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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
The one where the call centre guy tells the truth. Twice.
It's not very often that I find myself confronted with breathtaking honesty and in that moment wish that the person had said something different! I was in that situation today.
As I arrived at the train station to travel into the city for a lunch meeting an announcement came over the public address system advising that all trains were cancelled until further notice because of an unspecified problem somewhere else on the line. With no staff to assist or answer questions, the disembodied voice directed us to the stop for the replacement bus. We obeyed. I was on a tight schedule today and needed more information so I could decide whether to attend the meeting or reschedule. I called Metlink. They provide information about travelling on public transport. It seemed like they should be able to handle it.
I've done this before. I should know from my experience that it is futile, but it has been a while and I have faith that the organisations serving the public improve over time. All I wanted was a rough idea of how far away the replacement bus was...15 minutes or 50 minutes? Fifteen minutes I could just live with; fifty required rescheduling. Other people who were waiting were trying to get to work or the airport to catch flights, so their need was more critical than mine.
From the beginning the man who answered the phone caused my eyes to roll. I explained what stop I was at and where I wanted to go. It soon became apparent that I also needed to give him information about what was happening and educate him about the stations on Melbourne's train lines.
The problem was a signal fault at Newport. It was the second one for the day and each time it happens, transport in the south western suburbs screeches to a halt.
The answer to my question about the bus was, "I have no information about that." This was followed by a partial explanation about the complexity of the relationship between the train operators and the owners of the buses. Not that I care. while it might be an interesting subject for a hard hitting documentary or sit-com one day, it wasn't relevant to me at that time.
I tried again, asking just for an idea if the bus was even on its way. This time I received the breathtakingly honest answer: "I have no idea."
I asked if anyone had any idea. He asked if he could put me on hold. I said yes.
He came back and said: "No one here has any idea where the bus is or when it will arrive. Ma'am."
After a beat of silence he added, "Would you like me to put you through to the feedback line?"
What a terrific idea! Smooth operator.
After sitting on hold for almost ten minutes, my call was answered. As I was explaining the situation, a train approached the station. People started to run from the stop where the fictional replacement bus allegedly arrives, to the train platform in the hope that they wouldn't miss the train. The guy on the other end of the phone couldn't believe it. "Is it going to stop?" he asked.
The next part of our conversation took place from the comfort of the almost empty train. He said there should have been an announcement then realised that none of us were on the platform to hear it - we were all over at the replacement-bus stop. No announcements reach that wilderness.
I suggested circus music should be playing. The guy on the other end of the phone hummed a few bars.
Say no more.
Monday, 12 March 2012
Photo of the day - FORK
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| (c) 2012 divacultura |
In the flow
I've spent most of my waking hours today sharing lunch with a friend of mine. My friend asked if she could buy me lunch and pick my brains. Naturally, I said yes.
Over some great food and coffee in one of my favourite Yarraville cafes (the Corner Shop) we spent a few hours talking about our skills and our experiences finding our way in the world as freelance multi-taskers. It's a compliment to be thought of as someone who has something worth sharing and is of value to another person on a similar path. The sharing flows both ways in a conversation like this.
I always find myself thinking about what I've done from a different angle as a result of one of these conversations. Best of all, it helps me refine my thinking. I usually know exactly why I've made particular decisions but being asked to articulate this can help sharpen the thinking and gain a different perspective on something. All of this happened today - and more!
It's great to be in the flow. You know, when things arise as you need them. Introductions happen easily. Clients pay on time and refer you to other people. New opportunities land right in your lap. It feels like the ideas come to you. After some turbulence a couple of weeks ago it feels great to be in the flow again. Being out of the flow means getting bumped into, wearing a frown and feeling nervous about things. This is not happy territory and therefore it isn't sustainable.
During the course of our conversation we turned to the subject of our blogs and social media presence. We each had recommendations for the other to look up. We both have been conscious about our online presence for a while, so we share a common language. At one point we both realised we'd been talking about social media contacts as though they are real people...oh, hang on, they ARE real people. So are we! Even if we've never met each other, there's still an awareness of who they are and what they know.
Yesterday I met a woman who had joined facebook last week. We pondered this, imagining how different our freelance lives would be without platforms like our blogs, twitter accounts, linked in profiles and facebook pages. And that's before we even start thinking about our websites and domain names.
There's a lot of discussion about the value of social media and whether it's helpful, healthy or a time waster. The very strong theme of the discussion I had with my friend today was the notion of "reciprocity". Here are my top reciprocity tips for creating "flow":
1. My personal practice with every referral I receive from a contact, is to take time to personally thank the person who made the referral - even if nothing concrete comes of it. And if someone is taking time to forward your material on, say thank you! Appreciation costs nothing and builds goodwill. Goodwill is another way to think of "the flow".
