent the most -- now you know why. [And I've just discovered that the owners have started up a new cafe in the Melbourne CBD. It's called Manchester Press, at 8 Rankins Lane, Melbourne (off Little Burke St). I better check it out!]

Flourless orange and almond cake

2011-08-07T09:24:00.002+10:00

Oranges. Not something I usually eat, let alone buy. But I'm getting three a fortnight with my Aussie Farmers Direct box, and they're starting to accumulate. There are only so many I can slip into a fruit salad. (And I'm not really into orange juice . . .)

And so here's a classic example of how my AFD box is making me try new things. In an attempt to use up some oranges, I seized upon their emailed recipe for a flourless orange cake and decided to make one for the reading group meeting I hosted a few days ago.

I love flourless orange and almond cake and will often order it in a cafe. But the recipes all say you have to boil up oranges in water for two hours before you can do anything, which has always sounded like far too much effort. In hindsight, this is crazy. I've made plenty more complicated cakes and desserts than this. But for some reason it was a stumbling block. Go figure. All you need to be is organised enough to boil up the oranges far enough ahead so they can cool down. I did mine the day before and slapped them in the fridge.

And once your oranges are done, you throw everything else in a bowl (or food processor) and bamix them. Then into the oven and cook. How easy is that? The first one I made for the other night was so successful that I've made another one for my writing group crit meeting today.

The best thing about this recipe is that you can fool yourself into thinking it's healthy -- aside from the sugar. Think eggs, almonds and oranges. No oil of any kind. There is quite a deal of sugar, but for a cake it's positively saintly!

I can't seem to find the recipe on the AFD web site, so I'll reproduce it here.

Flourless Navel Orange Cake (serves 10-12)

Ingredients:
2 oranges (medium sized Aussie navels)
6 eggs, beaten
250g sugar
200g almond meal
1 tsp baking powder
Icing sugar (to dust cake)

Method:
Boil oranges (skin on) for two hours in a pan with lid on, keeping water topped up.
Remove and allow oranges to cool, cut open and remove any pips, chop roughly.
Preheat oven to 160-180 deg (fan assisted oven) and grease/flour a 20cm cake tin.
Place all ingredients in food processor and blend until smooth (or hand blend).
Pour mixture into tin and bake for 50mins - 1 hour.
Cake is cooked when inserted knife comes out clean.
Allow to cool, turn out of tin and dust with icing sugar when cool.
Serve with cream.

C25K - week 2

2011-08-06T11:59:00.000+10:00

Another week down in my mission for physical self-improvement. It's been an unseasonably warm week, up to 23 degrees in the middle of a Melbourne winter, but very pleasant for getting out and about. A bit warm for running though, I must say.

The C25K week 2 program is as follows: Brisk five-minute warmup walk. Then alternate 90 seconds of jogging and two minutes of walking for a total of 20 minutes. This is how it went down . . .

Day 1 (Tuesday): OMG whose idea was this? I CAN'T do it. How could running 90s be so hard? At least it's a lovely sunny day and there aren't as many hills on the other side of the highway in Brighton. Maybe I should go back to the week 1 schedule?

Day 2 (Thursday): Woke up feeling ordinary -- lethargic and headachy, blah. Had I not already a social walk scheduled for Friday, I suspect I would have deferred this ordeal, but instead I rehydrated, ate, imbibed coffee, procrastinated for another hour and then made myself do it. Adjusted my route again for the better -- and I completed the program!

Day 3 (Saturday): No brekky date scheduled so decided to get the ordeal over and done with. Once again took the pleasant route along the canal and through the park. Got through the walk/run, but am now daunted by the thought of the week 3 program. It just keeps getting harder . . .

I have to say I'm not really enjoying this, and not merely because it's hard. I don't like exerting myself in public. I don't want to see people -- or people to see me -- because I am invariably heaving and spluttering and red-faced and dripping with sweat. I also have a dodgy running style and feel quite self-conscious about it. For the moment, I persevere, because I rather like having done it. But I so do not understand people becoming addicted to running.

I used to think it seemed a shame to workout indoors in a gym when you could instead get outside in the fresh air. Now I think the confinement and isolation of a gym (to some extent) has its time and place. You can hide away in there with your sweat and your pain! A friend and I are going to sign up for the Curves 6-week deal on Tuesday, and I will try to juggle the two fitness programs and see how it goes.

Two fruit, three veg... and then some

2011-08-05T23:10:00.000+10:00

Today I received my fourth fruit and vegetable crate from Aussie Farmers Direct. Every fortnight a mystery box appears as if by magic on my doorstep (I never hear the delivery van, even when I'm home). I haul it inside and lift the lid, and discover what luscious fresh produce lies within . . . And then I have to figure out what I'm going to do with it!

The first week's box was by far the most challenging: a whole cabbage, brussel sprouts, a fennel and celery (among other things). None of which I would ever buy. Since then the contents have been a little more in my line -- lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots and potatoes every time, some fresh herbs . . . this week I have mushrooms, silver beet and baby spinach too. Not to mention fruit -- oranges, apples, pears, mandarins, kiwi fruit and I've even had an entire cantaloupe and pineapple.

I embarked on AFD in order to improve the amount of fresh fruit and vegetables I eat. It's a radical step for me, who doesn't like cooking much, and it will be interesting to see if I can keep up with cooking and eating all the food when I start working again. I've already had to offload some lettuce, carrots and potatoes, because they just keep accumulating!

But overall I'm really enjoying it. It's forcing me to eat a more diverse range of foods -- which was another objective -- and the quality of the produce is really good. I've become a bit of an AFD evangelist actually.

C25K - week 1

2011-07-30T23:18:00.003+10:00

Part of the mission to get my life under control includes improving fitness, so I've taken the plunge and embarked on the C25K (couch to 5km) running program. It's a 9 week interval training program that is supposed to get you off the couch and running 5km (or for half an hour) by the end of it. I don't really plan to take up running as a habit -- I don't think -- but it seems like a good project for the moment. I wanted something a bit more aerobic than merely walking. And, in my current jobless state, running is free!

I figure if I mention it here I will have a greater chance of actually seeing it through. Because it's hard. I've completed the first week, which comprises three half-hour sessions in which you alternately run for 60s and walk for 90s (8 times) with warm-up and cool-down walks either side. Harder than it sounds! And it didn't get any easier throughout the week, and I don't quite know how I'm going to manage the extra challenge of week 2 . . .

There are heaps of podcasts and smartphone apps that have been created to facilitate the program. I downloaded the first week podcast from here. Basically it plays appropriate music with a voiceover that tells you when to start/stop running. I won't say it's fun, but it feels worthwhile. (Somehow I don't imagine I will become addicted to running like some people do.)

Game of Thrones

2011-07-29T23:06:00.026+10:00

I have just finished watching the first season of Game of Thrones (a new fantasy drama series based on George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, of which the first novel is A Game of Thrones).

The things I liked most about it:

The amazing fantasy scenery; in fact, the realisation of the world in its entirety. The CGI/cinematography is breathtaking. The costumes and sets are amazing. It is such a wonderful example of how to bring a fantasy epic to life onto the screen. How could I not stand behind something that lavishes so much love and attention and money on my favourite genre?
Some of the characters. Few are all good or all bad, and they all have strong motives for their actions. Among my favourites are Tyrion Lannister the intelligent little person with a strong survival instinct born to a powerful family, and Arya Stark the child-daughter of a northern lord who takes up sword-fighting (I hope she finds her wolf in season 2).

But I expected to be more enthralled by the story, given everything I've heard about the books. Turns out it's a relatively simple tale about power and betrayal. There are lots of men and women of different houses scheming and chest-thumping and kidnapping and killing each other. There's not much love. And an awful lot of lust. The house politics seem familiar and the world is 'post-magical' medieval -- except for various references to dragons and the mysterious happenings in the north 'beyond the wall', which I sense will become more prominent as the series progresses.

It's all very graphically depicted on the screen -- including both the violence and the sex. There are probably too many gratuitous sex scenes and nudity, and some are pretty rough. I suspect this won't be for everybody, nor the violence. I had to cover my eyes a couple of times each episode as throats were cut, or heads chopped off, or -- in one memorable scene -- a pot of molten gold tipped on someone's head. Ugh.

On the whole, though, I think the TV series has been brilliantly made. The acting is great and they have done a good job at dividing a novel into 10 episodes that work. When it comes down to it, it's probably not my favoured style of fantasy, but hey at least they're doing it. And as mentioned the realisation of the world is fabulous. It will be interesting to see how season two evolves.

A tale of two dresses (or, Dino Direct online shopping - Don't dare!)

2011-07-28T18:44:00.001+10:00

This is a cautionary tale about the dangers of online shopping . . .

It all started so innocuously. My sister (S) ordered two identical flowergirl dresses from the Dino Direct online shopping store in Hong Kong and arranged for them to be delivered to me (the wedding is here in Melbourne, and she is in Germany). They were ordered separately to minimise postage and handling costs. And when they arrived with me on consecutive days, all seemed to have gone to plan.

At my sister's request, I opened the two packages while we were having a skype session. At first glance the two dresses appeared to be the same . . . but then a few discrepancies became obvious. The pink ribbons around the middle were different. The embroidered decorations were different. One had tulle underneath to provide body, the other didn't. One looked to be a larger size in the bodice, but was in fact a shorter style.

Bottom line: They were completely different dresses. It was a bit difficult to show to S via skype, but I grabbed mum and dad for a second opinion in daylight and we took some photos, including some with a tape measure superimposed (because there were no size labels on the dresses). Based on the size charts on the web site, neither dress was a 6 or 8 as ordered. Rather, they seemed to be about a 4 and a 10 or 12. (Are you with me so far? It's really not that complicated . . .)

The decision was made to exchange both dresses. The size 4 might have been OK, for I got S to measure the two girls, but we decided the chances of ending up with two identical dresses if we exchanged just one were negligible.

A complicating factor was that the dresses had to be returned within 30 days of receipt and S was about to embark on a family holiday to Croatia (with limited internet access) for two weeks. She decided to send an email advising Dino Direct that I would package up the dresses and return them. In exchange she wanted two replacement dresses that were identical to each other in the sizes requested. (And here she made the fatal mistake of changing the sizes she wanted . . .)

But just as I was getting ready to mail them back, I found the instructions regarding their return policy and discovered we needed to apply for a Return Merchandise Authorisation (RMA) form, which we would have to print out and include with each package when we returned them. Otherwise, the packages would likely get lost in the system and we'd end up with nothing . . .

So I logged in to the Dino Direct web site as S and set about applying for two RMAs . . . (Goodness, I need wine just thinking about what happened next!)

The Dino Direct web site is not terribly intuitive. Nor does it work very well. Instead of sending me to the RMA request section, it caused me to open a 'Case' and I entered into some private message board style dialogue with their customer service team on S's behalf. Here, I tried to explain the situation, referred to S's email, uploaded one of the photos, and requested RMAs be provided.

We parried back and forward over a few days, them telling me we had to pay for return shipping because we'd ordered the wrong sizes, me repeating myself and clearly reiterating (I must ultimately have stated it at least 5 times) that the main issue was that one of the dresses was in fact the wrong style completely and that neither was the size ordered.

They asked me if a $10 gift voucher would be appropriate. I said no.

Finally they told me that if I really wanted an RMA, I should apply for one in the RMA section. What?! I thought that was what I had been doing!

This time the RMA link sent me to the correct form and I filled it out, uploading more photos, including a copy of the receipts (which I had to PDF and then JPG from an email), and explaining the situation again. Over the next week, they then requested I upload all the information I had just uploaded, and stalled some more -- I can't remember the reasons given (probably asked me to check the sizes again) and they have now removed all record of my RMA request from S's customer account.

Meanwhile, I have been maintaining dialogue with them in the case file (really now for sport), but the whole thing is going around in circles. They alternately have a) asked for more information, b) stated that we ordered the wrong sizes and they can't help that, c) suggested I take the garments to a seamstress for adjusting, and would a $15 gift voucher compensate us for our troubles?

I wish I could copy in the full transcript of our 3-week dialogue, but they have now deleted all but the following:

Me Jul 27,2011
I am sorry but I do not think you understand the problem. One of the dresses is the WRONG STYLE. And neither dress is the size I ordered.Please do not tell me again about the size charts on your web site. That is not the issue. The issue is that the dresses sent to me are NOT WHAT I ORDERED.Please issue me RMA for both orders immediately. I would like a full refund. This has been going on for nearly 3 weeks. Dino Direct has made a mistake. Not me. Please acknowledge this.
Me Jul 28,2011
Why have you deleted the history of our conversation above and my RMA request? This case is not resolved.
Customer Service Emily, Jul 28,2011
Thank you for your email.If you want to return it back, you have to pay the shipping fee and send it back to our China's warehouse. If you agree on that we will provide you the return information.Have a nice day!
Customer Service Emily, Jul 28,2011
Thanks for your email. As you have said you were unable to apply a RMA, we advise that you should have a try latter, because you are received your order really. We are sorry to see that the style is different, you can return this item back to us, and we will resend you a new one or give you a full refund, but you a supposed to pay for the returning shipping fees.Your understanding and cooperation will be highly appreciated.

(sic)

So, are you laughing?

That final comment from 'Emily' is the first acknowledgment from any of the three or four service assistants we've dealt with that one of the dresses is the wrong style. Until now, they have willfully misunderstood this key fact and focused on the size issue. (Initially I reassured them several times that we would be happy to receive the sizes 6 & 8 originally ordered (not the new sizes S requested), but after a week of this BS I decided to go for a full refund for both dresses.)

Now I contemplate what my answer to that little missive (on S's behalf) will be . . .

I should perhaps mention that we think the most likely outcome from this is that we sell the dresses on e-bay and start again. But, although it's been frustrating, I figure we have nothing to lose by seeing how far we can push. At least I haven't sworn at them yet.

Harry the very last (and tonnes of rubble)

2011-07-25T23:35:00.079+10:00

I saw the final Harry Potter movie tonight -- it's pretty good! HP and the Deathly Hallows part 2 is action-packed with explosions, death and a cackling Voldemort. And rubble. Tonnes and tonnes of it.

There are plenty of quieter moments too, grief and revelation sandwiched between the mayhem. My first impression is that the pacing was pretty good, and the plot very close to the book.

