amazing.
My gut did it to me AGAIN yesterday
I woke feeling i weighed a million tonnes and had zero energy.
I could barely move.
If i was the sort of person to call in sick, i'd have done it.
But
a) I'm not that sort of person
b) i had a meeting that could not have been re-scheduled
c) i wasn't technically sick
As i drove to work my head felt bigger and bigger. Huge in fact.
Not long after i arrived, a tiny petty thing set my cranky-level straight to high.
I tried to breathe calmly and drink chamomile tea and rationalise this.
Then in the meeting the surprise event that explained it all.
This is what my body had been expecting. This is why it wanted to stay away from the studio today.
But i have no regrets. We don't learn anything by hiding at home, safe.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
ex arse eyes 17
i woke up earlier than expected this morning to a typical sunday.
No outward signs of upheaval or cataclysmic change.
It was several minutes before i even remembered that we finally have a new government after such a long long too long time; that our country's second longest serving prime minister had finally taken a fall.
The last two elections i'd hoped for it. I'd thought "this will be the one". Surely he's been exposed in enough compromising situations to lose credibility and trust. But he was like teflon. Scandal and bad press just slid right off. The blame was cleverly shifted. Somewhere out there, outside my social/community network, there were a whole lot of people that voted for him, and my expectations were continually surprised and disappointed.
So i didn't even get my hopes up this year. I ignored the polls and predictions. This year was going to be just like any other. And now the result's in i still can't quite believe it. That's why i was hoping for some outward sign. Some shift in the way the locals go about their usual sunday. Some proof. Because our new prime minister is just like a younger version of the old one.
I know it will take time for the new regime to start making its impact and undo 11 years of their opposition's handy work.
So i wait with hope and, as they say, with baited breath.
No outward signs of upheaval or cataclysmic change.
It was several minutes before i even remembered that we finally have a new government after such a long long too long time; that our country's second longest serving prime minister had finally taken a fall.
The last two elections i'd hoped for it. I'd thought "this will be the one". Surely he's been exposed in enough compromising situations to lose credibility and trust. But he was like teflon. Scandal and bad press just slid right off. The blame was cleverly shifted. Somewhere out there, outside my social/community network, there were a whole lot of people that voted for him, and my expectations were continually surprised and disappointed.
So i didn't even get my hopes up this year. I ignored the polls and predictions. This year was going to be just like any other. And now the result's in i still can't quite believe it. That's why i was hoping for some outward sign. Some shift in the way the locals go about their usual sunday. Some proof. Because our new prime minister is just like a younger version of the old one.
I know it will take time for the new regime to start making its impact and undo 11 years of their opposition's handy work.
So i wait with hope and, as they say, with baited breath.
Friday, November 23, 2007
ecksasise 16
Grumpy old people have no peripheral vision and after all their years of life on earth you'd think they'd have finally grown eyes in the backs of their heads. How useful would that be?
they probably all suffer hearing loss as well.
like small children they have no awareness of people around them.
i remind myself this as i am stuck in a supermarket behind an elderly couple walking v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y and w-i-d-e-l-y down a narrow aisle.
they seem oblivious that i'm behind, and it seems intentionally belligerent and grumpy of them not to step aside and let me pass.
they are probably not belligerent; they are probably perfectly nice folk.
But they really ARE oblivious.
so i accept their pace and slow down too.
and notice things i normally rush past and ignore - foodstuffs i've been oblivious to.
i end up at the checkout with strange food that will probably sit in my cupboard for years.
producers are now making money from grumpy-old-people TV series.
so supermarkets should cash-in on this too and start hiring grumpy old couples.
they're the human equivalent of those unsteerable shopping trolleys.
they probably all suffer hearing loss as well.
like small children they have no awareness of people around them.
i remind myself this as i am stuck in a supermarket behind an elderly couple walking v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y and w-i-d-e-l-y down a narrow aisle.
they seem oblivious that i'm behind, and it seems intentionally belligerent and grumpy of them not to step aside and let me pass.
they are probably not belligerent; they are probably perfectly nice folk.
