Temper temper

I have noticed recently people are getting angrier on the roads.

This morning when I was driving the train station I was on the receiving end of driver aggression.  I’m not sure it would classify as road rage.  I was caught in the wrong lane and put my indictor on.  I then slipped into a space that was more than large enough to fit my tiny car into, in front of the white van of a plumber.  I know he was a plumber because his branding was all over the van, along with his phone number.  What happened next was the start of a few minutes of road harassment.

First he lent of his horn for a prolonged period of time.  More than enough to show his displeasure you’d think.

Then he proceeded to tailgate me for a about a kilometre, all the time making hand gestures that would make a sailor blush, of course I just laughed it off and resisted temptation to brake suddenly.

Then, as the road widened to two lanes, I moved over to let him pass, and pass he did, only to rapidly pull back in front of me (sans indication), before speeding off and into the other lane.  Further up the road he pulled back into the left lane without indicating. 

Over now you’d think.  Ohh now…he was now still really angry about my indication and moving front of him over five minutes ago.

As I pulled up level with him again at traffic lights, two lanes away, I caught him make gestures at me from the corner of my eye.  I didn’t feel the need to look at him and give him the satisfaction of screaming at my silently and I really didn’t want him to see me smiling at his ridiculous behaviour.

Of course, I second guessed myself.  Had a cut in too close?  No, I could clearly see his entire front in my side mirror and over my shoulder.  I’d been indicating for at least 20 seconds…which we all know is ages when sat in a traffic queue and I know he’d seen it because we’d got eye contact in the mirror.

Yesterday, in the news was a story about a young woman being followed home before the attacking driver ran over her Dad and threatened them with a knife, all because she merged in front of him.

Are we losing all perspective of what’s a good thing and what’s a bad thing?

An actor gets saved while out kayaking – he gets blasted for pulling a publicity stunt, maybe he really was lost and was genuinely thankful for the save.  While not really news, kinda of feel good story that should be taken for what it is, not vilified.

A woman gets abused so badly online she makes an attempt on her own life after being repeatedly told to ‘go kill herself’ – she gets blasted for bringing it upon herself, she should have just turned off and heeded the old adage of stick and stones.  No, she should be able to conduct her life and work without being abused by hidden cowards with anger issues.

A woman tries to merge on a busy highway, a requirement of getting from A to B in a motor vehicle and experienced countless times a day by hundreds of thousands of drivers around the world - she gets followed home and threatened with a knife

I get abused for changing lanes while indicating and called an ‘attention seeking whore’ for looking for my dog.

I do believe the world really has gone crazy.

Can we all just calm down and look at our behaviour towards others.  We all have a life to lead.  For the most part we try to do so without interfering too much in each others lives.  We’re all busy, your time is worth no less than mine.  We all just want to live peacefully.  In the end it all comes back to what George Bernard Shaw said in 1903:

'Do not do unto others as you would that they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same.'    

Golf plated printers

I have a bit of an issue with a business changing you an unreasonable amount of money.

I know this seems like a redundant statement but please let me explain.

As you may be aware my dog Cara has been missing for a while (since April 1st). This has meant that I have been doing an inordinate amount of colour copying and printing. This has forced me to shop around for a supplier with rates that please the budget and produce a product that pleases the eye.

I always used to be a fan on Kwik Kopy. When I was the editor of the Alpaca Hmmm… I used them for all my printing needs, I even took business to them from companies I was working for when they were anything but close. But these days I will NOT use them. Here’s why.

They print things and charge a rate that is somewhat premium conpared to some other printing houses. They have to receive files in a format, be it a MSWord or .pdf, whatever, in order to print the job. Am I correct in making this assumption about what they do? If they don’t receive a file, be it by email or USB stick thingy, they are UNABLE to do the job.

Why then, do they feel it appropriate to charge a fee to open a file? $10 for a word file and $5 for a .pdf. These charges are before you even have anything on paper. How long does it take to open a file?

It confuses me.

Would you pay a non-refundable $5 or $10 fee to use a basket in a supermarket?
Would a petrol station get away with a surcharge to get the fuel out of the hole in the ground to the car tank?
Would a café survive long if the started charging a ‘washing up’ fee?

