Meus Parem Locus

jingjing-je-jingjing-je-jing AAGH!

This morning I went into work a little late and got caught up in a swell of pilgrims at St Peter's station.  It was quiet when I got there first, but the distant, ominous sound of clapping, yelling and tambourines could only mean there were some nearby.  As the sound got closer the first flashes of colour began to appear at the top of the platform steps.  Colour from flags, crosses draped in flags, those little yellow and red backpacks they all wear, and their official badges.  I stood back and watched the stream of young (and all rather beset with acne it has to be said) folk make their way down the platform.   Myself and the other ordinary people all seemed to clump together around the middle, all earnestly wishing the train would hurry up so we could all get the hell out of there.   Then the train arrived.  It was worse....

*Jingjing-ji-jing-ji-ji-jingjing-ji-jing* "Oh praise him YEAH! oh yes the lord..." *jingjing-ji-jing*

I don't object to the whole thing per se - as a self styled democrat I must accept everyone's right of speech and religious expression - but add a bit of fervour in there and I start to get antsy.   So do I get this way at the Mardi Gras parade, which could fall under the same banner?  No I don't, but then I am not saying I am not biased.  

"Halleluia!  Praise him for he be(?) the one to save the children and lead to salvation....  AMEN!!"

Organised religion of any format gives me the willies.  By it's nature it is artificial - the interpretation by a human(s) of the intangible, the elusive and the invisible.  History tends not to lend it any assistance - I am sure there were many 2000 years ago that thought Christianity was as looney as we think Scientology is today.   They all stem from some central charismatic character and groups of people seeking some kind of spiritual direction (whether they know it or not).   And they all have rules (not a bad thing in general) but the rules then proceed to exclusion of people either by social status, sex, wealth, marriage, sexuality, lifestyle, expression.... The rules become the measure by which one can exist within the religion - the whole supposedly spiritual reason it exists becomes lost within them.  And who creates the rules...  well it's the humans surprise surprise...

You can fine me $5,500… But I still won’t believe in God

I have been invited to attend a rally as a part of the PopeGoHome (or something like that) Coalition.  The organisation and rally was started (it seems to me) not so much to protest against the Pope (although there are many reasons why it could) but more of a protest against the stupid, ridiculous and indefensible laws brought in by the state government that stated it would be an offence (with a fine of up to $5,500) to "cause annoyance or inconvenience to a pilgrim" during the month of July.    I was appalled at this gross breach of my rights as a citizen and wanted to protest as much as any conscious objector, but felt the PopeGoHome rally and it's message was not the right forum for me.   As I say, I have no problem with him being here (although by the end of the week I''m sure I'll have some problems with the noisy happyclappers).   I sent a strenuous email to my local state MP.... who is.... I have no idea, I realised after I had composed the thing.  It sat in my drafts until today, when the Federal Court overturned the laughable laws anyway.  Sanity prevails at last....

WYD08: We close 300 roads so 300,000 can close their minds

They might have closed their minds to me a long time ago, but I refuse to stoop so low with them.

Just tax the STUPID people!

Ireland has a new Taoiseach (pronounced tee-shock - our name for the Prime Minister role).  Biffo (Big-Ignorant-F*cker-From-Offaly) Cowen, officially known as Brian Cowen, will take the reins from our corrupt leader after 11 years in office.   I don't know - either corruption has become more frequent in recent years or the media have become more diligent at seeking and exposing it.   In Ireland's case, no amount of indignant or incredulous huffing and puffing in the papers, on the radio or at the family dinner table seems to make a blind bit of difference to the outcome of a general election or lemming-like allegiance to a favoured political party.

“The accomplice to the crime of corruption is frequently our own indifference”.   

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So anyway, I did my exam on Monday this week.  80 questions, multiple choice, open book.  Not too challenging you may ponder... and it wasn't.... but not to be underestimated either.  I needed every minute of the 2.30hrs alloted to finish it with any degree of confidence.   As a result of waiting for the results, I have not signed up for the following module, and find myself somewhat at a loose end this weekend, with no omnipresent studying guilt lurking over my shoulder.   

I should be able to make a start on some of the other million things I need to focus on.  I should but I'm not.   Hungover from a big night last night I find myself happy to read papers, type my blog and generally fart around.  Even the plan to get the car washed for a few advertisement photos (yes - I'm selling it - I never use the bloody thing) seems horrendously daunting.   How I got myself up and washed and down to meet my dear friend John for breakfast at the overrated Bitton ($30 EACH) I do not know - even the memory tires me :)

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RANT: There are certain things that should not be tolerated and no amount of insanity, poor upbringing or drug/drunkeness can excuse.   Lighting bushfires, throwing rocks at cars and buses (seems to have become a favoured pastime of unruly teenage suburban shitheads of late) but the latest mind-numbingly f*cking stupid thing is pointing powerful lasers at approaching civil aircraft.   It seems to have happened quite a bit over the last few months in NSW, and the pilots and authorities are helpless to do anything about it when it happens.  Some dickhead with a powerful laser pointing up from bushland or their bedroom window is not an easy thing to locate, even less to prosecute successfully.   

In their usual wisdom, the Macquarie St clown show rub their temples and mumble things like "review penalties" and "banning private sale/use/importation of such devices", then scurry off for another Building Developer function to bump up their election funding in exchange for signing new releases for their mates. 

There IS no excuse for this sort of behaviour and this is where I get very right wing and think no end of fines, community service or "rehabilitation" is going to deter these idiots.   Either set up a gulag in the middle of the Great Sandy Desert and throw them in there, or off with their heads.    We don't need people like that in Australia, nor would anyone else want them.  Of course - another solution may be as the immortal words of Edina Monsoon (AbFab) stated "Why not just put a tax on the STUPID people" - wouldn't that be an interesting thought?

