Wow. I haven't posted on this since March. That has to be some kind of record. To be honest, I actually forgot that I had carved out this little corner of the Internet. I have a lot I want to write about, so this blog is about to see more action than Paris Hilton at a frat party.
It is late, so this won't go on for long. I just wanted to mention how amazed I was at the night sky last night. Despite the moon being quite full at the moment, we had a very beautiful view of the heavens over the suburbs of Melbourne last night. Mars, recently at opposition, is a beautiful orange jewel suspended in the sky. Mars may be many millions of miles away, and an inanimate object, but being able to see Mars in all its beauty invokes a feeling of connectedness with the universe. A sense of wonder. There must be so much out there, just waiting to be discovered. I cannot wait to know the secrets that the universe is waiting to unveil, like a beautiful bride under a lace veil. My favourite constellation (Orion) was also out and about. I started at it for at least five minutes, simply enthralled.
I'm already planning our camping trip in the Warrumbungles around some awesome sky events taking place in August: partial lunar eclipse, conjunction of (four!) planets and maybe we'll catch a meteor shower. We camp just up the road from the Parkes Observatory, who also do night observation. Oh man, I'm having a major geek moment right now.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Dating Culture
Two rather pretty blonde shop assistants were shooting the breeze about Sex and The City yesterday, and it got me a thinkin' - Here's a show that has been over for at least two years, and yet it is still discussed ...
There's no doubt that the landscape of the Dating World has changed significantly over the last few decades. Love, commitment, flings, illicit affairs and casual sex were all there back in the day, but a girl who was after love and commitment wouldn't have to go to quite as much trouble to find it. Girl meets nice, available boy. They date for an appropriate time, during which girl doesn't need to shy away from stating her matrimonial intentions. Boy proposes to girl. Wedding ensues. Especially if a foetus was involved. Illicit affairs, flings and casual sex went on as they always had - generally behind closed doors. Wedded bliss was considered the norm, and morally enforced by the Church and the community.
A wise man [my next door neighbour] told me that the only certainty in the universe is change. This is certainly true of the dating culture. Women strove to leave the home, be heard, forge their own paths in the corporate world. At the same time, the Church gradually lost its stranglehold, and people began to turn away from those social customs that didn't suit their needs. Sex lost a great amount of its taboo, which meant that men could engage in consensual sex with little, or no, commitment. Why buy the cow when he can get the milk for free?
Women have become confused. This is natural - we females have strived to change our identity, but it is going to take more time before we feel comfortable in our skin, and fit snugly into our new gender roles. Feminists can argue all they like, but for women of my generation this has yet to happen. Let's not forget the guys. Think we women are confused? Men are adjusting to emasculation and not knowing just how to follow the right cues in the complicated mating rituals. So, a man just wants sex? Sleaze. A girl? Slut. What about the guy who just wants to get married [fairly rare creature]? He must be a loser. Even worse, the girl desperate for commitment and/or marriage? Oh my God, could she BE any more cloying and sad? Serial bad-boys. Nice guys finishing last. Girls gone wild. Broken hearts. Chaos. Let the games begin.
Into this maelstrom came Sex and The City. In the very first episode, Carrie laments about the 'death of love in Manhattan' and chews on the idea of 'having sex like a man.' No commitment, full emotional detachment. Play their game. Charlotte is appalled at the idea, whereas the other three do have emotionless sex [to varying degrees] during the course of the show. All four, after many adventures, end up happily in love by the end of the sixth season. The lesson here? Women, from the conservative Charlotte to the sexually voracious Samantha, usually do seek love and companionship. Or end up stumbling upon it, discovering its attraction, and not wanting to let go. Men? As they get older, most of them come around to the idea. So why play games?
SATC began as a commentary [almost a documentary] about the Dating World, yet by the sixth season, the show was initiating cultural shifts. It wasn't just Carrie's high-end fashions that were making their way off the small screen. Giant lapel flowers anyone? The 'He's Just Not That Into You' phenomenon spawned from the show, and there is something we can all learn there. Male or female. Don't be afraid to say what your intentions are. If you both just want a short term fling, go for it. If you want more, and they don't? Either accept what they have on offer, or move on. Be true to yourself. Respect the other person. Honesty. Simplicity. Much better for all.
