It's actually quite tedious blogging from an iPhone, so this will be a short one.
They are quite nifty little units, but they have their limitations. When I first got one I was expecting it to be a lot more gimmicky than it was. The email feature is handy, it syncs with outlook and has a web browser. For serious business use though, you can't go past the Blackberry. But considering I only really need it to play games whilst on the toilet, it does the job nicely.
I was thinking today about the 80's, when there were no mobile phones, no SMS, no facebook, no blogs, no wikipedia, no online maps and no emails. If you said to your friends "I'll meet you at the show at 7", you went there at 7 and hoped your friends would turn up within visual range. If you couldn't find them, you would go for a wander and hope to run into them. Then if you couldn't find them after that you would go to a payphone and call their house. If they weren't there, you would call around your other friend's houses to see if they were there, or if not speak to someone who might know where they went. Then if you still couldn't find them you would assume they were there somewhere and enjoy the show, because if you didn't end up running into them at the show you would probably catch up with them next week some time.
Now days, you say "I'll meet you at the show at 7", then when you turn up, SMS them saying "I'm here". If they don't turn up within 5 minutes you SMS them again saying "where the hell are you?" and then if you still can't find them you ring them and stay on the phone trading landmarks until you bump into each other. You enjoy the show and enter several facebook status updates to the effect, then go home and write about it on your blog, entering a google maps reference link so people could see exactly where on earth you had such a great time. Your friends read your blog and post replies containing links to humorous topics on wikipedia that relate to something you were talking about. Then when you get to work on Monday you email your work friends telling them what a great time they missed out on.
You know what I'm going to say next, right? It was better when everything was so much simpler? Wrong! I think technology is fantastic, and the fact that it's so much easier to communicate with everybody these days is brilliant. I'm so glad I found my high school reunion being organized on facebook, and that I can stay in touch with old buddies via a simple SMS or email, whereas in the 80's I would have long lost touch with them unless I sat down and wrote an actual letter, on actual paper with an actual pen, then stuck it in an actual post box and hope it made it.
So I'm all for technology. But I think my next blog will be touch-typed whilst sitting at my good old pc - my index finger is killing me!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The next level
It seems that the majority of people enter the world at a particular level of life, find it comfortable, and stay there. I'm sure we all know people who were amazingly talented musos, or writers, or graphic artists, or sports people, or business-minded types, who tried a bit of this and a bit of that and could have gone on to do so much more, but were just comfortable where they were at and never achieved anything like what they were capable of. Or maybe they weren't entirely comfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to actually do anything about it.
Then there are those that are born at a particular level and are trapped there, and can't get out - minority groups, lower socio-economic groups, crime- or poverty-stricken families, foster children, street kids or orphans, etc. They may have all the talent in the world, and they may want to move to the next level, but they can't. They either don't have the mental and emotional resources and discipline, or they have factors in their life actively seeking to keep them where they are, maybe even pull them down to an even lower level, or both, and they never move on.
On the other side of the spectrum we also have those that are born with a silver spoon in their mouth and their bum in the butter, who are a little bit too comfortable and lazy, and for completely different reasons, never learn to develop the mental and emotional resources and discipline to keep functioning at that level, and whose lives gradually decline until their children's children are back at the poverty line.
So what is it about the select few who really achieve something worthwhile in life, and change society and the world for the better? It's funny how they all seem to have risen above some form of massive adversity in their life - maybe they were the wrong race, or their parents were on the wrong income level, or they were just born on the wrong side of the tracks - and beaten all the odds to become something and someone amazingly spectacular. Look at people such as Dr Martin Luther King, or Nelson Mandela, or Stephen Hawking. What would the world be like if they hadn't resisted all downward-pulling forces and risen above the norm to be and do great things?
I think the key is the fact that they were not comfortable at the level of life they were at, wanted to move to the next level, and persistently tried and persevered until they made it there.
And it's not necessarily the level they arrived at that seems to make the difference - it appears to be the act itself of rising up that did the trick and released positive energy on a scale sufficient to change the world.
Maybe all the good that the world needs is sandwiched in thick layers between these levels, and one human being puncturing it to move up to the next one makes it spurt everywhere. Conversely, as one descends to a lower level, negative energy is released and has a detrimental effect.
It's also worth noting that the means by which one ascends to these upper levels is different for each person. This means two things to me:
1. It's no good copying what someone else has done - it was their journey, not mine, and it won't work the same for me; and
2. It's no good comparing myself to anyone else - they are on their journey, and I am on mine. The steps we both take towards our own individual goals, no matter how similar they may seem, are bound to be wildly different.
