What masks do you wear? Where, and with whom, are you truly yourself?
If that is while I'm alone, then the 'real' me seems to be in 'sleep' mode - in low-power mode, but capable of restarting when needed.
I'm not an extrovert (surprised? Probably not), but I can spend a whole day interacting with people - workmates and customers. So, when I get home, I need downtime. It's tiring wearing that public mask for hours on end.
What about online? Here - on my blog - I share a mix of professional and personal info. On facebook, it's more personal, and family-related, really. Twitter - again a mix - but there I'm more like a stalker, than a participant. On linkedin, strictly professional. At all times I'm aware that people I know from my different worlds are reading and, possibly, passing on my public thoughts. So, although I share stories from my personal life online, I am careful how and what it is. Because you never know what happens. What goes online, stays online.
At work I can be a bit manic, a bit of a flirt (depending on the audience and situation, of course) - a performer as needed. Watching the surprise on my sister's face one night when I slipped into work mode made me realise that most of my family don't know that person - that Annie. [We were at a fundraiser, and there to be customers, but our family were swamped, so I helped out].
So many people know that work-Annie. And/or the Storylines-Annie.
Within the family, through strength of numbers (and growing) I'm known mainly as Auntie Anne - or Auntie Annie.
It's rare to find someone who knows Anne. And I sometimes think she is vanishing. And I miss her. I don't really know her these days, if I ever did.
Then there's the online me - often masked as madhamster. Sometimes angry-mad. Sometimes crazy-mad. A bit forgetful. And mad-keen on family. Oh, and knitting.
All this made me think of Alice Cooper (lately I've been doing that a bit. Not sure why - it began before seeing him in Top Gear out-takes). In an interview I saw/read/heard years ago, he talked about his concerts. How he knew what he was doing. But when Alice came on stage - he had no idea. Another interview, he talked about his kids saying things like 'Dad. Dad. Alice is on tv.'
So, in his head, in his behaviour, and within his family, Alice is a very distinct separate persona. A mask - a performance - that he dons as needed.
So - where does this leave me? Trying to find myself within the masks and faces I wear for the sake of others.
Welcome. Welcome to my online mask - Ms Mad Hamster.
What mask are you wearing?
Showing posts with label thoughts for Thursday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts for Thursday. Show all posts
Thursday, 7 July 2011
Thursday, 26 May 2011
Thoughts for a Thursday... fandom!
To celebrate the 2nd episode of the latest Doctor Who series... some fandom...
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
PS there is an official game coming out.
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
see more Lol Celebs
PS there is an official game coming out.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Thursday for a Thurday: techno taming
Ever feel like technology is taking over your life?
Most Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I'm sitting in front a computer for about 10 hours a day at work. Doing techie stuff. You know, email, internet stuff - research, searching, chat, updating webpages - working on documents and spreadsheets... Pretty much all work-related.
Thursdays - about six hours or so. Friday and Saturday, not so much. Also explains why I spend so much time of Saturday out from the workroom and from behind the desk.
This also explains why I'm a sporadic facebooker. And why I forget I have a brand-new twitter account.
And... why I only rarely actually plug-in-and-turn-on my broadband at home.
After hours at work spent in front of a screen - when I'm at home, I'd rather have the screen a few feet away - a TV screen, where I'm not expected to do anything, up to and including paying attention. And I'll knit.... or read. Or both at the same time.
I'm not that much of a techno-nut to enjoy being hooked in all the time.
And, that's my excuse for not updating my blog so much.
And the blogs I follow tend to be the ones that email me. The whole logging-on to yet ANOTHER account, or visiting ANOTHER site does my head in. Just email me any updates, damn it. Facebook - I remember to visit, because it emails me when I'm tagged.
Mea culpa.
Most Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I'm sitting in front a computer for about 10 hours a day at work. Doing techie stuff. You know, email, internet stuff - research, searching, chat, updating webpages - working on documents and spreadsheets... Pretty much all work-related.
Thursdays - about six hours or so. Friday and Saturday, not so much. Also explains why I spend so much time of Saturday out from the workroom and from behind the desk.
This also explains why I'm a sporadic facebooker. And why I forget I have a brand-new twitter account.
And... why I only rarely actually plug-in-and-turn-on my broadband at home.
After hours at work spent in front of a screen - when I'm at home, I'd rather have the screen a few feet away - a TV screen, where I'm not expected to do anything, up to and including paying attention. And I'll knit.... or read. Or both at the same time.
I'm not that much of a techno-nut to enjoy being hooked in all the time.
And, that's my excuse for not updating my blog so much.
And the blogs I follow tend to be the ones that email me. The whole logging-on to yet ANOTHER account, or visiting ANOTHER site does my head in. Just email me any updates, damn it. Facebook - I remember to visit, because it emails me when I'm tagged.
Mea culpa.
Friday, 6 May 2011
Thoughts for a Thursday... mothers
Belated thoughts. I wrote this on Thursday, but computer access limited until now...
