8 Oct 2012
Genetically I am programmed to never utter the word ‘sorry’. I come from a long line of people who preferred to take their chances with deportation to the colonies rather than say it out loud. Our family approach was of the defiant celtic model because forming the word ‘sorry’ in their mouths would have caused my forebears to choke and die.
Consequently, in many circles it is generally acknowledged that actions speak louder than words, so it’s better to demonstrate you are sorry by ignoring the problem and just being really lovely. And as a system it works because it’s molecular.
However, it is a fact that a genuine ‘sorry’ starts a conversation. It doesn’t end it. It’s not weak. It takes guts to say it. It acknowledges that you have the strength of character to admit that you got it wrong.
Which is why I don’t understand why people can’t say sorry without adding ‘but’. If there is a’but’, there should never have been a ‘sorry’.
You don’t need to apologise for things that aren’t your fault. You can apologise for the tone you used if the words are something you’re quite pleased you said. You can apologise for being an arse without pointing out the other person was one as well.
And with that – sometimes you have to accept that people don’t want to apologise. Or that no matter how much they apologise you’re never going to believe them. So why badger them for it? It’s going to lack meaning – like when you were young and you were sent to your room until you were sorry. Well of course you were going to say it eventually because there is only so much fun to be had locked in your room (this was in the days before everybody had full computer and home entertainment systems in their rooms ok!?)
It’s the same when you’re an adult. If apologising is the only way to get people to leave you alone, you’ll say it. But the word ‘sorry’ should be offered as an act of free will. Which is why when I read the news at the moment – from Alan Jones, to Mitt Romney, to Nicki Minaj, to Assange – I say leave it. If they mean it, they’ll say it, if they don’t, they won’t.
5 Oct 2012
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I don’t give a monkey’s what Tony Abbott watches on TV. I don’t care who cuts Julia’s hair. I can’t name the current Green’s leader (whoops). I think Bob Katter is a douchebag but his hat doesn’t impact me at all.
And why? Because I’m looking for leadership not celebrity. Genuine, aspirational, passionate leadership. I want a political party and leader who has a vision, can articulate the vision and drive the vision. People don’t always need to be right, mistakes can be made, but I’m sick to death of the naysaying of Australian politics.
People are not going to vote for Tony Abbott because his wife likes him. She will. And good on her – loyalty is lovely. He needs to be getting out there and having an opinion, providing leadership and a contrary vision to the one Labour provides. His current approach of just being a negative nelly is boring. He needs (sorry Tony) to pay attention to Mr Turnbull. Like him, or love him, his is a well articulated opinion.
And Julia needs to stop expecting to be stabbed in the back like Kevin and get on with it. At election time, people will respond to results and to evidence that representative democracy works. Representative – not the views of the MPs – but those of their electorates. As our first female PM, she could be so much more and we’d let her be because we need someone to jolt us out of our apathy and get us caring again.
I want a vision for Australia that doesn’t use minorities such as our refugee as pawns. I want equality for all people even if it’s a slippery slope to donkey love. I want the strength of our dollar to continue. I want good education for my children. Opportunities for my friends. An aged care system that will support my parents. I want us to be the lucky country because our policies are based on fact not fear.
No wonder the new black market in christmas hams got such a long article today. If the only other news on offer is that Margie likes her husband, we are officially screwed.
4 Oct 2012
Late one Friday night in London in 2006, after a boozy night out with my beautiful man, we came home and turned on the TV and ended up watching the UK’s inaugural version of Beauty and The Geek. And for the next few weeks we were thankful for the 11pm closing time in London’s pubs because we became complete addicts.
It was car crash tv. But sweet. Inexplicably sweet.
And so in 2012, we are sitting down channel surfing and there is the latest Australian version. And still strangely inexplicably sweet.
The flip side of course is as the average joe on the couch, there is a touch of the patronising in the way we end up looking at both groups. We are pleased we know what gibberish means and what town planning involves and we also know that we would never in a million years go on the show.
And its all a little bit staged and cringeworthy and a little bit sad. But here I am sitting through the entire first episode. And I can almost bet money that I’ll be watching the finale even if I miss all the ones in between. Just to see who wins. And it makes no sense to me – I’m loftier than this, more idealistic than this, busier than this!
(And my beautiful man is wondering whether or not he should get a fake tan or wax his nipples. So we know who he’s identifying with this evening. Ha ha)
Oh reality TV – you are the downfall of civilisation.
3 Oct 2012
I recently became acquainted with the word ‘gheegle’ which is a Filipino word which means “The irresistible urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute”. It’s a brilliant word and its a pity that English doesn’t offer up something equally as descriptive. But that’s the funny thing about English.
Anyway, I digress.
Today the sun was shining with a fervour that spoke more of summer than spring and my girls and I encountered nothing but lovely people everywhere we went. And every other moment one or other of my girls would do something, or give me a look, or a laugh that made me want to gheegle gheegle gheegle.
Sometimes my love for my daughters is such a physical thing I want to shout it from the rooftops, hug them, kiss them, squeeze them and capture every moment on camera because I have a terrible memory and I would hate to forget a moment of their awesomeness.
My heart lurches. My breathing becomes more rapid. Like with rage I just want to stand and yell. But I want to yell ‘Look world, look at my beautiful daughters’. And while others will see gappy toothed, smiling, mucus monsters I just see two bundles of wonderful.
Now one is slumbering and the other is protesting sleep with the passion that only the very young can and I am content with my world and the little unit of love that is my family.
Gheegle. Gheegle. Gheegle.
2 Oct 2012
I never ever thought I’d be saying this and please nobody think it changes my overall view – but I think we need to give Tony Abbott a break.
Yes it was a Young Liberals event and yes Tony Abbott is a Liberal and yes, mostly he perpetuates the xenophobic and small minded policies so revered by John Bloody Howard BUT he didn’t make the comments and he didn’t endorse the comments. In fact he condemned the comments and was supportive of Julia Gillard. Sure he might have only said as much as he needed to say but that’s fine – he wasn’t the one who was nasty.
I would go so far as to say he behaved decently and sympathetically on this occasion. Which of course means now that I know he’s capable of it, I’ll judge him all the more harshly when he acts otherwise.
Alan Jones is the only person responsible for those comments even if the event did themselves no favours by inviting such a contrarian to have an open session on the microphone.
So lets end the blame game and stop giving him air time. Now that would really piss him off.
1 Oct 2012
We all know Alan Jones is a tosser – its just been a matter of degree depending on where you sit on the whole left to right political spectrum. His comments were out of line, in a long line of out of line comments. I’ll tell you what has had me flabbergasted in this latest round of media coverage which I had missed before – he has OVER 30 GODCHILDREN!!!
That means there are over 30 children who have had their spiritual upbringing entrusted to Alan Jones. He is supposed to help guide them in their faith and assist in the development of their values, their morals and their ethics.
And that’s what has me flabbergasted.
The man has no moral compass, no obvious ethics and worships as far as I can tell at the altar of his own arse. Yet over 30 people have thought – hey – Alan Jones would make a great godfather.
What the fuck? I mean seriously – what the fuck?
Who are these people so deluded? Were they drunk? Forced against their will? Do they hate their children? Why? Why? Why?
And breathe.
