Every year on the 25th April Australians collectively commemorate all Australians who have served and died in all wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations. Ceremonies are held in towns and cities to acknowledge the service of our war veterans. We reflect on their sacrifice, which continues to be meaningful and relevant to our sense of identity as a nation.
I vaguely recall watching an Anzac parade sometime in the 80s as a child, lining up on the streets of Gatton, one of the larger country towns close to home. It must have been after the Catholic church service mum and dad dragged us along to each Sunday (see former post "Go To a Spiritual Church"). I don't ever remember going to an actual Anzac service though, apart from those we had at school. Monday 25th April 2011, I attended an 8am Anzac service in my local community at Graceville.
Graceville Memorial Park is set against the backdrop of a beautiful heritage listed grand stand proudly watching over a well-kept cricket oval bordered by a perfect white picket fence. When I arrived the Salvation Army band was playing and the crowd was more than a few hundred strong. It seems most families, couples and dogs in the neighbourhood who had foregone the opportunity to holiday on the extended long weekend had turned up at the service.
We sang the national anthem (first verse only), the master of ceremonies led us through the reciting of a poem and the school choir sang "God Save the Queen". The MC made the mistake of thinking that a bunch of awkward, pre-pubescent kids would appreciate having a microphone thrust in their face, amplifying for all their squeaky off-key tones. I didn't mind, and surely the rest of the crowd didn't. We were hardly there to critique the vocal ability of the youngsters, but the youngsters were visibly uncomfortable and somewhat annoyed.
There was the guest speaker who when called for, wasn't in attendance, a dog that kept barking and the owner, Big Bearded Bloke trying to "sssshhh" his furry friend. A woman with tourette's syndrome provided a colourful commentary using various adjectives starting with the letter "f" and a lone jogger who had clearly forgotten what day it was came pounding through in their footy shorts and sweatbands.
I wouldn't say that I am significantly emotional on Anzac day however I do reserve a certain amount of respect and sentimentality for war veterans. Enter bagpipe band. Cue: goosebumps and tears. There is something deep and stirring about the sound of bagpipes that will always disturb a number of emotions which normally remain dormant.
Wreaths were laid and no doubt most of the crowd reflected on the significance of the day, the lives and loves that were lost and perhaps what it all means to modern Australia and Australians. Even now almost 100 years on from the commencement of World War I Australians seems to want to keep the tradition and to mark the day with respect.
The one minute silence is something I personally love. There is something beautiful about dead silence at such events, although in this case it was set to the soundtrack of Big Bearded Bloke quietly "ssssshhhh"-ing while Fido woof! woof!ed louder the more he was ssshed and the woman with her impulsive swearing.
The ceremony ends and the crowd once again awakens and normal life resumes. Some people stroll back to their cars slowly with lingering thoughts and emotions, children run to the playground nearby laughing and giggling and the young couples head off in search of a Latte.
Lest we forget? Largely we do forget until the next Anzac Day comes round.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
#60 - Win Something!
The fate of #60 - Win Something! was largely out of my hands however as it turns out I won two things in the space of 31 minutes of each other.
When I was reviewing The List a couple of weeks ago I realised that I don't enter competitions very often and so if I were to win something then perhaps I should get busy entering something. I entered two competitions that same day and won both with minimal effort.
With thanks to 4zzz FM community radio in Brisbane I won two tickets to the Caxton St Seafood and Wine Festival. I have requested the company of my booziest carnivore friend to accompany me. The email alerting me to my winning arrived in my inbox at 1:42pm. At 2:13pm I received notification about prize #2 - two tickets to see rockabilly punk band Horrorpops at the Hi-Fi.
I have quietly resolved to enter more competitions, at least ones that require no entry fee of monetary value and are not judged on talent or merit, just pure luck!
When I was reviewing The List a couple of weeks ago I realised that I don't enter competitions very often and so if I were to win something then perhaps I should get busy entering something. I entered two competitions that same day and won both with minimal effort.
With thanks to 4zzz FM community radio in Brisbane I won two tickets to the Caxton St Seafood and Wine Festival. I have requested the company of my booziest carnivore friend to accompany me. The email alerting me to my winning arrived in my inbox at 1:42pm. At 2:13pm I received notification about prize #2 - two tickets to see rockabilly punk band Horrorpops at the Hi-Fi.
I have quietly resolved to enter more competitions, at least ones that require no entry fee of monetary value and are not judged on talent or merit, just pure luck!
Monday, April 25, 2011
#62 - Watch 'Love Story'
A 1970 classic. The storyline - and technically not a spoiler alert because the opening line is Oliver (played by Ryan O'Neal) wondering out loud 'what can you say about a 25-year-old who has just died?'. You know how the film will end from the very start. What you don't know is the journey of Harvard University Law student Oliver Barrett IV and working-class, quick-witted Radcliffe College music student Jennifer Cavelleri, played by Ali McGraw.
