Testing from the iphone

Testing the word press app on my iPhone.

 

a time in my life

I did these cards for Lar a few years ago and i still think about it as one of my favorite cards i ever made:

the outside read:

From Alan Ayckbourn’s

A Time of My Life

Glyn : And you and I, we were all set to start again – and Adam had his new girl and Mum and Dad looked so happy and well, the point is – I doubt if any of us knew it at the time – it was something Dad said, actually – that was probably one of the best, the happiest moments of our lives. Only the trouble with those sorts of moments is that you seldom ever realize that they are – until they’ve gone. Do you see? I mean very rarely do you find yourself saying to yourself, I am happy now. Sometimes you say, I was happy then. Or sometimes even, I will be happy when… But rarely do you get to realize it now… If you know what I mean.

the inside:

I am happy… now

 

The Visa That Never Really Was

Its weird to miss something you never really had….

But to be told I got my visa / immigration sponsorship …and then to find out a few days later that i really didn’t was just shitty.

(I love him, but my boss who didn’t read the email properly and saw the words Immigration Department, Approved and Visa in the same sentence assumed it meant i was approved and excitedly sent me a text in the middle of the night to tell me “congrats! your visa app was approved! i just got the email!” …didn’t realize that this was just half of the two part application, Part One is asking the government if the company is allowed to sponsor people and then Part Two is asking if I can be the one they sponsor. What he didn’t realize was that this email only approved them as a sponsoring business, but did not specify me at all)…..the good thing is that i kept my guard up, i didn’t tell everyone so its not like i was shouting it from the rooftops and then had to be like, “ohhh…oops…just kidding, ….now get back to your daily task of stressing about my deportation.”

I was with a friend when I got the text from my boss (at 12:30am might i add) and i was happy, but reserved. My friend was all confused why I wasn’t bouncing off the walls and i said that it just didn’t sound right and it didnt feel right, and I wouldn’t believe it till I had the visa in my effin passport and everything. I had spoken to my ImmiOfficer (as I like to call her to be cool) the previous day and it was sounding like we had a long road ahead. And, I have learned enough with government stuff that its never reallllllly legit until you have the thing in your hand. so I at least didn’t get my emotions in it, and I stayed back cautiously….but nonetheless I was let down. Since then it has been crazy. I got into work monday to discover the sad news (Me: “hey, so can I read the email from Immigration with my own eyes?”)…and then read that there was also a problem with my application job title and code we chose. and then I was on the phone with immigration for most of the morning trying to figure out what to do. (Everyone in the office has heard me say at least 100 times “i swear, getting a visa is a part time job!”)

There is a whole thing with sponsorship where you have to be specific in the “Nominated Title” of the occupation. Everything from Dog Trainer to Neurosurgeon are on this massive list. In that list you have to find your title and corresponding code. We picked “Office Manager”, even though thats not realllly what i do, it was the closest fit. So we geared my resume to be office manager-ish and had to write out a long ass report about my job description, what i would be doing long term, the way my role would develop, on-going training i would have to do, etc. it was like a college research paper devoted to “Heidi being an office manager in Australia”. We had to discuss why I was better for the job than an Australian, why I am qualified, why why why blah blah blah. We picked our Nominated Title and code from a list that is similar in length to the types of flora and fauna on the planet and also similar in length to the variety of ways you can cook shrimp.

We submitted this massive endeavor (i swear it felt like my final school project on the last day of school that i had been working on throughout the year)

of Office Manager-ness only to be told Monday that it wasnt right. “shhhaawhhhaaa?” i said to the chick (who I envision to be a look-a-like for the lady on the drew carey show) “but I researched it and studied and….” then I went on to rant codes and BigFancyNames and Titles of ImmigrationSpecialDocumentyThings and she pretty much just shot me down. Of course the list that I looked at –off their damn website– was outdated and has since been revised. the list I looked at said Office Manager was accepted. Her Magic List, of course the one I was NOT following, does not have Office Manager listed. Go, you who doubt me, go look at that massive list and you too will see Office Manager, but what is not listed is the freaking sentence that says this position is cool to apply under a self-nominated visa, but not under a business sponsorship visa and it also excludes all this garbage about looking at the “Gazetted Occupations” list blah blah blah.