But they really ARE oblivious.
so i accept their pace and slow down too.
and notice things i normally rush past and ignore - foodstuffs i've been oblivious to.
i end up at the checkout with strange food that will probably sit in my cupboard for years.
producers are now making money from grumpy-old-people TV series.
so supermarkets should cash-in on this too and start hiring grumpy old couples.
they're the human equivalent of those unsteerable shopping trolleys.
exasize 15
Some days are hard days.
Most days are normal but sometimes you wake up and just know.
Or sometimes, like this morning, it takes a few minutes...
i woke up happy with the sense of having just left some reassuring dreams but it soon crept in on me. I knew it was going to be a hard day:
- when I couldn't meditate. My mind wandered everywhere, down long tracks I could hardly drag it back from and i often forgot to drag it back.
- When I remembered that the problem I'd unhappily gone to sleep with, was not magically solved this new day. And that the problem could not be solved, only sent away. And that was sad. It felt like failure, defeat, giving up the good fight.
- when it became almost impossible to decide whether to cycle or drive to work. Will it rain? Will it not? Are they clouds? Is that blue sky? Is the weather website really accurate? What would happen if i drove? Would it really be the end of the world to get a little rained on while on and are the slippery roads too dangerous fror cycling? Does my body feel fatigued? Is it really up to the ride up that hill?
Whatever decision i make, i'll probably wish i'd made the other one. When simple decisions cripple you, you know something's up.
- when I arrived at work and a cold empty heaviness filled me as i reached the front door and my head felt big and pressure-filled.
I sat at my desk and worked with a tiny, indescribable sense of edge - the fringes of worry or fret just held at a distance, unacknowledged, un-permitted.
I went tensely to the internal meeting i didn't want to have. And survived it. It wasn't too bad at all.
Then finally a phone call from my Dad, who i've not heard from for weeks, with sad, worrying news about a family friend. And that was it. That's what I'd been unconsciously dreading all day. After that, my equilibrium returned - replaced with a concern that actually had a real focus, a reason.
And I was reminded yet again, that my gut is strong, and i can trust it to warn me.
Most days are normal but sometimes you wake up and just know.
Or sometimes, like this morning, it takes a few minutes...
i woke up happy with the sense of having just left some reassuring dreams but it soon crept in on me. I knew it was going to be a hard day:
- when I couldn't meditate. My mind wandered everywhere, down long tracks I could hardly drag it back from and i often forgot to drag it back.
- When I remembered that the problem I'd unhappily gone to sleep with, was not magically solved this new day. And that the problem could not be solved, only sent away. And that was sad. It felt like failure, defeat, giving up the good fight.
- when it became almost impossible to decide whether to cycle or drive to work. Will it rain? Will it not? Are they clouds? Is that blue sky? Is the weather website really accurate? What would happen if i drove? Would it really be the end of the world to get a little rained on while on and are the slippery roads too dangerous fror cycling? Does my body feel fatigued? Is it really up to the ride up that hill?
Whatever decision i make, i'll probably wish i'd made the other one. When simple decisions cripple you, you know something's up.
- when I arrived at work and a cold empty heaviness filled me as i reached the front door and my head felt big and pressure-filled.
I sat at my desk and worked with a tiny, indescribable sense of edge - the fringes of worry or fret just held at a distance, unacknowledged, un-permitted.
I went tensely to the internal meeting i didn't want to have. And survived it. It wasn't too bad at all.
Then finally a phone call from my Dad, who i've not heard from for weeks, with sad, worrying news about a family friend. And that was it. That's what I'd been unconsciously dreading all day. After that, my equilibrium returned - replaced with a concern that actually had a real focus, a reason.
And I was reminded yet again, that my gut is strong, and i can trust it to warn me.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
exasyz 14
i have certain emotions surrounding the annual Sculpture By the Sea.
And they're geographical.
For most people, it's a relaxing and cultural excursion, a day out with the kids, an excuse to walk by the sea, get some fresh air, enjoy some art.
This year is the 11th anniversary.
I was oblivious to it for the first 4, until i changed homes and moved into the area. Partnered. Settled down. Set for life.
The first year i was dropped off at Bondi and walked it alone. Needing space and giving it. My partner's son had not accepted that i was living with them now. And this was a custody night. So i left them to go home and have some time together. I walked the sculpture walk alone, wondering if this is what 'marriage' should be like.
