Sunday, 27 April 2008
We're all going on a....
... spring holiday! I'm shortly off on holiday to Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands. Hoping that it lives up to expectations, since it feels like I've been planning this trip for years. Flying in to Quito, the capital, then up to the cloudforest for a couple of days, back down through Quito for a flight to the amazon rainforest, 5 days in an indigenously owned lodge in the rainforest, back to Quito for a couple of days, and then 8 days sailing round Galapagos. Preparations have mostly consisted of running round Millets throwing random items into a basket and frantically searching for my mysteriously vanished spare camera battery - possibly would've been more useful to learn some spanish/become an expert on amazonian wildlife but I've been a bit distracted by my need to systematically review 40,000 potentially relevant abstracts before I went. Tried to read Darwin's Beagle diary but it was the unedited version and rambled on for pages and pages about his preparations for the voyage, Southampton, the size of his cabin, what he ate for breakfast etc. He should've published a blog...
Monday, 14 April 2008
Seeing is believing?
Annie Dillard: “Seeing, is of course very much a matter of verbalization. Unless I call my attention to what passes before my eyes, I simply won’t see it.”
Monday, 7 April 2008
Prisoners of hope
Recently I've been thinking about the phrase 'prisoners of hope' (it comes from Zechariah, a slightly obscure book in the Old Testament). What would it mean to be a prisoner of hope? Came across an interesting article on a similar subject, bits of it are copied below:
http://www.rzim.org/resources/jttran.php?seqid=89
Lewis characterizes Sehnsucht as an “intense longing” 3 for union with beauty and transcendence through a desired object—such as a “far-off country”—which is partly realized in the incarnation of hope and especially, Joy. Such an experience, though, leaves one trembling with an acute awareness that one is ultimately separated from the object for which one longs. This sense of separation leads Lewis to reason, “The human soul was made to enjoy some object that is never fully given—nay, cannot even be imagined—in our present mode of subject and spatio-temporal experience.” 4
Just a few days after my Ash Wednesday dream, and yes, after reading Jesus’ pointed reply to the blind men, I had another dream: A troubled young woman failed her exam and went to seek help from her professor. The teacher responded with kindness and then asked her a question, but I awoke before she answered. The question? “What is it that you want?”
In Lewis’ allegory The Pilgrim’s Regress and Augustine’s biography Confessions, the authors depict the power of longing, both for God and for God-substitutes—those things they sought to fill the void that they would discover only God could fill. Augustine and Lewis recognized that our longings can lead us to God. Conversely, our blindness to them actually directs us away from God, for if we cannot see what it is we seek, how will we know if we’ve stumbled upon it? Indeed, “What we do not long for,” observes Augustine, “can be the object neither of our hope nor of our despair.”
It has been my experience that for the follower of Christ, our blindness to what it is that we want, and ultimately, what it is that satisfies, is rooted either in fear or in submerging our persistent longings under the temporarily tranquil waters of “godly contentment.” I do not mean to suggest that contentment is not possible or even desirable, for the Scriptures, and particularly the Psalms, offer us a view of rest. One thinks, of course, of Psalm 23: “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want…. He leads me beside still waters,” where the Hebrew reads literally, “beside waters of rest.” Yet only two chapters later, David is pursued by his enemies and cries out, “The troubles of my heart have multiplied.” So though we may find rest beside tranquil waters, they are “streams in the desert,” and their source flows from a far-off country. 5 ....
And so it is that we are pilgrims in Narnia, prisoners of hope 13 spying dreams of dawn in a far-off country, and its Light pierces us even in the Shadowlands. Like those before us, we are given signposts as reminders along the way and invitations to rest beside still waters, or to wrestle with God till daybreak. So who of us, half-hearted creatures though we often be, would hunger for anything less?
http://www.rzim.org/resources/jttran.php?seqid=89
Lewis characterizes Sehnsucht as an “intense longing” 3 for union with beauty and transcendence through a desired object—such as a “far-off country”—which is partly realized in the incarnation of hope and especially, Joy. Such an experience, though, leaves one trembling with an acute awareness that one is ultimately separated from the object for which one longs. This sense of separation leads Lewis to reason, “The human soul was made to enjoy some object that is never fully given—nay, cannot even be imagined—in our present mode of subject and spatio-temporal experience.” 4
Just a few days after my Ash Wednesday dream, and yes, after reading Jesus’ pointed reply to the blind men, I had another dream: A troubled young woman failed her exam and went to seek help from her professor. The teacher responded with kindness and then asked her a question, but I awoke before she answered. The question? “What is it that you want?”
In Lewis’ allegory The Pilgrim’s Regress and Augustine’s biography Confessions, the authors depict the power of longing, both for God and for God-substitutes—those things they sought to fill the void that they would discover only God could fill. Augustine and Lewis recognized that our longings can lead us to God. Conversely, our blindness to them actually directs us away from God, for if we cannot see what it is we seek, how will we know if we’ve stumbled upon it? Indeed, “What we do not long for,” observes Augustine, “can be the object neither of our hope nor of our despair.”
It has been my experience that for the follower of Christ, our blindness to what it is that we want, and ultimately, what it is that satisfies, is rooted either in fear or in submerging our persistent longings under the temporarily tranquil waters of “godly contentment.” I do not mean to suggest that contentment is not possible or even desirable, for the Scriptures, and particularly the Psalms, offer us a view of rest. One thinks, of course, of Psalm 23: “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want…. He leads me beside still waters,” where the Hebrew reads literally, “beside waters of rest.” Yet only two chapters later, David is pursued by his enemies and cries out, “The troubles of my heart have multiplied.” So though we may find rest beside tranquil waters, they are “streams in the desert,” and their source flows from a far-off country. 5 ....