When it was first announced that the final book would be made into two movies, I wasn't convinced it was necessary. However, I now agree with the decision, because it meant they didn't need to leave anything much out. All the other movies had great slabs of the book slashed from them, but to do that to this final movement, the culmination of a seven-book arc, would have been a crime. There are parts that are skimmed over, sure; but at least they are for the most part there. And as a dramatic climax to the series -- for that is really the role of this film -- it works really well.

If I had a complaint about this last movie, though, it's that Ron and Hermione seemed a little more peripheral than normal. In the previous movie, Hermione in particular played such a crucial role, and the tone of this last one was so completely different. I think Hermione and Ron deserved a little more prominence and stature in the end. In fact, most of the characters probably got a little short-changed. Casualties of an action film. (Whereas part 1 was all about character...)

I was also expecting that more about Dumbledore's past would be revealed. A glaring omission from the first of the Deathly Hallows movies was Harry discovering the true life of Dumbledore; the movies have sketched over this extremely briefly.

On the whole, however, I think the movie was great. I think my favourite moment was when Professor McGonnegal takes back the school and leads the resistance. And there were plenty of moments that brought a lump to my throat, especially the tragic story of Severus Snape. Not to mention dozens of cameos from various actors who have appeared in the other movies (Emma Thompson springs to mind).

But don't bother going to see it if you've not seen the previous movies. And if you haven't already, go read the books -- if for no other reason than to discover the brilliant character of Nymphadora Tonks, who was reduced in this movie to nothing more than a corpse.

A day of art in the country

2011-07-22T16:53:00.003+10:00

There seems to be more hype than usual surrounding the presence of this year's Archibald Prize finalists in Victoria. Perhaps it's because Melbournians have to plan 'a day in the country' if they want to see the impressive collection of 40-odd portraits, which are being exhibited during July at the Tarrawarra Museum of Art near Healesville -- but I think that's the point. I understand the Tarrawarra gallery was selected in order to give the region a boost after the devastating bushfires of two and a half years ago.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to have my day in the country yesterday and saw the wonderful exhibition. Even this art-ignoramus can see why the Archibald is one of Australia's most coveted art prizes -- there's something madly compelling about faces rendered in as many different styles as paintings. Some faces are famous, some not; all are fascinating, particularly when viewed through the lens of the artist.

Aside from the sheer diversity in style and composition, I found it especially enthralling to read about the inspiration behind each painting: why the subject was chosen, what they mean to the artist, and insights into the artist's thought-processes behind whatever symbolism or techniques were used. It magnified my appreciation considerably, and highlighted some similarities between the creative arts of painting and writing. Quite inspiring really.

Pictured is DA by Amanda Marburg (Highly Commended). It's a portrait of wordsmith David Astle. The artist first modelled in clay then painted. Click here to see all the finalists' portraits.

Astor double: Water for Elephants and Never Let Me Go

2011-07-19T23:37:00.000+10:00

The Astor Theatre in St Kilda East is a lovely old art-deco cinema house, famous for its choctop icecreams, resident lap cat, massive silver screen, uncomfortable seats and double-feature screenings. (In fact, it also offers triple-feature screenings on occasion . . . for instance LOTR movies one, two and three all in a row. An amazing experience I am somewhat tempted to repeat on Sunday 31 July . . .)

The two movies I saw last Friday were Water for Elephants and Never Let Me Go. The latter I had wanted to see on first release earlier this year but missed it; the former was recommended by a friend who had read the book.

Water for Elephants (starring Reese Witherspoon and Robert Pattinson) is based on the novel by Sarah Gruen. It's essentially a love story, set amid the backdrop of a US depression-era travelling circus. Jacob, a final year veterinarian student of Polish descent, is left destitute and finds himself joining the circus (kinda a cliche when you think about it), where his vet skills are appreciated . . . most of the time. The circus owner, a charming/vicious psychopath who has his thugs throw men off trains and mistreats the animals, buys an elephant to be his new star attraction and demands Jacob get it to perform. So Jacob bonds with the elephant -- and the psychopath's beautiful wife.

The film portrays an era of history very convincingly -- the recreation of the circus is brilliant. And Rosie the elephant almost steals the show, particularly after the film's Great Coincidence is revealed (which is that Rosie happens to understand only Polish commands . . . and Jacob is Polish) and she starts performing all kinds of tricks. But, while it was an enjoyable enough film to watch, it doesn't offer a whole lot new or thought-provoking.

Never Let Me Go, on the other hand, is incredibly thought-provoking. Based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro and starring Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield and Keira Knightley, the film is a dystopian science fiction love story set between 1978 and 1995 in which human clones are bred as part of a National Donor Program.

Kathy, Tommy and Ruth have all been brought up at the 'special' Hailsham school for children in the program, and later as young adults find themselves out in the world (to some degree) when they live at 'The Cottages'. But their life has one purpose and that is to donate their organs one at a time until they 'complete' (die). Seeking to find purpose until her time to donate arrives, Kathy volunteers to be a 'carer', a clone who cares for other clones after they have donated.Years go past and she loses track of Ruth and Tommy until she comes across Ruth, weak and ill, having commenced her donation program. They track down Tommy and the friends reunite for a short time. A significant thread to the film is the love triangle between the three, with Tommy torn between his true love Kathy and Ruth, who came between them as his lover a long time ago.

There are many other heart-rending aspects to this story. Tommy, for instance, spends years drawing pictures, having formed the theory that the artwork they produced as children was used to look into their souls in order to prove whether they truly loved and could be awarded a deferral on their donation duties. This hope is quashed when they learn the art was to see whether they in fact had souls at all.

It's a beautiful and disturbing story, but I did have a problem with some of the logic in the way the donations were dealt with. For example, why take the organs one at a time and then stop when the clone 'completes'? Surely it would be more efficient simply to harvest the lot all at once -- it's not as though the officials seem to care too much for these poor young people. Or, at the very least, take them all when they finally complete. In the film, Ruth flatlines as they remove her liver, but what about all the other perfectly good organs still lying there on the operating table?

It's also extremely hard to reconcile the idea of an alternate world where such a thing is condoned. (We are given very little insight into the attitudes of non-clones in this film.) And the utter acceptance of their fate on the part of the clones is hard to take. Why don't they try to escape? Aside from having to pass a wrist implant over a scanner when they leave/arrive home, no-one seems to keep any tabs on them.

But if you accept the dystopia thus presented, it's an amazing story and a beautiful film. The performances by the three leads are mesmerising -- particularly Keira Knightley, who is almost unrecognisable in her mannerisms as Ruth. Carey Mulligan's role is much more understated, but her anguish and hope are just as beautifully portrayed.

Fire - a novel by Kristin Cashore

2011-07-15T14:24:00.001+10:00

Sometimes my pile of stuff to read looks overwhelming and I despair of ever getting through it. So the other day I picked up one of the thinner tomes and determined to inhale it. This turned out to be Fire, a 380p young adult fantasy by Kristin Cashore, with a gorgeous picture of the bow-n-arrow wielding heroine on the front.

The story is set in a memorable land dominated by 'monsters', which turn out to be brightly coloured and ever-so-slightly skewed versions of real creatures -- from bugs, to mice and cats, to horses and even raptors, which provide one of the greatest natural menaces of this world. They're as a rule not scary to humans (except for the raptors and other more naturally vicious beasts), but supposedly can be mentally seductive to the weak-minded. And they rather like eating each other.

17-year old Fire is the last human 'monster'. Her incredible (and seemingly unnatural) beauty inspires great desire in weak-minded men (and some women), and she can also actively manipulate the minds of other humans. Her now-deceased father used the same attributes to control and hurt other people, seek power for himself, and generally believe himself to be superior. But, somewhat remarkably, Fire is a gentle and moral soul brought up by a regional lord; she understands and despises her power and beauty, choosing to keep her flaming red hair bound most of the time (especially when out of doors so the other monsters don't recognise her and try to eat her) and living quietly away from most other people.

While I enjoyed reading this book, it's not a classically structured story. Much of the big plot revolves around Fire being cajoled out of 'hiding' to help the royal family (a bunch of handsome young siblings) as they try to fend off civil war coming at them from two different directions. There's also a sideplot involving a renegade Graceling boy from the neighbouring kingdom, who uses his silvertongue powers to cause havoc in his quest for power. [This sideplot is a clear effort to tie in Cashore's first novel in this so-called series, Graceling. (Somewhere I read Fire is a prequel.) I found the resolution of this plotline a little distracting and not terribly cohesive. I don't think it was integrated enough with the other parts of the storyline.]

But Fire's story is a lot more personal than these. Most of her decisions are driven by the need for redemption: primarily for her notorious father's terrible actions. She also has to deal with many different facets of love -- there is of course a primary love interest in a thread that plays out gently and beautifully, but there are many other aspects of love explored in this book with its different well-drawn characters. And ultimately her story is about coming to terms with her abilities and the fact that she can use them for the power of good, and coming to love and trust herself.

I suppose one of my biggest 'reading as a writer' questions is Fire's role as protagonist -- although she transforms from a personal point of view, in terms of the overall story she remains a fairly passive character. Sure, she plays a role in uncovering a plot and she manages to extricate herself from a tight spot, but she doesn't really impact major events moving forward. And she doesn't seem to have much of an external story goal. Having said that, I was certainly engaged by the story and characters, and events pulled me through, so something must have been working.

I also thought the worldbuilding could have been taken further. Cashore spends a lot of time on a few cool aspects of this world, and leaves out the mundane stuff like how the economy works. It's an interesting example of how a world can feel real with just a few stand-out elements. But I think she could have done more with these few elements -- there seem to be a few holes . . . Probably my biggest question is why these 'monsters' are limited to this land (The Dells) and haven't managed to migrate over the mountains. And how did they come to be, anyway?

Status update: time to get moving!

2011-07-13T22:50:00.000+10:00

Well, here we are in mid-July. Half-way through winter. Five months since I stopped working. How time has flown.

On the writing front, things have steadied. I may not be quite where I wanted to be from a career point of view, but I'm forging ahead nonetheless. Ideas are brewing (hehe). Have just finished a month-long writing challenge, where progressing a rough draft of the new project was prioritised over just about everything else. After a false start, I produced approximately 15,000 new words. (That's about 12.5% of a medium-length fantasy novel, or around 40-50 pages I think.) It's not as many words as I'd intended (considering I'm not working), but still a solid start.

But it's time to get real now. It's been fun while it lasted (especially the pub and cafe writing sessions and the sleeping in and meeting friends for lunch and generally answering to nobody), but I think the time has finally come for me to focus again on my professional career -- the one I'm actually good at and which brings in dollars so that I can live in the manner to which I've become accustomed.

I feel ready to get back into it.

So I am now going to (gulp) take another look at my resume and try to figure out what type of job I want and then try to insert myself back into the workforce. I'm going to figure out how LinkedIN works. I daresay it will take longer than I anticipate and get very frustrating as I possibly transition careers. I also want to start knocking off a whole heap of things on my original list of 'things to do while not working' -- including getting a bathroom reno going!

I will continue to write -- the last thing I want to do is lose the momentum I've established recently; I still want to write every day if I can -- but writing time windows will inevitably shrink and I'll need to start using my time a lot more efficiently.

It's time to get my body and brain moving again. Time to end the delightful holiday.

(No doubt I'll soon post something called 'the revised schedule' once I've figured it out. Hope I stick to it this time, because the one invented in February when I first stopped working never got off the ground...)

The Lake of Dreams

2011-07-07T15:09:00.004+10:00

Our July book for Page Turners was The Lake of Dreams, by Kim Edwards (who wrote the best-selling The Memory Keeper's Daughter). It's a contemporary fiction about a young woman (Lucy) who returns to her home town in upstate New York after living abroad for several years, and finds herself exposing a concealed family history linked to the suffragette movement in the early 20thC, while dealing with a host of unresolved family issues a decade old.

This is a novel firmly grounded in the past. The main storyline deals with the discovery of some old suffragette literature, letter fragments, an heirloom blanket embroidered with a distinctive motif and some stunning stained glass windows that instill in Lucy a desire to know more about how they are linked. As she researches the history of the documents and the windows, and discovers the names of family members she never knew existed, Lucy finds herself becoming more and more immersed in the unfolding story, until she becomes almost obsessed with uncovering the truth of a long-ago family scandal.

Playing at counterpoint to this, a major secondary thread explores the tensions and potential scandal within the modern branches of the same extended family. Central to this is the mysterious death of Lucy's father in a boating accident a decade before, and Lucy struggles to deal with unresolved relationships and the inevitable progression of lives and business decisions from which she has deliberately distanced herself.

On the whole, The Lake of Dreams is a pleasant enough story that has enough detail on the suffragette movement to interest and enough sense of mystery to motivate the reader to keep reading. It also explores themes of environmentalism and religious feminism.This is actually the kind of intriguing tale that I expect to like.

However, it is badly let down by two incontrovertible factors:

First, it is riddled with a host of minor internal inconsistencies (often to do with timing) that repeatedly pull the reader out of the story. To me these are mostly the sign of a really bad edit.
Second, it is riddled with inaccuracies -- some minor and some major. Most of these relate to the use of Halley's Comet as a motif to connect events in 1910 with those in 1986. The most severe of these is the implication that the comet appeared in the night sky for just one night in each of those years. This may seem like a minor point (and it has little bearing on the story) but for me the blatant and repeated error really irked. This is a sign of poor research.

From a more subjective viewpoint, there were other things that fell short for me as well. Most of the clues rely on serendipity for their discovery, and then prove to contain exactly the right information all nicely laid out. And then I was underwhelmed by the ultimate revelations -- I had very little emotional connection. I found the main character (and narrator) Lucy a little whiny and the entire novel's almost relentless focus on the past became a little tedious, particularly when the reader is subjected to multiple scenes of Lucy in bed 'reflecting'. The novel feels padded and over-written too, with many superfluous scenes/transitional paragraphs, excessive stage-management detail, and extensive metaphorical descriptions. (Once again, many of these problems could have been overcome with a better edit.)

There are probably heaps of readers out there who would love this book for what it is, without noticing or caring about the things I'm picking on. And there are some things I liked too -- for example I found the characters to be nicely complex with interesting relationships and realistic family dynamics. But on the whole I'm disappointed. (There are some very polarised opinions on Good Reads!)