If only.
There's no doubt that the landscape of the Dating World has changed significantly over the last few decades. Love, commitment, flings, illicit affairs and casual sex were all there back in the day, but a girl who was after love and commitment wouldn't have to go to quite as much trouble to find it. Girl meets nice, available boy. They date for an appropriate time, during which girl doesn't need to shy away from stating her matrimonial intentions. Boy proposes to girl. Wedding ensues. Especially if a foetus was involved. Illicit affairs, flings and casual sex went on as they always had - generally behind closed doors. Wedded bliss was considered the norm, and morally enforced by the Church and the community.
A wise man [my next door neighbour] told me that the only certainty in the universe is change. This is certainly true of the dating culture. Women strove to leave the home, be heard, forge their own paths in the corporate world. At the same time, the Church gradually lost its stranglehold, and people began to turn away from those social customs that didn't suit their needs. Sex lost a great amount of its taboo, which meant that men could engage in consensual sex with little, or no, commitment. Why buy the cow when he can get the milk for free?
Women have become confused. This is natural - we females have strived to change our identity, but it is going to take more time before we feel comfortable in our skin, and fit snugly into our new gender roles. Feminists can argue all they like, but for women of my generation this has yet to happen. Let's not forget the guys. Think we women are confused? Men are adjusting to emasculation and not knowing just how to follow the right cues in the complicated mating rituals. So, a man just wants sex? Sleaze. A girl? Slut. What about the guy who just wants to get married [fairly rare creature]? He must be a loser. Even worse, the girl desperate for commitment and/or marriage? Oh my God, could she BE any more cloying and sad? Serial bad-boys. Nice guys finishing last. Girls gone wild. Broken hearts. Chaos. Let the games begin.
Into this maelstrom came Sex and The City. In the very first episode, Carrie laments about the 'death of love in Manhattan' and chews on the idea of 'having sex like a man.' No commitment, full emotional detachment. Play their game. Charlotte is appalled at the idea, whereas the other three do have emotionless sex [to varying degrees] during the course of the show. All four, after many adventures, end up happily in love by the end of the sixth season. The lesson here? Women, from the conservative Charlotte to the sexually voracious Samantha, usually do seek love and companionship. Or end up stumbling upon it, discovering its attraction, and not wanting to let go. Men? As they get older, most of them come around to the idea. So why play games?
SATC began as a commentary [almost a documentary] about the Dating World, yet by the sixth season, the show was initiating cultural shifts. It wasn't just Carrie's high-end fashions that were making their way off the small screen. Giant lapel flowers anyone? The 'He's Just Not That Into You' phenomenon spawned from the show, and there is something we can all learn there. Male or female. Don't be afraid to say what your intentions are. If you both just want a short term fling, go for it. If you want more, and they don't? Either accept what they have on offer, or move on. Be true to yourself. Respect the other person. Honesty. Simplicity. Much better for all.
If only.
Monday, March 26, 2007
I Confess
The Internet has become a virtual haven of deliciously sordid confessions. Perhaps it feels comforting to blurt out your deepest, darkest secrets out into what seems to be an empty void. Safe even. Post-secret. Notproud.com. Crimes are committed online, the perpetrators feel concealed from law enforcement by the anonymous nature of the Internet. In my opinion, however, a LOT of people are deluding themselves.
Here's an example. Notorious drama-queen on LiveJournal stirs the pot by inviting people to post confessions. Anonymous comments are enabled, IP logging is supposedly disabled. 300+ comments later, there are some rather interesting confessions. One person confessed to enjoy giving others herpes. Another responded with 'That's Hot.' Not to mention itchy. Then there were the usual sordid affairs and weird sexual fetishes. Someone wants to know what it likes to murder someone. Disturbing. Another person was actually an accessory to murder. Creepy.