sigh…..OK, FOCUS.

awesome.
so….we scratched our heads for a while, and then decided we needed to come up with whatever was the closest match to an Approved Job on the Stupid Gazetted Occupations Secret List They Hid From Me…
and voila!
Policy and Planning Manager.
taaaa daaaaa.
so, we re-wrote all my job description stuff, re-wrote all those lovely reports and sent it off. the ironic thing was that the policy manager role and stuff is a helluva lot more like my role than my office manager title is. and can i just interject how damn lucky i am to have a boss and co-workers who are willing to tolerate and help with all this crap? anyhoogle, it has made for a very stressful week. then i got notified that i had to get a chest x-ray done as part of my application, because TB is still the “not-so-hip-contagious-thing” of the century. SO i booked an appointment for that, at an Immi-appointed medical clinic in the city which was strangely reminiscent of the DMV in Harbor City, just minus the African Americans and the Mexicans (because Yo! Esse, Australia is all full of white folk up in here beeyotch)….the extra-awesome part of that adventure was i picked the most annoying day of the year to tram into the city. Turns out our cabbies are gettin a bit pissy about their wage, lack of safety, and i guess they dont make enough in Hazard Pay because all those dudes decided to have a big ol’ strike protest thing in the city the same hours as my YouBetterNotHaveTB appointment. so a normal tram ride of 25 minutes took about an hour with all the detours. and then of course, in typical Bureaucratic style, the form that i so diligently filled out BEFORE my appointment (because i was a good girl who really really wants a visa so i do everything right and i downloaded and printed and filled out my form days before my appointment so that i could be whisked through the line and they would be happy with me that i filled it out beforehand because i want a visa soooo bad and i am such a good girl) that sweet Bureaucracy-at-its-finest– Form was of course NOT the right one. turns out my application manager over in the immigration building was not using the Magical Revised Form and was using an outdated one, so i had to look like the idiot in the line and be the Lady Who Didnt Fill Out Here Form Beforhand (tisk tisk). I filled out my form and told them in a very–foot stamping–can you tell i’m the youngest sibling?-sort-of-way that THIS was NOT the form my Immigration Officer Emailed me I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW, and to prove it I will show you her email print out to Prove I am still a good little Pretend Aussie. So anyway, did the chest Xray, lungs look great, and off I went back to the office, jumped on a tram while battling the striking cabbies. Because of course, nothing to do with the government could EVER possibly occur outside of business hours because none of us have jobs either, and its always so convenient to leave work and just head over to your local Government institution in the middle of your damn day.

oh and might i add, in the middle of all of this stress of visas and codes and ThisIsMyFuture,People! and life and death and angry topless cabbies, was a sniffling, coughing and congested little Me, all bundled up for a blizzard with my nose running like a faucet. Feeling like crap does not go so well when paired with paperwork, red tape and public transport.

so the lesson in all of this?
stay in your home country, tip your cabbie, and throw on a scarf.

or be like me…and just daydream about that priceless moment when you will get that precious little piece of paper that says “Welcome to Australia, and Yes, you can stay”….then smile a big smile… and hug a koala.

 

one of my favorite pieces ever written

The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

TS Eliot

	S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
	A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
	Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
	Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
	Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
	Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

   In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

   The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

   And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

   In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

   And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair -
(They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin -
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

   For I have known them all already, known them all -
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
   So how should I presume?

   And I have known the eyes already, known them all -
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
   And how should I presume?

   And I have known the arms already, known them all -
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
   And should I then presume?
   And how should I begin?

   Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...

   I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

   And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet - and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

   And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all" -
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
   Should say: "That is not what I meant at all."
   That is not it, at all.

   And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more? -
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
   "That is not it at all,
   That is not what I meant, at all."

   No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.

   I grow old ... I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

   Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

   I do not think that they will sing to me.