Now anyone that has read my Facebook status updates knows how egalitarian I like to be about these things, but I can't help thinking that whether you are a theist, a deist, or an atheist, the goal of life seems to be the same - grow, develop, expand, learn. Maybe we have a divine destiny to rise above our purely mortal existence into transcendence - or maybe we are being beckoned by the forces of nature into new realms of evolutionary development that go beyond necessity and survival of the fittest. Who really knows for sure? But for me it's a comforting thought that although my beliefs may be fundamentally different to my neighbour's, we can still both work together towards the same goal, and succeed, and both be the better for it.
Anyway, I've spent all evening beginning my latest attempt to break into the next level and it's scary! Yes it will bring increased rewards, benefits, knowledge and insight, but it also always brings increased responsibility and opposition from those downward-pulling forces. But at least I've busted through enough levels already to know it and be prepared for it.
Here's to climbing that ladder ;-)
Then there are those that are born at a particular level and are trapped there, and can't get out - minority groups, lower socio-economic groups, crime- or poverty-stricken families, foster children, street kids or orphans, etc. They may have all the talent in the world, and they may want to move to the next level, but they can't. They either don't have the mental and emotional resources and discipline, or they have factors in their life actively seeking to keep them where they are, maybe even pull them down to an even lower level, or both, and they never move on.
On the other side of the spectrum we also have those that are born with a silver spoon in their mouth and their bum in the butter, who are a little bit too comfortable and lazy, and for completely different reasons, never learn to develop the mental and emotional resources and discipline to keep functioning at that level, and whose lives gradually decline until their children's children are back at the poverty line.
So what is it about the select few who really achieve something worthwhile in life, and change society and the world for the better? It's funny how they all seem to have risen above some form of massive adversity in their life - maybe they were the wrong race, or their parents were on the wrong income level, or they were just born on the wrong side of the tracks - and beaten all the odds to become something and someone amazingly spectacular. Look at people such as Dr Martin Luther King, or Nelson Mandela, or Stephen Hawking. What would the world be like if they hadn't resisted all downward-pulling forces and risen above the norm to be and do great things?
I think the key is the fact that they were not comfortable at the level of life they were at, wanted to move to the next level, and persistently tried and persevered until they made it there.
And it's not necessarily the level they arrived at that seems to make the difference - it appears to be the act itself of rising up that did the trick and released positive energy on a scale sufficient to change the world.
Maybe all the good that the world needs is sandwiched in thick layers between these levels, and one human being puncturing it to move up to the next one makes it spurt everywhere. Conversely, as one descends to a lower level, negative energy is released and has a detrimental effect.
It's also worth noting that the means by which one ascends to these upper levels is different for each person. This means two things to me:
1. It's no good copying what someone else has done - it was their journey, not mine, and it won't work the same for me; and
2. It's no good comparing myself to anyone else - they are on their journey, and I am on mine. The steps we both take towards our own individual goals, no matter how similar they may seem, are bound to be wildly different.
Now anyone that has read my Facebook status updates knows how egalitarian I like to be about these things, but I can't help thinking that whether you are a theist, a deist, or an atheist, the goal of life seems to be the same - grow, develop, expand, learn. Maybe we have a divine destiny to rise above our purely mortal existence into transcendence - or maybe we are being beckoned by the forces of nature into new realms of evolutionary development that go beyond necessity and survival of the fittest. Who really knows for sure? But for me it's a comforting thought that although my beliefs may be fundamentally different to my neighbour's, we can still both work together towards the same goal, and succeed, and both be the better for it.
Anyway, I've spent all evening beginning my latest attempt to break into the next level and it's scary! Yes it will bring increased rewards, benefits, knowledge and insight, but it also always brings increased responsibility and opposition from those downward-pulling forces. But at least I've busted through enough levels already to know it and be prepared for it.
Here's to climbing that ladder ;-)
Monday, September 27, 2010
Procrastination
Ugghhhhhh....... why is it that instead of doing what I want to do, I come up with excuses to do what I feel like doing instead?
I want to write. I want to write my novel. But I'm too tired tonight - work was a killer. It's Sunday night - I need to relax before I start the working week. I should finish off that chapter - but I think I'll play Call of Duty instead; besides, playing Call of Duty kind of inspires me to write.... except that I seem to do an inordinate amount of getting inspired compared to the amount of time I use that inspiration to write. I've been drinking - and I can't write when I've been drinking. It clouds my thought processes too much, and I need to be "sharp as a tack" when I write my novel. I just don't feel inspired, I think I'll leave it until tomorrow night to write it. But then tomorrow night I might want to watch a TV show or a movie instead. Just one night out of the week won't hurt? It's not like I sit watching TV every night.... sometimes I play Call of Duty instead. Or fart-arse around on the internet. Or say "I'm going to bed early tonight" and go to bed at 9pm, then lie there playing games on my iPhone for two hours. Sometimes (deep breath) I actually go to bed at 9pm and go to sleep then wake up at 6am the next morning feeling refreshed! But, then, I've gone to bed at 9pm and not done anything, let alone something productive.