Yet, it wasn't the person who lied about being raped as a teen [for Xanax and attention] that weirded me out the most. Oh, no. Lonely confessor admitted to being what modern psychiatry would consider 'a retard,' mentioning Asperger's. Feeling socially isolated. Completely out of the blue, someone I actually know in the real world responded to this comment. Forgetting to post anonymously, and admitting that she too suffers from Asperger's. Pieces slot together. The Ex Boyfriend used to complain about her eccentric behaviour and social ineptitude, as do others who know her. The Ex Boyfriend is her husband's best friend and doesn't know about her Asperger's. Clearly, this is not meant to be public knowledge. It's not about to be, at my hands anyway. I'm a bitch, and don't really like this person very much, but there are some secrets that should be respected and kept sacred.
Here is one of my little secrets. I have Bipolar Disorder (type 1). Now, I am under no illusions that this secret is safe on here. My blog is anonymous, but who knows? Someone may recognise the events portrayed here, my bat-shit craziness, my grammatical errors and/or lame jokes. Or, James Bond might find me by IP logging/tracing. Therefore, my really sordid, terrible secrets [and they are legion] will be kept safe in the dark, manky vault within my mind. Sealed in lead. Locked up with a huge, rusty padlock. Guarded by a big Doberman.
'Anonymous' summed it up well:
Tip of the day: When you have a deep, dark secret. TRUST NO ONE BUT YOUR CAT.
Here's an example. Notorious drama-queen on LiveJournal stirs the pot by inviting people to post confessions. Anonymous comments are enabled, IP logging is supposedly disabled. 300+ comments later, there are some rather interesting confessions. One person confessed to enjoy giving others herpes. Another responded with 'That's Hot.' Not to mention itchy. Then there were the usual sordid affairs and weird sexual fetishes. Someone wants to know what it likes to murder someone. Disturbing. Another person was actually an accessory to murder. Creepy.
Yet, it wasn't the person who lied about being raped as a teen [for Xanax and attention] that weirded me out the most. Oh, no. Lonely confessor admitted to being what modern psychiatry would consider 'a retard,' mentioning Asperger's. Feeling socially isolated. Completely out of the blue, someone I actually know in the real world responded to this comment. Forgetting to post anonymously, and admitting that she too suffers from Asperger's. Pieces slot together. The Ex Boyfriend used to complain about her eccentric behaviour and social ineptitude, as do others who know her. The Ex Boyfriend is her husband's best friend and doesn't know about her Asperger's. Clearly, this is not meant to be public knowledge. It's not about to be, at my hands anyway. I'm a bitch, and don't really like this person very much, but there are some secrets that should be respected and kept sacred.
Here is one of my little secrets. I have Bipolar Disorder (type 1). Now, I am under no illusions that this secret is safe on here. My blog is anonymous, but who knows? Someone may recognise the events portrayed here, my bat-shit craziness, my grammatical errors and/or lame jokes. Or, James Bond might find me by IP logging/tracing. Therefore, my really sordid, terrible secrets [and they are legion] will be kept safe in the dark, manky vault within my mind. Sealed in lead. Locked up with a huge, rusty padlock. Guarded by a big Doberman.
'Anonymous' summed it up well:
Tip of the day: When you have a deep, dark secret. TRUST NO ONE BUT YOUR CAT.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Go for Launch!
12:50 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Oooh, my inaugural blog entry. Nice and anonymous, unlike my old LiveJournal. I can bitch with impunity. Hurrah! Tres excitement. Normally, at a launch, you'll have canapes, expensive bubbly, and b-list celebrities. Unfortunately, the budget didn't quite stretch to that. I can offer some Yellowglen Jewel Pink (less calories!) and some pretzels.
13:00 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Gah. In-flight safety demos are usually as exciting as the Federal Taxation Code. Virgin hosties usually get a giggle, and today was no exception. Apparently smoking on an aircraft is a 'feral' [federal] offence. Couldn't agree more. I must admit, I do like Virgin flights - the hosties actually have A Personality, and their flights are totally egalitarian. Qantas flew me down yesterday, and I was right behind the First Class seats. It was most amusing watching the hosties fawning themselves all over boring-ass businessmen who rarely tip. Then there was the squealing baby. An INFANT. In first class. Ridiculous.
13:04 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Take-off. Veeeeeeeeerooom. Most exciting part of the journey, also the most dangerous. Coincidence? Mmmm, adrenaline.
