Pollywanna

Success!

2009-12-31T15:34:00.002+11:00

Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracey were playing out their movie Woman of the Year.
She said; "That will be me one day".

Later I said; "You have said a couple of times that you will be a success. What is your definition of that?"

She said;
"What I am now. I am a success in my field. I feel a success."

I thought;
(But did not say)
"No babies, no family ties, no curled fists around your own, now visitors at Christmas, no Santa Claus playing, no hiding Easter eggs, no smell of the belly of the new born, no sucking of tiny toes, no feeling the love of your man as you put the breast to the babies mouth.
What is this success of yours? Infamy, Celebrity, Notoriety, Named writer? What is it?

If that is 'success' then I am sad.
Because one day as you lay sick, or old, or infirmed, or depressed, or lonely you will find no warmth in your type of 'success'.
Because one day when you see the rainbow of your desire, you see the river running clear, you see the wisdom of your days, you feel the warmth on your skin of those who once loved you, you will not have anyone to share that with who will carry it on to the future.

Within Eternal life is the birth of the new born who will WILL remember YOU. Not your work, or your pretences or your infamy, but you YOU.

Those who speak of YOU ( not your writings, or your achievements) you those who knew and loved you and spoke your name in, with love, give you eternal life.

So;
What is this success you say you want, you have, you desire, you strive for?

The Mormans have a saying.
They say; No amount of success in the world is a substitute for failure in the home.

Where will your home be?
Coz home is not a place. It is a warmth that is emblazoned by the love of those you love.

You say so many times, so MANY times that 'they' LOVE you.
They don't know you.

That is not love.

THIS is love.
I am love.
I conceived you with, in and of love.
I love you even now as you 'mwah' me goodbye and mouth platitudes deserving of a stranger.
I love you for that little blonde head that pushed itself against my breast in hunger, in pain, in laughter, in fear.
I love you now for the woman you are becoming but I worry.

Your reading of 'success' is not what we wished for you. It is a pie crust success. Made with talent but easily broken and forgotten.

I love you.
YOU.
Not that pretend thing that strides into my life once a year.

So.

Don't wish for success. I wish for you failure so you will find the success that only love can crown.

I wish love for you. Not the fake love of the theatre community, but that which comes from your soul, deep within your womb.
Don't leave it empty. It may be too late soon. So be careful for what you wish for ....you may end up alone.

I am afraid for you."

Thirty Six

2009-12-22T15:27:00.004+11:00

No not my age...but the length of time that the man in my life has nurtured, loved, tolerated, husbanded me.

Today ( 36 years ago) at 6pm he ran across the Church lawn to be at the alter to receive me. He was late and I was trying to be....but couldn't...and it has been like that ever since.

He has given me love and fidelity and laughter.
There has been pain and loss and poverty, but our love and our joined commitment to each other before we were legally married saw us through till now.
There had been sickness and health, love and some obeying but in equal measures one to the other. There has been poorness but not richness. It has been hard as all get out and has been full of strain, stress, agony and horror. But what sustained us was our mutual friendship, trust, honesty one to the other and very very very very good sex.

All those old married people who leave that last bit out do not have a true 'marriage'.
Without that last bit it is a good friendship.

Thank you to He Who Must Be Obeyed for he has given me the weft and warp of my life, texture, colour, meaning and purpose...and most of all he has given me three children and he has given me, ME.

Thank you sweetie pie.

Thirty six years plus, cos we did 'try before we bought' and we liked what we tried.

Love you to the sky and back.

Your little wombat. xxxx

Merry Christmas

2009-12-20T17:20:00.000+11:00

Make a Smilebox greeting

What?

2009-12-14T11:14:00.003+11:00

Cannot believe what is happening to the Liberal Party here in Oz.
So so weird to put the 'mad monk' in charge and expect there to be a fresh following.
This little Catholic who tried to block RU486, freedom of women to chose abortion and who succeeded in stopping the introduction of voluntary euthanasia and he says;

"Don't take any notice of what I have said before, it is now a fresh start."

Well NO you little slim ball NO!

You were not precient enough to keep your religious views out of politics so now you can wallow in failure.
You who 'admire' that little hasbeen HoWARd and encouraged the attitudes of hatred to Muslims and took us to war and distorted the truth about asylum seekers.