Take last night for example. I said to my wife "I'm going in to The Boys' Room to do some writing". (The Boys' Room is the name of our garage that we have carpeted and painted and converted into a study/kids play area - that's right, the two most purpose-opposite rooms of the house combined into one). She said "OK". Then after dicking around on the computer for 20 minutes I come out to the lounge-room to get my headphones. "I think I'm going to watch a movie" I say. She shakes her head and says "tut tut" before saying "don't go complaining that you don't have any time to write then". To which I am about to make a very witty and sardonic reply when I realize she's right, and just leave before I get myself into trouble (again).
So I go to The Boys' Room where my computer is, which I built with my bare hands (and a screwdriver). I get my Blu-Ray disc of "2001 - A Space Odyssey" and stick it in the tray. I plug my headphones into the speakers and watch nigh on two hours of cinematic magic. Then go to bed thinking "why didn't I do some writing?" Now to be fair, 2001 - A Space Odyssey is very inspirational for an aspiring science fiction writer, but (again) there's something to be said for getting inspiration, and quite another thing to be said for actually using the inspiration to do some writing.
The answer? Get off your fat arse, stop procrastinating, and just bloody-well do it. Ben Lee said it best: "just do it, whatever it is, whatever it is, just do it".
Why don't I just do it?
I could come up with a bunch of lame excuses. I could also come up with a bunch of very able-bodied excuses. But at the end of the day, that's all they are - excuses. I'm afraid of failure; I'm afraid people will think my writing is bullshit; I'm afraid people will laugh at what I do; I'm afraid of wasting effort when perhaps this whole "me being a writer" thing is a pipe-dream and I've got no hope at all. Maybe there's all sorts of psychological factors and things from my past etc. that make me afraid to just do it. But I can sit around all day, whining about how crap my past was, and how many opportunities weren't handed to me on a silver platter, and nobody helps me - it won't get the job done. Plus I think every human being on the planet, no matter how privileged or otherwise they are, can be tempted to think that - some people land with their bum in the butter then complain when it starts melting.
But there is (as always) the other side of the coin. If I sit down and force myself to write, I really will come out with a bunch of uninspired bullshit. So I do need to write when I'm feeling the inspiration - but how to not let this become yet another dart in my arsenal of excuses? I think I have to sit myself down and force myself, not to write, but to calm down, stop the mind from ticking over, focus on the task at hand and get in the zone. I've done it before, so I know it can be done.
I've been telling my three-year old son that he can do whatever he sets his mind to. And I honestly believe that with all my heart - you can do whatever you set your mind to. But that's the trick - dismantle the platitude, and we realize that that's the hard part - setting your mind to it! But set your mind, and keep it set, and the world is your oyster (to use another platitude).
My sister and her husband said if I mentioned them in my blog they would give me $2. Here's to my first paid writing gig!
I want to write. I want to write my novel. But I'm too tired tonight - work was a killer. It's Sunday night - I need to relax before I start the working week. I should finish off that chapter - but I think I'll play Call of Duty instead; besides, playing Call of Duty kind of inspires me to write.... except that I seem to do an inordinate amount of getting inspired compared to the amount of time I use that inspiration to write. I've been drinking - and I can't write when I've been drinking. It clouds my thought processes too much, and I need to be "sharp as a tack" when I write my novel. I just don't feel inspired, I think I'll leave it until tomorrow night to write it. But then tomorrow night I might want to watch a TV show or a movie instead. Just one night out of the week won't hurt? It's not like I sit watching TV every night.... sometimes I play Call of Duty instead. Or fart-arse around on the internet. Or say "I'm going to bed early tonight" and go to bed at 9pm, then lie there playing games on my iPhone for two hours. Sometimes (deep breath) I actually go to bed at 9pm and go to sleep then wake up at 6am the next morning feeling refreshed! But, then, I've gone to bed at 9pm and not done anything, let alone something productive.
Take last night for example. I said to my wife "I'm going in to The Boys' Room to do some writing". (The Boys' Room is the name of our garage that we have carpeted and painted and converted into a study/kids play area - that's right, the two most purpose-opposite rooms of the house combined into one). She said "OK". Then after dicking around on the computer for 20 minutes I come out to the lounge-room to get my headphones. "I think I'm going to watch a movie" I say. She shakes her head and says "tut tut" before saying "don't go complaining that you don't have any time to write then". To which I am about to make a very witty and sardonic reply when I realize she's right, and just leave before I get myself into trouble (again).