These things are built into the price of the service being provided. So why oh why, does this printing place think it’s OK to charge you extra for something they have to do in order to serve you.

I’d really appreciate your thoughts on this one.

Would you pay the extra fee or go somewhere that doesn’t charge to open the file?

A Purpose

I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to be doing something meaningful with my life.

Writing plans and communicating with people who are essentially not interested in my message has taken its toll. I’m completely disillusioned with what I do. Change management is still relatively new to the corporate world and it’s still the first thing to when a project runs into financial difficulty. As a contractor, this instability is doing my head in. Plus, the role I’m doing at the moment is leaving me cold.

Yesterday, I went to Renbury Farm to take pictures of the pussy cats and other creatures that have been taken there either but their owners who don’t want them anymore or have been found and impounded until reclaimed or rehomed.

There are many deserving furbabies there, as there always is, but when I came to take a few pictures of doggies, I broke down in tears when one surrendered boy, medium sized, white and champagne coloured, looked up at me, but would not get eye contact. I looked at his sheet. Good with children, no barking, no fence jumping, toilet trained and good on a lead. The reason he was there. ‘We have no time to spend with him’. He was wedged in the corner of his pen, shaking and confused why he was there.

I cried all the way home. I tear up as I write just thinking about him. I want to call them and say I’ll pick him up next week, but it’s in no practical. I just want to help.
I find myself thinking about roles I can do in Not for Profit organisations that will help. Help anyone or anything.

Maybe this is why I’m leaning towards the celebrant work so much, after all it a form of help. Helping happy couple make their dream wedding happen. Helping grieving family lay their loved one to rest.

I need to win the lottery so I can quit work and volunteer part-time. Anyone know the numbers?

I'll be there

In this day and age of instant gratification is it too much to ask that when someone says, ‘I’ll be there’ that you expect them to show up? Of course, these words may be spoken or typed a couple of weeks in advance, therefore delaying the ultimate happiness that will ensue.

I ask this because I have noticed a high instance of behaviour that I do not quiet understand, because I cannot engage in it.

Years ago, I offered to babysit for my sister’s kidlets. This was a big commitment then as I live three buses, two train trips and twenty minutes of walking, away from her. It was in the days before I had my drivers licence. I remember her saying to me, ‘I know I can rely on you, you always do what you say you will.’ She’d been let down by local babysitters before.

Her saying that has stuck with me and to this day, if something is in my diary I will do it. I have to be really ill before I’ll pull out of something. I don’t want to share germ or myself worse. I also don’t want to cause the feeling of disappointment I have often felt.

Last night for instance. There was nothing wrong with me that an early night wouldn’t fix, but I really didn’t want to go to a theatre showing I had committed too. I did go, I ended up really enjoying myself and didn’t get to bed until midnight. Why, though should the other person pay for my lack of planning skills?

‘Cause really, that’s what it comes down to, lack of planning.

I overcommitted myself this week. I have been out every night but Tuesday. I’m out again tonight as well. I can sleep in tomorrow.

Others however, have no compunction about calling to say, ‘sorry, my couch looks really good and Masterchef is on tonight’ or worse, ‘I’ve got a better offer’. Of course, these words are never actually used, but they are the core of it.

So when I say, ‘I’ll be there’, I really mean it. I won’t let you down unless I’m dying.

An odd question

I’ve come to the conclusion that some people have a strange notion of morality.

Today I was asked while making myself a cup of tea, ‘What would do if you found out a disabled child had Cara?’

Everyone in the office knows I'm looking for my dog and often it's used as a conversation starter. You know the sort, 'how was your weekend?' 'have you found your dog yet?' etc.

Today it was about my ethics.

It was easy to answer, ‘I’d take her back and give the parents a bollocking for teaching their child it's ok to take something that isn't theirs’.

The woman that asked me the question is the mother of an autistic child and thought it was awful that I would deprive the child of a loved pet and have the nerve to talk to the parents about how to raise their child.

I tried to explain that had the parents done the right thing in the first place the child would not have had time to get attached to the pet and therefore would not be suffering with her being returned to her rightful owner.