Stuff you you little pig.

Hot and bothered

2009-11-24T16:47:00.002+11:00

I'm tired.
I'm tired of the nonsense of the need for humans to have to actually relive all horrors before they learn AGAIN.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of hearing of how the Jews had it so horrific and yet they cannot see their brother's over the cement wall hurting, anguishing, angering, torn, broken and divided.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of the foolish twits that 'rule the world' with their money and their mouths smiling while the world burns within its own stink of Nuclear power and coal dust.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of pretence of happy families and knowing mothers who know nothing of their precious children's play and their dirty little secrets.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of the heat and the wind and the neediness of my fellow beings who scrabble amongst the scrappings of the wealthy to fit their reality with the advertisements on the walls.

And as Dubai builds it snowfields and its aquariums the poor become diseased and broken and dispirited while they the covered bodies of the rich turn their back on the covered bodies of the dead.

A new world and the pathos surrounding celebrity and the news hounds chasing their tails so they too will get notoriety sizzles and soars to new heights of stupidity and technocrap.

Meanwhile:

There are 35 million desperately poor people in the richest nation on earth, USA. Seventy five percent live in the south!
That is more people than live in Australia.
35 million.
35 million.

And what do those glorious sons of christian bitches say?

"NO" to free health care.
"NO" to free choice.
"NO" to withdrawing from war.
"NO" to no more nuclear arms.
on and on and on....

FIX YOUR OWN 35 MILLION STUNNINGLY POOR PEOPLE, THEN TEACH THE REST OF THE WORLD HOW TO LIVE.

Forget your god and go home and share!

New Addition

2009-11-04T10:58:00.000+11:00

The last hope dog.
The last dog of my life.
I have never declared this before so I know it is true.
By the time she is dead I will be an aged pensioner and glad of the space.

So welcome Abbie Noiraude S*****

She is a Spoodle and proud of it.

She is a dog.
She is not a human and never will be and will not be treated as such.
I am reading as much as I can ( for free) the Dog Whisperers site. All my other dogs were ratty. I usually got them when they were older so had no input into their training.

I hope I get this one right.

Miss all my blogger friends, but the world is a better place since Rudd and Obama have been elected.

Australia is doing well on the world economic stage, but we have a way to go on Afghanistan and asylum seekers.
There is one word I have for asylum seekers and that is;
"Welcome".

If it had not been for Bush's knee jerk reaction ( by a jerk) we in Australia would not be having this debate yet again!!

So here's to us and here's to you and here's to Abbie!

PAX

2009-10-10T10:23:00.003+11:00

Congratulations to the dear Mr President, Nobel Peace Prize recipient.
What a wonderful surprise!
Well done and we all cheered here when we heard of your prize.

We believe in you and don't be hurried into making any decisions especially when it comes to sending more young people into war.
Take your time.
Be considered and intelligent.
We know YOU CAN.

AND

What the heck are you doing smashing ( aka bombing ) the moon NASA?
Stop it!

AND

If I came to your country, America, and criticised your 'foolin' around', would you not scream "Freedom Of Speech"?
I have fought for the dismantling and deletion of all forms of racism in my country and around the world. I have stood up and been counted. I wrote to newspapers, spoke out in gatherings and marched in the steets to stop racism.

Our little bit of nonsense on local free-to-air telly last Saturday night was in no way intended to be racist but a bit of fluff and bubble that meant nothing.

I am as sensitive as they come on these issues.

I shall never buy nor listen to Harry Connick jnr ever again. I know he has helped fight the racism in HIS country, but he was a guest here and he was given his right to say what he wanted, but now he should move on and bugger off.

There!

What on Earth is your Problem?????

2009-10-08T15:53:00.003+11:00

Dear America,

What is your problem?
What on earth is wrong with a socialised medical cover??
Are you so mean that you don't want to help the poor get the same cover as the rich? What! Do the rich deserve better medical help and support?

What is your problem?

Why are you so afraid of socialised anything?

You fought fascism, not socialism. You have always been 'onside' with socialised countries.
What is your problem?