So I go to The Boys' Room where my computer is, which I built with my bare hands (and a screwdriver). I get my Blu-Ray disc of "2001 - A Space Odyssey" and stick it in the tray. I plug my headphones into the speakers and watch nigh on two hours of cinematic magic. Then go to bed thinking "why didn't I do some writing?" Now to be fair, 2001 - A Space Odyssey is very inspirational for an aspiring science fiction writer, but (again) there's something to be said for getting inspiration, and quite another thing to be said for actually using the inspiration to do some writing.
The answer? Get off your fat arse, stop procrastinating, and just bloody-well do it. Ben Lee said it best: "just do it, whatever it is, whatever it is, just do it".
Why don't I just do it?
I could come up with a bunch of lame excuses. I could also come up with a bunch of very able-bodied excuses. But at the end of the day, that's all they are - excuses. I'm afraid of failure; I'm afraid people will think my writing is bullshit; I'm afraid people will laugh at what I do; I'm afraid of wasting effort when perhaps this whole "me being a writer" thing is a pipe-dream and I've got no hope at all. Maybe there's all sorts of psychological factors and things from my past etc. that make me afraid to just do it. But I can sit around all day, whining about how crap my past was, and how many opportunities weren't handed to me on a silver platter, and nobody helps me - it won't get the job done. Plus I think every human being on the planet, no matter how privileged or otherwise they are, can be tempted to think that - some people land with their bum in the butter then complain when it starts melting.
But there is (as always) the other side of the coin. If I sit down and force myself to write, I really will come out with a bunch of uninspired bullshit. So I do need to write when I'm feeling the inspiration - but how to not let this become yet another dart in my arsenal of excuses? I think I have to sit myself down and force myself, not to write, but to calm down, stop the mind from ticking over, focus on the task at hand and get in the zone. I've done it before, so I know it can be done.
I've been telling my three-year old son that he can do whatever he sets his mind to. And I honestly believe that with all my heart - you can do whatever you set your mind to. But that's the trick - dismantle the platitude, and we realize that that's the hard part - setting your mind to it! But set your mind, and keep it set, and the world is your oyster (to use another platitude).
My sister and her husband said if I mentioned them in my blog they would give me $2. Here's to my first paid writing gig!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Memories
I'm having a bogan renaissance - listening to Guns n Roses (Use Your Illusion I, if you must know). Ahh, the early nineties! It was like society had a hangover from the 80's, and was busily chugging down Aspro Clear and eating bland fatty food in an attempt to recover.
I was a teenager in the early nineties. I was really hung up on the past in those years, like really really hung up, hankering after times gone by. It may have been because my childhood had been the happiest time of my life up to that point, and the time I was in then was crap. But it became a serious issue for me. I only realised it when I started hankering after a time which I had already spent hankering after a previous time again, and I thought "hang on, this is rubbish, I'm going to hanker my life away". Then I finally listened to what most people say all the time, something along the lines of "what's past is past and we don't know what's to come, so enjoy the present", and started living in the present. It was surprisingly pleasant and I stopped missing out on all the stuff I had been missing out on whilst in mid-hanker. But I also believe that there's nothing wrong with the odd spot of harmless nostalgia. It's like going on a holiday and taking photos. If you never look at the photos once in a while you miss out on the whole memory. And music is such a great memory trigger. You can feel what you were feeling at that time, remember what you were interested in, the type of things you were thinking about, with an amazing clarity. And sometimes, remembering the past can be an incredibly powerful tool for good.
I went to my 15-year high school reunion in November last year. It was, without a doubt, one of the best nights of my entire life to date. It was like a fail-safe reset switch for me. It was the school I went to after getting booted out of the high-school I had gone to for 5 & 1/2 years, at which I had been having that crap time I mentioned earlier. In the 6-odd months I was at the new school, I made friends that I am still in contact with today. They accepted me as one of them almost instantly - a stark contrast to my experience at the first school. This, coupled with the intense internal changes I was going through at the time (issues that were brought to the surface as a result of leaving the first school, and being dealt with for a change instead of just being swept under the rug as per usual) resulted in an overall experience that was immensely positive. After this was when I moved to a different state, went to uni, got caught up in more negative behaviour, had some painful relationship breakups, got sucked in to an over-the-top religious movement, etc etc etc. There were some amazing positives in the intervening time as well - marrying my wife, having my first son, making some great new friends - it was by no means all bad. But when I went back to my old home town, and got together with my old mates, went to some of the old pubs and discussed some of the good old times, it was like a mega-memory trigger, bringing back all the positive emotions and mindset of that time. It was the "reload fail-safe defaults" switch for my soul. Like when you plug your iPhone into iTunes, it has a button saying "Restore". You press this button if you are having issues with the phone's operation after recent changes, and you can revert it back to a more stable operating state. Somehow, after that night, the bad stuff in between seemed to matter a whole lot less, and I was freer to enjoy the good stuff I'd picked up, because I had been "rebooted" with the most important thing I had learned in that time - I'm me, and that's bloody-well OK - a conviction that had somehow been eroded.