2. Find out about people in your networks. Ask them what they offer. You might not need their services, but someone who approaches you might be looking. You'll be in a position to give them a referral.
3. Ask for testimonials after you've completed a piece of work. Linked In makes this really easy to do. Ask for permission to also publish the testimonial on your website. People want to know that you can deliver.
4. Don't stand on the sidelines. I have lots of conversations with people who tell me they don't understand Twitter. I tell them the best way to learn about Twitter (or any social media) is to participate. I usually hear that they've joined Twitter, but then they don't say anything - they want to "watch" for a while. Soon they close the account proclaiming that they don't get it and wonder what all the fuss is about. Social media is not for voyeurs.
If you're at the start of this journey, talk to people who are already doing it. It's worth thinking strategically before you set everything up. (I LOVE talking to people.) And I'd love to hear your ideas!
How do you build goodwill and keep it flowing?
*My friend is a whizz at helping people (especially artists) maximise their web presence. You can pay her a visit over at http://rosewintergreen.com/ Her "Top Tool Tuesday" posts are very handy. Don't forget to tell her I sent you!
Over some great food and coffee in one of my favourite Yarraville cafes (the Corner Shop) we spent a few hours talking about our skills and our experiences finding our way in the world as freelance multi-taskers. It's a compliment to be thought of as someone who has something worth sharing and is of value to another person on a similar path. The sharing flows both ways in a conversation like this.
I always find myself thinking about what I've done from a different angle as a result of one of these conversations. Best of all, it helps me refine my thinking. I usually know exactly why I've made particular decisions but being asked to articulate this can help sharpen the thinking and gain a different perspective on something. All of this happened today - and more!
It's great to be in the flow. You know, when things arise as you need them. Introductions happen easily. Clients pay on time and refer you to other people. New opportunities land right in your lap. It feels like the ideas come to you. After some turbulence a couple of weeks ago it feels great to be in the flow again. Being out of the flow means getting bumped into, wearing a frown and feeling nervous about things. This is not happy territory and therefore it isn't sustainable.
During the course of our conversation we turned to the subject of our blogs and social media presence. We each had recommendations for the other to look up. We both have been conscious about our online presence for a while, so we share a common language. At one point we both realised we'd been talking about social media contacts as though they are real people...oh, hang on, they ARE real people. So are we! Even if we've never met each other, there's still an awareness of who they are and what they know.
Yesterday I met a woman who had joined facebook last week. We pondered this, imagining how different our freelance lives would be without platforms like our blogs, twitter accounts, linked in profiles and facebook pages. And that's before we even start thinking about our websites and domain names.
There's a lot of discussion about the value of social media and whether it's helpful, healthy or a time waster. The very strong theme of the discussion I had with my friend today was the notion of "reciprocity". Here are my top reciprocity tips for creating "flow":
1. My personal practice with every referral I receive from a contact, is to take time to personally thank the person who made the referral - even if nothing concrete comes of it. And if someone is taking time to forward your material on, say thank you! Appreciation costs nothing and builds goodwill. Goodwill is another way to think of "the flow".
2. Find out about people in your networks. Ask them what they offer. You might not need their services, but someone who approaches you might be looking. You'll be in a position to give them a referral.
3. Ask for testimonials after you've completed a piece of work. Linked In makes this really easy to do. Ask for permission to also publish the testimonial on your website. People want to know that you can deliver.
4. Don't stand on the sidelines. I have lots of conversations with people who tell me they don't understand Twitter. I tell them the best way to learn about Twitter (or any social media) is to participate. I usually hear that they've joined Twitter, but then they don't say anything - they want to "watch" for a while. Soon they close the account proclaiming that they don't get it and wonder what all the fuss is about. Social media is not for voyeurs.
If you're at the start of this journey, talk to people who are already doing it. It's worth thinking strategically before you set everything up. (I LOVE talking to people.) And I'd love to hear your ideas!
How do you build goodwill and keep it flowing?
*My friend is a whizz at helping people (especially artists) maximise their web presence. You can pay her a visit over at http://rosewintergreen.com/ Her "Top Tool Tuesday" posts are very handy. Don't forget to tell her I sent you!
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Photo of the day - SOMEONE I TALKED TO TODAY
I delivered an order of my hand knitted "egg noggins" to Anna at her wonderful shop, Curious Grace today. We had a really interesting conversation about art, colour, twitter and things.
*I used the Brannan filter on Instagram.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
Vocal exploration - a capella
Next Saturday afternoon, the vocal group I sing with is performing at an a capella festival. I've been letting people know about it and discovered that not everyone knows what the term "a capella" means and not everyone has discovered its beauty, joy and versatility. It means singing that is unaccompanied by any instrument and I have loved it for as long as I can remember.