You think you can set people apart because of their circumstances in life?
You think the poor and disabled should wait and rely on the 'kindness of strangers' never knowing when they are going to 'come through' for them?

And what is your problem?

Wise up, educate yourselves to what is happening in the rest of the world.
May I point to France, Sweden, Denmark, Britain and Australia?
We have 'socialised' medicine so that the decree of true democracy can be followed up with real action.

What is your problem?

Get real, get your head out of your rich buttocks and wise up, guyyyyssss!!!

Move on!
Be TRUE bloody Christians if that is what you constantly say you are and...

SOCIALISE!!

Daughter at work

2009-10-04T13:39:00.003+11:00

Click on the title!

Watch for the long blonde hair.
This is what she loves.
This is who she is.
I love her for it.

My amazing daughter;
Writer, director, artistic director, producer, and all rounder...anything to do with theatre.

This is my beloved daughter in whom I am well pleased.

Jam tarts for tea

2009-09-19T11:43:00.004+10:00

Another year!
Sigh!
Busy with ancestry stuff and tracing lines of family back to their origins.
Sigh!
In recognition of my ancestors I am lucky to have survived to this day, 19 September.
Sigh!
So many gone before, and before this age.
Sigh!
I am emptying of anger and filling with grief.

Another birthday.
Another bright spring day when thoughts fly back to my father saying every year...
"Ah spring, the time when life is renewed and my youngest daughter was born".

You miss your parents and the idea of a 'birthday' means so little without them here.

I miss my children and they are so far, always so far, if not in kilometres in connections. They are truly independent.

But:
For four years both birthdays and Christmas' I have been asking for two gifts. One is mulch for the garden so I don't have to do so much weeding. The other is for a new pair of secetures for these arthritic hands.
I got 'em both!
I am delighted!
No little Princess here, requiring restaurants, diamonds, boats, holidays or travel.
Just 'dirt' ( as my youngest calls it) and an implement for snipping trees.

Me me me. Today is allowed to be about me.
But I am finding so little to say.

The rhyme goes;

It is my birthday today
Jam tarts for tea
Yum yum pigs bum
You can't come.

Another from the vaults.

My poor mum.
My dear mum.
My loving mum.
I came unbidden. I was an oops baby. Not planned, not desired. I think she wanted a boy. He said he didn't mind if it was a red head girl. I was neither. And there's the oops once again.
It does affect you.

So here I am.
Fifty six if you want to know.
I am now an 'elder' of my tribe.
I am equal to the male members because I am no longer fertile.
I am here.

And here I will stay until another day.

Cheers!!!

Something Happens

2009-08-31T15:13:00.003+10:00

The gum tree near my great great grandparents graves. She was the daughter of a convict. Shamed and moved and impregnated early. She was 'adopted' and cast away from her kin into this desolate landscape that I finally visited this month ( August). She gave birth to my great grandfather and married a man who accepted her and him. I was moved to rub my hands over their names...so far from the rest of their folk.
And a lone daughter lays at rest, not beside her own husband but beside her parents. He is buried up the road with the rest of the catholics.

Something happens when a woman turns fifty.
There is a cosmic shift that she has somehow learnt not to declare. To recognise it for its significance is to be labeled by those near as being somehow in 'The Change' and therefore 'unreliable' in her thought processes.

Something happens in the heart as well as the body. A recognition of time, ticking through the veins of memory, hope and loss.

Something happens and she turns bewildered to her sisters who, like after childbirth, cast downward eyes and perpetuate the myth of calmness, matter-of-fact-ness, a silenced lie of the pain and sudden immensity of the task and the affects.

Something happens when her hands thin and the arteries slow and her mind wanders to her youth and hope and joy. She becomes one with the universe ( as in birthing) and she clamps her mouth shut in case the yell of life leaves her in tears, trembling and mightily torn (as in childbirth).

Something happens to the woman as she realises she gave her youth, her body, her time, her energies, her laughter, her sparkle to those around her who took and took and took and left the shell she finds when she glances, passing, in the mirror.

And in the morning of the 17 day away I awoke to the mist on the Murrumbidgee River at a little town not far from the infamous Gundagai.

Something happens to the past as it whizzes by the head and spins you out of control, but yet you stay in control lest they say 'those things' they say about women turning fifty.