I've written about my mum and my nanas before. With Mother's day coming up, I wondered what more I had to say. Well, a lot really, but not all of it appropriate to a public forum. Instead, I thought about non-mothers - or, un-mothers, as my oldest sister and I call ourselves (and we sometimes give each other Happy Un-Mother's Day presents).
I think mothers (and fathers) are wonderful. I think the decision to have children, to nurture them - body & soul, mind & spirit - so they become amazing human beings, is a joyous thing.
But, I also think there is too much pressure and expectation to join this band.
Motherhood wasn't an option for me, for reasons that you don't need to know. They are my reasons.
Why do those of us without children - for whatever reasons - are made to feel somehow lesser beings?
Parenthood should be a choice, made with both emotion and logic. But it should not be a matter of public debate and discussion, particularly if you have not gone down that route.
I believe you can have a happy and fulfilled life with children. I believe you can have a happy and fulfilled life without children.
It is your choice.
It is your life.
The rest of the world can just butt out.
I've written about my mum and my nanas before. With Mother's day coming up, I wondered what more I had to say. Well, a lot really, but not all of it appropriate to a public forum. Instead, I thought about non-mothers - or, un-mothers, as my oldest sister and I call ourselves (and we sometimes give each other Happy Un-Mother's Day presents).
I think mothers (and fathers) are wonderful. I think the decision to have children, to nurture them - body & soul, mind & spirit - so they become amazing human beings, is a joyous thing.
But, I also think there is too much pressure and expectation to join this band.
Motherhood wasn't an option for me, for reasons that you don't need to know. They are my reasons.
Why do those of us without children - for whatever reasons - are made to feel somehow lesser beings?
Parenthood should be a choice, made with both emotion and logic. But it should not be a matter of public debate and discussion, particularly if you have not gone down that route.
I believe you can have a happy and fulfilled life with children. I believe you can have a happy and fulfilled life without children.
It is your choice.
It is your life.
The rest of the world can just butt out.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Thoughts on a Thursday...for the girls
Being a Nana seems to be fashionable now. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm one of them. I've talked before about domestic arts, and housework - and the difference. I subscribe to Wendyl Nissen's newsletter, and use her laundry liquid. (One day I might even make my own.)
Today I came over all Nana-ish and sent my mother - yes, my mother! - housework tips! Gosh... Anyway - for those interested:
Add one cup of white vinegar into your final clothes wash rinse to soften clothes and strip out any laundry powder residue (which can cause skin reactions).
Put a couple of drops of liquid soap onto a dry cloth and wipe over your bathroom window. It will stop fogging thanks to steam for a while. Once the fogging begins again, it's really easy to wipe clean and clears quickly when wiped.
On the subject of Nanas...
Yesterday, I spent the day at the Auckland West Federation of Women's Institutes AGM. I managed NOT to be nominated - or nominate myself - onto the federation committee. (However, I did volunteer to be co-opted if needed.) So, a day surrounded by wonderful women. Mostly older, it must be said. (And I felt like an idiot, putting out coffee cups & napkins, while the older folk put out the tables & chairs. Damn back injury.)
To all women out there - join them! If you can't make meetings, become an associate member, like me. Each institute and federation has a 'roll call' - things you can do to help out community groups. Simple things like boxes of tissues for a local special school. If you're crafty, you can make bibs for them. Or knit beanies / bootees / jumpers for hospitals, etc. Every institute and federation will have their own list. They're one of those organisations that work quietly in the background, doing little bits to help in their community. Unsung heroes.
Seriously, what's not to like about an organisation whose motto is: To encourage and inspire women within a dynamic, caring organisation.
They would welome you. I promise. My niece and her son have been welcomed by her local institute, although most of the other members are old enough to be her grandmother (one of them is, of course). If you think you're too young, take along a friend your own age. If you're an at-home mother, for whatever length of time, there's a built-in group of support / help / advice (good or otherwise) there.
If you don't have a nana of your own - there's a group there with a Nana for you.
If you don't have any craft-y skills now, you will have, if you're willing to learn.
So - whose up to the challenge? Join the nanas. Learn new skills. Meet new people. Find some adoptable nanas for yourself. Give to the community. Be a hero.
Today I came over all Nana-ish and sent my mother - yes, my mother! - housework tips! Gosh... Anyway - for those interested:
Add one cup of white vinegar into your final clothes wash rinse to soften clothes and strip out any laundry powder residue (which can cause skin reactions).
Put a couple of drops of liquid soap onto a dry cloth and wipe over your bathroom window. It will stop fogging thanks to steam for a while. Once the fogging begins again, it's really easy to wipe clean and clears quickly when wiped.
On the subject of Nanas...
Yesterday, I spent the day at the Auckland West Federation of Women's Institutes AGM. I managed NOT to be nominated - or nominate myself - onto the federation committee. (However, I did volunteer to be co-opted if needed.) So, a day surrounded by wonderful women. Mostly older, it must be said. (And I felt like an idiot, putting out coffee cups & napkins, while the older folk put out the tables & chairs. Damn back injury.)