Notably, the film is set against a wintery backdrop of Harvard University, Massachusetts. Throughout the film it is mostly either snowing or visibly autumn apart from a couple of scenes of a summer holiday, thus one would assume helping to enforce the romantic theme of the film.
The pair form a friendship, meeting their respective matches, challenging one another and soon find themselves smitten. They marry against the wishes of Oliver's wealthy, well-to-do father and build their life together.
Perhaps I was expecting my emotions to be dragged through the mud as I have experienced before with films such as Moulin Rouge and Educating Rita. I did enjoy the banter, the good natured teasing and the friendship between the two however I think the dynamics, dialogue and other aspects of the film have dated.
Although I hadn't read any reviews, I knew the basic synopsis of the film and I was aware the theme song was a hit covered by many artists including, Henry Mancini, Shirley Bassey, Nana Maskouri, Miss Piggy (on The Muppet Show) and none other than Rick Astley. The song 'Where Do I Begin?' was originally an instrumental but following the popularity of the song and the film the lyrics were later added.
Love Story was the highest grossing film in 1970.
You can listen to and watch Rick Astley's beautiful version of 'Where Do I Begin?' recorded live on Movie Music Mania in 2005 by clicking the link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNBNOWp3238
Notably, the film is set against a wintery backdrop of Harvard University, Massachusetts. Throughout the film it is mostly either snowing or visibly autumn apart from a couple of scenes of a summer holiday, thus one would assume helping to enforce the romantic theme of the film.
The pair form a friendship, meeting their respective matches, challenging one another and soon find themselves smitten. They marry against the wishes of Oliver's wealthy, well-to-do father and build their life together.
Perhaps I was expecting my emotions to be dragged through the mud as I have experienced before with films such as Moulin Rouge and Educating Rita. I did enjoy the banter, the good natured teasing and the friendship between the two however I think the dynamics, dialogue and other aspects of the film have dated.
Although I hadn't read any reviews, I knew the basic synopsis of the film and I was aware the theme song was a hit covered by many artists including, Henry Mancini, Shirley Bassey, Nana Maskouri, Miss Piggy (on The Muppet Show) and none other than Rick Astley. The song 'Where Do I Begin?' was originally an instrumental but following the popularity of the song and the film the lyrics were later added.
Love Story was the highest grossing film in 1970.
You can listen to and watch Rick Astley's beautiful version of 'Where Do I Begin?' recorded live on Movie Music Mania in 2005 by clicking the link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNBNOWp3238
Friday, April 22, 2011
#63 - Read One Book Per Month (April)
The book for April, Things Bogans Like was gifted to me - thanks Tara - I suspect due to my propensity to observe and discuss the behaviour of the modern bogan, as is my want. I seem to have spent a significant amount of time in the recent past attempting to define and explain the bogan to some of our newest Australians (friends, colleagues, new immigrants). It is only when I genuinely considered the question "what is a bogan??" that I realised some research was necessary.
Enter www.bogan.com.au , a traditional look at the traditional bogan, think VB, mullets, flannelette, Holden / Ford debates, girls named Shazza and Shelly and guys called Simmo, Thommo, Johnno, Macka and Mud Guts. But the modern bogan has evolved. There's a new generation of bogue in town.
Profile of a modern bogan. Here's a quick synopsis of some of the distinct and defining features, tendencies, habits, preferences, consumerables, habitats and behavioural tendencies of the modern bogan:
What I find ironic is although the book is satirical in nature it is indeed a perfect observation of the modern bogan. So much so that it's downright disturbing. Notably the inclination of the average bogan to watch 'A Current Affair' transfixed oblivious to the dribble palmed off as journalism, the rise in popularity of the sexist, misogynist, appalling behaviour displayed on 'Two and a Half Men' and the demise of communic8ion AGKWE thru SMS-speak. Dude WTF??
The race debate will always be alive and well in Australia due in part to our history, our (poor) relationship with our Indigenous population and Australia's on-going reliance on immigration to fulfill a skills and population shortage.
The 'f**k off, we're full' mentality, the uninformed analysis of the Qu'ran based purely on what's manipulated and often inaccurately presented through mainstream media and prefacing racist statements with "I'm not racist but...." fall short of nothing but sheer embarrassment. Such behaviour is downright unacceptabe and dare I say, "Un-Australian" by definition.
Enter www.bogan.com.au , a traditional look at the traditional bogan, think VB, mullets, flannelette, Holden / Ford debates, girls named Shazza and Shelly and guys called Simmo, Thommo, Johnno, Macka and Mud Guts. But the modern bogan has evolved. There's a new generation of bogue in town.