The second year we walked it together. It wasn't bad, but often when the three of us tried to do something familyish together there were the attention struggles and i felt i wasn't wanted there.
The third year i missed. Maybe because the previous year was so un-fun or maybe because of the car accident. A P-plater drove into me. I flew off my bike, over her bonnet, landed on the road, on my chin, and my bike landed on top of me. So walking was out of the question for several days. I didn't ride again for 6 months.
The fourth year was hell. That was the first time we broke up, and I was distressed. He'd told me he "wanted to be alone" so i moved into an apartment for a while and suffered loneliness for the first time in my life. I did the walk with my sister and her new husband. They felt it would be good for me to get out and walk, which is a proven help with depression. But all i saw were happy couples walking the walk together, and happy families picnicking around the sculptures up on the grassy hill and i just wept.
Between then and the 5th year we'd ended up back together again, but for his son's sake I was still living half in the apartment (on custody nights) and back in my home the rest of the time. And still feeling slightly anxious for no real reason. I did the 5th walk with some colleagues, after an office lunch. It was strange and sad to be walking past the sculptures towards my home, but knowing i'd have to take a taxi across the city to the now hated apartment in a soulless new inner-city development. I smiled and told myself it would be ok, that the space and time alone on these nights was good for all three of us.
Eventually i gave up the apartment, moved back into my home and the anxiety dwindled away.
The 6th year, last year, i walked it in a kind of stupor. He'd really left me this time, in a painful and messy way, of course. I was deep in shock and grief. My over-stressed brain was incapable of laying down memory. I don't remember much about it at all. My brother was visiting from the states, so we walked together. He took some nice photos and i just walked, placing one foot in front of the other.
The 7th year, this year, was to be finally my own: my walk with the sculptures free of all that past crap. But it can come back to bite you on the ass when you least expect it. The trouble is that the walk connects my current home with my past home. And therefore with the people who are now living in my past home: him and his new flame.
I did it in two stages. First i enjoyed a cluster of the major works - on the grassy hill - one drizzly midweek afternoon after a relaxing massage and acupuncture session. But the second stage - the pieces along the walking track - was marred by a single idle thought. It occurred to me as i started out on an overly-crowded, sunday afternoon, that i could feasibly encounter or pass them on the path. Of course they'd do the walk at some stage. A happy couple, hand in hand. And i realized he'd never done that with me.
I blocked the thought and found a long moment of peace, midway. I sat on the edge of the high rocks watching the surfers; meditating on the way they're lying and paddling one moment, and standing up the next. Admiring the experienced riders who made their trips last for many seconds longer than the others. All that waiting for just one or two seconds on a wave.
But then i was walking again, heading back home, and the thought returned. Walked myself up into a crankiness; a tense indignation. Even after all this time they're still in my face, living in my suburb, coming in to my place of work, ruining my fun. And as these stupid, pointless, SENSELESS thoughts looped over and over, i noticed my old hip pain returning, my knee felt funny. My body was trying to tell me something.
But it wasn't until i came home and stepped in a puddle of cat pee that i really lost it.
On Monday i finally started that meditation course that i've been meaning to do for about a year.
And they're geographical.
For most people, it's a relaxing and cultural excursion, a day out with the kids, an excuse to walk by the sea, get some fresh air, enjoy some art.
This year is the 11th anniversary.
I was oblivious to it for the first 4, until i changed homes and moved into the area. Partnered. Settled down. Set for life.
The first year i was dropped off at Bondi and walked it alone. Needing space and giving it. My partner's son had not accepted that i was living with them now. And this was a custody night. So i left them to go home and have some time together. I walked the sculpture walk alone, wondering if this is what 'marriage' should be like.
The second year we walked it together. It wasn't bad, but often when the three of us tried to do something familyish together there were the attention struggles and i felt i wasn't wanted there.
The third year i missed. Maybe because the previous year was so un-fun or maybe because of the car accident. A P-plater drove into me. I flew off my bike, over her bonnet, landed on the road, on my chin, and my bike landed on top of me. So walking was out of the question for several days. I didn't ride again for 6 months.