And when you touch the stone at the head of a woman scorned, hard working, censured, mystical, you think how wonderous it is to turn fifty ( six).

Something happens to us as we recognise the movement of time and life and death. We cry more, we feel more, we care more. We get grumpy, angry, fed up, tired, and decide (finally) not to suffer fools any more.

Something happens to our men folk. Their lives seem weaker, their love stronger, their bodies softer, their minds less hurried. They cry more, touch more, care more, are less angry, fed up, tired and they decide it is ok to suffer fools as they have not had to too often in their lives, being white men of reason.

Something happens when finally we let go of all that has gone before, but before we do we women have to worry and wonder and work our way toward ourselves, our true selves.

And something happens when the passing of a few minutes means as much as the passing of dear friends and family.

Vale Alan. You were a good man, to my recalictrant brother, my neices and nephew's pa, my parents mate, and my first dentist.
Thank you. On this day of your internment when I could not be there. I wanted to be, but it was so so far away. I hold you close. In memory of a man who tried to make a difference in the Australian community. Thank you.

Life

2009-08-24T09:54:00.001+10:00

Thanks to Bloggio Oddio.

YES!

2009-08-03T11:19:00.003+10:00

This reminds me of a conversation I had with my dad one day.
He was upset enough when I was researching the Mormon Church but it may have prepared him for my 'conversion' to atheism.

My brother refuses to accept I am an atheist because I am 'too good a person'. I actually take this to be an insult as that means he does not believe me when I tell him a truth about myself.

Off on a journey. Can't afford it in finances nor time, health nor head space. It is needed for many reasons.

I will be traversing the central plains of NSW and over the border. It is winter in Australia and it is NOT cold where I am. But it is freezing where I am heading.

My bones ache, my back screams with scarring from having babies, my knees are that of an 80 year old, but I want to do this. I can imagine one day never ever being able to go anywhere. It scares the bejeesus out of me and the day I stop driving is the day I want to die.

So even though I have not been online, posting blogs or traversing the cosmos, I do think of bloggerland, the people I have met and the times I have experienced hatred, love, support and accusations.

The chances of me not surviving this trip are statistically significant. I wanted to write a piece each to my children to tell them the truth but I have not the time nor the headspace to do such a task. It would take me months to formulate the necessary words and intent.
It would not be one of those smarmy stories of 'A letter to her children' by a dying mum or anything. It would be more of ;
The love, the joy and the pain of having you come into my life.

I wish it all on them!! (and secretly MORE).

Farethewell until my next meeting online, on blog, in thought and in concept.

ME.

Survey

2009-07-17T14:24:00.003+10:00

NEW WORLD FOOD SURVEY

Last month a world-wide survey was conducted by the UN. The only question asked was:-

"Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage
in the rest of the world?"

The survey was a huge failure because of the following :-

In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant.

In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant.

In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant.

In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant.

In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant.

In South America they didn't know what "please" meant.

In the US they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant.

And Finally...........................

In Australia , they hung up, because they couldn't understand the Indian accent.

So it seems

2009-06-27T16:33:00.005+10:00

It is a time of wondering if your children ever come to a place where they will forgive you the things you have done in their lives.
It would be nicer if they could 'understand' the things that were going on at the time of their remembered hurt, but that is not necessary if they are not interested.

I wonder if they will remember the nice things too, one day, the days of hot summer's, cool drinks and warm bathtimes.

Will there ever be a time, like I have come to, where the good outweigh the perceived wrongs and indifferences. That there is a beautiful space whereby the memories linger and shimmer in the cosmos, of loving arms and sweet powdered smells of 'home'.

I hope the ancient smell of stewing apples, raw flour and bubbling stews waft through their minds nose and conjours up days of rainy school afternoons and the rush of heat enveloping the legs as they entered our old kitchen.

We may not have had all that the times could offer. Not the new shiny floors of designer houses, or the clean smell of newly laid carpet. We could not offer separate bathrooms, personal tv's, holidays overseas or the shiny surface of a gleaming kitted out kitchen. But we gave them a belief in us, in them and in love.

