Recently in Musings Category

I am trying out a new method of web communication which is called Tumbler... It's much easier to post all sorts of things, including photos, text, quotations and twitter comments.

If you want to check it out, have a look at my site:  susannainoz.tumblr.com

So far, I haven't found out a way to post here automatically, but I am hoping to be able to work out how to do that.

It is a bit hard to know whether new technology is a good thing until you've actually tried it out. With tumblr I can email a photo, which will automatically get posted (like Flickr) tweet into Twitter and just generally have a web presence which is much more easily managed.

I had one of those strange dreams last week, in which my mobile phone kept on ringing, but I couldn't answer it, despite frantically pressing the green answer button. Grabbing the phone with both hands, pressing, almost punching it. Nothing made any difference at all...

It's a strange thing, the telephone...for some reason; we will drop almost any task to take a call, even when we are incredibly busy. And I do feel a wee bit guilty if, through pressure of deadlines, I put the phone through to voice mail, to manage the workload. I think it is because we have innately within us, a need to feel needed, that we can solve any problem, given the chance.

When the phone rings, at some hours of the day, there are automatic assumptions made.

A call before 7am will undoubtedly mean some sort of news, often bad. About twenty years ago, we received a call at precisely 5.30 am. Why 5.30 am? Because that was the time that my family thought was the absolutely earliest that they could call, given that there had been a catastrophe in their home, but no one was injured despite extensive property damage.

Bereavement in the family can wait till a little later in the day, depending on the circumstances, and timing of the news, but not too much time.

For many years we received calls at all hours of the night when we were on call for the fire brigade in country Victoria. We would usually both get up, at least initially, and if I was working next day, I would head back to bed if the call was of a lesser incident, but very hard to go back to sleep when you can hear fire radios crackling in the background. If the incident was more serious, the work day might be rearranged if possible, for my client base were almost always just as attuned to the fire radios as we were.

A call up to 11 pm, in the fire brigade days, was often just for a chat, or for some operational reason, that was not seen as of critical importance during the day, but could wait until the evening, after dinner, when all the other issues of the day were dealt with.

Last week, after my imagined missed call, the realisation came in the cold, hard and logical daylight hours that people who really need to talk to you, will try again, if they really want to talk to you, or the call really wasn't important. But as it was a dream, then the caller wasn't really trying at all.

And I was only dreaming...

After a record 123 days in a row with a maximum temperature of at least 20 °C in Melbourne, we have now had three days in a row under 20, with more to come.

On my foot journey across the Yarra yesterday evening to attend my French class, the change in attire since the previous lesson, two weeks earlier was amazing. Boots, coats, scarves, hats and wraps aplenty. Aussie Lass in Paris is probably laughing at the notion of wearing these things when the temperature is 17 deg, but here, after months of balmy weather we are suddenly feeling the (relative) cold.

It's nice to look at my winter wardrobe, and bring out some of the clothes that have been at the corner of the wardrobe for more than six months. The caramel coloured ankle boots that I bought at the Jag outlet at DFO in August are finally getting some wear; and new combinations can be pulled together, with the luxury of a few kgs less on my back than last winter.

The worst thing, since the ending of daylight saving on Easter Sunday, has been the fact that it's dark at 6.30pm. If I have a long day at work, I get no daylight to speak of, and that will only get worse. At least when we were finishing daylight saving earlier in the year, the transition did not seem so bad.

A departing colleague mentioned yesterday that she had a three week contract position coming up in Germany, and my already itchy feet are wishing for longer days, and a trip to the Northern Hemisphere. Of course, it is probably still much colder there, it's just me wishing again...

The cold weather here really is only relative- I can still wander around the house and grab the washing off the clothes line in bare feet. The cats beg to differ, however. They consider that the weather has taken a terrible turn for the worst, turning them into extremely cuddly companions for as long as they can pin their humans down, whether on a chair, or in a bed or wherever else...

They seemed to have forgotten the sound of the central heating turning itself on, and still get startled by the sudden sound, but soon settle down again, especially if the knees they are enjoying don't move.

Well, almost a week has now passed since the end of the AFL season, and I have found, surprisingly, that life does indeed go on, as the saying goes.

What really got me over it was the chain of natural disasters that have occurred in various parts of Asia and the Pacific this week. The sadness of it all...

I have been blessed with family and friends, and although not everything in our lives goes wonderfully, all the time, we know things can, and do move on.

I woke up on Thursday morning with a sore throat, feeling dreadful; and unfortunately, two days of taking it easy, sleeping a fair bit of the time has not yet beaten the virus.

The forecast for today's Grand Final is for rain, wind and hail; but somehow, if I had tickets I would still be lining up to go, even with no guarantee of shelter. The virus is unlikely to be swine flu- no aches and pains- just sore throat and really, really tired.

The mood this week has been a mix of anxiety, anticipation and time passing slowly, so much more slowly than normal. But Saturday has finally arrived...and with it the realisation that there is nothing that I can do...

The players have made it clear that their goal was to win the Premiership. Now all that remains is for the game to be played.... 

Fist of all it is necessary to know that not a word is spoken during the film, which won an award at Berlin in a film festival a few years ago.

The scene is a metro railway carriage, and a young man who gets on to the train, in a crowded carriage and an attractive young woman who sits in the vacant seat next to him, and how two people can connect without speaking a single word.