The woman remained adamant that I was in the wrong.

So I asked her. ‘What would you do if someone took your child and didn’t return it, and it become the companion to a child in the new house, what would you do?

‘I’d take my child back.’ She replied.

‘My point exactly.’

‘Oh, it’s not the same’, she said, ‘It’s just a dog.’

At that point I turned to walk away, but she called me back and said, ‘You treat your animals too much like they are human.’

All I could say as I walked away again, was, ‘at least animals aren’t arseholes’.

I don’t think she’ll be speaking to me in the kitchen anymore ;)

How would you feel?

Would you take an idling car home and look after it? Or would you leave it be or maybe keep an eye on it for a while to make sure it wasn't stolen?

If you found a child wandering in a park would you take it home and keep it for yourself? Or would you try and find the parents and if not able to find them call the police?

Would you pick up a stray dog, take it home and not tell anyone?

The chances are you answered with a solution to the first two questions and maybe or yes to the third.

If you don't take the dog to the vet or call the local dog catcher (every council has one) to see if there is a microchip present, you could be keeping someone's child.

There are many excuses for animals not being handed in when found but here are a couple of the more common ones. I'd like to set the record straight on a couple:

1. It's just a stray dog I found. So I'll give it a good home.

Yes, it may well be a stray in need of a warm bed, good food and a human to love, but it may also be a beloved pet with all those things waiting at home. It's family may be fretting about the whereabouts after it freaked out for some reason (storm, fireworks etc.) and somehow got out of the usually secure house/garden. The dog you're 'caring for' may be looking at you and thinking, 'I just want to go home'. Dogs have a knack for escaping seemly inescapable places when frightened.

2. If I hand it in, it will be euthanised.

A stray is given at least two weeks to be found by its owners. If the animal is micro-chipped (and many are these days) it's likely that they will find each other very quickly and pet and human will be very grateful to you, they may even give you a reward. As the finder you can tell the pound/dog catcher you'll adopt if the owners aren't found so as to avoid the animal being put to sleep. Give it a chance to find it's family first though.

3. I'm afraid I'll get into trouble if I hand the animal in, I kept it over the weekend.

It's highly unlikely you'll get into trouble for looking after a dog over a weekend. If you keep the dog for weeks or months before handing it, then maybe you will, maybe you won't. It's a chance you take. Best to hand any animals you find in straight away with the offer to continue care should they not be reclaimed.

4. How do I know the dog or cat is micro-chipped?

You take it to the local vet and they will scan it for you free of charge. If you can’t get to the vet, call the local dog catcher, they will come to you.

Think about how you'd feel if a loved one went missing and you didn't know what had become of them. Would you worry day and night if they were dead or alive and safe?
Would you try and find them by any means possible?
Would you sleep well at night?

If you have an animal that you found, please take it to a vet to find out if there is someone doing and wondering all of the above.

Confrontation

I've come to the conclusion that I don't handle confrontation well. It causes me extreme stress that knocks my immune system for six, allowing in bugs and illness to take hold. When illness is already in residence, the addition of stressors just helps the illness settle in for a longer stay and even bring his mate Cujo to stay as well.

After my weekend of strolling to the lavatory on a regular basis and either sitting or bowing to Harpic of the Bowl I really wanted to spend Monday resting at home and fully recuperating. I was still very weak in the morning after having only managed to add half a cup of dry cornflakes to my extremely tender tummy.

Due to work commitments I didn't have the luxury of having that extra day, so I arranged to go in a little later than usual and wrote the Key Message Comms document that was required by the end of the business day. I was a struggle because talking to the people I needed assistance from were extremely busy.

At 5pm I handed the document to the requester. 'It needs detail!'

So my question is this: If you're asked to provide Key Messages or Points would you submit, bullets or detailed paragraph?

I spent the next two hours trying to flesh out my bullet points and most of today working on it. I was and am particularly unimpressed. This isn't the first communications breakdown that I've had in this role and I have a feeling it may be the last.

