Song for a Sunday

Months and months ago, this song was something I couldn’t listen to because it struck a chord inside while I was crying and hurting inside. It wasn’t necessarily the lyrics or the music or Etta James’ voice, but the whole package. It was a song at that time that perfectly captured how I was feeling. It was doubly galling as it is a song I absolutely love, although I can’t pin-point why. It’s one of those songs I could listen to over and over and never get sick of (as is the case with most of Etta James’ songs).

It wasn’t until the past week that I finally listened to this song again and realised I still love it. Sure, it reminded me of that time in my life, like certain songs remind us of a time or a place or a person. But it was a great feeling that I could listen to it without it hurting me anymore. Instead, it gave me joy. Joy because the pain has been so great that I savour happiness and good times with greater appreciation now. I still get the sads, still get melancholy sometimes and recently was going through a very rough patch (from which I think I’ve come through), but now I know I can be sad and I know there will be happy days ahead. I know that I can ride it through and I will get there. And I’m going to love it all the more.

A very good question

Overnight a search term appeared on this blog:

Where do dumbshits come from?

I want you dear readers to proffer your theories in the comments, please. Go hard and be a dumbshit too, if you want.

Best response will get my entire Allen key set.

He has a point… to a point

My face is not my business? It’s public property? I’m not sure I agree with that. Read on and ask if other parts of my or your body is public property? (I know some of you will be thinking of smart-arse/dirty responses; I have already, too.)

In my e-mail inbox today from Rabbi Aron Moss comes this:

Question of the Week: A quick question… my friends often tell me to smile more. But how can one always just smile and be happy if (not so) deep down one has pressing troubles, worries and problems to deal with? Must I smile when I am not in the mood?

Answer:

What has smiling to do with your mood? What has the look on your face to do with the feelings in your heart?

Your face is not your business. It is public property.  You only have to look at your own face once briefly in the morning. Everyone else has to look at your face all day. So just because you are in a bad mood or going through a rough patch, doesn’t mean everyone else has to be brought down too. The people around you deserve to be greeted with a pleasant face.

Of course, smiling is not only for the benefit of others, but for your own benefit too. The number one cause of misery is not life’s troubles but rather self-absorption. The more you think about yourself and your predicament, the more you marinate in self-pity, the more miserable you become.

On the other hand, when you look outside of yourself, look around you and see how you can be of service to others when you smile not because you are in the mood but because others deserve to be smiled at, you start to feel upbeat and light again.

This is not to say that there are never any real reasons to be sad, or that smiling is a magical cure for depression. The point is that smiling is a duty you have to others. And when you focus on your duties rather than your difficulties, you are on the road to happiness.

Good Shabbos,

Rabbi Moss.

It is true: when I feel down and glum but force myself to smile at someone, whether a stranger or not, I do feel marginally better. And, of course, when people smile at me, I feel a kick up the arse to get out of my misery and smile back. Smile and the world smiles back at you, as the cliche goes.

But I still can’t get past the part about my face being none of my business. It is. What I do with it is ultimately up to me — I am not obliged to smile like a chimp on speed at everyone I come across. Why am I? Says who? Just as the rest of my body is my business. How do you separate your face from your body?

Hmm.

Anyway, it’s Friday — SMILE!

Rise up this mornin’, smiled with the risin’ sun

The other night, I was emotionally exhausted and felt so low. I lamented to a friend, “I wish there was a time machine where I could turn back time so that I don’t have so many regrets.”

I was expecting a reply from him saying something like, “Give it time” or “Time will heal the pain”. Instead, I got this rather blunt but so true  and honest, “You still have another 45 or so years ahead of you.”

That pulled me up short. At first I thought it was depressing: 45 years of more of this shit?! NO! I don’t want this anymore!

But after a while, I realised that that’s just this crazy thing called Life. It’s unpredictable and wild and yet can be so exciting.

We’re going to make mistakes, we’re going to get hurt, we’re going to do stupid things, we’re going to have more regrets.

We all come with baggage and we will gain some more. We can only learn and grow if we are willing. And, dammit, I am willing.

There are going to be more good times, more fun times, more wonderful, exhilarating, happy, joyous times. There will be times we do the right thing that makes others happy. We will get some things right and won’t need a time machine.

For me, the positives far outweigh the negatives.

I look forward to the next 45 years. Bring it on.

OI OI OI Day

I’m sick of Australia Day already. I was sick of it as soon as Sam Kekovich’s “eat lamb on Australia Day” ads appeared on TV. I got more sick when clothing shops started selling apparel with the Australian flag on them. I nearly hurled when I read an Aldi brochure and saw they were selling Australian flags for five bucks. Probably made in China.