Profile of a modern bogan. Here's a quick synopsis of some of the distinct and defining features, tendencies, habits, preferences, consumerables, habitats and behavioural tendencies of the modern bogan:
- Reality TV
- P!nk
- Zoo Weekly
- Perspective-based photos at famous landmarks (search Google images "leaning Tower of Pisa")
- Reading books but only after the movie comes out
- Andre Rieu
- Today Tonight
- A Current Affair
- Two and a Half Men
- Chrisco hampers
- SMS-speak
- Tiffany & Co.
- Manly diet cola
- Krispy Kreme Doughnuts
- Meat Lovers' Pizza
- Functional (vitamin) water
- ADHD
- Wii Fit
- Prefacing racist statements with 'I'm not racist but...'
- Contiki Tours
- 'Fuck off, we're full' stickers
- Ruining music festivals
- Cover bands
- Commercial radio
- Homophobia
- Schadenfreude
- Paintball
- Tramp stamps
- Tribal tattoos
- Sexpo
- Underbelly
- Buddhist iconography as hume furnishings
- Pandora bracelets
- Vampires. Novels about Vampires.
- Ill-informed analysis of the Qur'an
- Twenty/twenty cricket
- Personalised numberplates
- Road rage
- Party buses
The race debate will always be alive and well in Australia due in part to our history, our (poor) relationship with our Indigenous population and Australia's on-going reliance on immigration to fulfill a skills and population shortage.
The 'f**k off, we're full' mentality, the uninformed analysis of the Qu'ran based purely on what's manipulated and often inaccurately presented through mainstream media and prefacing racist statements with "I'm not racist but...." fall short of nothing but sheer embarrassment. Such behaviour is downright unacceptabe and dare I say, "Un-Australian" by definition.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
#74 - Sing Karaoke
I hate karaoke.
It seems an odd thing for a singer / songwriter who has released an EP to say but up until Wednesday night another statement may not have been truer in regards to my opinion of participating in karaoke. I believe I have been converted.
One of the reasons why I started writing my own songs in the first place was because I sounded like rubbish whenever I tried to sing somebody else's song. One of the reasons why I started singing was because I watched the first season of the Australian version of So You Think You Want To Be A Disposable Pop Icon Idol With A Moderate Ability To Sing. (Don't hold it against me... we've all watched an episode or two of Big Brother and / or Big Brother Up Late).
I do not claim to be Singer: Extraordinaire. I'm quite happy with my inconsistent ability to sing hovering somewhere around somewhat ok. Just. Auto-tune does wonders, just ask Madonna, Kanye West and a whole plethora of multi-million album and single selling musical millionaires. Bono, I'm looking at you (even though I'm not sure where you are looking - what's with those ludicruous yellow sunglasses man?)
Allow me to elaborate.
Traditionally I don't do work social gatherings. However I've been placed in a unique position this year with this new job that I like doing with people I like. It may (or may not) have something to do with the mantra I've been repeating on high rotation in my head since January "I work with and for people I like and I'm earning good money". Call it what you will, (a desperate attempt to convince myself that working 9 to 5 in a mediocre job can be to a degree, rewarding?) My point is I voluntarily participated in a work trivia night and I had the time of my life, think: Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey.
Colleagues at work who nominated to take part in the trivia night were split into teams and given a run-down of the format for the evening, including x amount of questions on topics like music, news, sport and capital cities. There was also a Team Challenge, the karaoke, and the team was given their song only hours before having to perform it. Our team the Quiz Commandos, who - decked out in camouflage pants, army boots, war paint, toy guns and grenades - won the award for Best Dressed Team was bestowed a great classic to perform none other than Peter Allen's "I Go To Rio".
In his lyrics, Peter Allen claims not to be, quote "the kind of person with a passionate persuasion for dancing and romancing" however a quick survey resulted in most of my quiz team members agreeing they indeed thought Allen did have a passionate persuasion for dancing and / or romancing hence the musical written in his honour, documenting his career which evidence suggests involved quite a bit of dancing not to mention romancing given that he:
A) married Liza Minelli and
B) eventually openly implied being gay and almost admitted to having gay relationships.
Whatever. His sexual persuasion aside, Peter Allen was profoundly, immensely talented. He wrote Olivia Newton-John's "I Honestly Love You" and co-wrote Oscar award winning "Arthur's Theme". The poignant "I Still Call Australia Home" is a tear jerker for many an ex-pat when abroad or at home. My point is no one complained having to sing "I Go To Rio" although no one was prepared to sing by themselves, myself included.
One of the team did a re-con mission to source the lyrics. I tried to buy some last minute maracas, rather fruitlessly. Someone else organised a quick rehearsal in the car park basement at work, a directive largely ignored by team mates however those in attendance agreed we would do the conga and tape the lyrics to the back of the person in front of us all whilst in full combat gear. In the meantime I had been dobbed in by one of my team mates as being the team "muso" and that I should sing the song. I whole-heartedly DISagreed! I'm not singing by myself!!! If one sings we all sing, I protested and insisted I am NOT singing by myself.