   I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

 

How I spent March 5, 2008

Due to popular demand, I bring you the email I sent out when my nephew was born on March 5th, 2008:

SOOOOO…
big day today.

I picked my very pregnant sister, Michelle, up at 9am to go to her doctor appointment since today was her due date. We were both pretty chilled because at her last appointment the doctor said it would probably be a while till Peter was ready to be born, so we went into the appointment thinking it was just a checkup……and walked out with a totally different agenda.

Her doctor wanted to do an ultrasound since he was due today and was showing no real natural signs of wanting to be born and join us. He was quite content in his little cocoon. During the ultrasound, the doctor noticed that there was some dark and murky stuff in the amniotic fluid, and it looked a bit disturbing to her. She believed it was meconium (for those not fluent in baby lingo, it’s a fancy doctor word for baby poo) and was worried about the baby suffering from Meconium Aspiration Syndrome. (simple translation: inhaling your own shit just ain’t cool and could lead to pneumonia — capeesh?)

Saying anything that could possibly be negative to any first-time mom is upsetting, but saying it to my ultra-pessimistic sister is another thing. SO the doctor (with horrible bed-side manner might i add) informed my sister that the murky stuff wasnt looking so good and could lead to MAS. Naturally,  my sister immediately fast forwarded in her mind to the world imploding, “our pet’s head’s are falling off!” and Godzilla eating her baby.
It was the whole issue of adapting to change….the issue of “i mentally prepared myself for a natural delivery and now you are saying i have to have a C-Section?” (which anyone who has had a kid or knows of someone who went through this, knows that’s just a lame thing for a preggo mom to realize who was planning on not having a C-Section.) followed by the thought process of:  “dude, i thought i was just coming in for a freakin checkup and i didn’t even shut down my computer because i thought i was coming home in an hour”…so needless to say….we left the Doctor’s office with Michelle (in tears) and her on the phone with Mike telling him to GetOverHereNowOr-I-WillKillYou and me doing my best to convince her that Peter was going to be OK.

Off we went to the hospital where Michelle underwent a non-stress test for the bub to see how his heart rate was and if he was freakin out in any way. Then the pre-natalist (special doctor who went to the School for Kids Who Can Read Good) came by to do another ultrasound to make sure that the first doctor was right in recommending a C-Section. Pre-natalists are legends when it comes to reading ultrasounds, and this dude was not lovin the “murky stuff” he saw and implored my sister to have the baby TODAY. It was pretty hard for my sister to argue with the Cute Doctor (anyone know Dr Naylor? HELLO, high-fiveh, verreh niiice) who was telling her that waiting for “nature to take it’s course” could be “tragic” and that “if you were my wife, i would tell you to have a C-Section today.”
Sooo umm yeah, good luck trying to get outta that one and talking yourself into doing in naturally.

The doctors and nurses all checked their BlackBerry’s and decided that 5pm would be a nice window in their schedule to pull this kiddo out.

In good sisterly fashion, as soon as my mom & dad arrived the hospital, I instantly bailed so I could eat, because HELLO, it was supposed to be a one hour  appointment and i didnt eat breakfast, and come 3pm, yo, i was hurtin. Off I ran to her house to get some not-packed in the hospital bag-stuff for michelle, and then off to stuff my face with my 100th In N Out burger, and then raced back to the hospital. My very food-deprived, hungry and very pregnant (translation: very grumpy) sister “politely” asked all us Claytons to get out of her room when we returned so she could have some chit chat time alone with Mike, who FINALLLLLY arrived from work.

My dad and I decided to go home to change clothes and get comfy because we realized it was gonna be a loooong night.

My dad and I got back to the hospital to discover my mother and brother in law had been abducted by Smurfs, and i learned how creepy it is having a conversation with someone who has no mouth (has their mouth covered by a white surgeon’s mask thing).