We did not offer hopes of god, or an afterlife; not of privilege or of a sense of right. We gave them the awareness of the need to recognise the poor and disenfranchised and the hope that through them they will be raised to equality along with the rest.

Our love for each other did not extend to garden parties, new clothes or fake tans, but to games in the dark lit only by candles when the power went out. To times of swimming in the sea and tickles on the floor.

Books were read and songs sung, and "Mary Poppins" reigned supreme along with Ninja turtles and "Charlie is my darlin' ".

The smells of my childrens chilhood haunts me and the tug of tension as we made 'ends meet' whilst believing in a mum around for all occasions and a dad who would walk out of work to meet the requests of his children.

Their father's job never came first.
Their mother's job was their well being.
Their job was to grow and develop and to become strong and sure and independent of our wishes and those influences that pounce from religious doorways and social superficialities.

My knuckles are aching and my knees are wearing, but my heart through the love of a good man is strengthened every day and wiles away memories of my babies.

He said:
"I wonder if they know that time ticks away, on and on."

I said:
"I wonder if they will forgive us one day".

Here and There

2009-06-08T14:05:00.002+10:00

Watching the new USA president on his overseas trip. Have to agree with some commentators that his address in Cairo may be one of the most important he has given. Good One!

Been raining now it is the most beautiful winter weather. Cool, bright, clear, still and blue blue blue...the sea and sky are magnificent.

Girl number 2 at university ( as well as full time work). Exams next week...she is freaking but will be fine fine fine.

Girl number 1 ADing "Summer of 17"...

Long weekend here but we don't recognise it since it has to do with an archaic Queen. (AND it isn't even her birthday).

Wish someone had come home, but that is impossible. I have to learn;
"People will do what they WANT to do no matter how difficult, when they want to. If they don't then they DON'T WANT TO".

Haven't found one person, or heard of one person who has been directly affected by the 'economic meltdown'.
I am gathering the poor are affected when they are kicked out by mongrel bosses from their jobs ( just an excuse to me for the rich to gather more profit).

I have yet to hear of anyone not NOT going overseas coz they lost money etc
Four people have told me they are off within the next 3 months for trips overseas.

The world feels different.
I am glad.

...Then the rains came.

2009-05-25T16:58:00.002+10:00

After the car battery went dead and a tooth popped out of its placing what more could occur in one week?
Then the rains came.

And with it whipping, driving rain, pelting pellets as sharp as buckshot against the windows. No sign of the sea and no sign of any living thing...grey, dank, muted, dull colours of northern climes enveloped us.
The wind only felt by us in the cyclonic areas in north Queensland years ago, buffetted the panes of glass and moved them in a rhythm, ghostly and determined.
Darkness fell....I mean, it really fell, along with the many trees brought down powerlines that fed our hungry house and our miserable lives.
Not even in candle light could our aging eyes read to satisfy the silence and sudden shock of ancient times. After 28 hours we ventured out to purchase some batteries for a dead ancient electrical servant that once belonged to my dead dad so it could be wound up to give us news of any other life forms.

It crackled into being and brought with it stories of floods and raging waters, boiling seas and eaten coastlines. People were fleeing as though in a Sci fi novel and here we were sitting like two stooped corpses bemoaning our lot.
No hot food, no tea, no coffee and no light to brighten the screaming roar of the wind.

We usually can spy the sea from our landing but it was blanked out by the wall of wet grey, masticating its way along our house.

So an exodus of sorts was occurring all around us, to the north and to the south...rivers rising and tides swamping small towns that we know so well.
The above picture is of our ( yes us both) 'home town'. We were born on the edges of this river HWMBO and I. His family skimmed up its reaches to settle in the highlands to cut down the cedar and try to make a go of it for four generations.
We knew it flooded. It had when I was merely 3 years of age...
There is a photo somewhere of me standing foot outstretched, ( black and white...well more of the grey and sepia nowadays) hands by the sides, waisted frock too small for me ( my sister was older but smaller so by the time she outgrew her clothes they were pretty much too small for me too)... and bowed before me like some respectful servant is my father tying my shoe laces. I remember I only ever had one pair of shoes, for 'good'. Church and shopping, not that we were ever allowed to go shopping really with our dear mum. So it was school and church and the rest of the time it was thongs ( flip flops to the yankees) and bare feet.
The river behind me has risen up the main street and is lapping at the footpath behind my heel. I used to love the way my father tied my shoes...he made my whole foot feel his warm big hands and the laces so neat and tight and in line, like he would have his old troups during the war. It always made me feel safe. It was he who taught me to tie my own shoe laces, patiently over and over, and taught me to shine the shoes for his approval.