------------------------------------------------------

In writing this, I've realised that I haven't posted on any of the other Page Turners books we've done this year, so I thought I'd include a short wrap-up:

March - The Winter of our Disconnect, by Susan Maushart. I half-blogged about this here, but obviously never got around to wrapping up the book. A shame really, because it was interesting (although I didn't quite finish it).
April - The City and the City, by China Miéville. I had already blogged about this book here.
May - At home: A short history of private life, by Bill Bryson. Hmm, I didn't get past the second chapter of this one.
June - We have met the enemy, by Daniel Akst. I got about a third of the way through this one, and may read some more and blog on it one day . . .

'The Gift' inspires debate

2011-07-02T13:53:00.026+10:00

The Gift, by Melbourne playwright Joanna Murray-Smith, is certainly a play that gets you talking and thinking. On that level at least, I suppose you could say it works. However, I found the play to comprise two rather disjointed halves, rather than a coherent whole, and the central premise (once it was revealed in the second act) lacking in credibility.

The first act deals with two couples meeting on holiday. Ed and Sadie (Richard Piper and Heather Bolton) are childless, middle-aged, wealthy and jaded, looking for something to spice up their marriage. They actively befriend a younger couple, Martin and Chloe (Matt Dyktynski and Elizabeth Debicki ), a struggling conceptual artist and art journalist. Over the course of an evening, cleverly staged using a revolving set to suggest the progression of events, the two couples 'fall in love' with each other, vowing a relationship 'based on truth and honesty'. This is then followed by a boating expedition, during which Martin saves Ed from drowning, earning undying gratitude and the desire to bestow 'a gift' on the young couple.

The first act is pacy and dynamic, with snappy intellectual dialogue on topics such as the philosophy of art. Intermittantly throughout, Sadie (and sometimes Ed) addresses the audience directly in order to narrate sections of the story. Much of the time this worked, making the audience comfortable with their characters, but I didn't feel it was always necessary and when it came to the near-drowning incident and subsequent rescue I felt the narrative completely undermined the drama and emotional impact of the scene. Although I could feel the bond between the couples from the previous evening's drinking session, the debt of gratitude totally lacked resonance for me. A shame, really, because Act 2 relies on this heavily!

So now we come to Act 2, set a year later, after Martin and Chloe have had a year to think about what gift they'd like Sadie and Ed to bestow upon them. This is the crunch act, where we realise that Act 1 was really only a prologue. Act 2 is what the play is really all about . . .

Sadie and Ed are at home in some inner city condo apartment and we immediately see the impact of their encounter with Martin and Chloe (and the near-death experience). Their marriage is rejuvenated, they've discovered the joys of art, and they are humming along with gusto. Martin and Chloe, on the other hand, seem less impacted by the encounter, although Martin has made some progress in his career. But then they start to reveal the nature of the gift they'd like Sadie and Ed to bestow upon them . . .

To put it frankly, I found the second act in turns boring (its one single scene lacks the dynamism of the first act) and lacking in credibility. The rather shocking request is foreshadowed early, leaving Martin and Chloe floundering in repetitive rhetoric as they try to justify the unjustifiable to both themselves and their hosts. I don't think we have enough insight into their characters to empathise with their so-called predicament. Instead, they come across as totally unsympathetic, selfish and narcissistic. It made me reflect on how little these two couples actually knew of each other, after a single weekend.

However, if you think of Act 2 as black satire, where themes of parental fears/regrets, gratitude, selfishness, and changing one's mind are explored and pushed to the edge, it becomes a little more understandable -- and certainly thought-provoking. Even so, to me the second act felt like it was still in 'rough draft' form -- the dialogue wasn't nearly as tight as in the first act, and it felt really repetitive and one-dimensional.

The MTC version of this play was directed by US award-winning director Maria Aitken, and I thought the performances were fine. (I don't really feel qualified to comment on these aspects anyway!) The play script just felt undercooked to me. While the play inspired intellectual and philosophical debate, it lacked emotional resonance -- plus the imbalance in style between the two acts was jarring.

Here are two other more critical theatrical reviews: Cameron Woodhead and Theatre People.

B&P Sweet Studio

2011-06-29T13:59:00.017+10:00

Inspired by a Masterchef appearance by Darren Purchese, I (like hundreds of others, evidently) convinced a friend to meet me for 'cake' at the Burch & Purchese Sweet Studio in South Yarra recently.

This is your ultimate cake shop, with sweet delicacies the likes of which I've rarely seen. Each of about fifteen different cakes/desserts on display contained too many different components for me to remember, with combinations of flavours you just couldn't predict. Dustings of this, macarons of that, fillings of something else, fondants of yummy . . . All so very special and amazing. Spectacularly so.

The Sweet Studio sells its cakes in large sizes for entertaining (either standard or bespoke), plus individual portions that are perfect for sampling. From memory, the individual cakes cost $9.50; considering all the work that goes into them, I think this is very reasonable.

It does not, however, sell anything else, other than a few sweet condiments in jars, so all cakes are take-away only. This thwarted our original plans for cake and coffee, so we had to go find another South Yarra cafe in which to have an early lunch (it's a hard life) and then enjoyed our treat in the foyer of the Como Centre, which is across the road from the Sweet Studio. (B&P do provide plastic spoons for those who are desperate enough!)

My chosen dessert was as follows:
CHOCOLATE, MANDARIN, SALTED CARAMEL
Kendari 60% chocolate mousse/Murray River salted caramel/burnt mandarin cream/St Clements marmalade/aerated chocolate shortbread/chocolate mirror glaze
(They stuck a label containing the above information on the inside of the box.)

Needless to say, it tasted rich and delicious, with the citrus flavours complementing the chocolate beautifully. I think I tasted all the different components . . . And it wasn't too big either, allowing it to be appreciated without that feeling of over-indulgence. Will need to get back there soon to try something else . . .

These cakes/desserts would be a seriously good option for an elegant dinner party. Just make sure you get a bigger one than you need, so there's some left over.

Bonfire of the vacuums

2011-06-26T22:29:00.000+10:00

Another midwinter's day, and another memorable winter solstice celebration. This year's event will forever go down in history as bonfire of the vacuums.

But let me start at the beginning...

It was a perfect evening, fine and clear, with very little wind. Chilly, sure, but we had a bonfire. A mighty big bonfire, and lots of fuel for it. (Some of it was even timber!) Before dinner, we partook of a short ceremony during which we exhaled a specific negative emotion (me: doubt) and inhaled its opposite (confidence). Then we welcomed back the sun (woo hoo) as now the days are getting longer.

After dinner (more of a banquet, really), most of us headed back out to the fire and built it up again, piling on log after log after tree branch. We also sang a few songs and even succumbed to a little dance around the fire. But all the while we were chilling and chatting, embracing the warmth and dodging the sparks and smoke, weird humming sounds (a bit like a WW2 air raid siren) were coming from the adjacent shed...

And then we discovered some of the guys were busy converting old vacuum cleaners into flame throwers. (War had apparently arrived!) Which prompted us to sing a little song:

Three red vacuums, sitting in the field
Three red vacuums, sitting in the field
And when one red vacuum accidentally caught on fire . . .
There were two red vacuums, sitting in the field.

Exploding vacuums

The first vacuum didn't really work; it just burst into flames. (We were cowering behind a trailer.) The second vacuum rather impressively managed to spurt a jet of flame for about 5 seconds, before bursting into flames. The third was even better, but still ultimately ended up in a ball of fire.

Despite knowing how wrong this all was (and how dangerous) we were by now finding it all rather entertaining. But that wasn't the end. Next came a procession of . . . certain objects containing flammable gases and fluids. Most were chucked onto a fire contained within a 44 gallon drum (even so, we still cowered behind the trailer until they went 'bang'). And we scuttled further away for one object in particular, which produced a massive and rather impressive fireball.

Yes, well, as I said: bonfire of the vacuums.

An excellent and memorable evening, with a canopy of amazing stars and some interesting people to hang out with.

Walking with Jeddah

2011-06-18T20:44:00.003+10:00

While Jeddah has been staying with me, he's been dragging me out on daily walks -- which has been very good for me! There are a few different walks we've been doing, depending on time, weather and my inclination.

The moment I've finished breakfast, Jeddah props in the middle of the floor, looking very expectant. He's fairly patient while I clean my teeth, but follows me around the house. When I grab my shoes and socks, he jumps up and down with excitement. He avidly watches me gather stuff -- phone, wallet, keys -- until I pick up his lead and then he goes mad. Leaps, cavorts, whimpers, barks, all while I'm trying to get his lead on. It never fails to make me laugh, to the point that sometimes my efforts to clip the lead to his collar are ineffectual. Then I open the door and he burns down the driveway as though he hasn't been on a walk for a week.

If it's sunny and/or early-ish and I have no other commitments, then we head to Elsternwick Park. The park itself is an extremely popular and attractive dog off-lead park. There is a fenced-off pond with swans and ducks and other waterbirds, so it's a lovely walk for me as well. Jeddah has a ball -- running around and sniffing and weeing and sniffing other dogs' tails as we do a wide circuit of the entire park. The return trip is about an hour.

If I want to keep the walk to half an hour, then we go to a local park that is closer. It's not an official off-lead park, nor is it as large, but there are not usually too many people around, so Jeddah can get a good run around. He always seems quite happy to go here, and several times some of the local kids have been very excited to see a dog while they're in the playground with their parents.

Sometimes he's lucky and gets another short walk in the afternoon -- usually when I emerge from the study, bleary eyed and brain dead in the late afternoon. I figure a quick walk around the block is a good way of clearing my head, and is nice for Jeddah too, since he's invariably been sleeping all day. There's a cute little park around the corner, really small, where I let him off the lead for about 5 minutes.

So it's definitely been good having Jeddah to make me get outside and go for a walk every day. He's been very good on the lead, not pulling too much, although he does stop/sniff/wee a lot! And off-lead he's been very well behaved as well, with both me and other dogs and their owners. In many ways, I will miss him when he goes home again. (But I don't think Chenna will...)

Edna's Place

2011-06-15T13:41:00.000+10:00

One of the local Elsternwick cafes I frequent most often is Edna's Place, a homey-yet-funky cafe with an expansive Israeli-inspired menu spanning salads, all-day eggs, flat breads, toasted pides and the wonderful 'chicken baguette' (pictured).

I discovered Edna's soon after moving into the area and first trialled the popular chicken baguette (heavily marinated chicken and caramelised onion with tomato, lettuce and mayo in a white baguette) when prompted by a big red sign out the front of the place. The chicken baguette is juicy, flavoursome mouthfuls of awesome. Now my addiction is such that most times I decline a menu on the grounds that to simply order my chicken baguette with my large skinny flat white is more time-efficient.

I am not alone in this addiction. It is shared by my cousin, who lives just down the road, and we have been known to send each other texts on the weekends with the simple message: "baguette?". I am somewhat ashamed to admit, however, that I have frequently gone for a solo baguette if company is unavailable.

As a result of this obsession, I've not actually tried much else on the menu, although it all looks fabulous. The coffee is Map and is decent enough, and there is usually a choice of cookies and homemade cakes. Plus they don't mind me sitting there for a while with computer or book, and it's a comfortable environment in which to do so.

Recently my association with Edna's Place has shifted up a gear. Now it is not merely the place where I go for a baguette fix on the weekends; it is also the place where I meet my sister and two nephews (and occasionally my mother) on an almost weekly basis for coffee/early lunch. This is one of the perks of not working, and I daresay will have to end soon, but for the moment it's fantastic to meet them there on Wednesday mornings for cuddles and smeared Vegemite sandwiches and spilt milk and even the occasional chicken baguette!

[This is the first in a series of intended posts on local cafes in Elsternwick.]

Jeddah, Chenna & me

2011-06-09T22:57:00.000+10:00

Jeddah (my mum's miniature schnauzer) has been hanging around at my place quite a bit of late. And he's back again for a stay of a few weeks while the folks are on a road trip to South Australia.

We've got our routine all sorted -- him, me and Chenna. Right now it's the devilcat perched high on her cushion, me at the other end of the couch, and Jeddah on the middle cushion all curled up asleep. Lucky it's a big couch!

The mornings are interesting. Chenna no longer wakes me up at 6:30am due to her autofeeder, but Jeddah gets me out of bed at about 7:30 to be let outside for all of about 2 minutes (the mornings are cold, after all) and then he sneaks onto the couch until I get up (because I've crawled back to bed by now).

He's not actually supposed to get onto the couch unless invited; this is my mum's rule and she's very strict. But somehow he knows I'm a softy, and although he started off being pretty good, there came a point a few weeks ago when he was on the couch every time my back was turned. I began by relocating him to his own bed on the floor, but it only worked until I left the room. So I gave up. And now the couch is his bed during the day -- although I still make him sleep over night in his bed at the foot of mine. (I rather think he'd be happy to sleep on my bed, but that's Chenna's domain.)

After I've had breakfast (and he's had breakfast -- Chenna had hers hours previously), Jeddah gets very excited. But if I go near my computer he gets grumpy. In fact, if I do anything other than put on shoes and grab his lead he gets grumpy. (woof) So we head off for a walk. I have the 30min walk and the 60min walk, so it depends on the weather and how much time I have as to which one we take. (Lucky I'm not working, hey.)

If I've timed all that right, it's mid-morning by the time we get back and then I'm allowed to switch the computer on -- and finally I get my coffee! Jeddah is then quite happy to sleep on the couch for the rest of the day with Chenna -- it's so cute to see the two of them there!

So that's the average day really. So long as he gets a walk first thing, he's happy enough. And although it does eat into my morning a little, I figure that at least it's making me go for a walk every day.

A lapse

2011-06-05T18:41:00.000+10:00

Part of the up-down (doubt vs euphoria) cycle of life-as-a-writer is that every so often we have a day when we lounge around moping. We think about every negative thing anyone ever said about what we wrote and completely forget the positive comments -- or if we do remember the positive comments, we tell ourselves that their authors were just reaching for something good to say, because really they hated ALL of it, and we can't actually write at all. And who are we kidding anyway, and why don't we just give it up all together.

Darn -- I swore I wasn't going to write a moping post (have been resisting all day, in fact), but it seems I just did. I'll shut up now and go away back into my cave.

Where there is wine and chocolate and coffee.

For something more upbeat, where I use phrases like 'onwards and upwards', please check my other blog.

P.S. I have actually had a very good writing week, making positive progress on the new project.

Pete Morton and Little Musgrave

2011-06-03T23:18:00.000+10:00

I'm having a moment, sprawled out on the sofa at Phillip Island. I'm listening to Pete Morton's Trespass CD, a recording of around a dozen traditional folk ballads, performed with the artist's special alternative flair.