The fourth year was hell. That was the first time we broke up, and I was distressed. He'd told me he "wanted to be alone" so i moved into an apartment for a while and suffered loneliness for the first time in my life. I did the walk with my sister and her new husband. They felt it would be good for me to get out and walk, which is a proven help with depression. But all i saw were happy couples walking the walk together, and happy families picnicking around the sculptures up on the grassy hill and i just wept.
Between then and the 5th year we'd ended up back together again, but for his son's sake I was still living half in the apartment (on custody nights) and back in my home the rest of the time. And still feeling slightly anxious for no real reason. I did the 5th walk with some colleagues, after an office lunch. It was strange and sad to be walking past the sculptures towards my home, but knowing i'd have to take a taxi across the city to the now hated apartment in a soulless new inner-city development. I smiled and told myself it would be ok, that the space and time alone on these nights was good for all three of us.
Eventually i gave up the apartment, moved back into my home and the anxiety dwindled away.
The 6th year, last year, i walked it in a kind of stupor. He'd really left me this time, in a painful and messy way, of course. I was deep in shock and grief. My over-stressed brain was incapable of laying down memory. I don't remember much about it at all. My brother was visiting from the states, so we walked together. He took some nice photos and i just walked, placing one foot in front of the other.
The 7th year, this year, was to be finally my own: my walk with the sculptures free of all that past crap. But it can come back to bite you on the ass when you least expect it. The trouble is that the walk connects my current home with my past home. And therefore with the people who are now living in my past home: him and his new flame.
I did it in two stages. First i enjoyed a cluster of the major works - on the grassy hill - one drizzly midweek afternoon after a relaxing massage and acupuncture session. But the second stage - the pieces along the walking track - was marred by a single idle thought. It occurred to me as i started out on an overly-crowded, sunday afternoon, that i could feasibly encounter or pass them on the path. Of course they'd do the walk at some stage. A happy couple, hand in hand. And i realized he'd never done that with me.
I blocked the thought and found a long moment of peace, midway. I sat on the edge of the high rocks watching the surfers; meditating on the way they're lying and paddling one moment, and standing up the next. Admiring the experienced riders who made their trips last for many seconds longer than the others. All that waiting for just one or two seconds on a wave.
But then i was walking again, heading back home, and the thought returned. Walked myself up into a crankiness; a tense indignation. Even after all this time they're still in my face, living in my suburb, coming in to my place of work, ruining my fun. And as these stupid, pointless, SENSELESS thoughts looped over and over, i noticed my old hip pain returning, my knee felt funny. My body was trying to tell me something.
But it wasn't until i came home and stepped in a puddle of cat pee that i really lost it.
On Monday i finally started that meditation course that i've been meaning to do for about a year.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
eksaseyes 13
You just can't reason with drunk people.
2.40am. I've just returned home and the neighbours are outside in their backyard partying noisily.
So i go downstairs, smile over the fence and request they turn off their stereo. It's a fair enough ask. Midnight is the usual (legal?) cut-off time for suburban noise disturbance. They've had nearly 3 hours extra.
I am calm and reasonable and naively i expected them to be the happy, "yeah whatever," peace-and-goodwill-to-everyone type of drunks who, with a slurry apology, would shut off their music.
Silly me. The host fails to understand what i'm asking.
"We never have parties. It's my girlfriend's farewell." (as if this, and their previously clean party record, is some kind of waiver).
"It's saturday night. Why do you need to go to sleep? It's SATURDAY night. You don't have to do anything tomorrow."
Meaning HE doesn't have to get up and do anything tomorrow. He has no concept of anything outside his own tiny little world. He wants to stay up and party on Saturday night (as do his dozen or so friends) Ergo, everyone in the world wants to party all saturday night. (Except boring old me who only wants to party til 2.30 am.)
He tells me i should be satisfied that they've turned the music down. He points in the direction of the music source as if to prove it.
It doesn't sound any different. I don't believe him. Perhaps i should have accepted his compromise and left it there. But i feel there's already been enuf compromise: it's 2.45 am.
And i try to explain again that any volume of music will keep me and the other neighbours awake. Plus he can't complain - they've had over 2 hours extra music time since midnight. I am not asking them to stop partying. I am still being reasonable. But i can feel my face starting to set and i am no longer smiling. Dammit. I am tired and failing to see the humour any more.
