Hidden meanings?

You know how it is sometimes, you read stuff into people's behaviour that frankly, is preposterous and unfair? Well here's an example I just HAD to share with you!

What do you make of this?



I mean, what kind of mind would do this to a toothpaste tube on the assumption that it is the best way to get out the last dregs of the tube?

It happened because we had two tubes going at the same time...whereas normally we only have one, like most other people do. Normally, I suppose I must straighten the tube and no one really gives a second thought. I've always just flattened it out when I use it... like this one;





So what do you reckon? Mad axe murderer in the making? Someone that cleans the wing mirrors if the car won't start? A neurotic? It MUST mean something?

Retraction

Hey...you know that stuff I said about Nanna and the Playstation a while back? Well I just wanted to print a COMPLETE RETRACTION OK?
She wanted to point out that she doesn't like Homer Simpson, and that it wasn't HER that bought that program.

(I did consider writing that as a part of the original text, then that way all of you that already read it would still think that Nanna was a callous numbnut that cared little for the welfare of her grandchildren... but then I thought about the head-locks that she can do and thought I'd better put it here!)

Swowwy....er SRorry, ...S...s SORRY! Iwas WRrrrr....I wus ron....
Er it was a mistake!

Breakfast at C&D's

Today we did the river breakfast thing..which we've not done for a while. I've had problems with this engine ever since I blocked up the carbby with dodgy fuel last Easter. It's been off for a clean out a couple of times since then, and I've replaced the filter etc.

Today it went a lot better than it has since then. It was almost lively again. No that's not true, it WAS lively again, but gave a little starved waver towards the end of our trip. Couldn't decide it was fuel it was being starved of or air. (I've just made a new cap for the fuel tank and the breather part is a four hole rubber button... so might not be enough air at full tilt. I'll bore it out a bit and have another go)



Breakfast stop...



Chelsea likes chocolate cakes...



Phoebe does too!





Daile just stuck to the tea.

Pathetic I am not!

Many people faced with redundancy find that they are challenged in an existential way. They experience a reassessment of their place. I’m feeling something of that I suppose.

Most of my life, I’ve tried to view success and adversity in such a way that my core beliefs are not challenged and my view of the world remains stable…ish. Much of it is post rationalisation, and in behaving like that, I’m doing what most other people apparently do.

I’m not THAT far off kilter in my self, I’m just fed up and tired of being in this position. I really think it’s time that our luck changed again.

Perhaps if I were a person that needed a whole lot of reassurance from lots of other people, I might feel less ‘centred’ than I feel like I am. Luckily for me, Daile is pretty much the whole shooting match in terms of the support that I need.

Never-the-less, I’ve been feeling challenged in respect to the part of me that needs to fit into our society. I’m NOT feeling like I have a good fit here, and its not really all that surprising. I’ve spent nearly six of the last twelve months without work, and whilst that’s bad from an income point of view, it’s also bad from a social perspective, cos everyone in advanced industrialised society needs to have a job description or a bloody good excuse.

I’ve been working on an excuse, but only intermittently. The rest of the time I’ve been working on conformity, just not with the same degree of success as most other people.

It’s an invidious position to be in – mine. To be in my late middle age, and yet still be wondering what I’m going to do when I grow up! My whole life I’ve had the notion that I’m destined to be great, but absolutely no idea of WHAT I’m going to be great at, and therefore, not really surprisingly, I’ve not been what you might call driven.

That whole time I’ve felt trapped between two opposing views of the world. One view states that opportunities are there to be exploited, that the pursuit of profit and material wealth are sensible pastimes for self-respecting humans to engage in. The other, more ‘spiritual’ (for want of a more appropriate word) view is that…well that there must be a mistake. Try as I have, there seems to be little in common to unite these two viewpoints. Neither of them are good enough on their own to be ALL to me. I can’t wholly give myself to the pursuit of money, it seems such a false god. On the other hand, I can’t seem to discern a spiritual path that feels right either… and even if I could, what would I feed the kids with? Nothing feels ‘certain’ enough…and the older I get, the less certain I am about anything!

I’m not sure that I totally agree with the statement; ‘No man is an island’. However, I’d concede that if a man were an island, that he would have to be a part of an archipelago. So, whilst I’m not exactly a candle in the wind of public opinion, my worth as a member of our society is related to my ability to resonate with it. My belief in my SELF is related to my FIT with society. Not in a way that I’m kiboshed if I don’t get approval for my situation or my actions, but in some way that I’m not sure I understand.