Fast forward to Team Challenge and the first team sings their song into cordless microphones. Cordless. Microphones. Cordless microphones are way, very much, extremely and uber bloody cool. They are hip and they are happening and as soon as I laid my eyes on the cordless microphone I announced to my team "I'm singing!!!" At the end of the song, which I sung proudly and merrily the cordless microphone had to be prized from my grubby hands. And like a true soldier, Lest We Forget ... our reluctance to sing karaoke...
It seems an odd thing for a singer / songwriter who has released an EP to say but up until Wednesday night another statement may not have been truer in regards to my opinion of participating in karaoke. I believe I have been converted.
One of the reasons why I started writing my own songs in the first place was because I sounded like rubbish whenever I tried to sing somebody else's song. One of the reasons why I started singing was because I watched the first season of the Australian version of So You Think You Want To Be A Disposable Pop Icon Idol With A Moderate Ability To Sing. (Don't hold it against me... we've all watched an episode or two of Big Brother and / or Big Brother Up Late).
I do not claim to be Singer: Extraordinaire. I'm quite happy with my inconsistent ability to sing hovering somewhere around somewhat ok. Just. Auto-tune does wonders, just ask Madonna, Kanye West and a whole plethora of multi-million album and single selling musical millionaires. Bono, I'm looking at you (even though I'm not sure where you are looking - what's with those ludicruous yellow sunglasses man?)
Allow me to elaborate.
Traditionally I don't do work social gatherings. However I've been placed in a unique position this year with this new job that I like doing with people I like. It may (or may not) have something to do with the mantra I've been repeating on high rotation in my head since January "I work with and for people I like and I'm earning good money". Call it what you will, (a desperate attempt to convince myself that working 9 to 5 in a mediocre job can be to a degree, rewarding?) My point is I voluntarily participated in a work trivia night and I had the time of my life, think: Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey.
Colleagues at work who nominated to take part in the trivia night were split into teams and given a run-down of the format for the evening, including x amount of questions on topics like music, news, sport and capital cities. There was also a Team Challenge, the karaoke, and the team was given their song only hours before having to perform it. Our team the Quiz Commandos, who - decked out in camouflage pants, army boots, war paint, toy guns and grenades - won the award for Best Dressed Team was bestowed a great classic to perform none other than Peter Allen's "I Go To Rio".
In his lyrics, Peter Allen claims not to be, quote "the kind of person with a passionate persuasion for dancing and romancing" however a quick survey resulted in most of my quiz team members agreeing they indeed thought Allen did have a passionate persuasion for dancing and / or romancing hence the musical written in his honour, documenting his career which evidence suggests involved quite a bit of dancing not to mention romancing given that he:
A) married Liza Minelli and
B) eventually openly implied being gay and almost admitted to having gay relationships.
Whatever. His sexual persuasion aside, Peter Allen was profoundly, immensely talented. He wrote Olivia Newton-John's "I Honestly Love You" and co-wrote Oscar award winning "Arthur's Theme". The poignant "I Still Call Australia Home" is a tear jerker for many an ex-pat when abroad or at home. My point is no one complained having to sing "I Go To Rio" although no one was prepared to sing by themselves, myself included.
One of the team did a re-con mission to source the lyrics. I tried to buy some last minute maracas, rather fruitlessly. Someone else organised a quick rehearsal in the car park basement at work, a directive largely ignored by team mates however those in attendance agreed we would do the conga and tape the lyrics to the back of the person in front of us all whilst in full combat gear. In the meantime I had been dobbed in by one of my team mates as being the team "muso" and that I should sing the song. I whole-heartedly DISagreed! I'm not singing by myself!!! If one sings we all sing, I protested and insisted I am NOT singing by myself.
Fast forward to Team Challenge and the first team sings their song into cordless microphones. Cordless. Microphones. Cordless microphones are way, very much, extremely and uber bloody cool. They are hip and they are happening and as soon as I laid my eyes on the cordless microphone I announced to my team "I'm singing!!!" At the end of the song, which I sung proudly and merrily the cordless microphone had to be prized from my grubby hands. And like a true soldier, Lest We Forget ... our reluctance to sing karaoke...
#72 Go To A Spiritual Church
It has been some time since I attended a "real" church. Like a lot of other people who were dragged up a particular religious denomation which required a weekly visit to the local assembly, I usually only step inside a church for a wedding and thankfully less so for a funeral. I was brought up Catholic, neither nonplus nor gregariously going along to the service every Sunday morning, often on the promise of a jam and cream doughnut at the local bakery post-sermon. I often pondered my Catholicism and asked big questions for a child... was there a God, how can God have no definition or form yet be everywhere and see everything and is it any coincidence that "God" spelt backwards is "Dog"?