My absolute favourite track -- Little Musgrave -- I first heard live at my very first Port Fairy Folk Festival (~2002). In fact, Pete Morton was the first artist I saw perform at that event. He stunned and exhilarated me with his performance of Little Musgrave (based on Child Ballad 81). It goes for around 7 minutes and is a tragic story of adultary and death. Love it, love it, love it. Pete's rendition is achingly powerful -- and a little bit manic. Brilliant stuff. And ever after I was hooked on trad accoustic folk. (Having said that, he mostly performs original tracks, which are also awesome.)

I've tried to find the lyrics to Pete's Little Musgrave, to no avail. But this version from John Wesley Harding is similar, possibly a bit extended:

Lyrics to The Little Musgrave

As it fell out upon a day
As many in the year
Musgrave to the church did go
To see fair ladies there

And some came down in red velvet
And some came down in pall
And the last to come down was the lady barnard
The fairest of them all

She's cast a look on the little musgrave
As bright as the summer sun
And then bethought this little musgrave
This lady's love I've won

Good day good day you handsome youth
God make you safe and free
What would you give this day musgrave
To lie one night with me

I dare not for my lands, lady
I dare not for my life
For the ring on your white finger shows
You are lord barnard's wife

Lord barnard's to the hunting gone
And I hope he'll never return
And you shall slip into his bed
And keep his lady warm

There's nothing for to fear musgrave
You nothing have to fear
I'll set a page outside the gate
To watch til morning clear

And woe be to the little footpage
And an ill death may he die
For he's away to the green wood
As fast as he could fly

And when he came to the wide water
He fell on his belly and swam
And when he came to the other side
He took to his heels and ran

And when he came to the green wood
'twas dark as dark can be
And he found lord barnard and his men
Asleep beneath the trees

Rise up rise up master he said
Rise up and speak to me
Your wife's in bed with little musgrave
Rise up right speedily

If this be truth you tell to me
Then gold shall be your fee
And if it be false you tell to me
Then hanged you shall be

Go saddle me the black he said
Go saddle me the grey
And sound you not the horn said he
Lest our coming it would betray

Now there was a man in lord barnard's train
Who loved the little musgrave
And he blew his horn both loud and shrill
Away musgrave away

I think I hear the morning cock
I think I hear the jay
I think I hear lord barnard's horn
Away musgrave away

Lie still, lie still, you little musgrave
And keep me from the cold
It's nothing but a shepherd boy
Driving his flock to the fold

Is not your hawk upon it's perch
Your steed is eating hay
And you a gay lady in your arms
And yet you would away

So he's turned him right and round about
And he fell fast asleep
And when he woke lord barnard's men
Were standing at his feet

And how do you like my bed musgrave
And how do you like my sheets
And how do you like my fair lady
That lies in your arms asleep

It's well I like your bed he said
And well I like your sheets
But better I like your fair lady
That lies in my arms asleep

Get up, get up young man he said
Get up as swift as you can
For it never will be said in my country
I slew an unarmed man

I have two swords in one scabbard
Full dear they cost my purse
And you shall have the best of them
I shall have the worst

So slowly, so slowly he rose up
And slowly he put on
And slowly down the stairs he goes
Thinking to be slain

And the first stroke little musgrave took
It was both deep and sore
And down he fell at barnard's feet
And word he never spoke more

And how do you like his cheeks, lady
And how do you like his chin
And how do you like his fair body
Now there's no life within

It's well I like his cheeks she said
And well I like his chin
And better I like his fair body
Than all your kith and kin

And he's taken up his long long sword
To strike a mortal blow
And through and through the lady's heart
The cold steel it did go

As it fell out upon a day
As many in the year
Musgrave to the church did go
To see fair ladies there

[ These are The Little Musgrave Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]

When it's time to let go

2011-05-26T14:45:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I posted on my other blog a relatively upbeat piece about how I'm now intending to write a completely new novel instead of working on the sequel to the ms I recently completed.

This is a sound and exciting course of action; but, as some readers of this blog may suspect, there is more to the story behind my decision to leave a cast of characters who I've been hanging out with for . . . oh, around 10 years. Probably longer, if I'm brutally honest.

And this is going to be a brutally honest post, more so than that other, which -- while every word of it is true -- is a rather carefully crafted piece of spin. Indeed, my 10 years in PR have not gone to waste. (Although I think Hayley saw through it!) But I'm going to tell the whole story here on my 'secret' blog, because many of you readers have travelled with me some distance along this journey and I want you to know what is really going down.

The truth of it is that I have been receiving feedback on that first ms (the one I've been slaving over for years) over the past month or so. Some of my readers have really liked it, which is always wonderful to hear and does my confidence a world of good. Others, however, have pointed out some major flaws that are rather difficult to fix. Most of my readers seem to agree that the characters, world-building/setting, narrative (writing), structure are generally solid. The major sticking point is that the story sucks.

Well, OK, 'sucks' might be a bit strong, but the main point is that what actually happens is not compelling enough to stand out from the crowd. It holds together as a novel, but it's probably not going to rock your socks off -- or attract the eye of a publisher.

Deep down I have probably always known this, but I kept telling myself that I could fix it. It's amazing how blinkered you can get when immersed in something you're passionate about. How blind. The signs have been there for years: the number of times I have refused to tell anyone what the story was about 'because it sounds silly'. DOH DOH DOH

Thus am I unveiled as a complete idiot.

I have never known the right time to give up on anything. (Mind you, I'd be two uni degrees down if I was otherwise.) The time to give up on this one was probably about four years ago, before embarking on this latest rewrite that has itself taken far far too long.

So my first ms is broken and it's probably time to let it go. I'm not abandoning it completely, but it's going on ice for the moment. Perhaps one day I will come back and cannibalise some of the good parts and write a better story. But it is likely to be a different story to the one that captured my foolish attention so long ago.

And the thing to remember is that this is perfectly normal. As I said in the other post, statistically, first novels never make it. But of course you always hope that yours will be the exception and that's what keeps you going. I don't regret spending time on that novel because it has enabled me to refine many of my writing skills; I have always considered it my apprenticeship piece. Perhaps I do regret spending so many years getting to this point, but, well, there's absolutely nothing I can do about that now so the only direction to head is onward.

Yes, the past week has been incredibly tough. There have been many tears and much much doubt. I have consoled myself with chocolate, wine and coffee (and the knowledge that at least some people liked it!) . . . And of course I've been wondering whether maybe I should just get another proper job and give the whole idea of writing fiction away.

But it's not the first time I've felt like I'll never make it, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Dealing with rejection and failure is part of the territory of being a writer. God knows why we put ourselves through it, but we do, and we pick ourselves up and keep turning up for more. In any case, I am actually feeling positive about my new proposed novel. Already I'm confident that at heart it's a much better story. I just hope that I can do it justice!

Diary of a Twitter novice - week 6

2011-05-20T15:41:00.000+10:00

About six weeks ago I decided I needed to figure out what is the big deal with Twitter. It seemed a strange concept to me: blurting out my thoughts to the big wide world. I was quite happy to share certain things with my facebook friends, but where was the attraction of opening it up to anyone and everyone?

So I created myself a Twitter profile, found some of my tweeting friends to 'follow', and started exploring and experimenting. Very quickly I was completely bamboozled, overwhelmed and curled in the foetal position in the corner.

Twitter is not for engineers. It is not for anyone who wants an orderly existence, where conversations are grouped neatly together in chronological order. Nor is it for introverts or shy people or people who can't see why anyone beyond family and friends would be interested in their opinion (or life).

To appreciate Twitter, you need to embrace chaos and 'go with the flow'; you need to not worry if you think you might have missed something, because you can undoubtedly live without it; you need to put yourself out there and hope for the best; you need to live in the moment.

One of the first things I did was link my wordpress blog to my Twitter feed, so that every time I post, it tweets the link. For a few weeks, that was about all I tweeted, although I had started reading tweets from the growing number of people I was following. Many of these tweeted links to interesting articles on writing, so I was starting to lose an hour or two a day just reading blogs.

Soon I wasn't game to open up my Twitter window, afraid I would get sucked into the vortex of the blog maze and never come out again. I kept wondering how people had time for Twitter? And here was I only following about 20 people -- some people follow thousands! Twitter was proving itself a goldmine of information, but did the benefits outweigh the costs?

And I still hadn't figured out what I was supposed to be tweeting. I was aware that people included keywords with hashtags (e.g. #amwriting) that would facilitate others finding like-minded tweeters or participate in conversations. (A few experimental tweets with the above hashtag saw me pick up a couple of followers.) But how did one discover what hashtags to use?

Foetal position. Corner.

Okay, so I was obviously missing something. Millions of people are addicted to Twitter. What wasn't I getting?

To be honest I haven't entirely answered this question yet. Despite being much calmer, I still find Twitter a bit daunting. But I have been reading up on Twitter tips and tricks, things to do and not do, and discussing it with other users. Here's one rather good article on the 7 deadly sins of Twitter that encapsulates the philosophy. The fundamental idea it seems, derived from all my reading, is to be cool and make new friends.

It's not about self-promotion (although you'll often read that Twitter is invaluable for promotion purposes); it's about engaging with others and adding value. You are expected to respond insightfully to tweets that interest you, even if you have no personal relationship with the tweeter; it is also perfectly acceptable to pass them on (retweeting). Somehow, apparently, by engaging with this strange cyber-community, by 'getting involved in the discussion', friends (of a sort) will materialise.

I am yet to participate in one of these discussions. It apparently involves following one of the hashtagged threads and then using it yourself to join in. As part of my Twitter exploration, it's on my agenda for next week: find a discussion and somehow participate! This week I tweeted my first response to someone I don't know (ooh, brave!). For me this engagement aspect is hugely confrontational. (I'm one of those people who finds it hard to introduce myself to people at a party.) But I'm going to give it a go!

As for my own personal tweets, I figure that if one is to treat Twitter as one almighty cyber-party, then the best approach is to aim for interesting conversation-starters!

Next to Normal

2011-05-15T17:53:00.001+10:00

Last week I saw the MTC's production of award-winning musical/rock-opera Next to Normal (music by Tom Kitt, book and lyrics by Brian Yorkey), directed by Dean Bryant and Matthew Frank. Once again I rocked up to the theatre (har-de-ha) knowing absolutely nothing and found myself moved beyond expectation by this show about mental illness and its impact on a modern nuclear family.

Kate Kendall stars as Diana Goodman, a mother suffering from bi-polar disorder, and the story focuses on her struggles to conquer her illness. (It's really hard to describe this without giving away spoilers!) Particularly moving is the journey of her 16YO daughter Natalie (Christy Sullivan) from mozart-loving nerd to bitter/aggro rebel as she first lashes out and then gradually rebuilds her relationship with her mother. Her ballad 'Superboy and the Invisible Girl' gets my vote for most moving moment.

There's very little dialogue in Next to Normal, and the story is told almost purely via the lyrics and visuals -- with lighting used to big effect. I'd classify it as rock-opera, complete with rock-arias, rock-duets, rock-quartets etc performed by the cast of six. It's not a soundtrack I'd rush out and buy, but the singing is competant and the songs powerful in both sound and message. The dual-level staging too is sophisticated and used to great effect, with automated trolleys rolling props and actors in and out in different directions.

In my view the first half has greater narrative drive, with viewer expectation subverted several times as Diana disintigrates; the second half is more reflective and nurturing as the family endeavours to heal and pick up the pieces. It's a deep and heavy subject for a so-called musical, but thought-provoking and ultimately respectful of an affliction faced by so many.

Definitely worth seeing.

Grooving to Jeff Martin's 777

2011-05-08T20:38:00.000+10:00

Every now and again I do something a little bit different. Different for me, that is. (I mean, tens of thousands of Melburnians attend rock gigs every year at the Prince of Wales Hotel in St Kilda. They groove to the support acts while tossing back a few drinks; many probably have a pre-gig pizza at Topolino's on Fitzroy Street.)

Well, I don't get out much these days. Usually. But I did on Friday night, when I went to the Jeff Martin's 777 gig at the aforementioned Prince of Wales hotel.

Back in the1990s I was a bit of a fan of Martin's former band, The Tea Party, and I still rate The Edges of Twilight (1995) as one of my all time favourite albums. These days I'm out of the loop when it comes to contemporary music, and that includes Martin's exploits post The Tea Party; but when I heard friends were going to this gig in nearby St Kilda I decided it was time to reacquaint myself with his music.

What an awesome night. The main act didn't start until after 11pm, thereby transporting me back to my 20s when late nights out were almost normal. We caught the latter few songs of the second support act (a rocking band called The Eternal) and then after a break Jeff Martin's 777 came out and played a lengthy set of tracks until about 1:00am. (Back in the day I wouldn't have blinked at the hour; this time I was grateful I had an afternoon nap beforehand.)

The main focus was a new album, The Ground Cries Out, launched in March this year; plus there were older tracks as well. I recognised only a few, but that didn't matter. The big sound, the amazing vocals, and that indescribable extra something, made it a memorable concert. (Actually, Jason described it very well; see his thoughts here!) It was fantastic to get out and once again experience those powerful chest vibrations that are live music. And a real treat to see this great band.

Pomp And Ceremony - The Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T22:46:00.000+10:00

Media is very powerful. I don't think I was particularly fussed by the notion that a Royal Wedding was imminent... not until this week when the media went into overdrive. Suddenly the Royal Wedding became a Major Event. For about five days, William & Kate have been the subjects of documentaries, mockumentaries and even a telemovie. And if not W&K, then it was about the Royals in general. Heavens, if I didn't watch The Wedding, what would I be missing out on?

So I've watched the wedding tonight. I didn't need to, of course. I've seen nothing that a half-hour wrap-up wouldn't have covered. Women's outfits seem to have been of major interest. And of course Kate's Wedding Dress. Other than that, a lot of cars driving past, and crowds massing along the processional route and filing into Westminster Abbey.

I wouldn't have missed anything much, except... except...

... Pomp And Ceremony. Oh my goodness, does anyone do it as well as the British? We have had trumpets, and marching bands, and processions, and slow marches, and crimson-lined antique horse-drawn coaches, and mounted escorts, and roaring aircraft flypasts (loved the Lancaster!) ... and bells. Three hours of wondrous bells. It's all made me quite emotional.

Kate looks lovely in a Sarah Burton/Alexander McQueen dress. I particularly like the way it's fitted (but not tight) at the waist and then flares out in almost medieval style. William looks very handsome and regal also -- neat and elegant in his Irish Guards dress uniform.