To all women out there - join them! If you can't make meetings, become an associate member, like me. Each institute and federation has a 'roll call' - things you can do to help out community groups. Simple things like boxes of tissues for a local special school. If you're crafty, you can make bibs for them. Or knit beanies / bootees / jumpers for hospitals, etc. Every institute and federation will have their own list. They're one of those organisations that work quietly in the background, doing little bits to help in their community. Unsung heroes.
Seriously, what's not to like about an organisation whose motto is: To encourage and inspire women within a dynamic, caring organisation.
They would welome you. I promise. My niece and her son have been welcomed by her local institute, although most of the other members are old enough to be her grandmother (one of them is, of course). If you think you're too young, take along a friend your own age. If you're an at-home mother, for whatever length of time, there's a built-in group of support / help / advice (good or otherwise) there.
If you don't have a nana of your own - there's a group there with a Nana for you.
If you don't have any craft-y skills now, you will have, if you're willing to learn.
So - whose up to the challenge? Join the nanas. Learn new skills. Meet new people. Find some adoptable nanas for yourself. Give to the community. Be a hero.
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Thoughts for a Thursday... family at war
Anzac Day is always a time of reflection. Time to think about war and its impact.
I’d always thought that The War (in this case World War II) didn’t have much of an impact on my immediate family. My dad was too young, and my grandads had long-standing injuries that meant they were unfit. Today I realised that The War really did have a major influence on my life – let alone others in my immediate family.
The War changed people. It sent my biological maternal grandfather off to the Pacific (Air Force ground crew). Like many men, he left behind his wife and children (my mother and aunt). While operating as a solo mother, my grandmother had an independent life. Something she’d never had before. Her husband returned, I’m sure with mental trauma from his experiences, and things didn’t work out. As my nana said ‘he hit me once, and I forgave him. He hit me again, and I went out the window’. And she did. Never to return. (Gosh, I don’t mean he hit her, and the impetus pushed her out the window. I mean, she ran away.)
How did you get a divorce in 1944? You had to prove adultery. And that is why my aunt was born in July 1945. And my grandparents married in October 1945.
So – what impact did the war have on my family? It split it. It gave my mother a new dad, and a new name. It meant we ended up with a really amazing grandad. Maybe my biological grandfather would have been nice, but we’ll never know. (That said, his grandchildren from his second marriage cried at his funeral, so maybe they did get a good grandad.)
What else? That Nana had three brothers: Jim and Ernie were in the army (Middle East), and Al in the navy (on the Achilles during the Battle of the River Plate). Uncle Jim was seriously injured at some point – got to meet Rommel while in a German hospital. At least, that’s the story – hard to know really. As his sister (Nana) admitted once, ‘I don’t know how sane I’d be if I’d had his war experiences’. Well, he wasn’t really insane, as much as paranoid.
A completely different story for his wife. How sane would you be, if one of your first ever jobs was helping repatriate Holocaust victims to Palestine? As with many of Uncle Jim’s stories, we were sceptical – but no, she really did. Diagnosis: paranoid schizophrenia, with a side-order of violence. Army training really helped with that.
I’d always thought that The War (in this case World War II) didn’t have much of an impact on my immediate family. My dad was too young, and my grandads had long-standing injuries that meant they were unfit. Today I realised that The War really did have a major influence on my life – let alone others in my immediate family.
 |
| My grandfather in uniform, at a family wedding. October 1944. |
How did you get a divorce in 1944? You had to prove adultery. And that is why my aunt was born in July 1945. And my grandparents married in October 1945.
So – what impact did the war have on my family? It split it. It gave my mother a new dad, and a new name. It meant we ended up with a really amazing grandad. Maybe my biological grandfather would have been nice, but we’ll never know. (That said, his grandchildren from his second marriage cried at his funeral, so maybe they did get a good grandad.)
 |
| Mum with Uncle Jim. |
A completely different story for his wife. How sane would you be, if one of your first ever jobs was helping repatriate Holocaust victims to Palestine? As with many of Uncle Jim’s stories, we were sceptical – but no, she really did. Diagnosis: paranoid schizophrenia, with a side-order of violence. Army training really helped with that.
 |
| Dad's intake. |
Nearer to home, Dad could tell fun stories about his time in CMT in 1952. Seemed to involve a lot of drinking. Oh, and fun with the Korean soldiers. As a kid, I always thought he meant Korean Koreans, rather than New Zealand soldiers heading to the Korean WAR .
When I met my half-brother, we found out that he was a navy boy. Ex, at that point. He was based in South-East Asia when I was born – and it wasn’t that quiet a place in 1971. (Funny thing is, although he never met Uncle Al – they look alike and had the same rolling walk.)
This weekend my nephew* heads off to Singapore for three months. He’s in the navy. Go well. And come home safe to your wife and baby. May your relationship only strengthen during this time of separation. May your love grow deeper.