But most of all, I’m dreading the whole bloody “I am Australian and proud of it. Love it or leave it” bullshit that accompanies it these days. Much has been said about this bizarre new sense of “patriotism”. Where the hell did that kind of fuckwittery come from? How have we allowed racist elements perpetuate that to be “Aussie” is to shout OI OI OI and abuse ethnic groups on Australia Day? What’s with wearing the flag as a cape? It’s ironic that they love the flag so much but are completely ignorant with flag protocol.Those who claim to love the flag the most are the most disrespectful to it!

Anyway, on Facebook, there’s a group called “Fuck off, xenophobes – we’re full” and last night they sent members a message on how to survive Invasion Day. Or, rather, Survival Tips for Zombie Invasion Day. I present it here so that you, too, may find some assistance on getting through this horrid day.

Zombie invasions: usually confined to the realms of video games and horror movies, they are an actual phenomenon that occurs about once every year here in Australia. In order to avoid causing panic amongst the population, this annual day of terror has been given the less threatening name of ‘Australia Day’, a day which most sensible citizens choose to spend in the basement.

The zombies themselves are many, but they are easy to spot. For example, they usually congregate in groups, dress themselves in Australian flags and shout profanities. Their primary sustenance seems to be beer – unlike traditional zombies, they don’t eat brains, a fact which has been linked to their own deficiencies in this regard. Nevertheless, they are still quite dangerous, and have a penchant for attacking people who make eye contact with them and/or are of non-Anglo-Saxon appearance.

While most government agencies recommend that citizens stay indoors and wait until the ghouls have passed out from excessive alcohol consumption, there are some who brave the outside world and help maintain some semblance of order amidst the anarchy. If you are one of those courageous souls, here are some guidelines to help you survive the most dangerous 24 hours of the year:

1) Ensure that you have a basic knowledge of martial arts, in case a zombie requests you to “kiss the fuckin’ flag”. A swift kick to the balls of the antagonist is efficient, completely defensible in court and very, very satisfying.

2) Carry a can of kerosene and a cigarette lighter at all times. Setting an assailant’s flag-cape on fire is an effective distraction and will allow time for escape.

3) Keep a boombox on hand wherever possible, along with a CD of traditional Indian music. This “foreign shit” is known to enrage zombies, who generally prefer the foreign shit from America. Play CD loudly until zombies are driven away – if this doesn’t work, resort to heavy weaponry.

4) Summon the Pied Piper of Hamelin and get him to play ‘Waltzing Matilda’, ‘C’mon Aussie C’mon’, that terrible ‘True Blue’ song or a simple ‘Aussie Aussie Aussie’ chant, and dance off in the direction of a cliff. Alternately, he may choose to take them back to his magical kingdom to be zombie slaves. We’re not fussed.

So, whatever your plans for survival this Australia Day, just remember to keep safe, and do not go to the cricket under any circumstance. While we are sadly anticipating another day of zombie carnage on Tuesday, let us all be joined in the hope that, one day in the not too distant future, Australia will be a relatively zombie-free country; for, when that day comes, January 26 may even start to represent things like inclusiveness, optimism and celebration, instead of stupidity, racism, violence and those damn zombies.

America the ….?

Have you ever notice those strange moments when you suddenly hear a particular phrase, a particular word, a particular name or a particular place a lot in a short period of time? Your friends who don’t know each other might suddenly start mentioning it in the same timeframe, or you might be thinking or reading about something then see it on TV, or a rarely-used word might suddenly start being used by everyone? You think to yourself, “Goodness, I was just talking about that, thinking about that, reading about that, listening to that…”

Then, as quickly it appears, it disappears.

And so it has been in the past week for me. This time it’s not a topic that’s unusual, but just the number of people whose only common thread is their friendship or acquaintance with me. The topic? Well, not a topic as such but more of a sentiment: America is fucked and so are the Americans.

I have no idea where it came from. It just kept coming up in conversation and it’s been quite strong, hence the strangeness of it all. Anti-American sentiment is nothing new, I hear something negative nearly every day, but I wasn’t expecting it to come up in conversation with people I know.

What made it odder still was it wasn’t just American foreign policy that was the target of scorn, but the American people and the American culture as well. It was getting so that I was getting rather uncomfortable about it — what’s with the hate? What’s with the generalisations? The stereotyping? The idea that all Americans are a bunch of rednecks?

Because I know Americans as a whole aren’t like that. C’mon! Please! Be logical! Be sensible! 63.4 million people who voted for Obama can’t be wrong! (Yes, I have the hots for Obama. It’s not a well-kept secret.) I personally know a number of Americans who are progressive and open-minded and hated the direction their country was going during the Bush/Cheney years. Some of my best friends are Americans!