Sure, the highlights package will show the fashions and the key Memorable Moments, but I think the only way to fully appreciate the full majesty of the event is to immerse yourself in it, feel it unfold around you. I have no idea why this feels like a worthwhile experience, why spending SIX HOURS glued to the television is a good use of time. (Heavens, six hours!?) But somehow it does (mostly).

The Key to the Kingdom

2011-04-25T18:09:00.000+10:00

Nearly 20 years ago -- it must have been Christmas 1992 -- my father gave my mother a deck of transformation cards. The Key to the Kingdom is a beautiful deck, featuring illustrations by acclaimed artist Tony Meeuwissen based on popular (and obscure) nursery rhymes. It's quite lovely in its own right, the deck accompanied by a little book containing illustrations of every card and each corresponding rhyme, but by virtue of a separate poem and short narrative there is also a mystery to solve.

Now, my family has rather a habit of solving puzzles at Christmas, although usually they are of the jigsaw kind. (And my personal favourites are the ones that have associated mysteries.) I recall we applied much energy to searching for the solution to The Key to the Kingdom, for which there was a cash prize to be awarded. After much brow-furrowing and nailbiting we failed on that occasion, alas, and never did discover the solution. The cards were laid aside and rarely thought of again . . .

. . . until they were recently discovered on the 'clearance' pile resulting from the latest decluttering purge, and my father decided we should make another attempt. The cards were thus rescued and transported to Phillip Island to await the next family house party. Which brings me to this Easter. On Saturday night, imbued with new resolve, armed with google, and bolstered by an accomplished puzzle-solving husband/son-in-law/brother-in-law, five of us tackled the mystery held within the cards.

The only clues are held in an 18-line poem which suggests there are 14 cards that need to be identified (by solving puzzles within the poem) and used to find the solution. We found most of the 14 fairly straightforward to isolate, but a few challenged us. Then it was a matter of figuring out how to use the 14 cards. I will say no more on that here, in case you want to solve the mystery yourself, but a full solution can be found here.

We got a lot closer to finding the solution this time, but ultimately we did make use of google, a resource not available to us back in 1992/1993. Mainly we used google to find out the meaning of specific words and phrases in the riddle-poem -- which I don't consider cheating -- but then we found the above-mentioned worked solution online that allowed us first to confirm our 14 cards, and ultimately helped us crack the code.

We were close though, really close. And perhaps with more patience (or without google on-hand to lead us astray) we might have solved it without resorting to underhand tactics. Nevertheless, we had a great night applying our brains, with each of our different perspectives contributing to the whole. After all these years of not knowing and wondering, I feel a satisfying sense of closure.

In the Next Room or The Vibrator Play

2011-04-21T14:31:00.000+10:00

Our second MTC play for this year was Sarah Ruhl's In the Next Room or The Vibrator Play, which I saw at the Sumner Theatre last night.

Set in the late 19th C New York (?), when electric lights in the home were still a wonder, the play opens with the central character, gentile doctor's wife Catherine (Jacqueline McKenzie), despairing that she doesn't have enough milk to feed her baby and contemplating hiring a wet nurse. But then her husband's (David Roberts) elegant patient Sabrina Daltry (Helen Thomson) arrives suffering from 'nerves and depression' and is whisked into the neighbouring surgery for 'treatment' -- and we realise this play is going in rather another direction entirely.

Did I mention the strange fact that hysterical patients in this period were apparently often treated with vibrators? The idea was to use 'electricity' to 'get the juices flowing' and induce 'paroxysms'...

Needless to say, Sabrina rather enjoys her treatment and is henceforth keen to make daily visits to the doctor.

On the surface the play is part comedy-of-manners, part slapstick, with shades of darker drama. The vibrator scenes in particular are hilarious (although perhaps becoming repetitive by the end). But at the heart of this play, I feel, is the concept of womanhood. The script uses the canvass of repressed late 19th C society to explore what women need in terms of pleasure, intimacy, love, friendship and motherhood.

Catherine is initially curious as to what goes on in her husband's surgery (cos the walls are fairly thin), and then resentful that he will not perform his treatment/experiment on her. She comes to realise the distance and inhibitions in their relationship (he won't even look at her body when undressing her) and yearns for a real connection with a man -- and so fixates on another of her husband's patients, an emotional artist who makes her impassioned (although not loverlike) speeches. At the same time she becomes friends with Sabrina Daltry, and that lady's impending departure from her life makes her even more aware of her growing loneliness. On top of it all, she perceives her own baby becoming more attached to the wet nurse, Elizabeth, than to her.

By the end, Catherine is feeling rejected as a woman on all fronts -- until the final moving resolution with her husband. The character of Sabrina also undergoes her own awakening as she discovers pleasure completely disassociated from her husband and the unique intimacy of female friendships.

I enjoyed this play immensely, which was directed by MTC stalwart, Pamela Rabe. The lavish set shows living room and surgery, allowing scenes to take place simultaneously in both 'rooms'. The costumes are gorgeous -- particularly those of Sabrina and Catherine, who have to get in and out of them (whalebone and corsets included) multiple times. The sometimes awkward juxtaposition of comedy and drama has seen some reviewers criticise, but I feel there's enough depth and good performances to make it worthwhile and entertaining viewing.

Amiably ambling

2011-04-15T22:46:00.011+10:00

I've been a bit quiet on this blog of late. My life has settled into an amiable amble, whereby I sleep-in until after 9am, peruse emails/social media/blogs, write (sometimes in the pub), do a Wii yoga workout, waltz down the street for a coffee or groceries . . . maybe, occasionally, skim the SEEK emails to see if there are any interesting jobs (which I invariably shortlist and don't get around to applying for). This 'not working' malarky is very enjoyable.

It's been fabulous having all this time to write without pressure. I've been productive on most days, but it hasn't mattered when other fun stuff crops up instead. Of course it can't last, and I'll have to go back to being more efficient, to fitting writing in around all the essential stuff (i.e. work), but I think it's been important to rediscover the love and the habit after an indifferent period. It's also given me the opportunity to read more widely about the industry, and I've started a new blog over on Wordpress that is more specifically focused on writing and related topics.

This week I finished the major rewrite of my novel, a milestone worth mentioning here. I've printed the draft out and intend on toddling off to Officeworks tomorrow to get it comb-bound so I can then scrawl all over it with red pen and yellow highlighters. I'll also be sending it to selected readers for some feedback -- an exciting and daunting step. After that, editing!

And after that? Who knows . . .

Rediscovering yoga

2011-04-06T22:18:00.001+10:00

Several years ago I attended a weekly yoga class down at the Elwood beach house. I don't recall what style of yoga it was, but I do recall that I enjoyed it immensely. For reasons forgotten I ceased those classes, but now I'm rediscovering the benefits of yoga in my living room, courtesy of a new Wii program.

Given to me for my birthday, the program blends yoga and pilates in a customised routine depending on the user's experience and goals -- for example, I classified myself as a beginner and my goal as overall body toning. (Other options are upper/lower body, abs, back pain, relaxation etc.) It then schedules 12-14 poses (or short routines such as the sun salutation) and guides you through them; new poses are introduced and the hold times get longer as you get better. I really like the way it's structured as a class, and that it gets harder as you get better. (The name of this particular progam is newU Fitness First Mind Body Yoga & Pilates Workout.)

I'm finding it particularly beneficial to practice yoga daily around lunchtime or just before dinner, especially if I'm transitioning from one mind intensive activity to another. Yoga (and pilates -- I'm honestly not sure which exercises belong to which discipline) is invigorating and yet relaxing. It feels like a workout, yet I feel calm and centred at the end of it. No wonder thousands of people swear by it!

The warrior poses have become favourites of mine. I can pretend I'm channelling a certain swordsman . . .

Once we were Footsloggers

2011-04-01T21:11:00.002+11:00

I went for a pre-dawn walk along the beach this morning, and was reminded that right about the same time, a couple of thousand endurance walkers and runners were amassed at Jells Park, preparing to start this year's Oxfam Trailwalker Melbourne event.

That means it's a whole year (minus two weeks) since I underwent the great ordeal . . . er, adventure: 100km walked in approx 35 hours and 44 minutes. It was a fabulous experience, but it did rather take over my life for nearly six months. I was intending to volunteer for the event this year, but never seemed to get around to it.

Anyway, the first teams have finished already -- the winners completed in 10 hours and 23 minutes. I think at this stage last year we had staggered into Olinda (check point 4) and were enjoying some well-deserved homemade baked beans.

I am also interested to observe that this year there is no team 001! That was our number, Team Footsloggers. For old times' sake, here's a link to our Footsloggers' Log. What an amazing time.

An excuse to drink wine

2011-03-28T14:39:00.000+11:00

A friend recently sent me an invitation to her 'four-oh god' celebration and I was impressed by her wit, because 'oh god' is exactly what it feels like. I was not at all fazed by turning 30, but facing 40 last week required a hefty deep breath. My fragile grandmother always used to say she felt no different inside to when she was 21, but that her body was wearing out. While I am not quite falling apart yet, I now understand her sentiment about the mind . . . and the soul. The ticking years make one wiser (hopefully) and less naive, but they do not alter the fundamental essence of who one is.

Despite this, I have observed a pattern developing across the four decades of my life so far: the tendency to throw myself intensively into endeavours for ~10 years and then stop, reassess and redefine myself. There were the 10 years of school at St Michael's, followed by 11 years of university, and then 10 years as a technology communications consultant. I emerged from each of these experiences like a creature from a chrysalis -- transformed (& mildly bruised), desperate to shed the old life and embrace the new.

Since my early twenties a significant constant, however, has been writing. In fact, the desire to write with greater yield/commitment/skill/reward underpinned the great shakeup of my 30s, and is also at the heart of my current career realignment. I think the difference now is that I am prepared to make more sacrifices and have a better understanding of the tough work and dogged perseverance that is required. My 30s were probably my journeyman years, during which I learnt about the industry, embraced the community and honed my skills. Now I'm determined to graduate.

So I threw a party on the weekend to celebrate many things: the significant oh-god birthday, the new era of my life, the fact that I will soon have a finished novel . . . and because I wanted to consume some of the accumulating wine stores in my closet!

I don't know whether the 10-year cycle will continue -- I rather hope not, because facing 'the great unknown' can be exhausting and not a little scary. But it's also exhilarating to break out of the mould and feel the fear. Everything becomes new again and the possibilities are endless. And besides, when one isn't working, one can participate in regular mid-week pub writing gatherings. Any excuse to drink wine!

Journey through Middle Earth

2011-03-18T23:40:00.001+11:00

I'm a bit of a fan of the Lord of the Rings movies. Sometimes I put one or other of them on as background to my cooking or cleaning or whatever. I've seen them so many times that I don't actually need to watch them anymore; it's enough just to listen and all the scenes unfold in my head.

Or so I thought. For the third evening in a row I'm ensconced in front of a LOTR movie -- Return of the King, as you might expect. I did manage to do a few things while watching the first two over the past two nights, but somehow it hasn't been as easy to tear myself away from the visual as I'd anticipated. (I didn't even try tonight. It's Friday.)

OK, so to say I'm a fan is a slight understatement. I love these movies. I love their majesty, I love the underlying theme that even the smallest person can make a difference, I love the visual realisation of Middle Earth and all its cultures. (Oh, it's Eowyn's big moment . . . I am no man!) I love Orlando Bloom as Legolas and Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. I love it all. In my view the scriptwriters did a fabulous job, for the most part. Sure, there are some things I would have rather not be added, omitted or changed, and sometimes the timing seems a bit off, but they captured the essence of the story so amazingly well. All right, I'll stop there . . .

My point is . . . actually, I don't think I have a point. I'm just sitting here enjoying myself and I had to share. (Sam: "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you!" What a hero.)

Loving life

2011-03-04T17:36:00.001+11:00

I just want to say that I am loving life right now. I've spent the past four weeks focusing on things I actually want to do: writing, walking, meeting friends for lunch, family for coffee breaks, playing Wii Fit Plus. It's terribly indulgent, I know, but I do wish these days could last forever.

Apologia

2011-03-04T09:53:00.000+11:00

Robyn Nevin in Apologia (Photo: Jeff Busby)

This year I have joined a group of friends in attending plays performed by the Melbourne Theatre Company (MTC). Our first play, seen on Wednesday night, was Apologia by Alexi Kaye Campbell, starring Robyn Nevin and directed by Jennifer Flowers.

Centred around a weekend family gathering, Apologia has a nice blend of comedy and drama so that I felt both entertained and intellectually stimulated. Kristin Miller is a renowned art historian and critic, whose two adult sons (Peter, a merchant banker, and Simon, a depressed writer) are upset that their mother has not even mentioned them in her latest book, a 'memoir' entitled Apologia. This opens up wounds stemming back to childhood, and leads to some bitter (and also tender) scenes of accusation and recrimination surrounding Kristin's decision to put career before family.

The relationships between the various characters are complex, with Robyn Nevin's fiercely intelligent and left-wing Kristin at the heart. The play explores themes of social responsibility, feminism, the role of art in society, idealism and loneliness. Robin Nevin is particularly fabulous in the lead role, playing a character that is unapologetic yet perhaps a tad regretful, incurably judgmental, committed to fighting for social justice, and yet ultimately lonely as she cannot heal the rift between her and her sons.

The other characters are Trudi (Peter's American fiancee), Claire (Simon's soap star girlfriend) and Kristin's long-time friend Hugh -- these all contribute to the nuanced undertones and sub-texts of the various conversations, plus in the case of Hugh provide some comic relief.

Definitely an enjoyable night. For far more detailed and insightful reviews than mine, see here and here.

My gripe with Telstra

2011-02-28T15:49:00.001+11:00

In Australia it seems that every second person you meet has a gripe about Telstra. Until recently I wasn't one of them. I've never really had any reason to point the finger -- but I'm coming to realise that this may be because I've only been dealing with them for a single straightforward service: my home phone line. Given that I make very few calls or phone plan changes, there's been very little to go wrong.

Since finishing my job, however, my relationship with Telstra has grown more complicated. I've had to transfer my mobile phone service into my name (which turned out to be far simpler than I envisaged) and ditto for my ADSL connection (which is turning out to be far more complicated than I could possibly have imagined . . . as I write this I am once more on the line to technical support. . .)