(Which, for the record, i totally stole my future ‘08 Halloween costume today, courtesy of Little Company of Mary Hospital, and now plan on either being a surgeon or a Smurf for Halloween depending on my mood.) We had a quick chat with the Smurfs, and off they went to watch a kid be born….delivered… removed? or extracted? whats the right word?
My dad and I “didn’t make the team” and were unsuccessful in our application to be Operating Room Cheerleaders/Paparazzi. The hospital has some dumb rule about “only two people from Team Mom allowed”…which i suppose made sense seeing that there were 8 –eight– freaking people in there that were doctors/nurses and not related to us, so i guess it woulda been a bit tight.

while we waited, my dad laughed at me, and i occupied myself by doing typical Heidi stuff, such as wheeling around the room on the little Doctor’s wheely stool chair thing, pretending i knew how to tap dance, and snooping in every cupboard to see what crazy stuff exists in a C-Section Recovery Room… (hence the discovery of the Halloween ‘08 costume).

i digress.

anyway, about 30 minutes later my mom came out to tell me and my dad the good news and show us pictures and video, etc of the new and fabulous Peter Marshall.
then the rest of the night was filled with waiting.
waiting for:
….peter to get out of the nursery
….michelle to get out of stitch-up surgery
….the nurse to stop Doing Stuff
….and all those yucky not so pretty moments with a new mom and nurses….moments that you never see in the movies (but thankfully i have seen before watching friend’s have kids, etc.) but also require waiting.
…and waiting for my turn to hold the little bub.

holding him was soooo surreal and so fun.
to meet someone who you have never met before, but are already madly in love with, AND who you are RELATED to…..
it’s just all so cool.

then all of us who did not have a C-Section tonight went to the nasty Marie Calendar’s across the street and de-briefed about the whole thing.

it was so neat to be a part of this day and finally meet someone who i have wanted to meet for 9 months…

Peter Marshall Gregg

Born March 5th 2008
5:41pm
8 lbs, 15 ounces
20.5 inches long

I’m an aunt! Thank you for being excited with me!!!

 

Tram Tales

My thoughts while riding the tram home from work…

Weird how homesickness catches you at the most bizarre times.

I sat down, facing forwards, and the older man came and sat down in front of me. He was facing backwards, staring out the window like me, just watching the corporate worker-bees buzz home.

Through the safety of my sunglasses, I was able to just stare and study him, as we sat with our knees barely touching (tram seats are made for midgets and certainly not those with long legs like myself.) There was just something so familiar about this man…and I couldn’t put my finger on it…and as I studied his hands, I realized that he reminded me so much of my dad. He had the same hands as my dad…how do I say this without offending?? Err…umm…not-so-young-looking hands, with the little dark spots and wrinkly fingers. His mouth was turned down, not in a frown, just a relaxed state. My dad and I have the same mouth (as my mom has always told me) and looking at his mouth just made me smile. I scanned down to the floor and there was my dad again, with pasty white skinny chicken legs. At this point I was smiling, but my eyes had welled up with tears, just thinking about how much I miss my family at times.

I looked away, only to see one of the usual “unique” people that ride the tram, and asked myself “why does that girl think massive scorpion earrings is a good look?”….and then got distracted by a classic Loud Talker, which caused me to count to 5 and breathe deeply as I cringed at their simple Loudness and had a WhyMustYouTalkOnYourCellSooLoudly moment, which in turn made me think about my mom because she IS one of those people when it comes to Cell Phone Voice Volume, and I chuckled to myself. I turned my iPod up to let Matt Pond PA drown out the irritation, and suddenly I was all calm again, and studying the hands of my dad’s look-alike while we awkwardly tried to avoid brushing knees. I arrived at my stop…..and was actually a little reluctant to get off just because I was enjoying the ride and liked my tram buddy with the wrinkly hands.