13:10 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
We are now cruising above the cumulus cloud cover. Their delicate beauty renders mans' petty squabbles totally insignificant. Viewing them from this vantage point is similar to viewing an alien landscape, a view that only a select few are sharing with you in that instant. Wanketty wank wank. Translation? Clouds are pretty. Sparkly things are nice too.
13:15 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Time to read the wedding magazine that I swiped from the hotel. $6.95. Yoink.
13:20 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
I just can't resist a tin of original Pringles on Virgin flights. Carbonated drinks at altitude are pretty sweet too. Although Fartzilla might make an appearance later.
14:20 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
We are beginning our descent into Bris Vegas. I can see new canal developments being built. Don't these people know about Climate Change and storm surges? Gah, that hostie's hair is a right dog's dinner [as my fourth grade teacher used to say about my hand-writing] ... Meanwhile, my hair looks like my cat slept on it, but I'm not being paid to look pretty. Feel queasy though ... turbulence and mild hangover = 1 express ticket to Nausea City.
DISCLAIMER:
I am not a jet-setter. Really. I just have a long-distance relationship with The Boyfriend who lives in Melbourne, and was in Canberra celebrating The Favourite Cousin's engagement. Highlights of the night? The Favourite Cousin telling a guest to fuck off [then discovering that he wasn't actually a guest], experiments with helium balloons, and the Bathmat that Looked Like a Giant Dildo from our hotel room. Seriously. This thing was skin coloured, and wrapped with cling-wrap into a 30cm-long-tube. Said item was thrown across the hotel atrium by The Brother after a few drinks were taken. Fabulous fun.
Oooh, my inaugural blog entry. Nice and anonymous, unlike my old LiveJournal. I can bitch with impunity. Hurrah! Tres excitement. Normally, at a launch, you'll have canapes, expensive bubbly, and b-list celebrities. Unfortunately, the budget didn't quite stretch to that. I can offer some Yellowglen Jewel Pink (less calories!) and some pretzels.
13:00 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Gah. In-flight safety demos are usually as exciting as the Federal Taxation Code. Virgin hosties usually get a giggle, and today was no exception. Apparently smoking on an aircraft is a 'feral' [federal] offence. Couldn't agree more. I must admit, I do like Virgin flights - the hosties actually have A Personality, and their flights are totally egalitarian. Qantas flew me down yesterday, and I was right behind the First Class seats. It was most amusing watching the hosties fawning themselves all over boring-ass businessmen who rarely tip. Then there was the squealing baby. An INFANT. In first class. Ridiculous.
13:04 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Take-off. Veeeeeeeeerooom. Most exciting part of the journey, also the most dangerous. Coincidence? Mmmm, adrenaline.
13:10 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
We are now cruising above the cumulus cloud cover. Their delicate beauty renders mans' petty squabbles totally insignificant. Viewing them from this vantage point is similar to viewing an alien landscape, a view that only a select few are sharing with you in that instant. Wanketty wank wank. Translation? Clouds are pretty. Sparkly things are nice too.
13:15 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
Time to read the wedding magazine that I swiped from the hotel. $6.95. Yoink.
13:20 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
I just can't resist a tin of original Pringles on Virgin flights. Carbonated drinks at altitude are pretty sweet too. Although Fartzilla might make an appearance later.
14:20 Virgin Flight DJ559 CANB-BNE seat 18F
We are beginning our descent into Bris Vegas. I can see new canal developments being built. Don't these people know about Climate Change and storm surges? Gah, that hostie's hair is a right dog's dinner [as my fourth grade teacher used to say about my hand-writing] ... Meanwhile, my hair looks like my cat slept on it, but I'm not being paid to look pretty. Feel queasy though ... turbulence and mild hangover = 1 express ticket to Nausea City.
DISCLAIMER:
I am not a jet-setter. Really. I just have a long-distance relationship with The Boyfriend who lives in Melbourne, and was in Canberra celebrating The Favourite Cousin's engagement. Highlights of the night? The Favourite Cousin telling a guest to fuck off [then discovering that he wasn't actually a guest], experiments with helium balloons, and the Bathmat that Looked Like a Giant Dildo from our hotel room. Seriously. This thing was skin coloured, and wrapped with cling-wrap into a 30cm-long-tube. Said item was thrown across the hotel atrium by The Brother after a few drinks were taken. Fabulous fun.
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