And now he is gone and I am old and the rains have come.
I live barely 2 1/2 hours drive from that very spot and I can smell the town after a flood like a ripe wine in my minds nose. It is full and bodied and steeped in humus and rotting mud and vegetation and it makes me whizz back in pain to the time I would hang my head out of the old Holden car as we sped toward Fredrickton to pick up dad from the Milk Factory where he worked in the laboratory as field officer and technician testing milk brought in from the dairying properties that surrounded the old town.

I would take my father's hands and drink their smell in deeply and pretend to throw them away crying out ; "Poo Factory"...but in reality I loved the smell of his hands..I always did till the day he died.

The wet cowshit, the sprouting weeds, the soured milk and the clean clean after scent of sweet soap always made me feel that I was, again, safe.

So the rains came and after many hours and a few days the electricity returned.

At one point cowering together, in delight, under a quilt, I said; "So how long do you think it would take for anyone to find us here if we died like this together? Three months?"
"Oh no, much sooner than that, two weeks", was the reply.
For it is our youngest who contacts us regularly and is concerned for our welfare. She is our deliverer in more ways than fifty.

And so the rains came and went. The wind came and stayed and went. The seas rose and came and are subsiding, and our little little lives are seeping back to a time of supposed 'normality'.

I love nature and her fury, her threatening to overtake all with persistence...she is my redeemer, my reminder that all is well with the world and that man shall indeed NEVER overcome.

Inequality.

2009-05-08T10:32:00.001+10:00

700,000 ( Seven hundred thousand) Americans go bankrupt each year due to medical bills.

How many in Britain, Australia, Sweden?

NIL

Makes you think, no?

Something Beautiful

2009-04-27T16:19:00.002+10:00

Another year has passed and the girl has turned 26 years old.

She is far away from me but I hear from her in one way or another nearly every day. She tries so hard to make up for me not hearing from the other two.

She was a pleasure to carry, to birth, to hold, to breast feed, to carry, to teach and be taught by.

27 April 2009....Happy Birthday my little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.
She was always good...laughing, bringing joy.

Now she works and is independent is studying at university as well as supporting herself. She is a marvel a miracle and a delight.

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthingday to me.

Another Positive

2009-04-20T11:06:00.002+10:00

Haven't gotten out any dvd's to watch for over 2 years.
We watched "Capote".

We watched "Brokeback Mountain".

And last night watched "Good Night and Good Luck" AGAIN, on telly.

As the closing credits were rolling with that fabulous music, HWMBO turns to me and says;

"American's can CAN do it. They CAN make movies that are restrained, tightly written, beautifully shot, subtle, meaningful and painfully true".

With Capote the restraint was painful...wonderfully painfully...carefully constructed restraint.
It was subtle, softly spoken, gently awful, meaningful and worthwhile.
With Brokeback the restraint was Heath's greatest talent. The story was about love...restrained, strained... softly spoken, passionate, subtle, full on love, meaningful and worthwhile.
With GNAGL it was busy, restrained, evokative, pertinent, meaningful and worthwhile.

Considering all the 'times' that these events were placed the overt need for the present to learn from the past was screaming out from the screen.

NOTHING has changed...

*The death penalty in USA
*The homophobia of ignorant shits
*The danger of a little power producing hatred and destruction of civil liberties.
For Ang Lee to be brave enough and artistic enough to finally put Annie Proulx short story on film was groundshaking, but NOT for the obvious reasons. The site of Calgary's (Canada's) landscape was breathtaking.

For George Clooney to produce that piece of cinema THEN was groundshaking. (Bush learnt nothing.)

So in history if you don't study it, if you don't revisit it, if you don't teach it, if you are not aware of the gross mistakes of the past, you are bound to repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat......

Well done Yankeeland...YES YOU CAN DO IT...
make wonderful important movies.