The nearest thing to a spiritual church that I could find was a 2-hour spiritual gathering from 4-6pm on a Sunday afternoon at the Australian School of Meditation and Yoga, West End, Brisbane.
The format for the gathering runs like this:
4pm: Chanting and singing of sacred matras begins. Djemba drum/s, acoustic guitar, harmonium, bass guitar
5pm: Guided meditation for half an hour
5:30pm: Inspiring talk exploring the spiritual essence of Yoga
6pm: A delicious vegetarian meal served free of charge (the centre runs on donations)
I sit on the comfy sequined cushions against the wall and look around me. The attendees are of various ages and nationalities. Some clearly regulars, others glancing awkwardly side to side looking for clues on what to do and what happens next. We are each given a small piece of orange paper with a list of sacred mantras which are sung repetitively in a call and response format and I make a mental note that there are some lovely singing voices in the room. Some of the words on the small orange piece of paper I recognise, many I don't and very few I can actually pronounce let alone translate into English. I'll just sit this one out, I tell myself and certainly the volunteers at the ASOMAY would not want anyone doing anything one might be uncomfortable with. Although it has to be said, I have tried Yoga many times and have come across many an uncomfortable Yoga posture.
I choose to sit up for the next part, the guided meditation but some folk are laying on cushions on the floor and for a moment it resembles the afternoon nap we used to have as toddlers in pre-school, kindergarten or creche. We are guided to close our eyes while some beautiful soft music fills the room. One of the instructors suggests we picture ourselves sitting next to a flowing river. The river I choose to picture is one familiar with my childhood in the town where I went to high school, except I photoshop my river and using my imagination I give it more soft, plush, green grass and less beer-guzzling, bong-smoking bogans doing burn-outs in bomby old Toranas.
We clear our mind of any thoughts and concentrate on our breathing. We are instructed to breathe in deeply and slowly and then on the out breath chant "gau-ra-an-ga". I try it a few times but the bogan within has been awoken by a memory of the river and I find it difficult not to giggle to myself as I mockingly say "Ma-ri-ju-an-a" on the out breath in replace of "gau-ra-an-ga". I indulge in a couple of more "ma-ri-ju-an-a"s before I try the "gau-ra-an-ga" but by the time I get to the tail end, "-an-ga" I'm out of breath. Maybe from all the marijana??
Next is the inspiring talk. The talk is taken from an unknown text and it is about the Three Modes of Material Nature, the mode of good, the mode of passion and the mode of ignorance. Everybody slips in and out of these three modes although most of us apparently are in the mode of passion as we busily chase dreams and ambitions that usually centre around money, material possession and successful careers. The mode of ignorance - when we sleep and are inebriated / intoxicated, have drug and / or alcohol addictions we are said to be in the mode of ignorance. Few people are in the mode of good and this is what brings us closer to true spiritual understandings however it is still a mode that exists in the material plane. I'm not sure what research was conducted or who gathered the statistics for what mode human beings are generally in - I don't remember any such question on the most recent Census night - but I will take it on face value that these claims are more-or-less correct. I'm guessing the point is that in order to lead a fulfilling life following good morals and principals and to be more spiritually uplifted one would attempt to live in the mode of good although the mode of passion and ignorance seems far more interesting, fun and possibly less hard work. Who wants to be a 'suit' anyway?
The vegetarian meal. I am, by definition, a vegetarian. I consume no meat but I do consume eggs and to a less extent, dairy. I am possibly a little bias in my opinion about the extraordinary food served up by the ASOMAY but my carnivore friend who accompanied me also exclaimed the food was delicious. Like so many other social / recreational activities it is all about the food. What's that saying? Build it and they will come. Bake it and they will eat.
My glass half full synopsis of the spiritual gathering is I am delighted to have spent 2 hours of my weekend giving my soul a bit of attention and nurturing. There has been a lot of research supporting the claim that regular meditation has many health benefits and people with spiritual beliefs often report being happier and healthier. It is one way I am beginning to personally discover a pathway to some sort of spirituality, an alternative to my misguided confused Catholicism-focused youth of the Jam and Cream Doughnut Deity and / or chanting - or was that smoking? - Ma-ri-ju-an-a.
The nearest thing to a spiritual church that I could find was a 2-hour spiritual gathering from 4-6pm on a Sunday afternoon at the Australian School of Meditation and Yoga, West End, Brisbane.
The format for the gathering runs like this:
4pm: Chanting and singing of sacred matras begins. Djemba drum/s, acoustic guitar, harmonium, bass guitar
5pm: Guided meditation for half an hour
5:30pm: Inspiring talk exploring the spiritual essence of Yoga
6pm: A delicious vegetarian meal served free of charge (the centre runs on donations)
I sit on the comfy sequined cushions against the wall and look around me. The attendees are of various ages and nationalities. Some clearly regulars, others glancing awkwardly side to side looking for clues on what to do and what happens next. We are each given a small piece of orange paper with a list of sacred mantras which are sung repetitively in a call and response format and I make a mental note that there are some lovely singing voices in the room. Some of the words on the small orange piece of paper I recognise, many I don't and very few I can actually pronounce let alone translate into English. I'll just sit this one out, I tell myself and certainly the volunteers at the ASOMAY would not want anyone doing anything one might be uncomfortable with. Although it has to be said, I have tried Yoga many times and have come across many an uncomfortable Yoga posture.