So, what has gone wrong? The litany of evils is so long I hardly know where to start. And with each new day, it's one step forward, three steps back. It's been going on for three weeks and I've lost count of the number of calls I've made, let alone the number of phone consultants I've spoken to in about five different departments.

I'm not going to painstakingly retell the story here -- partly because it's so complicated I can't remember it properly, and partly because I'm sure it wouldn't be that interesting. But I am going to attempt to summarise all the things that have gone wrong:
1. Double invoicing since August last year, when the account was first transferred into my name (but remained on the 2nd business line into my house). It took an hour on the phone to untangle the twin accounts and figure out the invoicing.
2. Incorrect records on Telstra's part. They have at least three different computer systems with conflicting information. Some of these systems stated (incorrectly) that the ADSL service was already on my home phone line, which made a request to transfer the service to this line confusing from their point of view. So confusing they simply did nothing.
3. When I finally received a call from Telstra stating that the ADSL service had gone onto my home phone line, the entire line ended up dead. This meant I had to wait five days for a service technician to come out to repair the line. (The technician informed me that it had been wired incorrectly at the exchange.)
4. Once my home phone line was up again, still no ADSL service to my modem. Telstra's systems stated that I should have it, so this eventually led to a second call out.
5. Reconfiguration of modem, which took out the existing ADSL service (on the business line).
6. Morons on the end of the phone, who took 20 mins to figure out they didn't know how to reschedule the call-out for a time when I'd actually be home, and said they'd ring me back to confirm a rescheduled time -- which they never did.
7. The second call-out went ahead this morning, despite my attempts to reschedule it, but it seemed I wasn't needed anyway. Received a call from call-out guy number 2 while I was on the tram, stating that he'd fixed my ADSL (once again it was apparently 'wired incorrectly' . . .) and he'd confirmed a signal from my modem. Low and behold, returned home to find ADSL working today! (yay)
8. When I began writing this post, I thought it was all over . . . but no! Received a call from my mother half an hour ago to say that my home phone was now ringing through to some unknown man . . . Back on the phone to Telstra and now we're up to escalation number 3. How long until I have a functional home phone number is anyone's guess.

This has been the nightmare of all nightmares. I will say that 80% of the Telstra consultants have been polite and seemed knowledgeable. The rest have been morons. But the bigger problem is that there are so many phone help desks responsible for specific things, that it's very tempting for the phone consultants to fling you to another department if they don't know how to solve something. I think on one call I spoke to four or five different departments. And then every time I call, I have to speak to different people and explain the situation from the beginning -- AGAIN.

And what's with getting you to type in your phone number into the phone keypad, only to have to repeat this information to the consultant anyway? (I asked one of the consultants this, irritably, and was told it was for security/identification purposes . . . bollocks.) And what's with the stupid voice responses that then get repeated back to you and then you get transferred somewhere else anyway . . .? Aaarrrgh!

Yep, I now have a gripe with Telstra, and it's going to take me a while to get over this one. I have wasted so many hours -- I reckon five or six by now -- ringing or thinking about ringing (not wanting to ring, because I know it's going to blow my afternoon). That company has a lot to answer for. And their share price is crap. No wonder.

And the ordeal still isn't over . . .

UPDATE Monday 7 March:
All seems to be working as of 1 March.
The Age featured this article (very similar story!) on 6 March

Browsing in the eBook era

2011-02-25T22:25:00.000+11:00

With all the drama surrounding RED Group's financial woes, there has been much analysis on the interwebs and in media discussing how readers' changing habits are impacting the book selling and publishing industry. One of the main differences is the trend for consumers to purchase books online (especially internationally via Amazon or the Book Depository, for example). Another is the emergence of eReaders and the eBook.

I've never purchased a book online. Not a hard copy one. I've traditionally been a book store browser, far more inclined to peruse the shelves, pick up a book, flick through it and purchase -- often with the intention of reading immediately, but certainly not always. I never have identified a book I wanted and then ordered a cheaper version over the net. Until last September, I never had an account at Amazon; indeed, I had only ever visited the site a handful of times.

eBooks are another matter entirely.

I'm surprising myself at the readiness with which I seem to have embraced the eBook. I think it's the absolute immediacy, coupled with the relatively low cost. I love the fact I can look up a specific book or genre and download it to my Kindle right away. It's great for nights like tonight when I feel like something lightweight and fluffy.

Moreover, the lightweight Kindle device makes a chunky book so much easier to read. I haven't abandoned paperbacks all together. At least I don't think I have. (Although I can't help noticing that the only paperbacks I've bought in the last 6 months were books not available to me on the Kindle . . .) But there's a definite shift in my purchasing.

What I've also noticed, though, is how my foray into eReading has radically changed the way I browse for books to read. It's the classic digital media 'viral' marketing model. Amazon sends me a suggestions email every week, based on bestsellers and books similar to what I've recently bought or looked at. Similarly, the web site itself will tell you what books others who looked at this title ultimately bought. Everything is ranked on reader reviews, and price, and 'what others bought'. This often has me clicking and viewing and contemplating books that I would never have come across in a conventional book store.

In many ways this is fabulous. There are so many more titles available in the USA and online than could ever be featured in a local Australian book store -- even one usually as well stocked as Borders. But one needs to remember that quantity does not necessarily mean quality. I'm very well aware there's a whole lot of dross out there, dross that may well have been weeded out by the trusty book shop owner. Amazon reader reviews really cannot be trusted to provide an accurate indication, since one doesn't know what their criteria are. Much reading between the lines is required. On the flip side, however, the prices of such novels can be extremely low, often as little as 99c or even free, so there's little risk.

I'm finding this journey fascinating. It's giving me the freedom to be a whole lot more experimental in my reading, without clogging up my bookshelves or killing any trees. (Yes, I know a library would achieve the same, but that's beyond the scope of my contemplation.) The digital format is somehow baggage-free, a whole different medium. And yet I can still lurk in book shops as the mood takes me. In truth, however, a conventional tree-book now needs to carry a whole heap more weight in order to persuade me to buy it. My frivolous purchases are now more likely to be in pixels.

Priorities

2011-02-24T23:40:00.002+11:00

A couple of weeks ago I devised a schedule for all the things I want to achieve while on respite from the daily grind. As expected, the plan was probably a little ambitious, but I have managed to fulfill the two main goals for February: walk and write every day (more or less).

It's been great to have some solid writing time, particularly given that the closer I get to the end of the novel, the harder the final few chapters are to write. It's been very difficult to 'lay the pen down' in the afternoon in order to attend to some of those other items on my list. Some days I've just gone with it and ignored everything else I'm supposed to be doing (like, maybe, finding an income). Other days I've dragged myself away and ticked some of the other things off the list.

February will be finished soon, and I suppose I'll have to give up the indulgence of prioritising writing. Mostly. But I do want and need to maintain a focus on walking and exercising every day. Otherwise, without even the walk to the train station, I'm in danger of becoming a couch potato. But I will need to do something about the time I'm getting up in the morning . . .

Irony

2011-02-18T17:37:00.001+11:00

I am currently reading The Winter of our Disconnect by Susan Maushart - How three totally wired teenagers (and a mother who slept with her iPhone) pulled the plug on their technology and lived to tell the tale.

It's a true story about a recent (2009) 6-month experiment, in which a family eschews all digital screens (TVs, iPods, computers...) in the home to reconnect with life instead. The author was greatly influenced in this by Henry David Thoreau and his book Walden, which I gather is the account of Thoreau's two-year 'experiment in living' in the North American Wilderness.

I'm only a couple of chapters in, but already it's striking a chord within me as it discusses the modern trend of today's youth in inhabiting (as opposed to using) digital media. While I am not anywhere close to simultaneously instant messaging, facebooking, twittering/tweeting, skyping . . . and whatever else there is, I certainly find myself effortlessly clicking between my facebook community and my local work-in-progress on a daily (and all-day) basis.

It's too early for me to know what the main message of this book is going to be, but I do find it ironic that at the very time I am reading a book that scrutinises these digital habits, I established my first LinkedIn account. More digital 'connections' to add to my network, and a whole new way of managing my career. More reasons to remain glued to the computer, or my impending iPhone...

Serendipity

2011-02-14T14:12:00.000+11:00

I learnt a valuable lesson this afternoon: stressing over all the things on your to-do list is counter-productive. It is a far better idea to go out and meet that friend for lunch. The exercise, fresh air and sunshine (that eventually appears) will cause all the silly angst to evaporate, until you wonder what on earth the problem was. Even better, you realise mid-meal that serendipitously you're only a 5 minute walk from the bathroom shop that is one of the things on your to-do list... So all is well with the world.

A cowardly despicable person

2011-02-09T10:14:00.001+11:00

No, I'm not accusing anyone here, just highlighting a cool 'word of the day':

Caitiff
noun: A cowardly and despicable person.
adjective: cowardly, despicable.

I like it! (And I may have someone in mind, after all...)

From wordsmith.org

The schedule

2011-02-08T23:34:00.000+11:00

I have been . . . I'm not sure whether I want to say 'unemployed', but I guess that is the truth . . . for two days now. That is not to say I've been doing nothing, however, for I have set myself a rather long list of tasks to achieve over the next couple of months, and in order to succeed I've drawn up a schedule.

The two most important things in the short term are health/fitness and finishing my novel. As a result, I'm targeting an early morning walk (unless I have an errand to run on foot later in the day) and a morning writing session. That gets the two essentials ticked off by midday.

This allows me to plan all sorts of other critical tasks for the afternoons. This week I am prioritising career stuff: resume, tech writing/communications portfolio . . . and then I guess I'd better check out the job market and start networking. I'm still not clear on what I want to do, but I intend to apply widely and at least get some interview practice in!

I also have grand renovation plans, not to mention house and garden decluttering and maintenance, and myriad 'life stuff' to sort while I have the head space and can attend to things during the day. It's amazing all the little things I have let slide merely owing to a too-hectic job. I am so looking forward to getting my life in order.

Of course, the likelihood of me sticking to the schedule 100% is slim, owing to several factors, including over-optimism, inability to get up at 7am, and things taking longer than I think they will. I am sure I will also have to rein myself in on the writing front some days, when I get absorbed and don't want to stop.

Or maybe sometimes I'll cut myself some slack and go where the mood takes me. Whatever happens, the next couple of months should be awesome.

Wishlist temptation

2011-02-05T17:53:00.000+11:00

I've become rather enamoured of my Amazon kindle wishlist. It's like a virtual library of desperately interesting books that I'm simply dying to read -- and they are only a single-click away. Merely perusing the eight titles currently wishlisted makes my stomach lurch with anticipation, and I start contemplating blowing off whatever plans I had for the evening in favour of settling down with a good book . . . er, e-reader. (Actually, I do have plenty of paper-and-ink books I could be reading as well.)

My kindle wishlist is currently growing at a furious rate, because it's that time of the year when my reading group starts nominating books for 2011. Although I may end up deciding to buy hardcopies, I want to identify which selected books are available as kindle books (and therefore can be downloaded instantaneously) before I get suddenly stuck unable to source the book. Unfortunately the first book up for the year is NOT available on the kindle (for Australian readers), but at least I know now!

My kindle wishlist as of this moment is:

Room, Emma Donoghue
The distant hours, Kate Morton
The lake of dreams, Kim Edwards
At home, Bill Bryson
The next two Sookie Stackhouse novels, Charlaine Harris
Oryx and Crake, Margaret Atwood
The Scar, China Mieville

Oh, the temptation!

Mii in the dead of night

2011-02-01T13:39:00.000+11:00

I recently received the most awesome early birthday present of a Nintendo Wii and Wii Fit Plus. Since I was away for this past weekend, I didn't get to set up more than the basic unit. But I did get so far as to establish my first 'Mii' (personal avatar).

When I was in Germany, we played Wii Fit a lot, and I loved the avatar created for me by my niece. 'Ellie' was really cool, and I believe she is still the household 'King' of several games, including tightrope walk, big top juggling, segway circuit, bird's eye bulls-eye, and rhythm parade. I haven't been able to create a Mii avatar nearly as good on my own -- does anyone know how I can get hold of Ellie from Germany and download her to my system?

Last night as I stared at the ceiling at 2am, very far from sleep, I hit upon the idea of making Mii avatars of the main characters in my novel. (This is so I have some friends to cheer me on as I seek to improve all my scores.) In fact, I was so wide awake that I got out of bed in the dead of night and spent 20 mins creating avatars for my two leading characters. I was a bit limited as to colours and hairstyle, and I was unable to include a sword for my swordsman, but it's them, more or less. All a bit of fun!

A good start to 'year of the writer'

2011-01-31T23:23:00.006+11:00

January has turned out to be a good month on the writing front. Once I got back into the groove after travelling, I have managed to write for at least a couple of hours on most days, spurred on by my pre-work stints in the 'Cafenatics on Church' cafe in the CBD. And now I have just spent a four-day weekend down at Phillip Island to further immerse myself.

The best bit is that progress is being made. . . Towards the end of the novel. . . The climax is fast approaching. If I carry on at my current rate of application, I'm in with a strong chance of achieving my goal of a completed draft by the end of February.

This is exactly how I wanted to start 2011, which is to be known by me as the 'year of the writer'. Bring on February and the challenge of meeting my first self-imposed deadline!

The King's Speech

2011-01-23T23:19:00.000+11:00

I finally saw The King's Speech this afternoon and thoroughly enjoyed this gentle insight into King George VI's struggle with a speech impediment that made it almost impossible to deliver any form of public address. The movie focuses on the working relationship and ultimate friendship between Bertie - Duke of York/George VI (Colin Firth) and an Australian speech therapist, Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), plus also paints a loving relationship between Bertie and his wife, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter).

It's a subtle film, marvellously acted, that also explores the impact of live wireless broadcasts on the public role of the royal family, the abdication of Edward (Guy Pearce) in favour of Mrs Wallace Simpson, and the lead-up to World War II. The scene where Bertie as the King has to deliver the 'we are now at war' speech over the wireless, coached and supported by Lionel using all sorts of devices, is a very moving climax.

The poignancy of Bertie's plight is so beautifully portrayed as he strives to meet the expectation of all around him, while combating such a human frailty as a stammer. Everyone is talking about this film and there's a good reason why. I hope Colin Firth gets an Oscar to add to this week's Golden Globe.

Morning cafe experiment

2011-01-19T23:33:00.000+11:00

In order to find a better mid-week writing window amid full-time work commitments, I am trying something a little different this week. I am taking my baby computer with me into work, and writing in a cafe before I arrive in the office.