2009-04-20T10:41:00.002+10:00

He said;

To connect with your enemies is to make you stronger.

OR something to that affect.

He is not PERFECT and I don't understand that need to declare to we who in the wider world now have hope HOPE that USA is now on track to be BE a better world leader.

What does perfection have to do with anything outside of Nature herself?

He is the hope of a nation, of a world, who has been holding its breath over the past decade.

Forget about perfect, and think, 'intelligent, clear, idealistic, loving, realistic, passionate'.

I am so so glad about Cuba....
I am glad he wants to talk to Iran and has castigated it for imprisoning an Iranian/American reporter.
I am pleased he is trying to keep all promises, even to his daughters about that lovely pup.
I am hopeful for the leadership.
There will be mistakes and there will be downtimes...but he can speak so we can hear.
He can stand tall and look the world in the eye.

Perfection has no place in behaviour....in ruling....in leadership.
What there is a place for is HOPE.

So for chrissake forget the explanation of ...."But he is not perfect"..bullshit...
Just be goddamed pleased we out here, on the outside, looking in once again a breathing.

...The Brave

2009-04-20T10:36:00.001+10:00

I hear the voice and the burr
I think of you

I see a program of the highlands
and think of you

I watch as a character speaks on TV
And think of you

I enter a club and there she is
a woman from Endinburough
I think of you

I ask her how long? 38years here she says
And I think of you

I say; Don't lose your accent
She says; When I ring home they say
I have an Aussie accent
I think of you

I have and am in love with
Scotland
And think of you.

I do my ancestry and find
my great grandmother hailed from
There
I think of you...

Get out of my mind you blogger you
You have no right to be there
But your kindness makes me
Think of you.

Tell You What

2009-04-10T13:53:00.002+10:00

I tell you what:
When the Christian nations stop waring.
When they decide that bigotry and prejudice has no room in their diatribe.
When they can embrace all peoples of all nations and all faiths.. AND THOSE WITH NONE!
When they can stop the death penalty, the greed of the wealthy, the huge difference between rich and poor, the discrimination of health care for those who have and have not resources, when they can live their tenets, give women equal rights in choice, pay and freedoms, when they can do one tenth of what they profess.....
Then I will believe that they deserve the nations respect.

Easter is another one of those 'stolen' celebrations from the pagans. It was the declaration of the oestrus...the spring equinox... the beginning of fertility, the joy of the end of winter and the beginning of the season of fruitfulness.
Well..a fat lot of good that means to the Southern Hemisphere anyway.

Osirus was born of a virgin woman, he was crucified on a cross, and he died to 'save' the people...and he was hundreds of years before the Christian 'Jesus'.

Enough of the ignorance and pretence of all this. Supplanting one superstition for another does not make anything mean anything.

I am tired of it all....

Try to do good. Try to be kind. Try to put yourself in the others place. Try to be generous, thoughtful and considerate. Try to be respectful, inclusive, compassionate and caring.
Try to recognise that in a situation that you may never experience that you too could behave 'badly'. So try to forgive.

Give away that which you don't need ( or want) ..DON'T expect money for it.
Give more than is comfortable, physically, emotionally and financially.
Give of yourself, your heart and your honesty.
Give and rejoice in the giving and forget what the stuff is going to be used for and by whom.

Give and live calmly, kindly and stop stirring up hatreds in yourself and in others.

See? We atheists do believe in stuff ( love) and do have a moral compass ( the substituting others in self.)

Happy egg day.

Who am I?

2009-04-06T11:59:00.004+10:00

Long time

2009-03-18T11:20:00.004+11:00

It has been nearly a month.
I have not opened the blogger account.
I have not read anyone else either.

I feel depleted by the events of life.
I feel finally at peace with the leadership of my country and the USA. Even our Scottish friend in Britain is doing his best, I feel.

So my political rants are finally at rest...each time I see my PM I feel safe. He is hard working, intensely intelligent and working through the quagmire that was left him and now faces him through the situation not of his making, in the world's economy.

Each time I see President Obama and hear him being moral and gallant I relax a little more.

A mad faction in Ireland is rising but I don't think they will go far...they have past their 'use by' date.