I've performed all sorts of vocal music in choirs of various configurations. I was first introduced to madrigals as part of the small choral group at high school. The fun and fluff of lots of fa-la-la's was very exciting when everyone in the group arrived at the right place at the same time - especially in the ones with a fast tempo! My favourite madrigal of all time is "All Creatures are Merry Minded", written in the 1500's by John Bennett.
I was hooked on the idea of people being able to come together and make music with nothing more than their bodies: voices providing melody and hands, fingers and feet often providing rhythm.
For a while I sang in a small professional a capella group which specialised in early church music. There were only 16 of us and we sang some sublime music. One of my favourites from that time was the "Miserere" by Allegri. Written in the early 1600's, it would have originally been sung only by male voices. The Company of Voices sang in cathedrals to take advantage of the glorious acoustics.
I remember performing a piece by Palestrina (I think) that was quite complex and in about 12 parts. We knew the piece very well and so also knew very quickly that something had gone terribly wrong. It was sounding different and it felt like we were somehow all in different places. Fear can easily take hold in this situation but we managed to find a resting point within the music. The conductor mouthed the page number and we took off again, made it through to the end intact and managed to smile in relief as the fear left our eyes. There was power in the energy of the group and our ability to communicate through eye contact that saved us. Still, I wouldn't want to be in that position again!
We also sang music by twentieth century composers in that group. Things like "Hymn to St Cecilia" by Benjamin Britten. The tonality is completely different from the older music and it is thrilling to sing for the different feeling it evokes.
Since that time, I've explored black gospel music and African music in various groups. Listening to many of the old recordings of quartets and bigger groups, I love the energy and precision they bring to their singing. Every word can be heard and their rhythm is tight! Even many of the slower songs can suddenly pick up pace and go from solemn to joyous!
I learnt about black South African music not long after the end of apartheid when people were coming out to tell their stories of suppression. Their songs held their history. One particular artist with whom I worked in Brisbane had been in prison and suffered a lot. Despite this, there was always singing. In his culture singing was done by anyone who had a voice, not just musicians.
Many modern songs have also benefited from a capella arrangements. Check out "Call your Girlfriend" by a female vocal trio called Erato. The harmonies are bliss and I love their funky rhythms played on the kitchen table with empty margarine containers!
Paul Kelly's song "Come and Meet Me in the Middle of the Air" is sung a capella by Melbourne comic vocal trio Tripod and Eddie Perfect in this version.
I believe that human beings have a need to make and appreciate music and there is nothing better than the human voice joining with other human voices - the possibilities are endless. Have a look and a listen to the Voca People - 8 people who sound like everything from an orchestra to a rock band!
These days you don't even need to be in the same place as other singers. Eric Whitacre has created the ultimate virtual a capella choir. Singers from around the world record their parts at home and submit the file digitally. It's all then mixed to create a masterpiece like "Sleep".
If you're yet to experience the spine tingling joy of hearing the human voice singing with other human voices, the Get Vocal Festival is a great place to begin. Tripod is performing at the opening night concert this Tuesday. My group, Living Out Loud, is performing at the Saturday Matinee Showcase along with Mint 26, The Ice haloes, Key Change and Corisande.
Why not sample something different next weekend and support local music!
*Quote promotional code "Sue Johnson/Living Out Loud" when booking tickets to any event.*
I've performed all sorts of vocal music in choirs of various configurations. I was first introduced to madrigals as part of the small choral group at high school. The fun and fluff of lots of fa-la-la's was very exciting when everyone in the group arrived at the right place at the same time - especially in the ones with a fast tempo! My favourite madrigal of all time is "All Creatures are Merry Minded", written in the 1500's by John Bennett.
I was hooked on the idea of people being able to come together and make music with nothing more than their bodies: voices providing melody and hands, fingers and feet often providing rhythm.
For a while I sang in a small professional a capella group which specialised in early church music. There were only 16 of us and we sang some sublime music. One of my favourites from that time was the "Miserere" by Allegri. Written in the early 1600's, it would have originally been sung only by male voices. The Company of Voices sang in cathedrals to take advantage of the glorious acoustics.
I remember performing a piece by Palestrina (I think) that was quite complex and in about 12 parts. We knew the piece very well and so also knew very quickly that something had gone terribly wrong. It was sounding different and it felt like we were somehow all in different places. Fear can easily take hold in this situation but we managed to find a resting point within the music. The conductor mouthed the page number and we took off again, made it through to the end intact and managed to smile in relief as the fear left our eyes. There was power in the energy of the group and our ability to communicate through eye contact that saved us. Still, I wouldn't want to be in that position again!
We also sang music by twentieth century composers in that group. Things like "Hymn to St Cecilia" by Benjamin Britten. The tonality is completely different from the older music and it is thrilling to sing for the different feeling it evokes.