Arohanui.
*this nephew is a result of war. His mother is first-generation New Zealander of Dutch descendent. His Oma wanted to move somewhere that couldn’t be invaded. And there was this guy with glasshouse pieces ready to move to New Zealand .
Thursday, 14 April 2011
Thoughts for a Thursday: fashion
I know that seanfish would disagree that we're middle-aged... but when it comes to clothes shopping, I'm feeling decidely in-between.
I'm too old for some shops. Too young for other shops. Too dressy / business. Not funky enough. Too casual. Too poor. Too something.
Saw a fab pair of boots - the design is my name and all! - but $240... maybe not. Saw a great dress - $130. Hmmm... Also a no-go.
So - turning to the left or the right isn't really working at the moment. I'm in the middle, spinning around.
Such a whiney girl at the moment. But, there must be others out there who understand. Surely.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Thoughts on a Thursday: Hateful words
There are two words – usually used together – that I think are the most hateful words in our language.
Us
Them
Think about it.
Creating - manufacturing - differences between anyone sets up opportunities for abuse. For hatred. For paranoia. For misunderstandings.
I don’t mean we have to all be exactly the same – I’m not advocating a melting point of sameness. Let’s celebrate the good things about our differences. Enjoy the colour and the vibrancy. But…
Us
Them
These are the words that lead to bigotry and genocide.
However we think of ‘them’, whoever ‘they’ are they are ‘other’. And ‘other’ usually has negative meanings.
Sometimes these words are implied. Sometimes they are implicit. And they are insidious. They sneak into your thoughts and your speech without realising.
All I ask is that we think about it. Maybe then we’ll have understanding and acceptance and joy.
Us
Them
Think about it.
Creating - manufacturing - differences between anyone sets up opportunities for abuse. For hatred. For paranoia. For misunderstandings.
I don’t mean we have to all be exactly the same – I’m not advocating a melting point of sameness. Let’s celebrate the good things about our differences. Enjoy the colour and the vibrancy. But…
Us
Them
These are the words that lead to bigotry and genocide.
However we think of ‘them’, whoever ‘they’ are they are ‘other’. And ‘other’ usually has negative meanings.
Sometimes these words are implied. Sometimes they are implicit. And they are insidious. They sneak into your thoughts and your speech without realising.
All I ask is that we think about it. Maybe then we’ll have understanding and acceptance and joy.
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Thoughts for a Thursday: teamwork
I've posted about my work place before - he tangata, he tangata, he tangata.
Today we said goodbye to a team mate - she is moving on to better and greater things - long-term dream type stuff. And who are we to stop that. We can still be sad, tho!
I've been in the organisation for 15 years now, in a few teams - and stayed at one desk, through 3 job titles, 2 team leaders, various other reorganisations around me. My team has merged with others, separated out, merged with others...
And, all the while - I've worked with some pretty great people.
I've been a smoker for many of these years - making my social connection at work larger than many. There's always people from other teams you meet in the smokers' area, wherever it is. (Same holds true at conferences / meetings, etc.)
People have come and gone. Some keep in touch. Some don't. Facebook helps. Outside organisations help. Effort helps.
Now, paying bills is a major reason for going to work. But, so are the people I get to hang out with while there.
As always... he tangata. He tangata. He tangata.
Today we said goodbye to a team mate - she is moving on to better and greater things - long-term dream type stuff. And who are we to stop that. We can still be sad, tho!
I've been in the organisation for 15 years now, in a few teams - and stayed at one desk, through 3 job titles, 2 team leaders, various other reorganisations around me. My team has merged with others, separated out, merged with others...
And, all the while - I've worked with some pretty great people.
I've been a smoker for many of these years - making my social connection at work larger than many. There's always people from other teams you meet in the smokers' area, wherever it is. (Same holds true at conferences / meetings, etc.)
People have come and gone. Some keep in touch. Some don't. Facebook helps. Outside organisations help. Effort helps.
Now, paying bills is a major reason for going to work. But, so are the people I get to hang out with while there.
As always... he tangata. He tangata. He tangata.
Thursday, 23 December 2010
Thoughts for a Thursday... dress dilemmas
Warning: very boring for guys... so don't bother reading on. Promise.
On Saturday I was on a mission to find a dress for Christmas Day. Hey, if the little guys can have new clothes for the day, don't see why I can't.
Anyway - the shop was open for less than an hour when I eventually left with one dress I'm 90% happy with. Leaving a pile of 10+ dresses that didn't cut the mustard. Said dress made the cut, but only with the addition of a t-shirt and shrug - which will not be worn at the same time).
I watch things like Gok and Trinny & Susannah. I know from their shows - Gok in particular - that mine is the body shape people want (in theory - tho' one website told me I was plank-shaped. Thanks. Heaps.). This, however, did not stop the disaster / dilemma of the trying on.