Suddenly he's switched to anger. That's excessive alcohol for you.
"OK. Go. Call the police then!"
Police? Who said anything about police?
Not me. We can work this out between us like civilised fellow human beings.
(Can't we??)
We can't because one of us is off his face (hint - it's not me). So are his friends. One of them, a short blond girl, is taking it very badly and trying to verbally abuse me, but one of her less unreasonable friends has his hand clamped across her mouth. I'm sort of disappointed. The curious me wanted to hear what sort of crap she'd come out with. But i guess i know, because the host has some abuse of his own waiting, and several guests are now leaving, talking loudly about how i've killed all the fun and ruined the evening. Apparently you can't have a party without music. I don't even try suggesting they all head down the the crowded, pumping local pub where clearly they'll be able to make as much noise as they like and go crazy til dawn. Because they can't be reasoned with. It's as if they all have tunnel vision and literal or lateral options are inconceivable.
At the same time, a tiny part of me is also sinking - am i a miserable kill-joy?
When i realise we've reached an impasse, i skeptically agree to go upstairs and see if the reduced volume is tolerable. I am still calm as i slowly turn and walk away , but my heart is beating a little fast, from his unexpected unreasonableness and outright aggression.
To my back he yells something like "yeah-fuck-off-you-stupid-bitch".
Should i have kept walking? The old me probably would have. (The old me probably wouldn't have even started this.) But no more doormat. This me turns and asks pardon what did you say?!
A response of more blather that i can't recall. He never has the guts to abuse me to my face. Just more macho posturing as he again he dares me to go away and call the police.
So again, i turn and slowly, calmly walk away, up the stairs.
And he starts singing. Louder and louder, some sad classic ballad that they are now clapping along with. He sings quite well; i enjoy being serenaded up my stairs and am smiling, humming and stepping in rhythm. I'm almost tempted to run back down and start singing along with them.
But i know when enough's enough. I hear his message. We will turn off our stereo, but we can still make enough noise to piss you off.
When i'm home inside i hear bottles breaking and hope that they don't realise my car is parked right on the other side of the fence. But they've already forgotten me now and and are back in their little party land.
...........
Today i watched them bounce down the street, a happy party, out for more fun somewhere. They're clearly unharmed by my interruption last night, so it seems i didn't kill their fun and ruin their night at all.
2.40am. I've just returned home and the neighbours are outside in their backyard partying noisily.
So i go downstairs, smile over the fence and request they turn off their stereo. It's a fair enough ask. Midnight is the usual (legal?) cut-off time for suburban noise disturbance. They've had nearly 3 hours extra.
I am calm and reasonable and naively i expected them to be the happy, "yeah whatever," peace-and-goodwill-to-everyone type of drunks who, with a slurry apology, would shut off their music.
Silly me. The host fails to understand what i'm asking.
"We never have parties. It's my girlfriend's farewell." (as if this, and their previously clean party record, is some kind of waiver).
"It's saturday night. Why do you need to go to sleep? It's SATURDAY night. You don't have to do anything tomorrow."
Meaning HE doesn't have to get up and do anything tomorrow. He has no concept of anything outside his own tiny little world. He wants to stay up and party on Saturday night (as do his dozen or so friends) Ergo, everyone in the world wants to party all saturday night. (Except boring old me who only wants to party til 2.30 am.)
He tells me i should be satisfied that they've turned the music down. He points in the direction of the music source as if to prove it.
It doesn't sound any different. I don't believe him. Perhaps i should have accepted his compromise and left it there. But i feel there's already been enuf compromise: it's 2.45 am.
And i try to explain again that any volume of music will keep me and the other neighbours awake. Plus he can't complain - they've had over 2 hours extra music time since midnight. I am not asking them to stop partying. I am still being reasonable. But i can feel my face starting to set and i am no longer smiling. Dammit. I am tired and failing to see the humour any more.
Suddenly he's switched to anger. That's excessive alcohol for you.
"OK. Go. Call the police then!"
Police? Who said anything about police?
Not me. We can work this out between us like civilised fellow human beings.
(Can't we??)