It was in the middle of this strange, but short-lived, phenomenon that I started, coincidentally, reading Stephen Fry in America.

Fry’s introduction made me think how the English and Australians have similar attitudes to Americans. He writes about the attitudes of his fellow Englishmen (and women) toward Americans — attitudes that were much the same I’d been experiencing here. It is an interesting hypothetical insight from a supremely intelligent and funny Pom.

I have often felt a hot flare of shame inside me when I listen to my fellow Britons casually jeering at the perceived depth of American ignorance, American crassness, American isolationism, American materialism, American lack of irony and American vulgarity. Aside from the sheer rudeness of such open and unapologetic mockery, it seems to me to reveal very little about America and a great deal about the rather feeble need of some Britons to feel superior. All right, they seem to be saying, we no longer have an Empire, power, prestige or respect in the world, but we do have ‘taste’ and ’subtlety’ and ‘broad general knowledge’, unlike those poor Yanks.

…

Such Britons hug themselves with the thought that they are more cosmopolitan and sophisticated than Americans because they think they know more about geography and world culture, as if firstly being cosmpolitan and sophisticated can be scored in a quiz and as if secondly (and much more importantly) being cosmpolitan and sophisticated is in any way desirable or admirable to begin with. Sophistication is not a moral quality, nor is it (unless one is mad) a criterion by which one would choose one’s friends. Why do we like people? Because they are knowledgeable, cosmopolitan and sophisticated? No, because they are charming, kind, considerate, exciting to be with, amusing… there is a long list, but knowing what the capital of Kazakhstan is will not be on it. Unless, as I repeat, you are mad.

The truth is, we are offended by the clear fact that so many Americans know and care so very little about us. How dare they not know who our Prime Minister is, or be so indifferent as to believe that Wales is an island off the coast of Scotland? …

It was the last paragraph that particularly got me. I’ve been just as guilty as my fellow Australians in bitching that Americans don’t know where Australia is, thinking that Australia was just a tiny tiny little island, believing us when we tell them that kangaroos hop down our busy city streets, that we have koalas as pets in our lounge room, that we don’t have skyscrapers and motorways but live in shanties in the “outback”. I remember being in a Yahoo chatroom in the olden days telling a bunch of Americans that we don’t have toilet sanitation but that we shit in holes in the ground  we dug up. Their response was hilarious — until one American guy came in and told them I was bullshitting them. Oooh, the anger! I left in a hurry.

American foreign policy and even some of their internal/national policies often leave us aghast and angry. The Christian Right are just simply bigoted and awful. But let’s leave the anger there and not blame the people themselves.

Except for those dumb fucks who voted for Bush/Cheney in the first place, of course.

A new post!

I have so much to say, things I want to get off my chest, observations to make, complaints to offload.

But I just can’t be fucked at the moment. Busy with writing job applications, surviving the heat, getting control of my life after a few horrendous weeks, making decisions, and next week will hopefully be moving to a place with air-conditioning!

I will be writing again soon. Just one of those periods where I’m not inspired to write, even though I have a lot on my mind.

See you shortly.

I can’t think of a title. Leave me the fuck alone.

Ever have one of those days when everything just gets too much? Trying to be a better person, trying to improve, trying to please not only others but yourself? Feeling like an utter failure when you slip up? Feeling like an utter moron when you fuck up? Feeling like an unlikeable person that no one could possibly like because you don’t like yourself that much either?

Today is one of those days.

I hope it doesn’t last for too long.

Going for a long walk now. Here’s hoping that does the trick.

Stupidity

There’s a new movie coming out that has a 12 year old actress (spare me the whole “male actor” and “female actor” nonsense) shooting a man in the head and using explicit language (“cunt”).

The Daily Telegraph are all over it like a rash. Anything for a moral panic.

The so-called “family groups” are also all over it. Anything for a moral panic and publicity to their cause.

Australian Family Association spokesman John Morrissey said:

“The language is offensive and the values inappropriate – without the saving grace of the bloodless victory of traditional superheroes.”

Fuck off. Just fuck off.

But thanks for the publicity anyway, Tele and AFA. I want to see it now. I hadn’t even heard of it until you started crawling all over it like it was Piss Jesus Mk II.

The [MA] rating has outraged Australian family groups who are reluctant to discredit it openly, fearing it would publicise the movie further.

See.

Fucking morons.

Love me, love me not

I had a friend once called Emma. And yes, that’s her real name. I use it because it is unlikely she reads this blog.

One day Emma was talking about her then-boyfriend, about some argument they had had or some such. I can’t remember the story, mainly because they had a tempestuous relationship and their fights were non-stop.