I have a shape (albeit plank), which means dresses with lots of padding don't work. Squished-mono-breast is not the look I'm going for, in general. It also means support is needed. So, strapless can be a problem. And so can straps. I'd prefer wider straps, thanks, to at least attempt to cover the bra straps. Oh, and so halter-necks are out, too, for that reason. So, too, plunging necklines. I like my clothes to do double-duty: work and not-work. Cleavage may be great, but so not suitable in my work place! A hint, yep. Plunging - that would be a hell no.
It is difficult to be a 1950s-shaped person in a 1960s/70s styled fashion world. Sigh.
Hence the dilemma.
I like dresses. I like the fact that on days like Christmas, when you're eating a lot, there's no restrictive waistband to make you uncomfortable.
But, again, the dilemma - the shape. I'm a couple of different 'sizes' in my one size. So, finding a dress that suits and is - for me - one-size-fits-all is a struggle. (Not just dresses, really - skirts / trousers also a problem. Yay for hipster styles, I say!) Surely I'm not the only one with such issues.
Anyway - I'm sure there will be photos so you can see how well I did.
On Saturday I was on a mission to find a dress for Christmas Day. Hey, if the little guys can have new clothes for the day, don't see why I can't.
Anyway - the shop was open for less than an hour when I eventually left with one dress I'm 90% happy with. Leaving a pile of 10+ dresses that didn't cut the mustard. Said dress made the cut, but only with the addition of a t-shirt and shrug - which will not be worn at the same time).
I watch things like Gok and Trinny & Susannah. I know from their shows - Gok in particular - that mine is the body shape people want (in theory - tho' one website told me I was plank-shaped. Thanks. Heaps.). This, however, did not stop the disaster / dilemma of the trying on.
I have a shape (albeit plank), which means dresses with lots of padding don't work. Squished-mono-breast is not the look I'm going for, in general. It also means support is needed. So, strapless can be a problem. And so can straps. I'd prefer wider straps, thanks, to at least attempt to cover the bra straps. Oh, and so halter-necks are out, too, for that reason. So, too, plunging necklines. I like my clothes to do double-duty: work and not-work. Cleavage may be great, but so not suitable in my work place! A hint, yep. Plunging - that would be a hell no.
It is difficult to be a 1950s-shaped person in a 1960s/70s styled fashion world. Sigh.
Hence the dilemma.
I like dresses. I like the fact that on days like Christmas, when you're eating a lot, there's no restrictive waistband to make you uncomfortable.
But, again, the dilemma - the shape. I'm a couple of different 'sizes' in my one size. So, finding a dress that suits and is - for me - one-size-fits-all is a struggle. (Not just dresses, really - skirts / trousers also a problem. Yay for hipster styles, I say!) Surely I'm not the only one with such issues.
Anyway - I'm sure there will be photos so you can see how well I did.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Thought for a Thursday... cousinly love
I'm pretty close to my cousin Jod - in age and emotionally. We're only two weeks apart - I'm older, but as Jod like to point out, she was conceived before me. And she got to go home from hospital first. Oh, and walked first, too. She did a lot of things first.
When we were little, we spent a lot of time together - our families were close. But, as both sets of parents divorced - we went with the unrelated parent. She with her mother, and me with my father. Although we shared a set of grandparents (my mother's parents, and her father's parents), we didn't see each other for years.
Then, one day - completely out of the blue - I received a letter from her. In it was a ticket to the local ice-skating rink. She thought it would be useful for me, as she lived on the other side of the city.
From that simple act - I don't know how brave it was to write and hope - we came back together. Every school holiday we spent time together, alternating houses.
As she moved around, we kept in touch by letters.
Then, she moved back to Auckland. And, somehow, we stopped writing and didn't really start phoning. But, still, the closeness was there. Now there's email, facebook, blogs and text. And we just pick up where we left off.
And, this is the true meaning of closeness - no matter the distance, nor the differences in philosophies - we are together.
I love you lots Jod!
When we were little, we spent a lot of time together - our families were close. But, as both sets of parents divorced - we went with the unrelated parent. She with her mother, and me with my father. Although we shared a set of grandparents (my mother's parents, and her father's parents), we didn't see each other for years.
Then, one day - completely out of the blue - I received a letter from her. In it was a ticket to the local ice-skating rink. She thought it would be useful for me, as she lived on the other side of the city.
From that simple act - I don't know how brave it was to write and hope - we came back together. Every school holiday we spent time together, alternating houses.
As she moved around, we kept in touch by letters.
Then, she moved back to Auckland. And, somehow, we stopped writing and didn't really start phoning. But, still, the closeness was there. Now there's email, facebook, blogs and text. And we just pick up where we left off.
And, this is the true meaning of closeness - no matter the distance, nor the differences in philosophies - we are together.
I love you lots Jod!
 |
| with my big sisters in 1972 |
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| 1974 |
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| 1984 |
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| 1987 |
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| 1996 |
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| 2001 |
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| 2010 |
Thursday, 2 December 2010
Thursday, 25 November 2010
Thoughts for a Thursday... little things
And, probably not the little things you're thinking of.