I choose to sit up for the next part, the guided meditation but some folk are laying on cushions on the floor and for a moment it resembles the afternoon nap we used to have as toddlers in pre-school, kindergarten or creche. We are guided to close our eyes while some beautiful soft music fills the room. One of the instructors suggests we picture ourselves sitting next to a flowing river. The river I choose to picture is one familiar with my childhood in the town where I went to high school, except I photoshop my river and using my imagination I give it more soft, plush, green grass and less beer-guzzling, bong-smoking bogans doing burn-outs in bomby old Toranas.
We clear our mind of any thoughts and concentrate on our breathing. We are instructed to breathe in deeply and slowly and then on the out breath chant "gau-ra-an-ga". I try it a few times but the bogan within has been awoken by a memory of the river and I find it difficult not to giggle to myself as I mockingly say "Ma-ri-ju-an-a" on the out breath in replace of "gau-ra-an-ga". I indulge in a couple of more "ma-ri-ju-an-a"s before I try the "gau-ra-an-ga" but by the time I get to the tail end, "-an-ga" I'm out of breath. Maybe from all the marijana??
Next is the inspiring talk. The talk is taken from an unknown text and it is about the Three Modes of Material Nature, the mode of good, the mode of passion and the mode of ignorance. Everybody slips in and out of these three modes although most of us apparently are in the mode of passion as we busily chase dreams and ambitions that usually centre around money, material possession and successful careers. The mode of ignorance - when we sleep and are inebriated / intoxicated, have drug and / or alcohol addictions we are said to be in the mode of ignorance. Few people are in the mode of good and this is what brings us closer to true spiritual understandings however it is still a mode that exists in the material plane. I'm not sure what research was conducted or who gathered the statistics for what mode human beings are generally in - I don't remember any such question on the most recent Census night - but I will take it on face value that these claims are more-or-less correct. I'm guessing the point is that in order to lead a fulfilling life following good morals and principals and to be more spiritually uplifted one would attempt to live in the mode of good although the mode of passion and ignorance seems far more interesting, fun and possibly less hard work. Who wants to be a 'suit' anyway?
The vegetarian meal. I am, by definition, a vegetarian. I consume no meat but I do consume eggs and to a less extent, dairy. I am possibly a little bias in my opinion about the extraordinary food served up by the ASOMAY but my carnivore friend who accompanied me also exclaimed the food was delicious. Like so many other social / recreational activities it is all about the food. What's that saying? Build it and they will come. Bake it and they will eat.
My glass half full synopsis of the spiritual gathering is I am delighted to have spent 2 hours of my weekend giving my soul a bit of attention and nurturing. There has been a lot of research supporting the claim that regular meditation has many health benefits and people with spiritual beliefs often report being happier and healthier. It is one way I am beginning to personally discover a pathway to some sort of spirituality, an alternative to my misguided confused Catholicism-focused youth of the Jam and Cream Doughnut Deity and / or chanting - or was that smoking? - Ma-ri-ju-an-a.
Monday, April 11, 2011
#82 Do Not Say A Single Swear Word For An Entire Week
Holy hole in a doughnut I can not believe how freaking difficult it was to not swear for one whole week. Darn it, gosh and golly I did not succeed!
I made it through Monday the most dispicable day of the week as any of you Monday to Friday 9 to fivers out there would know, without so much as a curse. I broke the drought, fell off the wagon when I was out to lunch on Tuesday at 12:05, mumbling "that gives me the shits". It had nothing to do with the falafel I was about to consume, FYI.
I did notice, that not unlike someone whose second language is English continues to think in their native tongue that I indeed continued to think in 'Swear'. Monday afternoon I accused someone of being a 'dipshit' under my breath and I also exclaimed within the recesses of my grey matter using my original and personal favourite 'holy craponoli'. Yes it sounds like it should be served with parmesan and a glass of red.
By Tuesday afternoon I had racked up "shit" x 2.
By Wednesday a post-coffee conversation about someone I studied with 5 years ago resulted in a "fuckwit".
Friday was "shit" and "shitty" thanks to some time wasting and serious technical issues at work.
Saturday however was fucking awesome! It was fucking amazing! I couldn't fucking believe it! Sunday not too bad either but Monday morning comes around so quickly for fuck's sake it makes you want to say 'fuck it' and sleep in instead.