The experience of that night has stuck with me until now, and I think it always will. I'm so grateful that I could put some of my life's negative experiences into such a comprehensively positive frame, which is one way of transforming negatives into positives and coming out of life's knocks the better for it.
Based on my experience of that night, I have re-worked an old familiar saying, and I think it's my new motto. It goes like this:
"When life hands you lemons, make vodka and Red Bull. Lemonade is for cissies."
I was a teenager in the early nineties. I was really hung up on the past in those years, like really really hung up, hankering after times gone by. It may have been because my childhood had been the happiest time of my life up to that point, and the time I was in then was crap. But it became a serious issue for me. I only realised it when I started hankering after a time which I had already spent hankering after a previous time again, and I thought "hang on, this is rubbish, I'm going to hanker my life away". Then I finally listened to what most people say all the time, something along the lines of "what's past is past and we don't know what's to come, so enjoy the present", and started living in the present. It was surprisingly pleasant and I stopped missing out on all the stuff I had been missing out on whilst in mid-hanker. But I also believe that there's nothing wrong with the odd spot of harmless nostalgia. It's like going on a holiday and taking photos. If you never look at the photos once in a while you miss out on the whole memory. And music is such a great memory trigger. You can feel what you were feeling at that time, remember what you were interested in, the type of things you were thinking about, with an amazing clarity. And sometimes, remembering the past can be an incredibly powerful tool for good.
I went to my 15-year high school reunion in November last year. It was, without a doubt, one of the best nights of my entire life to date. It was like a fail-safe reset switch for me. It was the school I went to after getting booted out of the high-school I had gone to for 5 & 1/2 years, at which I had been having that crap time I mentioned earlier. In the 6-odd months I was at the new school, I made friends that I am still in contact with today. They accepted me as one of them almost instantly - a stark contrast to my experience at the first school. This, coupled with the intense internal changes I was going through at the time (issues that were brought to the surface as a result of leaving the first school, and being dealt with for a change instead of just being swept under the rug as per usual) resulted in an overall experience that was immensely positive. After this was when I moved to a different state, went to uni, got caught up in more negative behaviour, had some painful relationship breakups, got sucked in to an over-the-top religious movement, etc etc etc. There were some amazing positives in the intervening time as well - marrying my wife, having my first son, making some great new friends - it was by no means all bad. But when I went back to my old home town, and got together with my old mates, went to some of the old pubs and discussed some of the good old times, it was like a mega-memory trigger, bringing back all the positive emotions and mindset of that time. It was the "reload fail-safe defaults" switch for my soul. Like when you plug your iPhone into iTunes, it has a button saying "Restore". You press this button if you are having issues with the phone's operation after recent changes, and you can revert it back to a more stable operating state. Somehow, after that night, the bad stuff in between seemed to matter a whole lot less, and I was freer to enjoy the good stuff I'd picked up, because I had been "rebooted" with the most important thing I had learned in that time - I'm me, and that's bloody-well OK - a conviction that had somehow been eroded.
The experience of that night has stuck with me until now, and I think it always will. I'm so grateful that I could put some of my life's negative experiences into such a comprehensively positive frame, which is one way of transforming negatives into positives and coming out of life's knocks the better for it.
Based on my experience of that night, I have re-worked an old familiar saying, and I think it's my new motto. It goes like this:
"When life hands you lemons, make vodka and Red Bull. Lemonade is for cissies."
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
It continues
Day 2 of my blog. I'm not at work today (contented sigh) because my youngest son Micah had an ENT appointment and I have an appointment of my own this afternoon.
When Micah was born, he was diagnosed with bilateral vocal palsy. Which is a nasty medical way of saying that his vocal cords were stuck. They did a barrage of tests to make sure it wasn't a nerve or brain damage problem, and when that was all ruled out (relieved sigh) they said it was "idiopathic" vocal palsy. What does "idiopathic" mean? It means, basically, God knows what's caused it, and God knows how to fix it. There was nothing we could do, which for a parent is incredibly frustrating - your little child, whom your instincts are telling you to protect at all costs, is in distress, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Grrr.
The problem presented itself as a high-pitched "squeak", which the docs call a "stridor", whenever he breathed in. This is because his vocal cords were partially over his airway and the air whistled as it went down, same as sucking air through a squashed straw. The docs all said we would know when it got better because the noise would go away. Well, the noise has been significantly diminished over the first five months of his life, but it hasn't gone away completely. It's not high-pitched any more, and he hardly ever does it, but it's still there.