People in Australia always ask me if I am homesick, and say “wow, don’t you miss your family?” and I feel guilty most of the time when I say, “actually no, I don’t miss them every second of the day like you might think.” The thing about being in another country is that my life is totally different and not having family around is no big deal, because Melbourne + Family doesn’t go together. LA + Family is my normal…. However, if I was in LA, and my whole family was out of town, I am sure I would miss them immensely. Being the one that gets to leave is far easier than being the one who was left behind. My family’s life is normal except that I am missing. So on a daily basis, the homesickness isn’t that bad….but on the days when you are sitting on a tram, staring at a man who reminds you of your father, and the only thing you want for the rest of the day is just a simple hug from your parents, those are the moments where the homesickness is bad, and when you wrestle with your choices, and wrestle with yourself over where you are living, and why, and why not, and all of that. But…… knowing that I will get to hug them in about 24 days enabled me to sigh, wipe my eyes and get off the tram.

 

Finding Independence at Friday’s on a Wednesday in July

What do you do when you are living in another country and want to celebrate your home-country’s independence from a country that the country you are living in still isn’t independent from?

You go to TGIFridays of course and celebrate with a bunch of other Americans. Apparently TGIFridays is the American safe house on American holidays. Even though I haven’t eaten at TGIFriday’s since I was in college, it was weirdly nice to eat at the one here in Melbourne. the clutter and Americana shit on the walls is identical to your local Friday’s…..so once you have been in one, you have been in them all.

I dragged some of my Aussie friends with me, and it was great to be in a restaurant covered in red, white, and blue, American flags, balloons, and most of all…….. crawling with Americans.

Highlights:

No fireworks…no BBQ….(after all it was 55 degrees F)….
but just some awesome answering of some easy-ass trivia questions..
read by a Friday’s employee with 7 pieces of flair….
answering the question “name 4 mid-west states”…..
which is a really difficult question for a foreigner apparently.

The mutiny nearly occurred when HomeboyQuestionReader asked “how many states are in the union?”
when he said “nooo…actually there arent 50″….all of the Americans nearly beat his ass with the microphone. “4 of your states are a part of the commonwealth, so there are actually only 46 states”…..with that remark i kindly shouted/told him he needed to check his facts from a site other than Wikipedia because he was trying to tell a rowdy, drunk, group of Americans that we had 46 states? shaaawhaaa??? and the Commonwealth? WTF? we then all schooled him in the mini-history lesson that the point of July 4th is because of Independence FROM the Commonwealth, ya jackass. The sad thing is that he phrased the question totally wrong by saying “a part of the Commonwealth”…because Kentucky, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Virginia officially designated themselves as “Commonwealths”, back in the day….although they are now in fact states…(i had to research that shit when i got home)….but its just a little technicality. seriously, i thought people were going to start throwing things at the dude when he was trying to stand firm on his 46 states thing. he finally gave in to the mob and agreed that we have 50 states, damn it.

Watching my Aussie friends have Buffalo Wings and Potato Skins for the first time was pretty cute….i never realized they don’t have them in Oz. Made Jessica Simpson sound a lot less stupid hearing them ask, “why are they called Buffalo wings?”

all in all….it was fun to bring people to my Mini-America….even if it only was Friday’s….

And if for some reason, you are not sure what the 4th of July really means when you are living overseas, it can also translate into Make Cupcakes For Your Co-Workers Day:

 

how did i ever manage without…

I start my new job this coming Monday.

Don’t get carried away with excitement, I am going to be an assistant to the Real Estate Agents at this real estate company. Yes, not exactly what I went to college for, and certainly not what my degree is in, but beggars can’t be choosers, and i need a “real job” because nannying just aint cuttin’ it. I will let you know how it goes.

Prior to starting on Monday, I have this entire week off. Which is nice in once sense, (but utterly boring in another when everyone you like is working) but has really caused me to focus on the fact that I cannot function without the internet. Truly, people, I am addicted. Like a fat kid needs cake, I need the damn internet. I find the most bizarre things to do:

Spy on people from high school’s myspace page.

Read articles on CNN.com about random stuff like a girl who did her thesis on strip clubs.

Watch videos on CNN.com about an Orangutan who escaped from a zoo, or the paternity fight over some chick who slept with identical brothers and now she doesn’t know who da BabyDaddy izzz cuz tha DNA izz da same.