I'm thinking little things called prepositions.
While studying@ old dead languages (Old English & Old Norse)* I discovered that their prepositions were quite fluid. One little preposition could mean at or on or by, etc...
And that really screws with your concept of the action.
Consider these shoes...
Now, the very pretty one on the left is one of the pair I was wearing AT work yesterday. While the one of the right - plain, sensible - is one of the pair I was wearing TO and FROM work. See - makes sense.
When translating some saga or other - we needed the help of our lecturer to picture the scene. Well, it's not every day you find out that cows often grazed ON the roof of a house#.
So, I say - take care of those little prepositions and enjoy the knowledge they provide in those few letters.
@ I say 'studied' - not learned. Trust me, did enough to pass - and forgotten most of it now. I didn't even consider any living language.
* I also studied Latin - but it didn't seem to have the same problem with prepositions - or I don't remember it.
# It's like the first thing we translated... about the birth of Sleipnir, Odin's horse, in the Gylfaginning - when it says about Loki: he bore a foal. It was grey and had eight legs. Come on, that's pretty odd, and makes you question your skills!
I'm thinking little things called prepositions.
While studying@ old dead languages (Old English & Old Norse)* I discovered that their prepositions were quite fluid. One little preposition could mean at or on or by, etc...
And that really screws with your concept of the action.
Consider these shoes...
Now, the very pretty one on the left is one of the pair I was wearing AT work yesterday. While the one of the right - plain, sensible - is one of the pair I was wearing TO and FROM work. See - makes sense.
When translating some saga or other - we needed the help of our lecturer to picture the scene. Well, it's not every day you find out that cows often grazed ON the roof of a house#.
So, I say - take care of those little prepositions and enjoy the knowledge they provide in those few letters.
@ I say 'studied' - not learned. Trust me, did enough to pass - and forgotten most of it now. I didn't even consider any living language.
* I also studied Latin - but it didn't seem to have the same problem with prepositions - or I don't remember it.
# It's like the first thing we translated... about the birth of Sleipnir, Odin's horse, in the Gylfaginning - when it says about Loki: he bore a foal. It was grey and had eight legs. Come on, that's pretty odd, and makes you question your skills!
Thursday, 18 November 2010
Thoughts for a Thursday... hands
Hands, quite literally, hold our pasts and our futures.
Hands create our present.
Hands offer gifts, and hold our hearts.
Hands offer comfort and support. And a Gibbs-style hit up the backside of your head when you need it.
I spent hours massaging lotion in Grandad's and Dad's hands as they were dying. It's amazing how dry dying people's hands get.
Their years of work - labour - were visible in their hands.
I remember the thrill of Dad discovering he had fingerprints again. To explain - years of working with acids, and stone (he was a stone mason / tiler), had worn his fingerprints off. (And the hairs on his knees - many hours spent kneeling on job sites). It took months after he retired for these normal, everyday, signifiers of identity to return.
Hands sustain us. They make our food - our clothing - the comforts of our lives. Whether they belong to a factory worker many miles away - or our own hands.
As I use my hands to create this year's batch of Christmas gifts - handknitted socks - I feel that I offer my love and care to the recipients in each stitch my hands create.
Hands. Take care of them. Love them. And acknowledge all the hard work they do, every day, without us really noticing.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Thoughts for a Thursday... Treasure
I'm on a bit of a Joy Cowley binge at the mo.
As part of it, I've just picked up her 3 books of reflections - now, those who know me, know I'm not religious. Well, not organised pigeon-holed religious. I come from a family of questioners, from whom I have inherited a great faith, but one that isn't bound in any Faith. I hope you understand the distinction. It does mean that I pick up, magpie-like, bits and pieces of many different belief systems and appreciate them.
While skimming through Psalms for the road I found many poems which resonated with me. One of which I'd like to share today.
It made me think of conversations I had at the last working bee up north. Ok, I'm not a gardener - so have to ask others if something is a weed or not. Somewhere I heard a definition of a weed as a plant that's growing where you don't want it to - so, it could mean lettuces among your roses. Now, Dad had me well trained (and the others probably, too!) - so we appreciated 'weeds' - dandelions, buttercups, daisies - and I was always sad when Dad mowed the back yard. It was much cooler as a jungle. And provided a softer landing if you were kamikaze-ing off the swing. It was also a complete pain to mow. Little Monkey is currently growing up in a backyard similar to this - so I've been trying to convince her mother that a little bit of jungle is a good thing for a growing child.
May we all see treasure in 'weeds' - and may all our weeds become treasure. We just need to change our definitions and our viewpoints. And, may we not label others' treasures as weeds.
After this long preamble, I offer Joy Cowley's words - far more eloquent than mine.
Treasure
One fine morning, the child stood on a lawn
covered with daisies and dandelions,
and hardly dared breathe for beauty.