However, one thing that Emma said to me that I’ve never forgotten, because it’s bugged me all this time. She said to me, “He should just love me unconditionally.”

Well, yes.

And no.

As with everything, there’s a for and against to this statement.

YES:

• unconditional love denotes acceptance for the person just the way they are
• unconditional love does not put undue pressure on someone to change or conform to someone else’s ideal image
• unconditional love makes people feel loved and valued for who they are and can just be themselves
• unconditional love is to love someone regardless of their beliefs or actions or values

NO:

• unconditional love runs the risk of accepting unacceptable behaviour in others
• unconditional love means there’s no constructive criticism for someone to become a better person
• unconditional love might allow an abusive partner to get away with being abusive
• unconditional love may implicitly (or explicitly) condone hateful and/or dangerous beliefs or actions or values
• disagreeing with the concept of unconditional love doesn’t mean you lose faith in people; faith and unconditional love are different things

As it so happens, I had an argument with a friend tonight about something which ended with me being (quite rightly) chastened with the comment, “How about you just not mouthing off when you disagree with me?”

Yeah. I accept that one. I did mouth off before I realised I was doing it, for two reasons:

• I sometimes tend to be controlling. It’s been a long time realising that and just as long accepting that, but I agree. Instead of just accepting, I try to change the situation or change someone’s mind or somehow just control things as I see fit
• I genuinely and strongly disagreed about something my friend and I were talking about and damned if I wasn’t going to say something

That’s the conundrum. How much unconditional love do I give (i.e. accepting my friend’s decision and not shoot my mouth off just because I disagree) and how much do I stand up and say something before my friend does something potentially risky? Because what if I didn’t sound those warning bells and sometime down the track, with hindsight, I should have?

How far do we go in not saying anything to those we love and letting them learn from their mistakes and how far do we go before we should say something?

How much can two friends disagree and when can those disagreements be aired? After all, a friendship (or relationship) is not about agreeing on every single thing. How boring would that be! Sometimes unconditional love needs to be conditional if we are to be true friends and give a different perspective or point out things that they can’t see or recognise. This is true because we often can’t see things in ourselves that others can. This is especially true if friends are engaged in self-destructive behaviour. We don’t want them to self-destruct or sabotage their lives; that’s why we speak up and speak vehemently and love them while telling them that their behaviour is not acceptable.

Isn’t it?

What’s a friendship worth if you can’t disagree every now and then and be allowed to debate why?

As friends or lovers or family members, don’t we have an obligation to “mouth off” when you genuinely think they’re making a mistake or about to make one?

Then again, life is about making mistakes and people learning from them. So just how far do we “warn” them?

And, of course, what if our misgivings turn out to be nothing but hot air? I’ve had people warn me not to do this and not to do that with their warnings turning out to be hot air. A part of me afterwards felt they were being silly and overly cautious and so the next time I took their warnings less seriously. They were wrong once, chances are they’ll be wrong again. Right?

After tonight’s argument, I realise that my problem is that I sometimes argue too harshly. I get exasperated and practically scornful, all because I disagree oh-so-strongly. I’m an argumentive person anyway, that’s not going to change. I don’t want to feel like I have to shut up just to keep people happy, and I’m definitely not going to shut up when I firmly believe a friend or a family member or a lover is about to do something potentially destructive or are behaving in an unacceptable way. (Likewise, I want my people to point out my shortcomings to me and while I hate hearing certain things — ah, ego is a bitch — I’m glad for it. I know I can be mouthy or pushy or controlling and I need to hear it because I don’t always see it.)

I know now I need to modify how I disagree with someone with respect and not pushing the fucking point when they’ve clearly had enough of it. I know how annoying it is when people tell me what I should or shouldn’t do after I’ve heard what they’ve had to say but they persist in labouring the point, perhaps in vain hope that I might crack and agree with them. Not gonna happen! It just makes me dig my heels in deeper.

However, I’ve had people tell me that I’m too controlling or, put a better way, attempt to control things instead of letting life and fate take its natural course. It stems in part from my inherent anxiety — if I can’t control something, I get anxious and that includes with people, especially with people I care about.

So, more things for me to learn:

• when to accept that I should not say anything when I disagree and shut the hell up
• when to verbally disagree (and whether the thing I disagree with is worth being vocal about)
• disagree a bit more respectfully instead of getting hot tempered and exasperated
• learn when to just drop the argument
• accept that some people might just not want to hear what you have to say for whatever reason, so stop talking
• accept that people have to make their own choices and decisions; if they make a mistake it doesn’t mean they’re stupid but, rather, learning and growing. I’m going to be making a lot of mistakes for the rest of my life too — and I will need to if I am to grow

That, to me, is unconditional love — with caveats attached.