Monday: thinking about the meaning of life

The terrible devastation and loss of life in the bushfires is dreadful to say the least. To comment on it in any meaningful way seems impossible while the event is still unfolding. And I think I'll leave that to others more knowledgeable than I. Reading the coverage in the paper this morning over breakfast was awful, and eventually I just had to stop reading. For us, the lucky ones, who are experiencing it second hand through media coverage, we can only count our blessings that it's not happening to us. My only action was to make a donation to The Red Cross, because surely every little bit must help.

Tragedy and disaster quickly puts our lives into perspective. I felt extremely fortunate to able to get up and go to work as normal this morning. Even the most boring and mundane tasks were attacked with enthusiasm, because I was thinking about all those people who weren't able to do so. I can't think of anything else to say, apart from the plain simple fact that it's all so sad. And almost incomprehensible, viewing it from the sidelines.

What do you mean Harvey Keitel is in a movie about singing nuns?

Well strictly speaking, this should be held over until Wendy's next week of TV, but it's my blog so, hey, I'll make the rules up as I go along.
Sister Act won out over Billy Elliot for last night's TV viewing. As I was watching I realised I had seen Sister Act 2 a number of times, but the original less. I had forgotten about Harvey Keitel as Whoopi's evil mob boyfriend. I had also forgotten about most of the songs. For while the plot is pure corniness, it's the music that makes this a great film. It's doubtful whether Whoopi Goldberg will ever get a better role I think. I started with the thought that I'd just get through first hour or so and then go to bed or put on a DVD, but it kept me hooked until the end (in spite of the increasing number of ad breaks!). And the final song gave me goosebumps.

If you've ever been in a choir you'll realise how difficult it is get the singers to sing and move (let alone clap) at the same time. So thumbs up to the nuns for that. But, here like Mamma Mia more recently, it's all about the joy of music. Enjoy the clip. And rest assured there's plenty more on youtube for you to look up yourself. And that old nun on the piano, I fear that's me in sixty years time, still plonking away at choir. Although not a nun, you understand.

(And a shout out to Andy who I still remember as the first person to tell me about this movie when were at uni! I thought it sounded stupid, but I was wrong!)

"does this boy dance?"

Out for breakfast with parents and sister this morning we were perusing what's on the telly tonight. "Look", I said, "There's a choice of "Sister Act" or "Billy Elliot". My mum and I both agreed that the best parts of both those movies are the finales, especially the final scene of Billy Elliot when adult Billy does the great big leap on to the stage.

And then we remembered the first time my father watched Billy Elliot. It was about half way through, and he had a few little dozes (Dad not Billy. Billy had been dancing up a storm for some time). Dozing off is my father's normal mode of watching anything on television. So there had been silence for some time and then a voice deep from the lounge asked, "Does this boy dance?"

We still laugh a lot about that.

The other Dad classic was during a viewing of the Brooke Shields sitcom Suddenly Susan. About 20 minutes had passed without much comment ( or laughing as I recall) and he asked the room with great wonderment, "Is her name Susan?"

Oh, and there was also the time he was trying to change the TV channels with his mobile phone and getting quite irate that it wasn't working. We remind him of that fairly often.

Don't worry though, we're laughing at him, not with him.

Wendy's Week of TV: Part 30

I think might have been in a post-tennis TV watching slump this week. All the promises of the fabulous programming amounted to nothing and I was left with the usual suspects: Father Ted, Doctor Who, the return of Spicks and Specks, and a one-day cricket match.

Tennis: Men's Final
Firstly, though you'd thought you'd heard the last of the tennis but you haven't. The mens' final on Sunday was heartbreaking and I couldn't make it to the end. All the way through I had a terrible feeling that Roger would not win. Even when he was playing brilliantly, Nadal always had a comeback. Finally at around 11 I went to bed with a sense of doom. Don't get me wrong I like Nadal as well, but for Federer time is running out if he's going to get the number of grand slams record from Pete Sampras. He's 27 now, which in tennis years (like animal years) is much older than it sounds. It was a little bit sad.

Tuesday: Father Ted
Was a repeat! Still better than the other options, although I did forget to watch the one "after the tennis" show I was going to try, RSPCA Animal Rescue. Maybe I need to put a note in my outlook calendar.