I'm not going to pass all the blame, I may not have asked enough questions, but not being able to ask them has made that difficult. Of the six one-2-one I'm supposed to have had, I had one. I've been given seven projects to learn about in my short time. I have a pretty good learning curve, but I think I've found my limit.

Tomorrow will be a telling day. He wants to 'talk about your work'.

Moral Compass

There have been a few items in the news recently that have got me thinking about my own level morality.

I like to believe that I was dragged up by the scuff with quite a high moral grounding. My Muv and Dad instilled in my brother and sisters a belief that lying was bad, stealing was wrong because you have to earn the things you have and being a pyromaniac, while it fun to watch flames licking around logs in the fireplace, it’s not good burn things that aren’t in the hearth.

We were also taught to respect your elders, even if they are being a git. Smile and move on.

Don’t put your feet on seats, in public or your own home, you don’t know what you’ve stepped in. I never really understood this one, I got the public part, but I was pretty sure I didn’t have mud (or dog poop) between my toes. So I often engage in feet on sofa heresy, but never with shoes on.

***

I recently read that with the hike in banana prices in Australia, people using the self serve check out are putting bananas through for the price of carrots, or whatever is seasonally cheaper than $17 per kilogram. The question the press was asking was, is this stealing?

I say a resounding yes. It is stealing.

But when surveyed, the general public leaned more towards no, it’s not. The reasoning was that they had been paid for, even if not the full price, therefore it was OK. Before I read about the banana switch, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I could just press a different button in the check out. Even now it has been planted in my mind, I find the idea deplorable. I know that big business will bear the brunt of the theft, but do I know what other the consequences are?

Will the check out chick who’s supposed to ensure the self serve checkouts aren’t abused retain her position, if not job? Will prices elsewhere in the store rise? Will the banana farmer be screwed down on price? Will the truck driver who delivers them to the store be expected to drive that little bit quicker to ensure timely delivery…did I suddenly get into the Butterfly Effect?

My point here, is: I don’t do it, because it never occurred to me in the first place, but when I think about it, it makes my brain hurt.

***

Meanwhile, in the UK, scumbags where rioting in towns across the small island. One victim was Aaron Biber, no relation to Justin. The 89 year old barber survived the Second World War only to see his shop ransacked by looters, just for the hell of it. He didn’t have anything of value to steal, no plasma telly on the wall, no expensive hair product and even his scissors and certainly his door curtain, would have been older than most of the vandals.

Why would people do this. To me, and most of my peers, it’s unfathomable. We simply cannot comprehend the idea of trashing a place just because.

Don’t get me wrong, I have felt the rush that illegal activity gives you, but I’m a firm believer of ‘Make love, not war’. ;-)

It’s a thrill, but running through the streets setting fire to things, stealing things, smashing, just to smash and worse, running someone over that was trying to protect their property, leaves me scratching my head in a way that could leave scars.

Where these people not taught basic morality in their formative years? Video of a boy being helped with the right hand and being robbed with the left hand makes me think not.

Can we blame politics for taking away the rights of parents to give their kids a good clip round the ear? I had many, and worse, and it never did me any harm.

I know several people that have been too afraid to speak up in adverse situations for fear of harm. Instead, they have put their head down and kept quiet, unnoticed.

Are adults now being bullied by children in a passive aggressive way? Sometimes that’s how I feel. I have been on trains where teenagers in a group have had their feet on the seats, I desperately what to tell them to put their feet on the floor, but simple eye contact has lead me to think that I would be smacked or verbally abused if I dare to say something. Isn’t that bullying? We’re too sacred to stand up and say, enough is enough.

In the UK, they have. We used to complain about CCTV camera popping up all over the place like mushrooms. ‘It’s an invasion of privacy,’ was a common cry. Now they are being praised.

People are taking up brooms to battle and clean. It’s fabulous. In some ways I wish I was on the tiny island right now.

From a few nights of bedlam a mighty uprising of good has occurred. I hope this continues. People of all nations coming together to improve relations and the moral fabric of society.

I would never dream of saying my moral compass faces a firm North, but I do believe in thinking about my actions and the outcomes before I do them. I hope we can all learn a lesson for the last few weeks, think about the outcome of your actions. You’ll be surprised how often you cease to do what you were about the do.