The grass was thick around her ankles and in it,
as far as she could see, were jewels laid out
on spring-green velvet.
Each daisy was a perfect yellow cushion
edged with white petals, some blush tinted.
Every dandelion was made from sunshine,
and some had on their faces, wet diamonds
that shivered and glittered when they rolled
onto the child's fingeres.
She took a bunch of this perfect treasure
into her father and he admired every flower,
his eyes growing soft with memory.
Together, they put them in a glass
on the kitchen window sill which instantly
became a shrine to beauty.
Later that day, someone said, "Nice lawn.
It's a pity there are so many weeds in it.
I have a spray that'll get rid of them."
At that moment, the child learned
that when a treasure is judged a weed
it has no value at all.
As part of it, I've just picked up her 3 books of reflections - now, those who know me, know I'm not religious. Well, not organised pigeon-holed religious. I come from a family of questioners, from whom I have inherited a great faith, but one that isn't bound in any Faith. I hope you understand the distinction. It does mean that I pick up, magpie-like, bits and pieces of many different belief systems and appreciate them.
While skimming through Psalms for the road I found many poems which resonated with me. One of which I'd like to share today.
It made me think of conversations I had at the last working bee up north. Ok, I'm not a gardener - so have to ask others if something is a weed or not. Somewhere I heard a definition of a weed as a plant that's growing where you don't want it to - so, it could mean lettuces among your roses. Now, Dad had me well trained (and the others probably, too!) - so we appreciated 'weeds' - dandelions, buttercups, daisies - and I was always sad when Dad mowed the back yard. It was much cooler as a jungle. And provided a softer landing if you were kamikaze-ing off the swing. It was also a complete pain to mow. Little Monkey is currently growing up in a backyard similar to this - so I've been trying to convince her mother that a little bit of jungle is a good thing for a growing child.
May we all see treasure in 'weeds' - and may all our weeds become treasure. We just need to change our definitions and our viewpoints. And, may we not label others' treasures as weeds.
After this long preamble, I offer Joy Cowley's words - far more eloquent than mine.
Treasure
One fine morning, the child stood on a lawn
covered with daisies and dandelions,
and hardly dared breathe for beauty.
The grass was thick around her ankles and in it,
as far as she could see, were jewels laid out
on spring-green velvet.
Each daisy was a perfect yellow cushion
edged with white petals, some blush tinted.
Every dandelion was made from sunshine,
and some had on their faces, wet diamonds
that shivered and glittered when they rolled
onto the child's fingeres.
She took a bunch of this perfect treasure
into her father and he admired every flower,
his eyes growing soft with memory.
Together, they put them in a glass
on the kitchen window sill which instantly
became a shrine to beauty.
Later that day, someone said, "Nice lawn.
It's a pity there are so many weeds in it.
I have a spray that'll get rid of them."
At that moment, the child learned
that when a treasure is judged a weed
it has no value at all.
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Thought for a Thursday
For some reason this quote - or bits of it - end up in my head... It can apply to so many situations.
The following winter was spent on schemes of the most salutary kind. To induce a people, hitherto scattered, uncivilized and therefore prone to fight, to grow pleasurably inured to peace and ease, Agricola gave private encouragement and official assistance to the building of temples, public squares and private mansions. He praised the keen and scolded the slack, and competition to gain honour from him was as effective as compulsion. Furthermore, he trained the sons of the chiefs in the liberal arts and expressed a preference for British natural ability over the trained skill of the Gauls. The result was that in place of distaste for the Latin language came a passion to command it. In the same way, our national dress came into favour and the toga was everywhere to be seen. And so the Britons were gradually led on to the amenities that make vice agreeable—arcades, baths and sumptuous banquets. They spoke of such novelties as `civilization', when really they were only a feature of enslavement.
Good old Tacitus...
The following winter was spent on schemes of the most salutary kind. To induce a people, hitherto scattered, uncivilized and therefore prone to fight, to grow pleasurably inured to peace and ease, Agricola gave private encouragement and official assistance to the building of temples, public squares and private mansions. He praised the keen and scolded the slack, and competition to gain honour from him was as effective as compulsion. Furthermore, he trained the sons of the chiefs in the liberal arts and expressed a preference for British natural ability over the trained skill of the Gauls. The result was that in place of distaste for the Latin language came a passion to command it. In the same way, our national dress came into favour and the toga was everywhere to be seen. And so the Britons were gradually led on to the amenities that make vice agreeable—arcades, baths and sumptuous banquets. They spoke of such novelties as `civilization', when really they were only a feature of enslavement.
Good old Tacitus...
Thursday, 31 December 2009
Thoughts for a Thursday...
Hard to believe it's been 10 years since we were worried about the Y2K bug!
Ten years ago today I was up north at the bach - a very full bach.
At midnight, most of us were outside with Dad setting off fireworks. My sister, Kath, dived inside to be with our nana, just in case the bug hit and Nana was left in the dark.