We can't because one of us is off his face (hint - it's not me). So are his friends. One of them, a short blond girl, is taking it very badly and trying to verbally abuse me, but one of her less unreasonable friends has his hand clamped across her mouth. I'm sort of disappointed. The curious me wanted to hear what sort of crap she'd come out with. But i guess i know, because the host has some abuse of his own waiting, and several guests are now leaving, talking loudly about how i've killed all the fun and ruined the evening. Apparently you can't have a party without music. I don't even try suggesting they all head down the the crowded, pumping local pub where clearly they'll be able to make as much noise as they like and go crazy til dawn. Because they can't be reasoned with. It's as if they all have tunnel vision and literal or lateral options are inconceivable.
At the same time, a tiny part of me is also sinking - am i a miserable kill-joy?
When i realise we've reached an impasse, i skeptically agree to go upstairs and see if the reduced volume is tolerable. I am still calm as i slowly turn and walk away , but my heart is beating a little fast, from his unexpected unreasonableness and outright aggression.
To my back he yells something like "yeah-fuck-off-you-stupid-bitch".
Should i have kept walking? The old me probably would have. (The old me probably wouldn't have even started this.) But no more doormat. This me turns and asks pardon what did you say?!
A response of more blather that i can't recall. He never has the guts to abuse me to my face. Just more macho posturing as he again he dares me to go away and call the police.
So again, i turn and slowly, calmly walk away, up the stairs.
And he starts singing. Louder and louder, some sad classic ballad that they are now clapping along with. He sings quite well; i enjoy being serenaded up my stairs and am smiling, humming and stepping in rhythm. I'm almost tempted to run back down and start singing along with them.
But i know when enough's enough. I hear his message. We will turn off our stereo, but we can still make enough noise to piss you off.
When i'm home inside i hear bottles breaking and hope that they don't realise my car is parked right on the other side of the fence. But they've already forgotten me now and and are back in their little party land.
...........
Today i watched them bounce down the street, a happy party, out for more fun somewhere. They're clearly unharmed by my interruption last night, so it seems i didn't kill their fun and ruin their night at all.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
exerci5e i2
When i was a student, wandering around London in my gap year, i discovered the secret of invisibility.
I found i could sit at the top of a double-decker bus, and when the Ticket Inspector came round to collect fares, he or she would pass me by. Now these ticket collectors were trained to watch people, see who climbed on and off the bus, then seek out new passengers between stops and sell them tickets. Somehow i slipped by unnoticed, and sat there unnoticed as they took fares from the people around me. I was a penniless student then, so it was a nice break.
I found i could walk the streets of London, from Leicester Square to Shepherd's Bush, at 2am completely unmolested and unaccosted. The power of invisibility. I was very thin then too, when i was young. A friend joked that if i turned sideways i'd disappear. Maybe it was true.
I thought i'd rediscovered my old trick at a networking event on Monday night. A room full of people, and i sat in it alone, ignored, for most of the night. A woman i met months ago, thru a mutual friend, and who at the time had hooked me up with some contacts, walked right past me when she entered. She was treated rather like royalty. You know, one of those people that everyone in the room wants to say hi and chat to as she passes them. She skipped over me, then stood to my left having a noisy conversation with someone, so it was difficult for me to hear the quite interesting speaker. And she kept hitting me on the side of my head with her handbag every time she adjusted her stance during her animated conversation. As she left, again, several people trying to grab her attention and have a few words, she skipped over me again. I also caught the eye of another fellow i'd met at a previous networking event. He looked blank, ever so slightly puzzled, and moved on. His look said "Who on earth is this woman and why is she smiling at me?"
Yep. I am invisible.
But truth be told, the girl on my right struck up a conversation with me in the break. A fellow i'd discussed a job with several months ago, recognised me and nodded. And as it turns out, the woman who blanked me is "blind" - or at least has terrible eyesight (she wears contact lenses apparently) and is terribly vague and scatterbrained.
So. It's not me then.
But sometimes - usually - the energy you send out is the energy you get back. You feel like a wallflower and people will treat you like one.