Thank you to the following for the images:
Compass
Aaron Biber (this is a good story too)

FV, An Addiction?

I don't smoke and apart from the one at the scattering of Muv’s ashes, I never have.
I've never done drugs, watched others partake and thought it amusing.
I don't consume vast quantities of tea or coffee on a daily basis (one cup of Earl Grey when I get to the office)
I have the odd glass of wine
I do have a couple of small collections (piggy banks: and they must be pigs, books and anything London taxi related), but not the sort of collections that has taken over my house like the ones you see on the ABC 'Collectors' program.

I find myself getting bored of App games on my iPhone that my friends play on an hourly or minute by minute basis.

I've finished Angry Birds, but it took me a couple of weeks. Not a couple of days like some people. Really, do I have to catapult these birds at pigs hiding behind rock, glass and wood? I said wood :-)

Words with Friends is getting old, mainly because I find it rejects the strangest words as not being in the dictionary, what do you mean? Of course ‘baltic’ is a word. Agh! Scrabble has suffered the same fate. Who’s dictionary are they using? It isn’t Oxford’s or MacQuarie’s.

Farmville on Facebook is looking like the latest to become a victim, again. I played it a while back for about six months. I ploughed my plots, harvested my crops, fed my animals, help out my 'friends' when they needed things to build their farm buildings, accepted gifts and helped by sending 'gifts' in return. I got up to level 39, had over a million coins and no social life to speak of. When I travelled to Nigeria I gave it up for a combination of reasons. A slow internet connection made it nearly impossible to play. I was hanging out with Trixie so had no time for virtual crops and finally; it had run it's course. Time for the next thing to learn, anyone for Swahili?

Niliibiwa*

I took Farmville up again a few weeks ago, in a bid to save money for trip to Montreal, Canada, later in the year. I figure if I’m farming crops that don’t require any actual land for coins that don’t really exist, I can’t help but not spend real money by going out. Unfortunately the downside of that is I have no life to speak of once again, except to say, ‘what do you mean your internet connection is down, now my potatoes will wilt and my dog will run away’. It also means in order to get anything good, such as build pig and sheep pens and breed more pixellated livestock, I need to add randoms as ‘friends’ because none of my real friends have enough time in their busy lives to farm in ‘Tron’.

The issue I find though is waking up to pages and pages of updates for people I know nothing about. Not to mention a million FV goodies up for grabs that have expired while I was sleeping. I think I’ve missed things my real buddies are up to amongst all the mess. I made a couple of buddies last time I played, and when I culled before I kept them on my friends list, you know who you are KLW and SPK :-) but this time I’m not sure. I haven’t had a single meaningful conversation so far, so the randoms have yet to turn into friends...time will tell I suppose.

Someone once told me that they thought I had an addictive personality. I can only think they meant I was so much fun they had to spend time with me, because it sure as heck isn’t my ability to take up a hobby and stick with it, just call me Miss Goldfish.


*I’ve been robbed (that one came in handy when I was in Kenya)

T vs C

Why is that I can drink three or four cups of tea a day and sleep like a baby, but a single cappuccino will have me shaking like a recovering druggie looking for the next fix?

I’m going into a tunnel…

And yet the person on the other end keeps talking.

I’m getting into the lift…

And yet the person on the other end of the phone keeps talking. They know and you know the likelihood of being cut off is somewhere in the high 90%, and yet they keep talking.

Why?

I’ve been asking this question a lot lately, of a lot of things. I’ve been trying to figure out why people do the things they do. It’s driven me into the arms of a shrink.

All the things that have happened over the last three years, marriage separation and subsequent divorce, the expiration of Mum and stepdad , moving house and jobs, robberies, money worries and relationships that leaves me questioning my sanity. I’ve come to the conclusion that I need assistance wading through the thigh deep mud that is slowly sucking me down.

I’ve leant one thing already.

You have to stop asking, why. You’ll never know why someone did something. Even if you ask them. They may not know themselves. Few people are self aware enough to say, ‘I did that because…’

So, friends. When I ask, why do you think my Grandmother stopped talking to me after my Mom died?’ Don’t try and give me an answer, just tell me I’ll never know.