All this theory is coming out because I’m feeling like not fitting in is steering me to a career change and I think I should understand what is going on. Much of our thinking about worth is predicated on the same kind of mono-cultural thinking that leads early risers to look with disdain on late risers. Perhaps understandably, people who have prostrated themselves to the wheel of progress, are wont to take a dim view of others who just didn’t quite manage to flog themselves quite so effectively…even if they ARE, on the face of it nice people. People like people who are like them. People like people whose actions justify their own. Is there something about ME that people can see from a long way off, that identifies me as a non-believer?

In conversation I do try my best to fit…and in application letters, that becomes almost pathological! Well…I say pathological, but of course, it is difficult to make a sow’s ear look anything like the silk purse that they all want!…and part of me still thinks ‘why would anyone lie about what they’ve done just to get a job as widget stamper, leaflet distributor, carpet layer, bank manager or any other meaningless occupation? Apart from needing income…that is. The 70’s song ‘Sing if you’re proud to be gay!’ comes to mind! I’m proud to have been a generalist not a specialist. I’m proud to have been involved in work that requires thought and care, both for the work itself, and for the other members of the teams that I headed, but I feel like a pariah – as if I represent a threat to social structures in companies.

Little ol’ me!

And then I realised that;

it’s not me that doesn’t fit in with society…its society that doesn’t fit in with me! I AM an island, and I’m well defended. I need to trade for food, but I don’t have to hand over sovereignty!

And whilst I’m not Canute, I do reckon that its worth trying to change the tide of public opinion on mindless pursuit of profit and career. I say ‘Pathos is not pathogenic!’

Go forth and burn ants with your magnifying glass and tings...

I came across a speaker at TED this week that was refreshing. His name is Gever Tulley, and he and his partner, Julie Spiegler, founded a school in the US that is called 'Tinkering School'
Now the bit about this that is refreshing is that Gever reckons that kids need to be allowed to play with things...that are dangerous!

Fact is, if you want your kids to make the kinds of connections that constitute creative thinking... sooner or later you pretty much HAVE to leave them in charge of things that have sharp bits. Sometimes you need to leave them in charge of things with sharp bits that have motors on them... (moving sharp bits!). I mean, it's hard to cut things without some kind of saw.

Tulley has just published a book called '50 dangerous things that every kid should do' or something like that. It's a mark of our times that such a book should be considered revelationary. It includes such things as putting a 9v battery on your tongue!..(Whoa there cowboy! Ain't that goin' just a bit too far?) and (better) 'Own a pocket knife', 'Throw a spear', 'Deconstruct an appliance', 'Drive a car', Play with Fire, 'Walk on a roof', 'Make a catapult', 'make a tin helmet from a lampshade and go out in a hail storm' etc.

While I do heartily applaud this book, (and it seems to be set to be a best seller...oh why didn't I write it?)... it makes me think that we really should be hanging our collective heads in shame that a book like this was ever even required! What happened?

Not that long ago kids were doing all this stuff anyway! Now they need a book, or more precisely their parents need a book that says it's OK for us to let our kids do things that are dangerous. Not only that, but it's OK for us to leave our kids to just tinker with stuff, for no reason at all...except for the joy of it. Actually, I say WE, but really I should point out that Amazon.co.uk don't stock it... only the US Amazon have it. (Same as the US have a different (Better) Kindle than the rest of the world have access to. Hmmm) But I digress.

So as part of my appreciation, I guided Carly in mending her puncture today. She was well chuffed...and we sorted her brakes at the same time. She had no idea that THAT was what the otherwise utterly useless talcum powder in the bathroom cupboard is for! (Actually I've got a 20kg bag of it... without scent. I use it in filler) Stuff the PlayStation and virtual reality! To quote the infamous Crocadile Dundee; 'That's not a knife... THAT's a knife!'.

Have you seen that new toy on the market? It's a 'dinosaur' skeleton thingy (plastic) with some kind of plaster cast around it. Kids are supposed to 'dig' the bones out of the plaster! ...and then what? Presumably, since they're not allowed a stick, or a hammer, or a knife, or heaven forbid.. a chisel, it's not immediately apparent WHAT they're supposed to 'excavate' with! I suppose it probably comes with a disposable plastic hammer and rubber chisel... so that it's something like as hard to get the plaster off the plastic bones as it would be to get the real thing out of granite! At what point are we going to STOP this madness and re-engage our children with the REAL world? Here's a really well written label that Gever Tulley wrote and published on the Make.com website a while ago: (click the image to zoom in)