That is, I did so this morning and intend to repeat the event tomorrow. My work circumstances have recently changed, meaning that I’m in the office rather later than before. Yet in order to beat the peak-hour rush, I’ve been taking the same train and reading in a cafe over a coffee — then it occurred to me that I could write instead.

I have had some good success writing before work (at home) in the past, but that was when I started work at 9am and the office was under 4km from home. Although I maintain that I am not a morning person, it is undeniable that my mind is fresher and the words come more freely in the early hours, before my head is cluttered with work stuff.

I really like starting the day knowing I’ve already put at least some words down on the page. Utilising the mornings helps ensure that I write every day, and even improves the likelihood that I’ll continue on in the evening.

Unfortunately, the pre-work time-window is not long enough! It was hard this morning to drag myself away and into the office . . . Maybe I’ll find myself taking an even earlier train soon, just to make my efforts pay!

Kindling interest in e-books

2011-01-18T22:53:00.000+11:00

After a few months and many hundreds/thousands of kilometres travelling with my kindle, I think it is time to document some of my thoughts on the whole e-reading experience.

Firstly, and I emphasise this, a kindle is not an iPad. It is a non-backlit dedicated e-Reader, which I charged exactly twice in 10 weeks of travel. Think of it as a glorified book (d'oh) that holds more books than I could read in a year, is smaller and lighter than a single book (and an iPad), and which downloads books via wireless from Amazon wherever you happen to be in the world (so long as you have the 3G version).

I emphasise this because I fielded a lot of comments about why I didn't get an iPad. It was an easy decision for me, because I was already taking a netbook computer with me, having dismissed an iPad as an option for writing and blogging. (The on-screen touch keyboard just doesn't do it for me.) So with a computer in tow, a dedicated e-Reader was all I needed. Besides, a kindle is cheaper, smaller, and lighter than an iPad, with much longer battery life. (Interestingly, two of my travel buddies had reached exactly the same conclusion and were also travelling with netbook and kindle.)

I have found the kindle experience a highly positive one. The screen is easy on the eyes, and it doesn't seem to worry me that I'm turning the page more frequently than I would a paperback. It's easy to hold, making a huge difference when reading on my side. Moreover, you can place it on your lap, or a table, and eat/use cutlery while reading. This is brilliant for eating/reading on planes, or solo cafe experiences.

I have massively enjoyed the portability -- it fits easily in most of my handbags -- and the availability of books via Amazon is simply fantastic. Just this evening, I realised that I'm about to finish the fantasy novel I'm reading (part 1 of a trilogy), so I went to Amazon and downloaded the next one. And the books from Amazon are significantly cheaper than paperbacks here in Australia, particularly with the Aussie dollar doing so well. Less than half the price.

Having said all that, there is one particular aspect of paperback reading that I miss when reading on the kindle. No matter what anyone says, it is not easy to flick through the pages of an e-book. I do this quite a bit with a paperback, usually. Often it's to refer back to a description or passage of relevance, or to consult the map at the beginning of the book in some fantasy novels. Sometimes it's to see how far to the end of the chapter or section, or to see when the next section dealing with a certain character is due, or . . . well, sometimes I take a peek at the end of the book.

I also like having hard copies on the bookshelf in the living room. It reminds me of what I have read, what I want to read, and often what I've half read from all the bookmarks sticking out. Having books around is homey and comforting. Although I've heard people say they would miss the 'smell of the pages', I don't find this is the case with me; but I still like the tangibility of a live book.

Some other thoughts:
- the user interface is a bit clunky, but if you don't try anything too complex, it's fine
- the fledgling e-book industry is guaranteed to change over the next few years, and who knows whether the kindle will be my reader of choice? I may need to accept that my kindle books become obsolete from a technology point of view.
- the formatting on some books can be a little haphazard, and I've noticed more typos than usual in the book I'm currently reading. I presume these are not present in the print edition.
- the kindle does not read e-Pub files, or any other proprietary files. This effectively limits me to Amazon.
- The number of titles available on kindle is good, so long as you're looking for classics or recent books. Moreover, here in Australia there are further limitations due to digital rights management. Sometimes a book I want is available for US readers but not me!
- I can't lend books that I purchase on the kindle
- Amazon makes it frighteningly easy to purchase books!

At this stage, it's too early to tell how much kindle reading I'll do in the future. I have the feeling that if I see a book I want to read in a bookshop, I'm still quite likely to buy it, particularly if I know and like the author. Also, I have a gazillion unread paperbacks on my shelf. But it's more than likely that many of the other benefits of the kindle will see me continuing down the e-book path. I'm just going to hope that the rumours of 'bundled books', where you can buy the same book in both formats, eventuate and prove cost-viable.

Coffee heaven

2011-01-14T18:54:00.000+11:00

I'm starting to develop quite a habit of buying new electrical appliances in the Christmas/New Year period (during the sales, of course). My latest, picked up just this afternoon, is a new Nespresso Coffee machine.

I've been quite dismissive of capsule coffee machines in the past: there is still a sizable part of me that feels guilty about all the packaging, plus there's no getting away from the higher running cost. However, after witnessing one of these machines in action, and tasting the coffee that comes out of them, I've decided the advantages outweigh the negatives.

The most important thing, obviously, is the taste of the coffee. Nespresso has 16 different capsules to choose from (samples of all provided on purchase) so now I just have to drink my way through these and decide which ones I like best. The quality of the coffee is excellent; but just as one might prefer one cafe brand to another, I expect it to be the same with these.

Significantly, the quality of the coffee from the automatic machine is substantially higher than I could achieve with a manual machine. I'm no barista, not at all. The way the capsules work ensure no burnt coffee, or tamping variations. And the milk heats/froths to precisely the correct temperature, so there are no too-cold or too-hot coffees. The machine takes out all the user-error, and delivers a technically perfect coffee.

Another major factor, and probably the one that tipped me over the edge, is the 'no mess' factor. I hate cleaning up coffee grounds. Hate it, hate it, hate it. For this reason, I avoid using plungers, stove-top cafetieres, percolators (unless there's a crowd). Yes, I would honestly rather drink instant coffee than deal with the mess. Sad.

But with the Nespresso machine, there's no mess! The pods empty into a container that is easily emptied (and can apparently be recycled/composted), and the milk frothing device is easily cleaned. I know I will actually use this machine on a daily basis, rather than have it sitting dormant on my benchtop for over a year (as happened with the last manual coffee machine I had). An added bonus is its teeny-weeny footprint. So compact.

This will not replace my love of heading off to a cafe with friends. But it will hopefully counteract my tendency to head to a cafe for a coffee (and whatever else I might find there) when I should be writing, or doing some other form of work, instead. Not that I intend to entirely give up taking me and baby computer off to a cafe for a few hours' indulgence. . .

Head for the finish line

2011-01-12T23:19:00.000+11:00

After a few false starts since arriving home (during which I stared at the computer screen and panicked), I've spent the past two days getting back into the novel.

Why the panic? Because I am so near the end I can taste it, but all I could see were all the loose ends that somehow need to be resolved. Worse, I wasn't even sure I could remember what they all were. This is one of the problems that arises from not writing consistently. I forget stuff: emotional levels, what has been foreshadowed and when, what the hell I was planning sometimes.

I need to write more consistently. I know this, and that's one of my focuses for this year. But I also need to remember that nothing is final. The words are put down. The words can be edited . . . or deleted if I choose. I can even add words (gasp). I have to tell myself these things, or I allow thoughts of imperfect previous chapters to clog my creative energy.

So, once I repeated this mantra a few times, and promised myself an editing pass before anyone gets to read it, I decided not to read back over the entire manuscript to gather all the threads, and instead head straight for the finish line.

I've been pleased with my focus, now that I'm "in". I'm not worrying too much about volume at this stage, so long as progress is being made and I'm maintaining "bum on seat". So far, so good.

Crossroads

2011-01-09T22:54:00.001+11:00

Step one in my mission to take control of my life in 2011 was to quit my job. This happened on Friday.

Over the years I've been blogging here, I've made a concerted effort not to blog about work for the most part, since I've not wanted to compromise myself professionally. This is still largely true; but I will say that management changes, leading to a dramatic shift in culture, made the workplace unbearable and led to my resignation from a job I've held (and for the most part enjoyed) for 10 years.

Despite my conviction that I need to get out, I found the process difficult. For one thing, I am not all that comfortable with change, and this has manifested over the years as a dogged perseverence and unwillingness to quit. (Without this, at least two of my three degrees would never have been completed.) Neither do I relish confrontation or the knowledge that I'm leaving the company in a tight situation. And then there is the very real fact that I don't have an alternative job lined up just yet . . .

The unfortunate truth, however, is that my job became so unbearable that none of these factors weigh with me anymore. Leaving now, as soon as possible, is the only option.

So I have a choice. One option is to seek a new position in which I can take my career in technology communications to the next level, likely involving a level of responsibility and intensity. Or I can decide to downscale that career in favour of fiction writing. It's a tough choice for me, because I have demonstrated expertise (and fairly good salary expectations) in the former, and nothing but a nearly completed unpublished manuscript in the latter.

I have always believed in heeding heart before head, and that will remain my credo. As I commence the dire task of updating resume and exploring job options, I can only hope that everything will fall into place and the 'right' job -- one that's not too demanding, not too mind-numbing -- will manifest and my heart will tell me what to do. Because I now have the opportunity for a change in direction, to shift fiction writing a little more into the spotlight, if I can be brave enough to seize it.

Reflection 2010-2011

2011-01-06T13:31:00.000+11:00

Perhaps it's human nature to feel the need to mark the passing of another year -- and the start of a new one -- with self-absorbed intense reflection. Whether or not this proves of interest to anyone other than myself remains to be seen, but I intend to continue the tradition. I like the fact I can read over last year's epistle and remember how upbeat and positive I was about my life at the time (although not so much that it reminds me of which milestones have still not been met).

In a great many ways, 2010 was a stand-out year, as expected. It was the year of Footsloggers and the Oxfam Trailwalker, an event that consumed me body and soul from January through April and left me with a resounding sense of achievement, fitness and general self-satisfaction. Then of course there was my recent travels in Europe, a mega-holiday of 2.5 months, and all the planning and gadget testing and general excitement in the lead-up. Both of these events have filled me with positive energy, a sense of purpose, and the conviction that I can take control of my life.

If I sound pensive, it's because with these two events defining my year, 2010 has not gone so well on the writing front. Aside from the brief spectacular highlight of Aussiecon 4 in September, I might as well have shed my desired 'writer' persona completely and replaced it with wannabe 'endurance athlete' (hehe) or 'intrepid traveller'. This was of course always on the cards when I embarked upon the twin adventures, but I am once again disappointed with my lack of application when I did have the time window available (except for my trainwriting in France/Spain, which I was very happy with).

So now that I have got all the other stuff out of my system, 2011 is going to be the year when I put writing (fiction) first. This is going to involve major work changes and some rigid goal-setting (I've decided I need deadlines). From somewhere I am going to need to find some self-belief as well. It's all very well to shake up one's life, but one needs to have faith that it will be worth it. However, since I can't at the moment imagine doing anything else, I'm going to have to take that leap -- even if it feels like I'll fall flat on my face.

Most memorable moments

2011-01-05T11:26:00.001+11:00

When one has been away for the length of time I have (10.5 weeks), many family and friends want to hear all about it now that I am finally home. Although I am tempted to email them the URL to this blog, which is a fairly comprehensive record, most probably want a more condensed version (!). Moreover, after blogging almost exclusively (perhaps vainly) about my adventures, I feel the need for one final indulgence to wrap the whole thing up.

So, here is a brief highlights package of most memorable moments in chronological order. They are the places or events that moved me the most, or which best epitomise an important aspect of this holiday. Following the top 10, there is a list of honourable mentions -- which just goes to show how fabulous the past two and a half months have been.

Top 10 most memorable

Sarlat and the Dordogne region (France): I had never heard of this region, and it just blew me away with the richness of the history, architecture and food.
Segovia (Spain): A fairytale fortified town with the most impressive Roman aqueduct penetrating the heart. Stupendous.
Seville (Spain): So much to see in this town. Its Alcazar was the highlight, but also memorable were visits to the Giralda tower, bullring and a flamenco performance.
The Alhambra in Granada (Spain): My reason for visiting Spain didn't let me down with its vast, beautiful gardens and carved marble frescoes.
Ronda (Spain): The dramatic canyon with its unique bridge, and the narrow winding streets of the old town were breathtaking.
The pudding club (UK): 6 months in the planning, this night was an orgy of British pudding consumption. The sticky date and bread & butter puddings were to die for.
The Undercliff walk, Brighton (UK): We stayed in an old inn in the village of Rottingdean and walked below the white chalk cliffs into Brighton on a magical morning.
Snowbound in London (UK): It took 5 hours for our car to travel 4 miles during the first snows of 30 November, and the subsequent few days saw us completely snowbound. After that, snow lay on the ground for the rest of my sojourn in the UK and then Germany.
Christmas markets (Germany): Gorgeous sprawls of snow-dusted huts bearing assorted handcrafts and delectable foods. Christmas lights and gluhwein abound.
Family Christmas (Germany): The focal point of the trip saw my whole family converge on Bonn for a magical White Christmas.

Honourable mentions

Luchon in the Pyranees, France
Madrid and Barcelona, Spain
Bath (for the second time), UK
London museums, UK
London shopping, UK
Bruges - especially the hot chocolate, Belgium
Drachenfells walk near Bonn, Germany (I haven't blogged about this, but it involved pushing a pram up a steep and very icy hill with fabulous winter views of the Rhine River!)
New Years Eve fireworks in Bonn, Germany

I've had a wonderful time -- and it has been awesome to be away from work for an extended period -- but it is also nice to be home, where the sun shines and I don't need to get suited and booted merely to step out the door, where I can wear clothes other than those in my pack, where I can ask for a large skinny flat white and get a fabulous coffee . . .

Fireworks at midnight

2011-01-01T00:39:00.003+11:00

The first fireworks this evening were released at about 8pm -- maybe a trial run, or maybe for the enjoyment of children who wouldn't be staying up until midnight. Ever since then, the night air has periodically cracked and popped with light and thunder. We've been sitting inside in the warmth, drinking gluhwein and baileys, chatting casually on our last night together in Germany. Soaking up the atmosphere.

At about 10 minutes until midnight, we suited and booted to face the snow and cold outside. The fireworks had increased in intensity, and the dilemma was whether to go out the back door, or the front. Such was the activity that we thought mabe our clocks were all slow . . .