Bring back plastic peach

A lovely time-warp weekend on the Gold Coast at the Hotel of the Year (1977).  The weather was a pleasure - made all the more sweet by the cold and rain back in Sydney (teehee).   But the tired and creaky "resort" we stayed in was at the same time both weirdly nostalgic and crap.    Shite -brown formica kitchen benchtops might have been all the rage 30 years ago, but in the cutting edge market of the new developments in the city, it can't last at these prices.   Not to mention rusty solid hot plates on the ancient cooker.

But there was clearly a little facelift sometime in the mid-eighties, with a tastefully liberal application of "plastic-peach" for the bedroom.

I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of the bathroom - suffice to say the buzzing flickering flourescent tube kept me out of there as much as possible.    But apart from the lodgings, the weekend was lovely and a trip to Byron and to Brisbane to see family was all good fun.  It was a miracle we got to go anywhere, considering I forgot to book a hire car until 1 hour before the flight.  Oops

Ripping off heads at Central!

*sigh* when shall we ever see a little innovation from our useless State government in New South Wales (Free trains are out - SMH 13/03/2007).   

As a daily train commuter, I join thousands of others every day who are standing squashed in a stinking hot tin can to get to and from work.   
"The next train is only six carriages" comes the announcement to a packed platform at 7.45am. 
"Why!?!" I ask one of the dozy orange vests with his little rolled up white flag (they've given up years ago) and a whistle for blowing whenever it seems they feel like it.   
"It's timetabled that way" comes the mumbled response.    And that's the logic that drives the public rail network in this city.   That and the mad bitch at Central who thinks it would be "fun" to start singing "Good Morning! Good mooorning!  Your trains are all on time- good morning! Good morning to yoooooo" while I'm imagining ripping her head off and throwing it on the tracks.   

It seems that NOTHING is possible under this crowd of fuckwits.  I may be a leftie-leaning liberal (small L) for life but there is no way in hell that I would consider supporting this shower of corrupt cronies again.  I may even consider Liberal (Big L) for the next election.  ANYONE would be better.

                                                                *b*i*g****************b*r*e*a*t*h*

Slack, slack....  the digital world is converging on me.   A snap, last minute bid on eBay has resulted in a brand new iPhone, all lovely and shiny and unlocked for international use.   It's such a beautiful piece of engineering, so clever and charming... (yes I am a sucker for such things).

Without wanting to prejudice any outcomes, it is still nice to be able to say that things are looking a whole lot brighter on the work front these days.   Tomorrow may yet alter my enthusiasm, as I await a final meeting with the GM, but I am cautiously optimistic. 

And I somehow managed to pass my first assignment for my diploma.  Hurrah!

Touch trolley...

It's with 2 Hip's in quick succession and a jolly big Hurrah that I finished my first assignment this afternoon (actually only about an hour ago).   The rope that has been hanging around my neck has been lifted away, at least until I hear of my result.  If I don't get the 80% pass mark then it's a re-do for me, which will result in much angst and disgruntlement.    The day now stretches before me and I see all too clearly the normal weekend domesticities that I have neglected over the period.   How did that fridge get so packed with leftovers?  What are those clothes still doing in the laundry basket etc.  But f*ck it all - it can wait!  I sit here listening to the nauseating sounds of pre teen girlies screeching and yelling at the swimming pool in the lovely sunny weather, wondering what to do, what to do....

On Friday night I went to see Pam Ann at the Lyric theatre with John and Nenif plus a few other friends.  It was very funny indeed but in reality a mere re-hash of the same material I saw her perform at mardi-Gras about 5 years ago.  If you haven't seen her before I would definately recomend it, but it's not the sort of thing you would see time and time again.  There is so much material to work with - I don't know why she doesn't expand a little (except around the waistline where she has had no problems in that department).

Yes the season of Mardi Gras is upon us and tourists descend on the city an collectively remark on how disappointing Oxford Street is compared to their expectations.   And it's true, the gay scene on the strip is dire, with so little opportunities between the booze barns as to which to meet and laugh.  With Newtown in a drought of venues (Newtown Hotel gone and Imperial closed for "renovations" which are remarkably discreet considering the total lack of life inside) there are fewer and fewer options for an (early) thirties attached male to meet up with mates for a few social beers in a friendly environment.   I lament the options of old - oh Albury, Newtown, Caesers (or Seizure's as it was better termed) - where have they all gone?

Anyhoo.

Struggle in the swelter

It's hot.  Not just hot, but sticky too.  I'm trying to study for my diploma at possibly THE worst time of year.  And yet my first assignment is due next month, so I must knuckle down.

I went back to work today - first proper days work since before Christmas.  Becuase of the build up of stuff there was lots to do, which had me humming away all day happily ensconced in my busy-ness.  But at about 3pm I looked at my To-Do list and realised I hadn't much left there.   And this is when the mood changes.  I have no meetings in my diary tomorrow, so I need a flow of work to keep me occupied.   It's so mind-numbingly depressing when I sit at my desk with nothing to do, waiting for an email or a flash of inspiration.   When neither comes (quite often) I dummy spit and go home, frustrated and vowing to get another job.   And if one more person says "gee I'd love to be bored at work" I am going to stick a Pental 0.5 Stylewriter pen up their f*cking nose.

I am spending money like it will cease to exist otherwise.   And I've got a cough.   But apart from all of that, I'm really rather content :-)

And I am enjoying learning my way around here... more pages and pictures to come