So today the ENT stuck a telescopic camera up through his nose and down into his throat to try and see if the vocal cords were moving. He said they were moving a bit but not as much as he'd like to see. He had said if he can see that they are moving OK, we won't have to see him again. But after the examination he booked us in for after Micah's first birthday.
It was funny how differently my wife and I interpreted this appointment's results. My wife was hoping and believing that the ENT would say the problem has gone, he's all better, I don't need to see you again. Then when he gave his diagnosis she was upset and disappointed, really took the wind out of her sails. Me on the other hand, I knew that his noise was still there, so I assumed he would see that the problem had not completely fixed itself and would want to see him again, so I came away feeling a lot less deflated. We both also interpreted his comments differently. My wife heard: "his vocal cords still aren't really moving"; I heard: "I can see some movement there, just not as much as I'd like to see to be able to say he's all better". My wife made the rookie error of inadvertently asking him to give a definitive answer on something. She said: "the fact that he's improving, would that be because the spontaneous recovery has already begun?" (spontaneous recovery seems to be the only way that idiopathic bilateral vocal palsy can be fixed). The ENT, his training coming to the fore, said: "yes, possibly, BUT it could also just be because he's growing and his airway has expanded". At which, again, my wife heard: "it's probably just that he's grown bigger and his airway's expanded", and I heard: "yes, it's POSSIBLY because spontaneous recovery has begun, but it could also POSSIBLY be because he's grown bigger and his airway has expanded".
It's interesting to me how the knowledge you accumulate in your life, say in the course of doing the job you have, the things you read and the TV programs you watch, can affect your subsequent experience of life and by extension your subsequent accumulation of further knowledge. For example: I work in a profession in which we also have to learn to not give definitive answers: "is my car going to be a write-off?" - "it's impossible to say until we get the assessor's report". "When are you going to pay my claim?" - "all things being equal, and IF we obtain this or that information we need, we SHOULD be able to settle your claim SOME TIME next week." My wife is a teacher, and is required to give definitive answers: "is my child learning at a sufficient rate?" - "well, he's only up to his third reader, and the rest of the class is up to their sixth, so NO HE IS NOT". "Will my son have to repeat this year level?" - "well, he WILL NOT pass this subject, and he WILL NOT pass that subject, and he WILL NOT have enough marks to go through, so YES HE WILL". Knowledge is always the determining factor though. My wife's work world is one of quantifiable knowledge - the children must reach this level and that level, and we can measure it by this marker and that marker. My work world is a little more hazy - comparing people's circumstances against the black-and-white of the policy wording, then making value judgements about people we can't see, circumstances we did not witness, and how far we can bend the rules to accommodate their wishes. In short, we use knowledge in a much more fluid fashion.
I am a fan of science (as well as science fiction). I love reading about physics and chemistry, except when it's something I don't understand. Hence I don't read it very much. But I love the scientific method of obtaining knowledge: I make an observation, then do an experiment to confirm my observation. Then publish the results of my experiment in a paper, and at the end of the paper make an assertion about the knowledge I believe has been exposed by my experiment. Then my peers review the paper to see if the ideas are sound or not. Then, finally, once my peer-reviewed paper has passed muster, others do my experiment to see if they get the same results. If they do, then and only then, is what I discovered considered scientific, empirical, verified and verifiable knowledge. My wife is not a fan of science and science fiction. She is a dancer, she is creative, emotive and intuitive. She lives in the world of emotion and art and all things right-brain. Therefore, when the ENT refuses to give a definitive answer on any of our questions, I am completely comfortable with this because I am able to read between those particular lines, whereas my wife experiences a disappointment of hope and interprets the outcome of the appointment as negative.
I believe knowledge is extremely important, and more people could do with learning a thing or two. It amazes me how much our modern society is bent against knowledge, and bent more towards accommodating people's stupidity and mental laziness. Examples of this? Someone falls over the railing on the top floor of the Myer Centre, and instead of erecting signs saying "don't be an idiot and sit on the railing", we put shade sails across the ground floor. Someone topples over the edge of an escalator, we don't put signs up saying "stop being an idiot and dicking around on the escalator", we put higher side-rails up. I would have thought that as society and humanity moves onwards and upwards we would have learned better than this. Knowledge begets knowledge, and if our school systems were geared towards actually imparting knowledge to our kids, and teaching them how to accumulate knowledge for themselves, rather than towards learning arbitrary facts by rote and repeating them parrot-fashion in order to churn out workers for the capitalist system, society as a whole would suffer a lot less from social ills and injustices (and less idiots would fall over the side rails of escalators).