Some Invisible Links:
More Invisible LOLcats
Kate Bush - How to be Invisible
How to be Invisible
How to Become Invisible
HowToBeInvisible.com
The Invisible Man
Girl Disappearing
I found i could sit at the top of a double-decker bus, and when the Ticket Inspector came round to collect fares, he or she would pass me by. Now these ticket collectors were trained to watch people, see who climbed on and off the bus, then seek out new passengers between stops and sell them tickets. Somehow i slipped by unnoticed, and sat there unnoticed as they took fares from the people around me. I was a penniless student then, so it was a nice break.
I found i could walk the streets of London, from Leicester Square to Shepherd's Bush, at 2am completely unmolested and unaccosted. The power of invisibility. I was very thin then too, when i was young. A friend joked that if i turned sideways i'd disappear. Maybe it was true.
I thought i'd rediscovered my old trick at a networking event on Monday night. A room full of people, and i sat in it alone, ignored, for most of the night. A woman i met months ago, thru a mutual friend, and who at the time had hooked me up with some contacts, walked right past me when she entered. She was treated rather like royalty. You know, one of those people that everyone in the room wants to say hi and chat to as she passes them. She skipped over me, then stood to my left having a noisy conversation with someone, so it was difficult for me to hear the quite interesting speaker. And she kept hitting me on the side of my head with her handbag every time she adjusted her stance during her animated conversation. As she left, again, several people trying to grab her attention and have a few words, she skipped over me again. I also caught the eye of another fellow i'd met at a previous networking event. He looked blank, ever so slightly puzzled, and moved on. His look said "Who on earth is this woman and why is she smiling at me?"
Yep. I am invisible.
But truth be told, the girl on my right struck up a conversation with me in the break. A fellow i'd discussed a job with several months ago, recognised me and nodded. And as it turns out, the woman who blanked me is "blind" - or at least has terrible eyesight (she wears contact lenses apparently) and is terribly vague and scatterbrained.
So. It's not me then.
But sometimes - usually - the energy you send out is the energy you get back. You feel like a wallflower and people will treat you like one.
Some Invisible Links:
More Invisible LOLcats
Kate Bush - How to be Invisible
How to be Invisible
How to Become Invisible
HowToBeInvisible.com
The Invisible Man
Girl Disappearing
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
exerci5e II
To use a tired idiom, i spoke too soon.
(i googled the phrase and had 2,250,000 hits)
Just when i thought it was safe to go back in the in-tray (to use another one) i received that email i'd stopped expecting.
An abstruse poem, and a hopeful little statement that he writes with no agenda (to use yet another overused idiom).
Who's he kidding.
There's always an agenda; hidden or otherwise. You don't spend quality time composing poetry about the confused state of your mind, and then send it to someone you've promised not to contact again, without an agenda.
Life's just one BIG agenda.
(I just googled that:
Your search - "Life's just one big agenda" - did not match any documents.)
Huzzah. Originality at last.
(i googled the phrase and had 2,250,000 hits)
Just when i thought it was safe to go back in the in-tray (to use another one) i received that email i'd stopped expecting.
An abstruse poem, and a hopeful little statement that he writes with no agenda (to use yet another overused idiom).
Who's he kidding.
There's always an agenda; hidden or otherwise. You don't spend quality time composing poetry about the confused state of your mind, and then send it to someone you've promised not to contact again, without an agenda.
Life's just one BIG agenda.
(I just googled that:
Your search - "Life's just one big agenda" - did not match any documents.)
Huzzah. Originality at last.
Exerci5e io
The latest SMS:
Is your private email still xxx@xxxx.com?
Innocent enough you might think.
But when you've made it clear you really don't want to talk to someone, and that someone just recently agreed to stop "pestering you", a message like this can spin the imagination.
The possible scenarios and explanations that my brain has managed to create are quite impressive; Some of them ridiculous bordering on the embarrassing and at times macabre.
I might struggle to invent storywriting material, but a simple sms can put my "crazy postulation" cortex into overdrive. (i might be onto something here)
I really wonder about the independent power of the mind, as it seems to be quite enjoying itself.
But I work hard to keep it in check; to NOT think about it, or lose sleep, or start to worry, and fight that suspense-might-kill-me sensation.
But after all that, I never receive any email.
No follow up sms. That was it. An idle question.