#52 Download Some Elvis Songs Onto My iPhone
When people think of Elvis Presley they might think of the King of Rock 'n' Roll or the young and handsome Elvis who starred on the silverscreen in numerous movies. Handsome is an understatment. The man was a walking, singing, guitar-playing, hip-swinging, dancing orgasm. You might also remember the sequined jumpsuits, the deep-fried peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches and his elusive and, for some disputible death at the age of 42, thus posing a lot of unanswered questions. How did he die, were there suspicious circumstances surrounding his death, and were the sandwiches really deep-fried?
For those who are wondering there are Elvis Presley cook books and Elvis Presley recipes on-line and with the magic of a little big of googling I discovered that our Elvis is not the only one fond of a peanut butter, mashed banana and bacon sandwich.
Other devotees of the cullinary appalling are New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg who once stated that he would select a peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich as his last meal. Singer/songwriter Lisa Loeb, famed for her 1994 hit song "Stay (I Missed You)" recollected she shared a concoction of peanut butter, banana, honey and bacon called "an Elvis" on a date with the man she married, Roey Hershkovitz.
But I digest.... I mean, digress....
Elvis Presley started his career in 1954 when Sun Records owner Sam Phillips saw in Elvis the means to realise Phillips' own ambition of bringing African American music to a broader audience.
Elivs was controversial. He was sexy and exciting and every girl and possibly more than a few guys fantastised about him day and night. The kids loved him, Dad hated him and mum would have eloped with him.
Elvis Presley is regarded as one of the most important and prominent figures of 20th century music and when you listen to some of his songs 55 years on for example:
"Don't Be Cruel",
"Hound Dog",
"All Shook Up" and
"Jailhouse Rock" and find yourself not just enjoying them but loving every second of them, wondering why they only went for 2 minutes 10 seconds, compelling you to dance and sing and clap your hands, snap your fingers, tap your feet as you listen to them on the train to work through your iPod and resolve to hire every Elvis movie from the local Blockbuster and have an Elvis party this Saturday night you know it's a hunk a hunk of burning love!
I know when I think of Elvis I think of the young man, a man's man and a woman's man from a humble, poor-but-honest background who loved his mother, brought the joy of rock 'n' roll into the homes of millions and opened the door for many musicians to come. Rest peacefully Elvis.
For those who are wondering there are Elvis Presley cook books and Elvis Presley recipes on-line and with the magic of a little big of googling I discovered that our Elvis is not the only one fond of a peanut butter, mashed banana and bacon sandwich.
Other devotees of the cullinary appalling are New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg who once stated that he would select a peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich as his last meal. Singer/songwriter Lisa Loeb, famed for her 1994 hit song "Stay (I Missed You)" recollected she shared a concoction of peanut butter, banana, honey and bacon called "an Elvis" on a date with the man she married, Roey Hershkovitz.
But I digest.... I mean, digress....
Elvis Presley started his career in 1954 when Sun Records owner Sam Phillips saw in Elvis the means to realise Phillips' own ambition of bringing African American music to a broader audience.
Elivs was controversial. He was sexy and exciting and every girl and possibly more than a few guys fantastised about him day and night. The kids loved him, Dad hated him and mum would have eloped with him.
Elvis Presley is regarded as one of the most important and prominent figures of 20th century music and when you listen to some of his songs 55 years on for example:
"Don't Be Cruel",
"Hound Dog",
"All Shook Up" and
"Jailhouse Rock" and find yourself not just enjoying them but loving every second of them, wondering why they only went for 2 minutes 10 seconds, compelling you to dance and sing and clap your hands, snap your fingers, tap your feet as you listen to them on the train to work through your iPod and resolve to hire every Elvis movie from the local Blockbuster and have an Elvis party this Saturday night you know it's a hunk a hunk of burning love!
I know when I think of Elvis I think of the young man, a man's man and a woman's man from a humble, poor-but-honest background who loved his mother, brought the joy of rock 'n' roll into the homes of millions and opened the door for many musicians to come. Rest peacefully Elvis.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
#5 Bake A Loaf Of Bread
Yesterday I baked a loaf of gluten free bread. I've always wanted to try to make a loaf of bread. Fresh bread. Damn that bread that comes out of the oven is sooo good and warm and tasty how could you not eat it?
It was a beautiful Saturday morning and I was up early. Birds were chirping, the sun's rays were catching dust particles in the lounge room and a fresh bunch of flowers was on my dining room table. To top it off the smell of baked bread was wafting into the lounge room from my kitchen.
They say that your energy, your "vibe" goes into the food that you make and you can taste the mood in the food. (Rhyme unintended) It makes sense to me. Cooking is a physical thing and energy is transferred from chef to meal as ingredients are mixed, stirred, chopped and prepared.