The communication comes, as he is reading a book, he shows her some words as he is underlining them: the words aren't necessarily the correct spelling of what he wants to say, but the sound is, as he underlines:

"Les regards autour son sur vous

Je ne peut voir votre visage mais les regard parle... »

(Everyone around is looking at you, I can't see your face but their looks tell)

She underlines and shows him, in the book she is reading :

Ils ne disent rien pour vous

(They say nothing about you)

Etcetera

Eventually, she writes her phone number on her book, just as she arises to get off the train

Suffice it to say, almost every female I have related this to, gets a little weak at the knees at the idea of the romance evoked in just a few minutes of film footage and nine sentences. On the other hand, most of the males are completely underwhelmed...

What does grate-papier mean? According to my dictionary- pencil pusher...

We can all share in someone else's excitement at a change in life, whether it's a new baby, an engagement, marriage or simply a milestone like a birthday, or an arrival or departure.

Counting the days, and hours helps to maintain and build the excitement.

The first time that Aussie Lass flew back from France, I tried to imagine where she was at various times during the long flight from Europe..., counting the hours: thankfully sleep provides a respite for us, at least. All of a sudden, it's off the airport, and waiting for what seems like hours, but is really not very long at all. This time, she and muffin man will be arriving in the evening, so we'll have all day to wait.

Yesterday one of my colleagues was waiting to depart for her first overseas trip, leaving plenty of time to get to the airport, while our more well travelled colleague was much more laid back and blasé about arriving at the last minute. The plane was delayed once, by two hours, then again by another two hours, so that an unpleasant arrival time of midnight (destination time) turned into 4 am arrival at the airport. By the time they got to their hotel it would have been 5 am, and with three hours driving and meetings to attend, today will have turned into a difficult one.

I love going to the airport to meet travellers. If you stand at the gates waiting, you can can see the excitement as people come through the doors from customs, anxiously looking for friends or family, amidst the exhaustion that comes with long haul travel in economy class. There are many stories to be told, no matter where the traveller comes from.

Oh yes, and I am counting the days until the first of the imminent arrivals....49 days until the Aussie Lass and Muffin Man arrive, and doubtless many others to anticipate over the years to come.

Another weekend in a busy life, with lots of things happening, including a Saturday afternoon snooze to recharge the batteries, and a chance remark last week which got me thinking along a theme...what does make the pulse beat just a little faster?

• Climbing to level 3 at Docklands Stadium- need to get fitter, once a week is not enough...
• The lead changing, backwards and forwards,  in the last quarter of the St Kilda vs Brisbane Lions match
• Stevie Milne's snap off the ground in the last quarter for a goal, which turned the match around
• A hard fought win, even when the Saints were not playing as well as they would have liked
• Nick Riewoldt kicking for goal
• Getting three fifty point bonuses in scrabble in one game, for using all the letters up
• Clever, witty conversation  with a touch of sarcasm...too few for my liking, I need the practice.

Over the past few weeks I have discovered that one way of making sure that I can watch the footy, even when my better half does not want to watch, is to hand over the iPod Touch, so that he can play some games instead.

Lucky for games like Trism, Bejewelled and Fieldrunners.

For me, I had a long winded run on Trism, getting one score in the 1 billion range, but I am over it now. I have also downloaded the Scrabble version from the App Store, and can happily play against the computer for hours. I guess I will get sick of that soon, too.

These devices are addictive, but also very useful. With the benefit of a wireless network, I can check the latest footy or cricket scores and stories thanks to the apps which cater for these interests, as well as check the latest AU/ US fx rate; the headlines and stories in The Age, Le Monde or the ABC. And I (or someone else) can play games for hours, and having more than a thousand music tracks, a French English dictionary, some electronic books and hundreds of photos of my last holiday in France are just added bonuses!

Nerdy? Maybe, but lots of fun.

The AFL season is upon us, and for the long suffering St Kilda fan, it is a strange feeling to be sitting on top of the ladder with a percentage of 212% after winning the first five games of the season, ahead of Geelong on percentage, with both teams two games clear of the rest of the competition. There have been some newspaper articles written in the past about long suffering Saints supporters struggling to come to terms with not being the valiant loser when there has been a series of wins which I have related to, and which, sadly, I have kept electronic copies, as they seemed so reflective of my feelings at the time.

The role of the courageous loser has been our lot for many, many years, except once, in 1966. This year, our boys are tough competitors who through sheer domination and determination in defence and superb teamwork have kept their opposition to miserly score lines all season. In 2004, when a stream of 10 victories in a row (including the pre-season cup) including some victories where the team really didn't play all that well, but still won, were challenges to that old psyche. That is because a victory, seemingly not earned, does not have the same deserving feeling as a loss, when a brave performance was not enough to get across the line, but could always be lauded for the spirit of the defeat, in some small way like the Anzacs at Gallipoli Cove, fighting an un-winnable battle with honour, despite the pain.

It's a long way to go till the end of the season, but it's far better to be sitting on top, than struggling, winless or 2 and 3 after round five of twenty two. This year, the battles do not look un-winnable, even so, wins cannot be assumed, because there are many things that influence the result of a game of football which are outside the control of the team, including injuries, suspensions and bad umpiring decisions. And while the team is playing well, I will bask in reflected glory, and enjoy the moments of pleasure which come, and maybe, just maybe, dreaming of a better year than the last.