Since that time, I've explored black gospel music and African music in various groups. Listening to many of the old recordings of quartets and bigger groups, I love the energy and precision they bring to their singing. Every word can be heard and their rhythm is tight! Even many of the slower songs can suddenly pick up pace and go from solemn to joyous!
I learnt about black South African music not long after the end of apartheid when people were coming out to tell their stories of suppression. Their songs held their history. One particular artist with whom I worked in Brisbane had been in prison and suffered a lot. Despite this, there was always singing. In his culture singing was done by anyone who had a voice, not just musicians.
Many modern songs have also benefited from a capella arrangements. Check out "Call your Girlfriend" by a female vocal trio called Erato. The harmonies are bliss and I love their funky rhythms played on the kitchen table with empty margarine containers!
Paul Kelly's song "Come and Meet Me in the Middle of the Air" is sung a capella by Melbourne comic vocal trio Tripod and Eddie Perfect in this version.
I believe that human beings have a need to make and appreciate music and there is nothing better than the human voice joining with other human voices - the possibilities are endless. Have a look and a listen to the Voca People - 8 people who sound like everything from an orchestra to a rock band!
These days you don't even need to be in the same place as other singers. Eric Whitacre has created the ultimate virtual a capella choir. Singers from around the world record their parts at home and submit the file digitally. It's all then mixed to create a masterpiece like "Sleep".
If you're yet to experience the spine tingling joy of hearing the human voice singing with other human voices, the Get Vocal Festival is a great place to begin. Tripod is performing at the opening night concert this Tuesday. My group, Living Out Loud, is performing at the Saturday Matinee Showcase along with Mint 26, The Ice haloes, Key Change and Corisande.
Why not sample something different next weekend and support local music!
*Quote promotional code "Sue Johnson/Living Out Loud" when booking tickets to any event.*
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Photo of the day - RED
Photo theme for 9 March is RED. Here's my collection of red lipstick!
*I used the Valencia filter on instagram.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Photo of the day - SOMETHING YOU WORE
I bought this heptagram ( 7 pointed star) on ebay a few years ago for fifty cents. I love it and wear it all the time.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
Photo of the day - WINDOW
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
Behaving badly
Over the last two days, I've witnessed examples of behaviour that shows no regard for other people.
Flying home to Melbourne from Perth yesterday, I arrived at my seat to find the young woman sitting in the seat beside me had her bag and shoes and books and hat and water bottle sitting on my seat. I arrived, said hello and excuse me and waited. I was greeted with a huff and a pout. Oh well, I put that aside, sat down, plugged in my earphones and opened my book.
For the duration of the four hour flight, this woman did not sit still and took up as much space as she possibly could. She had bright yellow platform shoes on which were obviously uncomfortable, as she shifted her legs and rearranged them in various crosses and uncrosses for the duration of the the flight.
At the moment we received the instruction that the aircraft was about to commence descent and all electronic devices needed to be switched off, she whipped out her iphone, switched it on and started to send text messages.
I waited.
I noticed when the flight attendants walked past, she would hide the phone.
Eventually I said to her: "You really need to switch that off."
She shrugged and huffed and pouted again.
I said: "Seriously, you need to switch that off."
She replied: "I need to get someone to pick me up!"
"Well you'll need to get someone to pick us all up. From the crash site. Switch it off."
And she did. Honestly.
Travelling home in peak hour after work today, the train was very crowded and even when I embarked at the beginning of the journey I had to stand. At the next station, a heavily pregnant woman arrived. I moved along to make way for the next wave of passengers. The pregnant woman was standing right near the bank of seats that are to be given up for anyone with special needs. The sign specifically lists pregnancy.
There were three women sitting in the bank of four and the man was virtually looking straight at the woman's belly. I was about to ask someone to give their seat to this woman, when one of the seated women announced that she was getting off at the next stop. She made no move to get up early to provide a seat for this woman. The other two women looked directly at the pregnant woman and made no move to assist. Then the man offered his seat, but the woman who was getting off at the next station shook her head and told him that she was getting off at the next stop. The man sat down!
When the pregnant woman did have the opportunity to sit down, she looked very relieved.
International Women's Day and a pregnant woman can't even rely on another woman to show her consideration.
Monday, 5 March 2012
$30 worth of wisdom
The taxi driver's phone was ringing when I got into the back seat. At least I think it was ringing. It played what sounded like the soundtrack to a cartoon. It played for about a minute. He made no move to answer it. For this I was grateful. Blaring out of the speakers behind me was 1950's music, all sung tales of love gone wrong.
The taxi driver was chatty, but muffled. He was competing with lost love, shoo-bop-du-wop and had a big Tom Selleck moustache dampening all sound coming from his mouth.
It was 37 degrees Celsius when I arrived in Perth. It was a nice change from the freezing conditions I'd just endured on Qantas flight 777 from Melbourne. I shared the story with the driver when he enquired about my flight.