Rage was on the telly and the guest programmer was obviously someone cool because I was mixing gluten free flour and vegetable oil to Outkast's 'Hey Ya', kneading to the beat of David Bowie's 'Heroes' and rolling out the non stick baking paper to Kylie Minogue's 'Better Than Today'. The love and the enjoyment of these songs was mixed into the dough and baked in the oven.
Thirty five minutes later a perfect loaf of gluten free bread is on my kitchen bench cooling down on a wire rack.
I was elated that my bread had turned out so superbly. Baking bread is a bit funny what with all the waiting times. Mix the yeast with luke warm water, wait 5 minutes. Shape the dough in a ball, cover in a tea towel in a warm draft-free area, wait 5 minutes. Knead for ten minutes, wrap the dough in clear plastic, allow it to double in size, wait one hour.
I never really understand how and why people say "I can't cook". I mean, how can you not be able to cook?? You get a recipe you follow the instructions, the recipe tells you what to do, there's no mystery in cooking so how can you not cook??!!?? I have to admit that I didn't think my bread would turn out so well! Even though I knew I would follow the steps I just thought the bread would do its own thing. Alas, I was wrong and the bread was amazing!
Now I can't wait to bake bread for the people I love, albeit it to an appropriately cool soundtrack.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning and I was up early. Birds were chirping, the sun's rays were catching dust particles in the lounge room and a fresh bunch of flowers was on my dining room table. To top it off the smell of baked bread was wafting into the lounge room from my kitchen.
They say that your energy, your "vibe" goes into the food that you make and you can taste the mood in the food. (Rhyme unintended) It makes sense to me. Cooking is a physical thing and energy is transferred from chef to meal as ingredients are mixed, stirred, chopped and prepared.
Rage was on the telly and the guest programmer was obviously someone cool because I was mixing gluten free flour and vegetable oil to Outkast's 'Hey Ya', kneading to the beat of David Bowie's 'Heroes' and rolling out the non stick baking paper to Kylie Minogue's 'Better Than Today'. The love and the enjoyment of these songs was mixed into the dough and baked in the oven.
Thirty five minutes later a perfect loaf of gluten free bread is on my kitchen bench cooling down on a wire rack.
I was elated that my bread had turned out so superbly. Baking bread is a bit funny what with all the waiting times. Mix the yeast with luke warm water, wait 5 minutes. Shape the dough in a ball, cover in a tea towel in a warm draft-free area, wait 5 minutes. Knead for ten minutes, wrap the dough in clear plastic, allow it to double in size, wait one hour.
I never really understand how and why people say "I can't cook". I mean, how can you not be able to cook?? You get a recipe you follow the instructions, the recipe tells you what to do, there's no mystery in cooking so how can you not cook??!!?? I have to admit that I didn't think my bread would turn out so well! Even though I knew I would follow the steps I just thought the bread would do its own thing. Alas, I was wrong and the bread was amazing!
Now I can't wait to bake bread for the people I love, albeit it to an appropriately cool soundtrack.
# 18 - No Facebook For A Week!
Dear Readers,
The last week has been a busy one. I wasn't sure how or if I could execute #18 Live Without Facebook For A Week on my list of 100 Things To Do In One Year however the ease at which I did was, in retrospect really bloody easy! To put it in perspective I wasn't required to do anything for this one. In fact I was required to not do something and as any person with tendencies to want to be as efficient as possible or do as little as possible knows, not doing stuff is pretty straight forward.
Between the 27th of March and the 3rd of April - exactly one week - I did not log onto Facebook and it really wasn't a big deal.
Birthdays, invites to events both near and far and notifications such as "Betty joined the group 'I flip my pillow to get to the cold side'" passed me by for an entire week. I even had to ignore a couple of emails.
My perception of this one in my 100 Things To Do List was that I would forget that I'm not Facebooking this week, log in then remember I wasn't supposed to be in Facebook, curse, reprimand myself then have to start again next week. Similar to how one might resolve to start eating healthier on a Monday then find half a choc chip muffin in their mouth on Tuesday before remembering Monday's resolution thus resulting in revised start date of the following Monday for the eat healthier resolution. I barely even thought about Facebook.
Note that I am NOT a Facebook fanatic. My typical Facebook behaviour would see me log in a couple of times a day probably for a total of ten minutes. Occasionally, say once a week I might log in for between thirty minute and one hour. I don't do games, I do read a few people's statuses, comments, look at a few photos, events I've been invited to and read and respond to any emails. A quick Google search on 'how many hours do you spend on Facebook' revealed a link to Yahoo answers with 8 out of ten responses saying 5-10 minutes, one response: 30 minutes/day, another 3-5 hours per day. It seems that 5-10 minutes is the norm. Either that or we're spending, rather wasting more time on Facebook than we'd care to admit.
Whatever the case is I made it through one week of no Facebook and I liked it. In fact I might spend less time on there in the future instead maybe developing social networks through actual socialising... right after I respond to the two emails in my Facebook inbox.
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