When I ask, why did my friend ditch me after I left my husband and then start hanging out with him? Tell me I have to not read too much in to it and they are both out of my life. Move on.

When I ask any questions about things I have no control over, please tell me I’m not a mind reader and I’ll never know, move on.

When I ask, why does someone keep talking even though I’ve told them I’m going into the lift and the doors are closing? Tell me, it’s because they’re an idiot

A Big Question

Imagine if you will sitting on a motorbike wearing gloves, jacket, jeans and helmet.
Indeed a full compliment of safety gear to ensure no harm should come to me in case of incident.

Now picture this.

Sat at the light waiting for them to turn in your favour and feel a tickle on your ear. Not a itch, a tickle, like someone is lightly running a feather across your skin. The sensation becomes more intense.

A quick bash with the heel of the hand to the right side of the helmet doesn't make it go away.

The lights turn to green.

You kick the bike to life, first. flick the toes and you're in second.

Your ear is distracting you from the road and traffic ahead. Pull into the driveway of a car showroom that's closed for the night and bring the bike to a halt.

Flip the visor up, remove gloves. Unbuckle the neck strap and slowly remove helmet…

…turn it upside down to see a small brown spider moving around in the gap between the foam liners were your ear nestles.

The question is this:

To Scream Like a Girl or Not To Scream Like a Girl?

Kids!

A few of my friends are mothers of the two legged varity of child. One such child had his first fisty-cuff at kindergarten today and has a bit of a black eye to prove it. In the photo he looks a bit happy about it all, a bit cuffed with his war wound.

Mum, Dad, Aunties, Uncles and friends of the family are incensed. Nearly all want to lynch the other fighting party, even though he's also only three or four years old. The comments on Facebook under the picture stretch to a few pages. My comment of 'Any ideas what started it all?' seems to have gone ignored.

I'm confused by this. I understand that Mum and Dad are upset, that needs no explaination but I don't understand the idea of the intense ill will toward the other child from those away from the situation. I understand that other family members are protective the child.

How is it that such venom can be directed at a child that seems to have been involved in a playground scuffle regardless of their role in starting it all?

The Bearer of Bad News

Once upon a time bad news was spread by hand written letter. I meant that you may have had to wait but you heard that your loved one in the next village, town or city had fallen to unfortunate circumstance.

Not too long ago, the phone would have rung and you would have received news of this nature from a familiar voice. A comforting aunt, brother or other sundry person may have been the bearer of tragic news within hours of the occurrence.

These days (and I’m not bagging the internet because I generally love it) Tweets, Facebook, texts and emails can be composed sat at hospital bedsides, so bad news, as well as good, can be spread about the world by means of a hastily composed, emotionless short message.

I have been on the receiving end of such messages, in the past and more recently.

Harry’s Dead :(
J is in hospital after a series of strokes and is unlikely to walk again.
N has had a testicle removed due to cancer, about to start chemo.

Why do people think it’s acceptable to send this type of news by such a detached means of communication?

Or do they do it, because it is detached and they don’t have to get into a discussion that may tug the heart strings?

Or, is it simply that people have lost the art of communication. Faceless notes without passion have replaced the lost art of the letter. Quick status updates and Tweets have replaced phone conversations.

I know with the spreading of families across the world timezones can cause a problem, but really is that an excuse not to make a phone call, or to wait weeks before sharing bad news?

I feel like we have become reliant on technology to share our bad news to avoid the heart ache and pain that come from giving bad news, but we often fail to consider the reactions and feeling of the person reading the message.

Climbing of the washing powder box now.

Too Quick?

Clearly not.

The bird on the radio advert says, 'men who are coming too fast, SMS 'TRY', that's T.R.Y to 1800 xxx xxx to make love last for longer'

Now, is it just me who wouldn't want a man who couldn't spell TRY?

And if you think about it, is it really important that it's spelt correct?

After all this is a sport obsessed culture, so surely even a Tri would do, because if you really think about, if in bed even a touch down would leave you with a smile on your face.