"I asked the attendant for a blanket. You know what he said?"
"No. What did he say?"
"There are no blankets. And then his offsider chimed in with the statement, 'we're all hot!'"
The driver wisely replied, "Well, they're probably hot because they're running around fetching blankets for everyone! You'd think they'd work out what's going on if they've run out of blankets! People are cold! Turn up the heat! That's all they need to do! Then the stewards can stop running around with blankets and they wouldn't be too hot! Everyone's happy!"
"You're right, " I said.
"Which airline?"
"Qantas."
"Perhaps it's part of their new advertising campaign." He paused dramatically. "Fly Qantas. We're cool."
"Yeah, or 'Fly Qantas. The fridge in the sky.'"
He thought that was so funny he slapped the steering wheel.
A female singer's sorrowful voice dramatically declared, "You don't love me anymore - I'll step down."
I laughed. What was she, chariman of the board? Prime Minister?
"That's dramatic," I said.
"It's what happens now. With all the horses, " he replied.
What do horses have to do with it? Maybe it was some obscure reference to the name of the group doing the backing vocals.
"What do you mean?"
"One in three marriages end with the horses. You could say they step down."
Was he talking about dressage? The horses are stepping now?
"Sorry? Horses?"
"Divorces...divorces. You know..."
"Oh, divorces. I thought you said 'the horses'...never mind."
I felt like I was in a scene with Peter Sellers. They should tell them the moustache is hazardous to conversational comprehension.
He went on: "85 per cent of men play up, you know."
"And the other 15 per cent are lying?" I quipped.
"Well you can't be loving one woman when you're in love with another one. She needs to step down."
"Or the man could step up."
He fell silent.
Then: "You are a very smart woman."
Is this how he picks up women? I wondered.
He then explained his opposition to daylight saving and his theory that it's a conspiracy of fast food chains because it's too hot to cook.
"Daylight saving doesn't change the temperature, " I pointed out.
He shook his head. Clearly I wasn't that smart anymore.
We arrived at my hotel just in time to spare him from further disappointment about my dwindling intellect.
"Enjoy your stay while you're here," he said as he handed me my bag from the boot of the car.
When else would I enjoy it? While I'm somewhere else?
All that wisdom and entertainment for just under $30 too.
The taxi driver was chatty, but muffled. He was competing with lost love, shoo-bop-du-wop and had a big Tom Selleck moustache dampening all sound coming from his mouth.
It was 37 degrees Celsius when I arrived in Perth. It was a nice change from the freezing conditions I'd just endured on Qantas flight 777 from Melbourne. I shared the story with the driver when he enquired about my flight.
"I asked the attendant for a blanket. You know what he said?"
"No. What did he say?"
"There are no blankets. And then his offsider chimed in with the statement, 'we're all hot!'"
The driver wisely replied, "Well, they're probably hot because they're running around fetching blankets for everyone! You'd think they'd work out what's going on if they've run out of blankets! People are cold! Turn up the heat! That's all they need to do! Then the stewards can stop running around with blankets and they wouldn't be too hot! Everyone's happy!"
"You're right, " I said.
"Which airline?"
"Qantas."
"Perhaps it's part of their new advertising campaign." He paused dramatically. "Fly Qantas. We're cool."
"Yeah, or 'Fly Qantas. The fridge in the sky.'"
He thought that was so funny he slapped the steering wheel.
A female singer's sorrowful voice dramatically declared, "You don't love me anymore - I'll step down."
I laughed. What was she, chariman of the board? Prime Minister?
"That's dramatic," I said.
"It's what happens now. With all the horses, " he replied.
What do horses have to do with it? Maybe it was some obscure reference to the name of the group doing the backing vocals.
"What do you mean?"
"One in three marriages end with the horses. You could say they step down."
Was he talking about dressage? The horses are stepping now?
"Sorry? Horses?"
"Divorces...divorces. You know..."
"Oh, divorces. I thought you said 'the horses'...never mind."
I felt like I was in a scene with Peter Sellers. They should tell them the moustache is hazardous to conversational comprehension.
He went on: "85 per cent of men play up, you know."
"And the other 15 per cent are lying?" I quipped.
"Well you can't be loving one woman when you're in love with another one. She needs to step down."
"Or the man could step up."
He fell silent.
Then: "You are a very smart woman."
Is this how he picks up women? I wondered.
He then explained his opposition to daylight saving and his theory that it's a conspiracy of fast food chains because it's too hot to cook.
"Daylight saving doesn't change the temperature, " I pointed out.
He shook his head. Clearly I wasn't that smart anymore.
We arrived at my hotel just in time to spare him from further disappointment about my dwindling intellect.
"Enjoy your stay while you're here," he said as he handed me my bag from the boot of the car.
When else would I enjoy it? While I'm somewhere else?