Doctor Who: Very good, although it's a bit confusing because I am currently watching some of the Martha episodes on DVD. I'm changing my mind about Martha, she is less annoying than Rose, but not as good as Donna. Anyway Catriona does a much better job of explaining it than me over at Circulating Library so go and read that. Let's just say Zoe Wanamaker was fabulous as a stretched out dehydrating piece of skin and the cat-nun-nurses were fun as well.

Wednesday: Spicks and Specks returns. It's always the same, relying on the quality of the panel guests for it's entertainment value. Guy Pearce - hooray! I know he's made a lot of movies, but why didn't they mention his seminal role as Mike on Neighbours. Maybe he told them not to. Anyway, there was a fair amount of bagging out of Craig MacLachlan which everyone enjoyed.

Thursday: Nothing. Continued my 30 Rock catching up marathon on DVD. I'm now up to Season 2 but think I shall post about that separately once I've sorted out what I think.

Friday: Managed to catch the end of the one day cricket after the Eisteddfod meeting. I absolutely love it when these games go down to the wire like this one did, and as I may have mentioned once or twice on this blog previously, it's very satisfying when Australia loses. Although, this summer even that's getting a bit old. Because they never win! I think New Zealand might be my favourite international team actually. Daniel Vettori was right, that Brad Haddin wicket in the previous game was suspect.

And, I kept forgetting to watch The Biggest Loser. I only managed one episode. I'm torn when it comes to the Biggest Loser. Is it exploitative of people with weight issues, or is it caring, sharing, changing people's lives in an Oprah-like confidence and self-esteem building way. I can't decide so I think that means it's both those things at once. But I do love the drama of the weekly weigh-in. Who will go below the yellow line? And the visual corniness when they have to vote and they reveal the names from under the room service tray thingies.

Although I think we all agree that "the walk" that was introduced last season is stupid and time wasting in an attempt to inject further "drama" into a program that already moves at a glacial pace. This time, they picked bracelets out of the gerbra urns. And it takes FOREVER. (Note to producers. I preferred the stone tablets from last season.) But I do like to imagine the director off-screen. "Everyone look sad now". "Everyone, Ajay's coming, line up and wait for her to deliver her lines, that are written in peculiarly short Hemingwayesque sentences". "Everyone, don't mention the welfare fraud charges". "Everyone, try not to look bored while we spend the entirety of tonight's episode, recapping what happened last night". It is perhaps the slowest show on TV (apart from Test cricket). Maybe that's why I like watching it. Because when something does actually finally happen, the excitement is magnified. As you might guess, there may be more on TBL in the weeks to come. Especially the trainers, Michelle and Shannon. I prefer the Americans Bob and Jillian. They are fierce. Although Michelle and Shannon have grown on me. It's interesting to surmise as to whether Shannon's arm tattoo is real or fake. So when nothing's happening you can study it for inconsistencies.

What do you mean I need to get a life?

Madam Vice-President and Music coordinator

I have an eisteddfod meeting this evening. It's now ten years since I returned to Bundaberg and started helping out with the local music eisteddfod. Growing up as a child here and learning music it was one of the highlights of the year (that combined with the annual AMEB exams). So I was more than happy to help out with some of the organisation, especially given that my original piano teacher was on the committee as a way of giving something back to the music community.

I think my old teacher's eyes lit up with joy when she saw that I seemed willing to help out. "Wendy", she said very casually at what was probably my second eisteddfod, "would you like to get a little more involved with the committee?". "Sure...I'd be happy to help". Famous last words. Within a matter of months and one annual general meeting later, I was the music coordinator, responsible for the smooth running of a seven day event each May that can have anything from 600-800 performances. I have to beg and plead with music professionals to leave their nice jobs in Brisbane and sit hunched over a desk, writing constructive comments on every single one of these performances. Everything from six year olds singing their first solos, to 18 year olds performing concertos. Writer's cramp is a distinct possibility for the adjudicator...that, and I imagine sometimes...boredom. They do get paid though.

And tonight we have our first meeting for the year. Several things have gone wrong since the last meeting in November. The dates have been advertised wrongly in the local paper, contracts have been sent to adjudicators without the correct information,and one of our regular venues has let us down with double bookings. This is combined with my brilliant idea to have two adjudicators this year and run some concurrent sessions to cut down the number of days. It took us four hours to timetable that already and it's going to have to change again.