Collective Nouns

Written 20th June 2009

It’s not something you think about on a regular basis. You are taught that it’s a flock of birds, a herd of cows and a gaggle of school girls. If you are really lucky you have a parent or teacher that tells you about a murder of crows.

Yesterday I got to give this subject a closer examination as I drove at 110kph along the Hume Highway toward a looming black mass. As I got closer I saw it was, what it was could only be described as a ‘swarm’ of sparrows.

Yes, I know it’s supposed to be flock, but you know what, I saw a swarm. There were hundreds, moving as a single entity before dividing into two as the car passed through them. Not a single bird was damaged. To my left, wandering around in the paddock, was a flock of sheep.

How can that be? A flock of sheep, a flock of birds. Surely it should be a herd of sheep, after all they have four legs and no wings. How got to decide these collective nouns?

I’m pretty sure when Hitchcock started working on ‘The Birds’ he wasn’t thinking flock of seagulls, he was thinking murder of seagulls. Seagulls are so much more intimidating than crows, despite the latter being black, they sound so much nicer than seagulls with their ugly craw. You can bet Janet Leigh was screaming blue murder.

When you spend as much time alone in a car and in hotel rooms as I have lately, you get to thinking about this sort of pointless crap.

When...

…does graffiti stop being a simple defacement of property and become art?

I’ve asked myself this question many times over the years, because I get enjoyment out of walking along and suddenly being stopped in my tracks by a word or image that requires my attention, sprayed across a wall.

I enjoy standing there and working out want it says. Sometimes it’s a simple word, sometimes it’s more complex. I enjoy spotting the details in the background and sometimes a treat in the foreground. The colours and technique with a spray can never fails to stun, how do they manage to get no runs?

I know from a past relationship (a friend at school would do such work) that these works aren’t just produced in the blink of an eye during an evening of boredom. They take weeks of pre planning, sketches, gathering materials (e.g. spray cans), they even need a look out sometimes. These are public works of art that need careful planning and thought, and of course nerves of steel. For being caught, means arrest, arrest could mean a stint in prison and a criminal record.

I have a certain admiration for the guys that put this much effort into their art.

That said, it’s all spoiled by the ‘taggers’. People with a marker pen that feel the need to write their name or initials or ‘tag’ on any flat surface they come across. Train seats and windows, walls, public benches, toilets doors, you name it and it will no doubt have a tag on it. Or at the very least the smear that shows someone tried to clean it off.

So where is the line between public nuisance and public artist?


- An example from Smith Street in Surry Hills

How the hell...

...did these pieces get between the two panes of glass?

Reliably Unreliable

We all have one. Be they a friend, a mate, a buddie or acquaintance, we know if they are invited out they will say, ‘yes, I’ll be there’ with such convincing gusto, that you actually believe, for once, they may actually turn up.

When they call you, email you or text you at the eleventh hour (usually after they have been prompted) they let you down. It will always be an imaginative and creative excuse that rings true, and despite you having doubts, you say, ‘that’s OK, maybe next time’. When they do turn up to something, you are surprised and so happy you forgive the previous let-downs.

I have two such mates. I still invite the first one, but I know she won’t turn up. I know it’s a waste of paper, bandwidth and effort, but in the name of friendship I still make the effort. I’m dangerously close to plonking the second in the same basket.

At what point do you say, enough is enough and give up altogether?

TAB

In the news yesterday it was announced that the TAB (Ladbrooks, to my English readers) will be allowed to open for the first time, ever, on Good Friday. TAB representatives said they wanted to open after customers had requested the additional entertainment on the public holiday.

The religious groups instantly started banging on about making profit and the destruction of the Christian way of life.

I know I’m not alone in thinking of Easter as an excuse to eat chocolate and have a four day weekend. Clearly I’m not, after all TAB customers want to gamble on overseas gee gee races on the Friday. So, when will the Christian groups get it into their heads that not everyone believes in the reason for this holiday?

After all, approximately 25% of the Australian population is of other or no religion and that means the TAB could have just over 5 million customers on Good Friday, and that would make for a very good Friday indeed.