All that wisdom and entertainment for just under $30 too.
Sunday, 4 March 2012
Stacked
Contemplating my photo for today (bedside), I'm looking at the pile of books. There's always a pile of books on my bedside table. You should see the one on the other side - it has an even taller stack. And my bed head has a secret compartment and above that there's space to put even more books. Then there's the stacks of books against walls and lying two deep in book shelves. It has always been so.
The stack of books beside the bed may look the same for months on end, but that does not mean I'm not reading. There is never a time when I am not reading at least one book. I borrow books from the library. My strategy to reduce the number of books coming in to my house is to reserve the ones I want to read and then pick them up when they're ready. That's one of the reasons the pile may not move much.
Where I can't borrow the book from the library and there is some reason for me to own my own copy, I try first to buy it as an ebook for my Sony ereader. At least then there's not another physical presence taking floorspace.
When that doesn't work, I will buy the book and it will be added to the pile. If it's not the kind of book I need to hang onto, I'll turn it over at my local second hand bookstore. The discipline when I go there is to not come home with more books than I took in.
All my friends and family know that I love to read so they tend to give me books for birthdays and Christmas. I love them for it. I think they are brave imagining they can choose something that I have not read or do not already own. There are two friends whom I recall getting sucked into a hell loop as they delivered my birthday gift. It was a book I had read. They asked me to tell them if I had read the book already, so I did. They took it back and exchanged it for another title which on presentation was discovered to be yet another title I had already read. In one of the cases they returned with a cute pair of socks instead. In the case of the other friend, she went back and forth about five times and then it became embarrassing and frustrating for both of us. I can't remember what happened in the end. Maybe I lied.
In these days of blogs and apps like "we read" on facebook or websites like librarything it's possible to tell the world what you're reading, what you've read and what you'd like to read. Maybe that will minimise the risk of needing to settle for socks. I took it as a good sign that both of my friends had a very good idea of what I like to read.
I have to take a longish flight tomorrow and am looking forward to some uninterrupted reading time. I'll be taking a couple of books because I know I'll finish one on both legs of the journey. On the way over it will be "American Journeys" by former Prime Minister Paul Keating's speech writer Don Watson. (So far I've visited New Orleans post hurricane Katrina and now I'm in Birmingham, Alabama.) I am yet to make my selection for the return journey. Something light I think.
The stack of books beside the bed may look the same for months on end, but that does not mean I'm not reading. There is never a time when I am not reading at least one book. I borrow books from the library. My strategy to reduce the number of books coming in to my house is to reserve the ones I want to read and then pick them up when they're ready. That's one of the reasons the pile may not move much.
Where I can't borrow the book from the library and there is some reason for me to own my own copy, I try first to buy it as an ebook for my Sony ereader. At least then there's not another physical presence taking floorspace.
When that doesn't work, I will buy the book and it will be added to the pile. If it's not the kind of book I need to hang onto, I'll turn it over at my local second hand bookstore. The discipline when I go there is to not come home with more books than I took in.
All my friends and family know that I love to read so they tend to give me books for birthdays and Christmas. I love them for it. I think they are brave imagining they can choose something that I have not read or do not already own. There are two friends whom I recall getting sucked into a hell loop as they delivered my birthday gift. It was a book I had read. They asked me to tell them if I had read the book already, so I did. They took it back and exchanged it for another title which on presentation was discovered to be yet another title I had already read. In one of the cases they returned with a cute pair of socks instead. In the case of the other friend, she went back and forth about five times and then it became embarrassing and frustrating for both of us. I can't remember what happened in the end. Maybe I lied.
In these days of blogs and apps like "we read" on facebook or websites like librarything it's possible to tell the world what you're reading, what you've read and what you'd like to read. Maybe that will minimise the risk of needing to settle for socks. I took it as a good sign that both of my friends had a very good idea of what I like to read.
I have to take a longish flight tomorrow and am looking forward to some uninterrupted reading time. I'll be taking a couple of books because I know I'll finish one on both legs of the journey. On the way over it will be "American Journeys" by former Prime Minister Paul Keating's speech writer Don Watson. (So far I've visited New Orleans post hurricane Katrina and now I'm in Birmingham, Alabama.) I am yet to make my selection for the return journey. Something light I think.
Saturday, 3 March 2012
Sounds of silence
I spent today's choir rehearsal in silence. I've been nursing a sore throat over the last couple of days and woke up this morning with hardly any voice. My voice is my main tool for my work (except my writing) so I really can't afford to lose it. Literally.
My vocal group has a gig coming up and I decided that even though I couldn't sing, it was still important to be at the rehearsal. I'm so glad I went. I sat out the front and was able to hear things and gain perspectives that just aren't possible when you're singing a part in the middle of the group. It was so exciting!