It's going to be an interesting meeting.

Oh...and did I also mention I'm the vice-president. Luckily, as with other more high profile vice-presidents, that role doesn't require much in the way of work.

sorry Generation X

Okay I'm just going to have come right out and say it. I've tried hard to like Jeff Buckley's Last Goodbye but it doesn't do a thing for me. He just sounds whiny and boring. Most telling of all, I never get the urge to sing along.

Sorry Generation X, I feel I have failed you all.

pointless business discourse strikes again

I try not to post too much about my job but here's something I just need to share. Apparently, rather than "prospective student inquiries" we have now have "sales requests". We also provide "customer service" to our "stakeholders" - "key" or "otherwise".

(The things you learn when you go to a meeting that you had a bad feeling about before you even got there.)

I shall however be continuing to "talk" to "people" with "inquiries" about our "courses" and giving them "the best information" I possibly can, in order that they might "enrol in our course" and become a "student".

I am not interested in "tracking their lifecycle". Nor do I want access to some big database that supposedly helps me to do that, but in reality would take up a huge chunk of my day entering the "data" of their "service requests".

I am interested in teaching though. Old fashioned I know, but there it is. I wonder if there's a place for that in our vision statements?

In the old gum tree

I have quite a lot of gum trees down the end of my backyard, past the billy goat's gruff bridge which runs over the creek (o.k. so it's a really a drain, but it's not all concreted so it looks like a creek and that's what I'm calling it).

In those gum trees live a pair of kookaburras. They do their big cackling call twice a day. Once when they're going to bed...usually at about 7:15 - 7:30pm once the sun has gone down. That's fine and dandy. I'm awake then and pleasant thoughts go through my head as I hear them like "Oh listen, there's those beautiful Australian native birds, enchanting me with their distinctive, laughing bird call". Sometimes I even say out loud, "There's Kooky kookaburra"...but only if there are other people around. I've given them a cute and unoriginal nickname. (I don't talk to myself you must understand. Well..rarely.)

However, the second time they feel the need to enchant the neighbourhood seems to be around 4am. Do they not realise that people are trying to sleep then? At that time of the morning, which is pitch black darkness, I hear them and think, "What is up with those blooming* kookaburras, waking me up with their annoyingly loud and long witch-like cackling. Can't they just shut up until at least 6am?"

* sometimes I use other words apart from "blooming". Other less lady-like words with which I will not disgrace the post

I'm clearly not at my most charitable towards native wildlife in the early hours of the morning.

Watch, Listen and Singalong: Part 9: Monsters having fun

I was actually looking for the original Shiny Happy People but when I found this instead I couldn't resist it. I defy you not to smile while you watch it. It certainly cheered me up after a less than wonderful day at work. If music can make the monsters happy, it can turn our frowns upside down.

Dancing now everyone!

("CY") Borg express

Imagine my surprise when reversing out of a carpark uptown (after getting a takeaway coffee) when I had to wait for a whopping great bus called "The Borg Express". It's a bus, with a huge friendly picture of Lawrence (Laurence?) Springborg on the side and covered in the LNP logo. I appreciate the effort in expressing it all the way to regional Queensland to meet with some local voters, but I am not really sure if "The Borg" is the best or most catchiest of nicknames for a political campaign. He's just begging for someone to graffiti "CY" in front of it. Perhaps they should try to concentrate on humanising, rather than (further?) robotising Springborg. (Not sure if "robotising" is a word). I also think they must have bought the bus at a discount as well because as I passed it in my little yaris, it was spewing out diesel fumes fit to choke a small town. Not a very good climate change look. And it wasn't exactly very "express" either. I was only going 63 and I left it far behind quite quickly.

Perhaps if he started wearing a hardhat at all public appearances and rarely travelling further north than Caboolture. Oh, no I forgot, that's the Labor strategy.

Hmmm...got all political there for a moment. Don't worry you haven't stumbled on to Larvatus Prodeo by mistake. :)

I'll just drink my coffee and settle down.

Update: A-HA!!! So this is what the visit was for. Because we just can't get enough political mileage out of the awful and unfortunate "Patel saga"

I've finished my coffee now.

Update 2: Could this be where the great big borg bus came from?

Just asking.