But then (as midnight obviously ticked over) the night errupted with colour and sound. The atmosphere was electric, as dozens of parties let off many dozens of fireworks -- some on the street in front of us. Fuses hissed and the air sang as tiny rockets soared. Everywhere you looked, more colour shot into the sky, or rained like glitter. Smoke and sulphur hazed the street, and it was impossible to look away. For at least 20 minutes it sounded like a war zone with unending gunfire.

Amazing night. Even now, more than half as hour later, the crack and thunder continues sporadically like the tailings in a pot of popcorn. Happy New Year to all.

New take on twin cities

2010-12-29T21:12:00.011+11:00

One of the books I've read while travelling over the past couple of months is The city and the city, by China Miéville. I hadn't read any of his books before, partly because I couldn't decide which one to start on and kept receiving different recommendations from my friends. So when this one was joint winner of the Hugo Award this year, I felt it was a sign.

It's a fascinating book, where the reader is thrust into a strange environment of superimposed cities (somewhere at the edge of Europe) with zero explanation. Gradually, through the careful placement of information tidbits and then more detailed exposition, you build up a picture of how the cities coexist, the differences in their cultures, and the various rules of the two societies. These then become fundamental to the main plot, which at heart is essentially a police procedural crime (murder) novel, albeit in a very different world from our own.

I have perhaps revealed too much here, for Miéville clearly wants readers to know nothing of the setup prior to reading, but I think you can get this much from various Amazon reviews... And, anyway, the premise is so original and intriguing that this in itself is the perfect hook.

It's not a fast-paced novel, with events instead playing out at a pace that reflects the strict bureaucracy of Miéville's world and the police-world in general. The main character is an experienced senior detective from one of the cities, and we follow his efforts to solve a murder tangled with international conspiracies, while having some of his core beliefs shaken. He's a likable, highly competant character, and forms interesting relationships with the various other colleagues, suspects and witnesses he deals with throughout the novel.

The writing is sparse, and the unique urban setting and the characters sketched with broad strokes, so that the novel almost feels allegorical in tone. I admit that I generally prefer novels with more flesh on the bones (and more attention paid to character), but I was nevertheless engrossed by this book and its ideas. I would recommend it to anyone who likes something a little weird and doesn't mind working a little harder than normal! I'm definitely up for another Miéville novel; just need to decide which one!

Fluffy White Christmas

2010-12-25T22:52:00.005+11:00

Amid the great European freeze, we have had our White Christmas in Bonn, Germany. In accordance with German tradition we celebrated on Christmas Eve -- decorating the tree with all the family, attending a candle-lit carol service, building two impressive snowmen, eating and drinking and being generally merry.

Then we celebrated again on Christmas Day (today) with presents and our usual turkey roast dinner (more eating, drinking, being merry) -- and it felt entirely appropriate having a roast, since it was so chilly outside (circa -6 deg C). In fact, we found the back porch an entirely appropriate place to chill food that didn't fit into the fridge...

The snow today was beautiful, light and fluffy powder. Much of it fell yesterday and overnight, covering grass and other surfaces that had begun to show through as earlier snowfall started to thaw. But after a couple of milder days, yesterday was bitter and windy and it snowed for most of the day, and then today was fine and even sunny for a spell in the afternoon. We went down to the Rhine for a short walk and I was sorely tempted to throw myself into the pristine powder to make snow angels.

The massive house-party (across two houses) and two-day celebration has been fantastic. With all the snow-disruptions to trains and planes, we've been incredibly lucky that everyone made it to Bonn in time (from various parts of Germany and Europe), with only a couple of hairy moments. After over a year in the planning, it's all turned out brilliantly.

Christmas markets

2010-12-21T19:17:00.003+11:00

Of all things at Christmas time, Germany is renowned for its Christmas markets. On our train journey from London, we met people travelling to the Cologne Christmas markets -- some of the most acclaimed in the country -- specifically to do their Christmas shopping. The markets can apparently be found in just about every town, and attract crowds (no matter how freezing the temperature) to sample the edible delicacies and handcrafts and, perhaps most importantly, Gluhwein (mulled wine).

The Bonn Christmas market, located mainly in the town square, is a lovely market with all the prerequisite foodstuffs and handcrafts like ornaments and Christmas decorations carved from timber, engraved glass objects, paper star lanterns (complete with light globes inside) for hanging in windows at Christmas, porcelain ornaments, candle holders etc. It flows into adjoining pedestrian walkways and neighbouring squares, luring the visitor onwards through the quaint city centre. It was in the Bonn market that we sampled the delicious dampfnudel, a traditional German steamed dumpling, smothered in vanilla custard sauce and stewed plums.

We visited two of the Cologne markets today. The first nestles in the shadow of the Dom, Cologne's massive and impressive cathedral (see picture - not mine), and is perhaps slightly more diverse and higher quality than the Bonn market. Here, the kids rode the merry-go-round and the adults sampled gluhwein in ceramic mugs that we could keep. The weather was milder today at 1 degree C, and we all enjoyed perusing the many excellent stalls. (Alas, no dampfnudel to be found!)

We stumbled upon the second Cologne Christmas market, down a bit and around the corner, as we headed back to the station, the light fading and the lights twinkling in the dusk. We didn't have nearly enough time at this market, which looked at a glance to be the best of all of them! It seemed to have a multitude of stalls with interesting wares and different foods, and the night atmosphere with all the lights (including hundreds of lit Christmas trees) was truly spectacular.

So the German Christmas markets have lived up to expectation (unlike the Bruges effort, which was poor by comparison). The lights and snow and gluhwein and market stalls all combine to create a wonderful Christmas atmosphere that is unlike anything we have in Australia.

der Weihnachtsbaum (Christmas tree)

2010-12-18T12:35:00.006+11:00

It is exactly one week until Christmas, which this year will be spent with my entire family in Bonn, Germany. The plan is to embrace some of the German traditions while we're here. We are of course hoping for a 'white Christmas', which is not unthinkable -- there is still much snow on the ground, and it snowed quite heavily for a while yesterday. Fingers crossed the world is still white in a week!

In true German fashion we set off today to choose our Christmas tree (der Weihnachtsbaum). The plantation we visited was filled with snow-laden Christmas trees of all shapes and sizes -- from massive 4-5m monsters, down to tiny baby trees about 10cm high. The idea is to trek through the snow to find the exact tree that meets height, breadth, symmetry and aesthetic requirements, then have it cut down, netted and slung over the car. It then hangs around outside until next Friday, Christmas Eve, when it is brought inside and decorated.

It took us about 20 mins to investigate the various tree-options and make our selection, all the while our toes and fingers becoming numb. A snowball fight ensued once the choice was made and we awaited the man with the saw. By the time the tree was felled and roped onto the roof of the car, an hour had passed and we were all freezing and ready for a hot drink and lunch. O Tannenbaum, the pains to we which we go to choose thee!

Bitterly cold in Brugge

2010-12-14T20:07:00.003+11:00

En route between London and Bonn, we have stopped in Brussels for a couple of nights, mainly to facilitate a day-visit to the quaint and highly acclaimed town of Bruges/Brugge. We caught a fast train there this morning, once again bitterly cold with sunny patches, and were delighted by this medieval town threaded by partially iced-over canals (see picture above!), home to glorious white swans, multiple chocolatiers and lace shops, and reportedly the host of a Christmas market worth travelling to from London for a long weekend.

Brugge is a town to explore on foot, and many have asserted that a day rambling the gorgeous cobbled streets is all that is needed to have 'done Brugge'. This I can well imagine, for every little street is a temptation . . . and even as the temperature hovered at around zero degrees, I felt the lure of this town.

However, I have to admit I'm a little over the freezing temperatures we've been experiencing for the past three weeks. No matter how many layers I pile on, I can't seem to shake the bitter slash of cold on cheeks, the icy penetration of cold into fingers and toes, the shudder of frost through my jeans. This sadly hampers the best-laid plans of the intrepid traveller. For when it's literally FREEZING, the lure of cafes and museums starts to put gorgeous cobbled lanes, canals and Christmas markets into the shade.

The highlight of our visit today, therefore, was an authentic Belgian hot chocolate accompanied by home-made Belgian waffle with hot chocolate sauce at The Old Chocolate House. This is a cosy first floor tea room above a chocolate shop, where the hot chocolate comes as solid choc buttons in a chocolate cup with a bowl of hot milk (into which you stir the buttons). Gorgeous.

A taste of London

2010-12-10T19:00:00.001+11:00

After more than five weeks of gadding about at a furious rate, it has been nice to slow down for a couple of weeks while staying with friends in London. What with Sunday roast lunches, afternoon teas in the country and (for the first few days at least) snow-mayhem that brought the country to a standstill, I've grown positively lethargic!

Nevertheless, I have managed to get into London a few times (we are staying in the outskirts) to do some museums (snow = freezing = indoors desirable). My first expedition was to the Victoria and Albert Museum. This is a museum dedicated to the decorative arts, and covers a vast and diverse array of trades and crafts and art. There was no possible way to see all of it in a single afternoon, but I gave the 3rd floor a pretty good stab. I found myself lingering over an eclectic mix of displays:
Ironwork - Of particular interest for me, as a former metallurgist, was the decorative ironwork display, which encompassed intricate wrought iron artifacts, cast iron objects, engraved pieces, and locks/padlocks with keys (and more).
Beatrix Potter - I was fascinated by the original illustrated letter containing the original story of Peter Rabbit.
Micro-mosaics - Tiny tiny pieces of glass used to decorate furniture, snuff boxes, etc in beautiful designs. Accompanied by an impressive snuff box collection (all from the amazing Gilbert Collection).
Tapestries - Only one gallery, alas. Three massive medieval tapestries showed various hunting scenes.
Portrait miniatures - Originally painted on vellum, later ivory, these exquisite portraits were beautiful (despite involving inhumane treatment of animals...).

On another day, we visited the Cabinet War Rooms and Churchill Museum -- an underground maze of bunkers that were used during WW2 by Churchill and his ministers (and multitudes of other men and women, both civilian and otherwise) as a subterranean HQ. The rooms show how the living and working quarters were furnished and the types of equipment they used, while an audio guide explains how it all went down on a daily basis. A highly technological museum devoted to Churchill's life is also to be found down there, complete with interactive light displays, plus all sorts of other memorabilia. I came out knowing a whole lot more about this remarkable man, who lived enough for ten men!

London has so many museums that it's difficult to choose which ones to visit. We ultimately decided to go to the relatively new Museum of London, which focuses on London as a city from the dawn of civilisation (hunter gathers in the Thames valley), the Roman founding of Londinium and its subsequent abandonment, the arrival of the Saxons . . . Normans . . . Black Death . . . the Fire of London . . . all the way to the current day. In fact, it even peeked into the future, with a remarkable exhibition of digitally-constructed images showing what London could become as the result of environmental pressures (St Paul's with rice paddies . . . Buckingham Palace surrounded by immigrant shanty town . . . Piccadilly Circus underwater . . . etc). It is a fabulous museum, with all sorts of fun interactive displays, lots of diversity -- once again far too much to take in all at once. I would have liked, however, a bit more cross-referencing with politics/government/monarchs etc (which weren't covered to large extent, except for Oliver Cromwell). Nevertheless, it was great to have it all laid out from woe to go; it really helps with perspective.

The rest of my time in the London CBD (when not lounging around sloth-like) has been spent shopping! I spent yesterday in Regent and Oxford Streets, and today at the new Westfield London shopping centre. I was definitely ready for some retail therapy!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (movie - part 1)

2010-12-07T18:06:00.024+11:00

I was finally able to see the new Harry Potter movie last night, despite having been in the UK for 2 weeks already. As with all the movies, I think I probably need to see it again in order to really know what I think of it. As far as I can recall from the book (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), part 1 of the movie stays remarkably close . . . and I certainly enjoyed the movie; however, my initial impressions are that it moved a little too slowly in parts, sketched over characters I felt deserved more weight (a recurring complaint from me with the HP movies, but they had more scope with this one, being a two-parter, so no excuses), and the dramatic scenes all felt a little under-done, under-whelming, somehow. I can't help but feel that only those who have read the book will be able to follow the movie, and with all the extra time available this should not have happened.

On the upside, though, the film depicted events pretty much exactly as I imagined them for the most part, and I definitely want to see it again, particularly when part 2 of the movie comes out. I enjoyed the overall experience -- wouldn't have missed it for the world -- and am definitely hanging out for the next one.

Pilgrimage to Brighton

2010-12-06T23:00:00.012+11:00

Having spent most of my childhood and formative years in Brighton, Melbourne - Australia, it seemed fitting I should visit its namesake in England. I had heard and read much of Brighton. It's where Lydia Bennett elopes from in Pride and Prejudice, and the Royal Pavilion is referred to many times in Georgette Heyer's regency romances. And of course there are the famous Brighton Pier and pebbled beaches. Visiting Brighton was therefore high on my priority list, and we went there from Portsmouth last week (before the snow arrived).

Instead of staying in the heart of Brighton, we found a quaint 1930s inn (The White Horse hotel) in the nearby village of Rottingdean. By this time I felt as though I were living in one of Ms Heyer's or Austen's novels. The inn was perched on the edge of the sea, and featured a bar and restaurant below – perfect. Our rooms were modern and comfortable, I hasten to add, as the hotel is run by a group that specialises in old english inns. I rather think I could tour England staying in them.

On a beautiful sunny morning, we took the UnderCliff walk from Rottingdean into Brighton. This took us rambling below about a mile of white chalk cliffs, through the Brighton Marina, and into the town. Once there, we wandered through some of the streets and famous Lanes, and sauntered down through the penny arcades to the amusement park at the end of Brighton Pier.

Then we went to the Royal Pavilion, built as a pleasure palace by the Prince of Wales (later George IV) in the late 18th C. The Pavilion is almost indescribable. Its exterior is somewhat interesting, while on the inside its entertaining rooms are incredibly elaborate – they have to be seen to be believed. I am left with impressions of much gold, hundreds of Asian or Chinoise-style dragons, sumptuous fabrics . . . (Unfortunately we weren't allowed to take photos.) The visit included an audio tour that provided all the history of the palace, which was sold by Queen Victoria to the people of Brighton in around 1845. As a royal residence, the Pavilion had a fairly short life, but it still oozes history and is quite stunning (in both senses of the word) to behold.