Being in the world in silence is an interesting thing to do every now and then. Especially when you're an extrovert like me. It's still possible for dialogue to occur and connections with others can be made. Exchanges become about conveying everything physically. And people are also amazingly good lip readers. (This makes me think about the film "The Artist" which I wrote about here and how easy it was to "hear" the conversation in a silent film.)
Losing my voice is not new to me. It used to happen all the time and was usually not related to a physical cause. When I was at university I lost my voice for three whole weeks! I was living on campus in a residential college too, so it was pretty challenging. This was the first instance of being unable to speak and not having an underlying physical cause. Apparently it is quite common.
I tried everything. I tried to unblock my chakras. I breathed the colour blue. I saw a speech pathologist. I even just tried to speak, but it just didn't work. So I decided that I just had to ride it out.
I carried a little notebook and fellow college residents and friends became well-practised in this new style of conversation. They would wait patiently for me to write my side of the dialogue in the notebook. A few years ago I found the notebook when I was cleaning some stuff out. I remember being struck by how mundane my bits of direct speech were. It was all a bit "pass the salt". Surely I had something profound to say! I was studying journalism and literature and history and drama and music! What a shame I didn't think to write myself some really fabulous dialogue!
One morning I woke up and my voice was back. Just like that. No announcement or precursor. It was an anti-climax in many ways. Suddenly I was normal again and all the attention and solicitation I had enjoyed as friends eased my way in the world, was gone. I was just another voice in the crowd.
As I had become so practised at being silent, my friends and I decided to go out one night with me pretending to be mute. In a crowded pub or nightclub it hardly makes any difference and in many ways it is easier to just not talk. Men would ask my friends about my history and how it was that I came to be mute. All kinds of things were made up and for the most part they seemed to be believed. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on the part of these young men (imagine that! a woman who can't speak!).
Apart from my voice being my living, it's also a big part of who I am in the world. I verbally joust and usually have a witty comment at the ready and enjoy making people laugh. Today, I noticed people taking the opportunity to poke me a little bit (in fun) because they knew they would be safe from my comeback.
At the supermarket buying food after rehearsal the girl at the checkout said hello and asked me how I was. I indicated that I had no voice. She was sympathetic and then gave me the following prescription: drink hot water with honey and lemon.
I nodded and mouthed, "And brandy!"
So here I am, silent and sipping the spirits left over from Christmas cooking. The brandy burns on the way down, but it sure feels good.
Have you ever lost your voice? How did you cope?
My vocal group has a gig coming up and I decided that even though I couldn't sing, it was still important to be at the rehearsal. I'm so glad I went. I sat out the front and was able to hear things and gain perspectives that just aren't possible when you're singing a part in the middle of the group. It was so exciting!
Being in the world in silence is an interesting thing to do every now and then. Especially when you're an extrovert like me. It's still possible for dialogue to occur and connections with others can be made. Exchanges become about conveying everything physically. And people are also amazingly good lip readers. (This makes me think about the film "The Artist" which I wrote about here and how easy it was to "hear" the conversation in a silent film.)
Losing my voice is not new to me. It used to happen all the time and was usually not related to a physical cause. When I was at university I lost my voice for three whole weeks! I was living on campus in a residential college too, so it was pretty challenging. This was the first instance of being unable to speak and not having an underlying physical cause. Apparently it is quite common.
I tried everything. I tried to unblock my chakras. I breathed the colour blue. I saw a speech pathologist. I even just tried to speak, but it just didn't work. So I decided that I just had to ride it out.
I carried a little notebook and fellow college residents and friends became well-practised in this new style of conversation. They would wait patiently for me to write my side of the dialogue in the notebook. A few years ago I found the notebook when I was cleaning some stuff out. I remember being struck by how mundane my bits of direct speech were. It was all a bit "pass the salt". Surely I had something profound to say! I was studying journalism and literature and history and drama and music! What a shame I didn't think to write myself some really fabulous dialogue!
One morning I woke up and my voice was back. Just like that. No announcement or precursor. It was an anti-climax in many ways. Suddenly I was normal again and all the attention and solicitation I had enjoyed as friends eased my way in the world, was gone. I was just another voice in the crowd.
As I had become so practised at being silent, my friends and I decided to go out one night with me pretending to be mute. In a crowded pub or nightclub it hardly makes any difference and in many ways it is easier to just not talk. Men would ask my friends about my history and how it was that I came to be mute. All kinds of things were made up and for the most part they seemed to be believed. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on the part of these young men (imagine that! a woman who can't speak!).
Apart from my voice being my living, it's also a big part of who I am in the world. I verbally joust and usually have a witty comment at the ready and enjoy making people laugh. Today, I noticed people taking the opportunity to poke me a little bit (in fun) because they knew they would be safe from my comeback.