In the morning we were off to Waipu for the Highland Games. As it was the Millennium Games, Waipu hosted the world Highland Heavyweight Championships. As the massed bands came towards us, Nana started on about the noise - all those bagpipes. Dad muttered something about 'bloody sassanachs' and apologised for marrying into an English family. Oh that Celtic-ness doesn't fade, even after 150+ years of the family in New Zealand [first arrival, 1840].
What has happened in those years? Well, neither Nana or Dad are with us now. I haven't been to the Games since. And I haven't 'celebrated' New Year's since, either. My plan is always to go to bed early, and put the phones on silent/ instant answering.
The family has grown - there is now another generation: Zac, Emmy, Immy, Natedog & Jem; Ollie & Isaac; Kaydin.
Little Joh didn't make it. But we're all hoping Lette & Seanie's baby arrives safe and well.
Johnny has a baby girl, little Miss Livvy.
My youngest niece is a teenager. I feel so old!
In those 10 years, my name is now on the title deeds for 3 properties - and I live in a rental, paying someone else's mortage. One day, soon I hope!, I will be down to part-owning one house - the bach.
My job's changed a bit - enough to keep it interesting. The people are still great.
I wonder what the next ten years will be like.
Ten years ago today I was up north at the bach - a very full bach.
At midnight, most of us were outside with Dad setting off fireworks. My sister, Kath, dived inside to be with our nana, just in case the bug hit and Nana was left in the dark.
In the morning we were off to Waipu for the Highland Games. As it was the Millennium Games, Waipu hosted the world Highland Heavyweight Championships. As the massed bands came towards us, Nana started on about the noise - all those bagpipes. Dad muttered something about 'bloody sassanachs' and apologised for marrying into an English family. Oh that Celtic-ness doesn't fade, even after 150+ years of the family in New Zealand [first arrival, 1840].
What has happened in those years? Well, neither Nana or Dad are with us now. I haven't been to the Games since. And I haven't 'celebrated' New Year's since, either. My plan is always to go to bed early, and put the phones on silent/ instant answering.
The family has grown - there is now another generation: Zac, Emmy, Immy, Natedog & Jem; Ollie & Isaac; Kaydin.
Little Joh didn't make it. But we're all hoping Lette & Seanie's baby arrives safe and well.
Johnny has a baby girl, little Miss Livvy.
My youngest niece is a teenager. I feel so old!
In those 10 years, my name is now on the title deeds for 3 properties - and I live in a rental, paying someone else's mortage. One day, soon I hope!, I will be down to part-owning one house - the bach.
My job's changed a bit - enough to keep it interesting. The people are still great.
I wonder what the next ten years will be like.
Wishing you all a very Happy New Year
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Thought for Thursday
Ānd that, my lovely Storylines Festival ladies - is why we had hats on Family Day...Friday, 14 August 2009
Thought for Thursday
Posted on Friday... I was too busy on Thursday to think...
Last night I sat on the living room floor going through boxes & albums of photos. My aunt's 80th birthday is coming up, and my cousin contacted me for old family photos. Well, she wanted my mum's details to get old photos - but I have them all, trust me.
As I looked through these photos - most of people I'd never met, some I have no idea who they are - I felt blessed by being part of them. Blessed by the knowledge that part of them is in me. Blessed by the strength of family apparent in all those photos. And burdened by the fact I have these photos - I don't know who to pass them on to - and I have to do something with them. I have a dilemma - do I use the original photos in any album I put together (while making them removable) or do I leave them in the original albums (some of which are held in the album with tape!)...?
But, mostly, blessed. It is family who mould you into yourself. And - on the whole - my have been great. Lessons have been learned, strength built, and love given.
PS - some things span generations... there will always be little girls who had having their hair brushed (photographic proof of Lynn circa 1956), young adult males will always be obsessed with cars (dad & his mate Mal), and some proud grandparent/parent will be around to take photos of new babies...
Last night I sat on the living room floor going through boxes & albums of photos. My aunt's 80th birthday is coming up, and my cousin contacted me for old family photos. Well, she wanted my mum's details to get old photos - but I have them all, trust me.
As I looked through these photos - most of people I'd never met, some I have no idea who they are - I felt blessed by being part of them. Blessed by the knowledge that part of them is in me. Blessed by the strength of family apparent in all those photos. And burdened by the fact I have these photos - I don't know who to pass them on to - and I have to do something with them. I have a dilemma - do I use the original photos in any album I put together (while making them removable) or do I leave them in the original albums (some of which are held in the album with tape!)...?
But, mostly, blessed. It is family who mould you into yourself. And - on the whole - my have been great. Lessons have been learned, strength built, and love given.
PS - some things span generations... there will always be little girls who had having their hair brushed (photographic proof of Lynn circa 1956), young adult males will always be obsessed with cars (dad & his mate Mal), and some proud grandparent/parent will be around to take photos of new babies...
Thursday, 6 August 2009
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