Read blogs by people i dont know.

Visit Flickr and look at pictures from people i dont know.

Visit the local classifieds to see if anyone is getting rid of a fridge or something i “need”.

Go to amazon.com to browse more shit i think i “need”.

I can email people for hooooours.

I can also chat on yahoo messenger from anywhere in the range of 2 – 5 hours.

I download new Lost episodes (because we are waaaay behind in Oz) and then watch them.

Quick Sidenote: what the hell has happened to Lost anyway? watching the last episode, and the season finale last night, i couldn’t help but want to call JJ Abrams and ask him what the F happened to this brilliant show? Doing the backstory on Ben, (who is one of the Others, btw) was a waste of time to me, because HELLO, he is not a reeeeal member of the show (i.e, he is not Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Charlie, Claire, etc.) so who gives a rat’s ass why he is on the damn island?

Anyway, the bottom line here is that I love my computer. More specifically, i love my Mac. Other computers just dont compare to the perfection of my Powerbook G4.

As I began to dwell on the fact that i would DIE without having wireless-super-fast-internet, i pondered all the other things I dont think I could live without.

#1. text messaging: why did we not use this feature of our phones until now? i remember seeing “SMS” in the menu of my first Nokia (that was the size of a very fat harmonica btw) but never dawned on me to use it. Text messaging is brilliant because you can chat during things you should be paying attention to (meetings, school, lectures, church, etc.) and not really get in trouble….you can “talk” to people when its convenient for YOU (which is always awesome, being the self-centered girl that i am) …..and you can communicate almost instantly with people in other countries (helpful when you live overseas, like me).

#2. email: when i try to think back to the mid-late 90s, when I joined the Internet Cult, emailing was just coming about as a main form of communication. now, i have no idea what i would do without it. can you imagine having to caaaaallll people to confirm the meeting is still on at 4pm? or having to fill people in on the details of your child’s birth in person? god forbid! just send a “mass email” with pictures attached, and then everyone will know your kid looks more like the milkman, than the daddy.

#3. google: praise those 2 nerds who came up with it. you can google anything. don’t know the name of the song, but just a few lyrics? easy! type ‘em in, and you will magically find out the artist, name, record label, and when the THS is airing on E!…. need some shoes re-soled? no problem! type in “shoe repair in melbourne” and you are given a map with different locations flagged and everything. without the handy google search bar in my window….i might just have to open the yellow pages! (shock!horror!gasp!)
I am sure there are more things I cannot live without, but this is my shorthand list for right now. Trying to remember what life was like before I discovered the internet, all i can come up with is this: I think I played outside more.

Is that a bad thing?

 

what i learned today

Everyday we learn something. whether it be a large lesson or a tiny piece of information, each day we finish it having learned a little something more. some days its learning that eating McDonalds – even though it sounds good doesn’t mean you should eat it, or the quickest way to get to Albert Park is actually taking the #16 tram to the #112, and not the #6 into the city like you previously thought.

Sometimes we pay attention to these little messages….sometimes we ignore them. Either to protect our heart, or to try to see the best in someone….sometimes we ignore the Lessons we have already learned.

I believe that people have a way of telling you about themselves, but in a very obscure way at times. You might notice that they are always gossiping about their so-called-best-friend or maybe are telling you how they were late for work because they stopped to help a stranded motorist jump start their car. I try to pay attention to these little Sprinkles of Insight, where a person is unknowingly shedding light on what kind of character they have. It is during those times that you can see the ugly and beautiful side of life.

I saw that Lesson again today.

Walking up to the front door, He notices that his friend’s plants are dead, overgrown, and smother and follow you like little kids in some poor third world country trying to earn 50 cents by offering to carry your bags…. Having studied horticulture, He looks at them as we reach the door and says to himself/me, “I will bring my shears over here the next time and trim those down.”

And he means it. he will trim all those flowers because he knows how to do it right and to not hurt the plant, he enjoys gardening, and he knows his friends would appreciate it. He is a Giver, not a Taker. What I learned today: I like Givers.

 

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