At the supermarket buying food after rehearsal the girl at the checkout said hello and asked me how I was. I indicated that I had no voice. She was sympathetic and then gave me the following prescription: drink hot water with honey and lemon.
I nodded and mouthed, "And brandy!"
So here I am, silent and sipping the spirits left over from Christmas cooking. The brandy burns on the way down, but it sure feels good.
Have you ever lost your voice? How did you cope?
Photo of the day - YOUR NEIGHBOURHOOD
Here's the main street of Yarraville on a very grey, rainy day.
* I used the Lo-fi filter and tilt focus on instagram.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
* I used the Lo-fi filter and tilt focus on instagram.
Friday, 2 March 2012
The voice behind the door
Three of us were sprinkled along the city bound platform of the local train station. It was late morning when apparently only the jobless or freelancers are travelling.
I heard banging. I looked to see its source, but only saw two other people staring into space. I decided it must have been the wind whipping up the noise somewhere. I walked to find shelter from the wind and heard the banging again. It was too regular to be the wind. Someone banging, but I couldn't see anyone.
Then I heard a man's voice: "Is anyone out there?"
There was someone, somewhere! No one else looked up. I walked in the direction of the voice. This station is unstaffed but there are lots of doors. They are all locked. There is no one there to open them. I wonder what is behind them?
Having followed the voice, I found myself face to face with one of these doors. I don't think I had ever noticed it before.
"Yes?" I responded.
"Thank god!" the man said. "Can you unlock the lock on the bottom of this door please?"
"Sure." I look down and could see that the bolt had slid down and locked into place. It was no effort at all to flick it up again - for me, on the outside of whatever was on the other side of this never-before-seen door.
The door opened inwards and there was a man, looking very relieved in his high-vis vest.
"Thank you. Thank you, mate. I was starting to panic. You see, my phone..." he patted his pockets to demonstrate their emptiness, "...couldn't call my offsider, you know...realised my phone is sitting on the front seat of the vehicle! So couldn't even call him!" He shook his head and gave me a wide smile.
"No worries," I replied. "What's in there?" I had not had a chance to get a good look when the door opened. All I could see was a very happy man in front of darkness and some bricks.
"Yeah. Anyway, don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along! Thanks again." And off he went, ignoring my question.
I suppose he was meant to be in there. My personal theory is that if you have a clipboard and a sense of purpose you can go just about anywhere without anyone questioning you. Perhaps a high-vis vest and a sense of urgency has the same effect.
Photo of the day - FRUIT
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
*I used the Kelvin filter on instagram
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Sneaking off
Sneaking off to the movies in the middle of the day during the week is one of the pleasures that my freelance working patterns affords me. I did it today. This week has been spent mainly at my desk (apart from yesterday when I was in a film.) I decided that I needed to get OUT of the house. I had some errands to run and even thought the weather was windy and rainy, the lure of the movies dragged me out.
Because I had some stuff to do in the city, I thought I'd just see what was playing when I turned up at the Kino. Martha Marcy May Marlene was on at the perfect time and I bought my ticket.
Here's the first benefit of seeing a film at 12:20pm on a week day - there's no queue. You just walk on up to the box office and buy your ticket.
The second thing is choosing to sit wherever you like. I like to sit with no one in front of me. It creates the illusion of being in my own private cinema.
There were four other people in the cinema today. No one rustled chip packets, crunched popcorn or talked on their mobile phone. I don't think there was even a cough registering the presence of anyone else. None of them was sitting too close to me. None of them was too tall in front of me, wearing a distracting hairstyle or hat.
Just me and the big screen. It's one of my great pleasures in life, to lose myself at the cinema. Even better when everyone else is working!
Because I had some stuff to do in the city, I thought I'd just see what was playing when I turned up at the Kino. Martha Marcy May Marlene was on at the perfect time and I bought my ticket.
Here's the first benefit of seeing a film at 12:20pm on a week day - there's no queue. You just walk on up to the box office and buy your ticket.
The second thing is choosing to sit wherever you like. I like to sit with no one in front of me. It creates the illusion of being in my own private cinema.
There were four other people in the cinema today. No one rustled chip packets, crunched popcorn or talked on their mobile phone. I don't think there was even a cough registering the presence of anyone else. None of them was sitting too close to me. None of them was too tall in front of me, wearing a distracting hairstyle or hat.
Just me and the big screen. It's one of my great pleasures in life, to lose myself at the cinema. Even better when everyone else is working!
The challenge begins
You might remember that I've taken up the challenge to participate in "photo a day" during March.
* I used the Hudson filter.
So far - on day one! - I'm really enjoying it. In any creative activity it's interesting to have an exercise to complete.
Today's word is "UP". I walked around the city looking up and saw lots of things I'd never before noticed. It was actually hard to narrow my selection to just one!
Here it is. Do you like it? Also find divacultura on instagram.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
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