But we also need the creative, intuitive, spiritual side of life. Without it, where would the colour of life be? If more people followed their gut instinct, listened to their inner voice, instead of just living life by rote, I believe we would all be a lot happier and healthier. So take responsibility for your own life, your own actions, and your own knowledge, but don't forget that you are a human being, who's value comes from the fact that you are conscious and breathing and can communicate your ideas and emotions, and not from what you can produce for the consumerist economy.
It feels funny blogging halfway through the day, when there is more of it yet to experience. But if you want to know what my own appointment is - this is a blog, not a dear-diary.
When Micah was born, he was diagnosed with bilateral vocal palsy. Which is a nasty medical way of saying that his vocal cords were stuck. They did a barrage of tests to make sure it wasn't a nerve or brain damage problem, and when that was all ruled out (relieved sigh) they said it was "idiopathic" vocal palsy. What does "idiopathic" mean? It means, basically, God knows what's caused it, and God knows how to fix it. There was nothing we could do, which for a parent is incredibly frustrating - your little child, whom your instincts are telling you to protect at all costs, is in distress, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Grrr.
The problem presented itself as a high-pitched "squeak", which the docs call a "stridor", whenever he breathed in. This is because his vocal cords were partially over his airway and the air whistled as it went down, same as sucking air through a squashed straw. The docs all said we would know when it got better because the noise would go away. Well, the noise has been significantly diminished over the first five months of his life, but it hasn't gone away completely. It's not high-pitched any more, and he hardly ever does it, but it's still there.
So today the ENT stuck a telescopic camera up through his nose and down into his throat to try and see if the vocal cords were moving. He said they were moving a bit but not as much as he'd like to see. He had said if he can see that they are moving OK, we won't have to see him again. But after the examination he booked us in for after Micah's first birthday.
It was funny how differently my wife and I interpreted this appointment's results. My wife was hoping and believing that the ENT would say the problem has gone, he's all better, I don't need to see you again. Then when he gave his diagnosis she was upset and disappointed, really took the wind out of her sails. Me on the other hand, I knew that his noise was still there, so I assumed he would see that the problem had not completely fixed itself and would want to see him again, so I came away feeling a lot less deflated. We both also interpreted his comments differently. My wife heard: "his vocal cords still aren't really moving"; I heard: "I can see some movement there, just not as much as I'd like to see to be able to say he's all better". My wife made the rookie error of inadvertently asking him to give a definitive answer on something. She said: "the fact that he's improving, would that be because the spontaneous recovery has already begun?" (spontaneous recovery seems to be the only way that idiopathic bilateral vocal palsy can be fixed). The ENT, his training coming to the fore, said: "yes, possibly, BUT it could also just be because he's growing and his airway has expanded". At which, again, my wife heard: "it's probably just that he's grown bigger and his airway's expanded", and I heard: "yes, it's POSSIBLY because spontaneous recovery has begun, but it could also POSSIBLY be because he's grown bigger and his airway has expanded".
It's interesting to me how the knowledge you accumulate in your life, say in the course of doing the job you have, the things you read and the TV programs you watch, can affect your subsequent experience of life and by extension your subsequent accumulation of further knowledge. For example: I work in a profession in which we also have to learn to not give definitive answers: "is my car going to be a write-off?" - "it's impossible to say until we get the assessor's report". "When are you going to pay my claim?" - "all things being equal, and IF we obtain this or that information we need, we SHOULD be able to settle your claim SOME TIME next week." My wife is a teacher, and is required to give definitive answers: "is my child learning at a sufficient rate?" - "well, he's only up to his third reader, and the rest of the class is up to their sixth, so NO HE IS NOT". "Will my son have to repeat this year level?" - "well, he WILL NOT pass this subject, and he WILL NOT pass that subject, and he WILL NOT have enough marks to go through, so YES HE WILL". Knowledge is always the determining factor though. My wife's work world is one of quantifiable knowledge - the children must reach this level and that level, and we can measure it by this marker and that marker. My work world is a little more hazy - comparing people's circumstances against the black-and-white of the policy wording, then making value judgements about people we can't see, circumstances we did not witness, and how far we can bend the rules to accommodate their wishes. In short, we use knowledge in a much more fluid fashion.