The Israeli's are still NOT on the same page as the International community ( or some of the US intelligentsia) and will still kill babies and destroy homes in the belief that that will 'show 'em'.
A new report out has said that the majority of the young suicide bombers from Palestine are actually those whose homes have been destroyed and they have no place, no family left and no hope.
So what does that say?
As usual...feed the poor, restore the infrastructure, house the homeless, give jobs and freedom of movement and re stock the hospitals and schools and you will see a new dawn! Give the Palestinians what the Israeli's take for granted ( and it doesn't have to extend to green grass water water everywhere on THAT side of the wall, or holidays, or dignity in raising their children free from bomb rubble and fear.) Just to be able to go to work, or move freely, or have clean running water and hospitals and schools so that they may learn that all mankind are related (the Jews and Arabs closer than most).

So I still feel a frisson of frustration at the stupidity of the Middle East. Pathos too.

And in Africa (Zimbabwe)the horrors of Cholera do not move the West to take any action. Maybe if the poor buggers dug around and found Oil, Gold or Uranium then the West ( ie USA) might sit up and DO something. Watching as the women and children gather water from sewrage and filth infested puddles makes me vomit.

And in Australia?
We are still trying to get our Original people what they need...more talkfests, more councils being mooted, more untangling of 'what is best'. Maybe the economics is muddying the waters, but I have more faith that SOMETHING will happen soon than I have in all the 11 years of Neo con drivel.

I am hopeful that the powers that be will now put the religious back in their box and disentangle their connections with the godbotherers. I am so so sick of Christians.

I went to an 80th birthday party last Sunday and was sad to hear that her beloved grandson would not be attending because it was being held at a Tavern. He being a happi-clappi chappi, meant he has the right to judge and condemn all in one breath at the ripe old age of 24. So he and his prissi little missi who allows no heathen to touch their child absented themselves from the gathering.
Also my beloved ex son in law mired deep in the bowels of the stupid, is arriving to deliver some belongings to ex wife ( daughter of mine) but is 'not allowed' to set eyes upon her ( in case it stirs his loins and he can't control his sexual urges). Considering he never felt like that before or after they were married I doubt it would all of a sudden stand to attention NOW! Poor stupid little Christian. Fear of sex goes with the territory.

I attended a funeral last Friday. The first of the siblings of my mother in law's 9.
He was a mover and shaker ( she says "Runs with the Wolves") in the underworld. It is a miracle he lived to 71. "Lived" may be too strong a word.
We drove the 2 hours and mingled with a group who were all together and at once;
Sad, tearful, mournful, angry, greedy, jealous, feisty, bitchy and ready for a fight. And that was just the women!! It was a new and entertaining situation for someone like me from my background to observe. No 'blood-lines' of mine were there so it was easier for me to be detached and blase. For others it was embarrassing, depressing ("So this is my gene pool") and frightening.

Have had some terrible times with HWMBO....pain and 'waiting lists' for reassignments and terror of 'advice' ..."leave your home now and move to more 'suitable' accomodation".....Guess it is easy for a surgeon who is earning hundreds of thousands a year but for us, virtually impossible.

So we got our heads around it and learned what is possible and probable and sank into ourselves a little more.

MIL (motherin law) declared she believed in Karma. I said I didn't! NO? She was surprised. I said;"Look at your son. The most moral, intelligent, kind, caring and forgiving man on earth and the shit is still spinning out of control around him."
Of course there is NO god...for chrissake.
Of course there is no Karma...for Krishnasake.
Of course there is just Nature in all her glory and gory.
We too will make feed for the worms and that is how it should be.
Such childish nonsense for the well off to bend their minds to and excuse themselves from having to actually recognise and act upon the horror of the poor.
God I hope the rich get their lesson soon. Coz I would like my lesson soon in having a break in the 'shit storm' (a term our PM used out of frustration at journalists questioning on the economy...and I love him for it...but the papers had a field day of 'Ooo-wahh's') of ill health and struggle.

So there!
You are up to date.
You who are no longer out there.
You who have disappeared.

I still think of the heady days of when I could and would write. But it is no more.

Hope love is still keeping you together and alive out there in bloggerland.

Cheers!!!!