On the subject of signs: Last week I went for an interview with Greenpeace, didn't get it, but whilst I was up town, I saw a sign that was asking for people to donate blood. I thought 'Hell, why not!' and went in. I half expected the receptionist to gush at me about what a wonderful person I am to consider giving some of my own blood, it is after all vintage stuff now-a-days, but she just told me, matter of fact to read through a card that had a list of things that might prevent me from being a suitable donor. It started off with all the stuff you'd expect, like 'have you engaged in any brown nosing lately' (something like that anyway) and 'have you been taking any drugs, prescribed or recreational' (or something like that) and then.... AND THEN...it said, 'Have you lived in the UK anytime between (something like) 1997 and 2003?' So I explained that I was a Britisher...and that I had been living there during the said time... to which she said (something like) 'Well piss off then, we don't want your stinky MAD COW infected corpuscles in here... thank you very much....SIR'

Bloody convicts!

Advertising and the devil

Righto,
those of you who've been coming here for yonks will notice that there are advertisements on the blog today!

Yueck!

I've allowed them on because I've been reading that people actually click on them and that you can get a bob or two from that.

Now under normal circumstances I'd cock a snook at all that. I really don't like being advertised to myself, but as we are currently challenged in the cash flow dept, I thought I'd overlook my principalities for a while.

So go right ahead and click whatever they put up here on the right, and below... whether its for weight loss, weight gain, breast shaping, reduction, viewing or whatever.

Actually, I HAVE put some filters on, but they don't allow you to filter ALL the crappy ads out, so we'll have to wait and see.

Sorry n'nat.

Screen-agers

When the kids got a Playstation from Nanna at Christmas, I was happy for them – despite my feelings about computer games, borne from experience of Josh’s transformation into a zombie like snotty kid when he had one. I even entered into the spirit of the thing, playing with considerable enjoyment (for a while) a game where Homer Simpson drives around a street circuit in cars that he’s stopped and commandeered, hitting innocent fictional others whose cries of ‘idiot’ are as water to a ducks back for Homer. He, for reasons unclear, has a feature that allows him to go up to someone and kick the bejesus out of them. The game is called ‘Hit and Run’.

The question is; do the game manufacturers make these games because they know that the average gamer contains an inner git, or does the average gamer contain an inner git because the game manufactures make this sort of game available?

OK, I didn’t feel any difference when I next got into my car… not for one moment did I consider running down any innocent pedestrians or kicking them for that matter. So should I be worried? Probably not.

But there’s still the fact that playing these games has a weird effect on the ability of your child to engage in polite and considerate interaction with other flesh and blood characters that are external to the game, i.e. the rest of the family. And their inability to do this seems to be in proportion to the amount of time you leave them exposed to the machine. Left to their own devices, they’ll sit there for hours…caught up with it.

But the games engender some kind of physical loading, like adrenalin being increased, preparing them for a fight/flight response to something, and because it requires sitting still, what comes out is noxious behaviour.

Couple this with Matilda’s easy propensity to cross that line when she forgets herself, and Phoebe’s increasing skill in pushing her over it, and you have a ‘tricky’ situation.

But wait, there’s more! The local kids love it too! Especially as we have the facility to allow four players on some of the games! Having four or more pumped up girls inside the house, with all the attendant noise, (meaning that they also turn up the volume on the TV) is, well lets just say I can think of better places for them to be, and the places become less and less savoury the longer they’re inside the house playing this machine. I don’t think it’s going too far to say that having one of these in the house is like keeping a baby elephant in your kitchen. Essentially innocent, attractive to kids, but at the end of the day the house will never be big enough.

I have exported myself to the garage to work. I feel like I’m in involuntary exile.

So yesterday to loud complaint, I muted the TV mid game to suggest to the assembled gaggle that if they wanted to, Daile and I could take them and their bicycles down to Beenleigh to the BMX park and they could get some of that adrenalin out of their systems. They loved the idea, and forgave me for the intrusion…phew!

I didn’t take any pics unfortunately, but imagine the sight of ten bicycles strapped onto my ute, along with a compressor and line, tools, etc. The result was palpable. All the noise didn’t seem so wrong. In fact it felt like it was right! They belted around this track, which has lots of bumps and drops that get your heart racing. The difference of course is that you ARE racing, and it’s all GOOD adrenalin. They played really sweetly and nicely for several hours, discovering also that there was a pond with tadpoles in that they could catch with their bare hands! We returned at dusk, via the chip shop, had a few rounds of ‘Pass the bomb’ which got them all cranked up again, and a couple of rounds of ‘Twister’ which gave them a physical outlet… and then they were inexplicably invited to Tracy’s for a sleepover…!

Wooohoooo! So all of them trooped off there, and Daile and I actually got some quality time!

That was our Sunday…how was yours?