Someone was probably just bored one sunday afternoon and decided to update his address book.
The truth, if I ever learn it, is bound to be crashingly dull; more banal than even the banalest scenario i can imagine.
That's why we have books. And TV. And films. And... and... and....
Is your private email still xxx@xxxx.com?
Innocent enough you might think.
But when you've made it clear you really don't want to talk to someone, and that someone just recently agreed to stop "pestering you", a message like this can spin the imagination.
The possible scenarios and explanations that my brain has managed to create are quite impressive; Some of them ridiculous bordering on the embarrassing and at times macabre.
I might struggle to invent storywriting material, but a simple sms can put my "crazy postulation" cortex into overdrive. (i might be onto something here)
I really wonder about the independent power of the mind, as it seems to be quite enjoying itself.
But I work hard to keep it in check; to NOT think about it, or lose sleep, or start to worry, and fight that suspense-might-kill-me sensation.
But after all that, I never receive any email.
No follow up sms. That was it. An idle question.
Someone was probably just bored one sunday afternoon and decided to update his address book.
The truth, if I ever learn it, is bound to be crashingly dull; more banal than even the banalest scenario i can imagine.
That's why we have books. And TV. And films. And... and... and....
Friday, November 2, 2007
Exercise 9
I've invented a game. Probably a drinking game.
Well, i'd "been drinking"* when i invented it.
(*Does one drink count?)
The acronym game.
Pick a random word and make it into a relevant acronym.
Points are awarded for both speed and quality.
So something dumb but produced in less than 30 seconds will score as well as or higher than a brilliant literary effort that took hours.
eg Chickens : Clucking Hens In Coops Keeping Eggs Nesting Snugly
Twee. No literary genius here, but i did come up with it in less than 1 minute (as you can probably tell).
Acronym is my everest.
A Collected Run Of Nomenclaturic Y.......... Meaning
The y is a stumper, as is the inconveniently placed o.
A Collection .... Reasonably Obvious NotionallY Meaning
Clearly this is going to take more than 10 minutes. sigh.
Acronym is a thus a pretty crap word for what it means.
All submissions welcome.
Well, i'd "been drinking"* when i invented it.
(*Does one drink count?)
The acronym game.
Pick a random word and make it into a relevant acronym.
Points are awarded for both speed and quality.
So something dumb but produced in less than 30 seconds will score as well as or higher than a brilliant literary effort that took hours.
eg Chickens : Clucking Hens In Coops Keeping Eggs Nesting Snugly
Twee. No literary genius here, but i did come up with it in less than 1 minute (as you can probably tell).
Acronym is my everest.
A Collected Run Of Nomenclaturic Y.......... Meaning
The y is a stumper, as is the inconveniently placed o.
A Collection .... Reasonably Obvious NotionallY Meaning
Clearly this is going to take more than 10 minutes. sigh.
Acronym is a thus a pretty crap word for what it means.
All submissions welcome.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Exercise 8
So. The chinese government will not take steps to stop the repression, violence and killing in Burma.
“Even worse, the Chinese government has blocked most of the international efforts to effectively address the crisis.” (HRW)
And on the other hand: when the Canadian prime minister Stephen Harper welcomed the Dalai Lama into his office, China not only condemned Canada's "disgusting behaviour" but actually "demanded that Ottawa stop supporting anti-Chinese activities by exiled Tibetans." (SMH Oct 31st)
Demanded?
So. It's ok for a government to exercise its power in another country to effect change, only when it's in China's favour?
China's getting a lot of bad press lately. The pressure to improve their human rights policies in the lead up to the 2008 olympics will be interesting to watch.
“Even worse, the Chinese government has blocked most of the international efforts to effectively address the crisis.” (HRW)
And on the other hand: when the Canadian prime minister Stephen Harper welcomed the Dalai Lama into his office, China not only condemned Canada's "disgusting behaviour" but actually "demanded that Ottawa stop supporting anti-Chinese activities by exiled Tibetans." (SMH Oct 31st)
Demanded?
So. It's ok for a government to exercise its power in another country to effect change, only when it's in China's favour?
China's getting a lot of bad press lately. The pressure to improve their human rights policies in the lead up to the 2008 olympics will be interesting to watch.
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