I am a fan of science (as well as science fiction). I love reading about physics and chemistry, except when it's something I don't understand. Hence I don't read it very much. But I love the scientific method of obtaining knowledge: I make an observation, then do an experiment to confirm my observation. Then publish the results of my experiment in a paper, and at the end of the paper make an assertion about the knowledge I believe has been exposed by my experiment. Then my peers review the paper to see if the ideas are sound or not. Then, finally, once my peer-reviewed paper has passed muster, others do my experiment to see if they get the same results. If they do, then and only then, is what I discovered considered scientific, empirical, verified and verifiable knowledge. My wife is not a fan of science and science fiction. She is a dancer, she is creative, emotive and intuitive. She lives in the world of emotion and art and all things right-brain. Therefore, when the ENT refuses to give a definitive answer on any of our questions, I am completely comfortable with this because I am able to read between those particular lines, whereas my wife experiences a disappointment of hope and interprets the outcome of the appointment as negative.
I believe knowledge is extremely important, and more people could do with learning a thing or two. It amazes me how much our modern society is bent against knowledge, and bent more towards accommodating people's stupidity and mental laziness. Examples of this? Someone falls over the railing on the top floor of the Myer Centre, and instead of erecting signs saying "don't be an idiot and sit on the railing", we put shade sails across the ground floor. Someone topples over the edge of an escalator, we don't put signs up saying "stop being an idiot and dicking around on the escalator", we put higher side-rails up. I would have thought that as society and humanity moves onwards and upwards we would have learned better than this. Knowledge begets knowledge, and if our school systems were geared towards actually imparting knowledge to our kids, and teaching them how to accumulate knowledge for themselves, rather than towards learning arbitrary facts by rote and repeating them parrot-fashion in order to churn out workers for the capitalist system, society as a whole would suffer a lot less from social ills and injustices (and less idiots would fall over the side rails of escalators).
But we also need the creative, intuitive, spiritual side of life. Without it, where would the colour of life be? If more people followed their gut instinct, listened to their inner voice, instead of just living life by rote, I believe we would all be a lot happier and healthier. So take responsibility for your own life, your own actions, and your own knowledge, but don't forget that you are a human being, who's value comes from the fact that you are conscious and breathing and can communicate your ideas and emotions, and not from what you can produce for the consumerist economy.
It feels funny blogging halfway through the day, when there is more of it yet to experience. But if you want to know what my own appointment is - this is a blog, not a dear-diary.
It begins
I am starting this blog for one reason and one reason alone: I want to be a writer. And apparently, all writers have blogs. In fact, to get a job as a writer, some employers expect to see your blog address on your resume. In the old days you would keep a journal, and write in it every day. But journals are so, like, 20th century OK? So a blog it is. Plus the statistical likelihood of someone reading my blog as opposed to someone reading my journal is considerably higher.
Which brings me to my next point. I always thought that blogs were a bit pretentious (for people who aren't celebrities, anyway, like Twitter), and I kind of still do. Which brings me back to my first point. I am doing this so that I can improve as a writer, and not because I am under the impression that great hoards of my friends are interested in the most boring and monotonous details of my day. But it's a great chance for people to know what you are thinking about that they wouldn't otherwise find out, I hear you say. Well, if people want to know what I'm thinking, they can always just ask. And the fact that I am not bombarded all day every day by questions like "what are you thinking about?" "what do you think about this?" "do you think that? If not, what?" goes to show that people, in the main, whilst they may like me well enough, aren't necessarily interested in what I think. So if anyone is interested in what I think, and is too afraid to ask, they can read my blog.
Which brings me to point number three. I do not intend, in any way, to edit or water down what I put in this blog. So yes, there will be swearing. Yes, there will be opinionated statements about politics, religion and the workplace. And yes, most of it will be utterly boring to most people except me. If I feel something is just too controversial, I just won't write about it at all. Otherwise, what you see here is straight from my brain. You have been warned.
It's strange to think that one day, in the future, when I may just have succeeded in my writing endeavours and am somewhat of a celebrity or well-known writer or something along those lines, that people may find this blog and go back and read this, the very first entry, with something closely akin to interest. So let me explain how I decided I was born to write:
1. Loved writing in high school and always got great marks in English for my creative writing.
2. Decided I wanted to be a muso and studied music at University for six years.
3. Decided I also wanted to be a bong-smoking hippy and gradually devoted more of my time to getting wasted and tripping out.
4. Nearly lost my mind on drugs, had a religious renaissance and got involved in a religious organization, and decided that I wanted to be a full-time minister of modern religion.
5. After many fruitless years (and much of my time and money) spent on this pipe-dream, decided I was meant to just be a worship-muso.
6. Then decided that no, I was meant to be a "real" muso.
7. Then said no, actually, that's right, I love writing. Maybe I'm meant to be a writer, and to hell with all this religious bullshit.
8. Started writing my first novel, began collaborating on a second, and decided I needed to start a blog.....
Anyway I was going to keep this short. Plus apparently for this to work I have to write in it every day. I don't want to blow all my stuff on the first entry so here's lookin at ya sideways.
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