And so it is that we are pilgrims in Narnia, prisoners of hope 13 spying dreams of dawn in a far-off country, and its Light pierces us even in the Shadowlands. Like those before us, we are given signposts as reminders along the way and invitations to rest beside still waters, or to wrestle with God till daybreak. So who of us, half-hearted creatures though we often be, would hunger for anything less?
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Lazarus
And an even longer gap this time! Life's still complicated, and my to-do list is still smirking at me. I've tried putting it on the naughty step, but it doesn't seem to help. And I'm still grumpy - and it's very possible that I've been so for the last 3 months!
This week is Holy Week - the run up to Easter - so I've been at more services and church events than usual. On Monday night we had the story of Lazarus, who Jesus brought back to life after he'd been dead several days. Momentarily leaving aside the - humungous (sp?) - doubts and questions that this raises, I wondered what Lazarus' attitude to death would have been after that. Would he be really blase about it - "oh yeah, I die all the time, it's no big deal" - or afraid, or looking forward to it, or what? I guess quite a lot depends on what, if anything, happened during those days he was physically dead, and, as with so many things, the bible doesn't say much about that.
This week is Holy Week - the run up to Easter - so I've been at more services and church events than usual. On Monday night we had the story of Lazarus, who Jesus brought back to life after he'd been dead several days. Momentarily leaving aside the - humungous (sp?) - doubts and questions that this raises, I wondered what Lazarus' attitude to death would have been after that. Would he be really blase about it - "oh yeah, I die all the time, it's no big deal" - or afraid, or looking forward to it, or what? I guess quite a lot depends on what, if anything, happened during those days he was physically dead, and, as with so many things, the bible doesn't say much about that.
Thursday, 3 January 2008
2008
Very long gap since the last post, mainly due to life becoming complicated. However, new year, new life and all that... Actually, today I'm mainly feeling grumpy but since there's no-one around to share the grumpiness (they should be very grateful for that fact), it's prompted me to blog about it instead. So... things I'm feeling grumpy about today:
1. Being back at work, obviously. My to-do list is smirking at me intimidatingly from the corner of my desk. I really don't want to make some of the phone calls on that list.
2. The fact that I lost the hearing in my left ear during a flight on New Years Day, and it's still only partially returned.
3. I have a COLD, moan moan, and the cold remedy stuff I've taken has made me feel sick (or maybe it's just the cold, don't know).
4. There's no heating in the office.
5. I'm supposed to be giving my first sermon next weekend and I've only just realised. There goes this weekend on planning and general panicking...
1. Being back at work, obviously. My to-do list is smirking at me intimidatingly from the corner of my desk. I really don't want to make some of the phone calls on that list.
2. The fact that I lost the hearing in my left ear during a flight on New Years Day, and it's still only partially returned.
3. I have a COLD, moan moan, and the cold remedy stuff I've taken has made me feel sick (or maybe it's just the cold, don't know).
4. There's no heating in the office.
5. I'm supposed to be giving my first sermon next weekend and I've only just realised. There goes this weekend on planning and general panicking...
Wednesday, 31 October 2007
Swimming
While I was swimming yesterday evening a children's swimming lesson was also taking place. The man running it was a perfect example of why all sports instructors should undergo compulsory personality transplants, although he did at least distract me from my usual thoughts of "I'm SO bored I might just drown myself for the novelty factor".
He stood on the side of the pool bellowing at the 6 girls, finishing each command with "If you don't understand, put up your hand". If their hand went up, he just repeated exactly what he'd already said, in a slightly louder and more annoyed tone of voice, despite the fact that they didn't understand it the first time. For one particular manoevre, he must have done this at least 5 times, until eventually the girls lost the will to live and stopped putting up their hands. When it became apparent that they still hadn't understood, he got them out of the pool and gave them a pep talk (at the top of his voice) about how they should say they didn't understand if they didn't. His words said, "it's fine to say you don't understand, it doesn't make you stupid", but his tone of voice said "but you are unbelievably stupid for not understanding this". Which reminded me of our old school PE teacher who would tell motivational stories about enormously fat girls who got fantastic grades because they tried very hard, while at the same time totally ignoring any effort put in by those of who were athletically challenged.
When the girls had finally grasped what they needed to do, Mr Swimming Instructor then demonstrated a novel way of praising them. He started shouting out "good boy, well done, see girls, it took a boy to show you how to do it." When they protested that they were girls, he said "oh really? That was so good I thought it must have been a boy doing it." Argh... from bullying to casual sexism in one easy step.
He stood on the side of the pool bellowing at the 6 girls, finishing each command with "If you don't understand, put up your hand". If their hand went up, he just repeated exactly what he'd already said, in a slightly louder and more annoyed tone of voice, despite the fact that they didn't understand it the first time. For one particular manoevre, he must have done this at least 5 times, until eventually the girls lost the will to live and stopped putting up their hands. When it became apparent that they still hadn't understood, he got them out of the pool and gave them a pep talk (at the top of his voice) about how they should say they didn't understand if they didn't. His words said, "it's fine to say you don't understand, it doesn't make you stupid", but his tone of voice said "but you are unbelievably stupid for not understanding this". Which reminded me of our old school PE teacher who would tell motivational stories about enormously fat girls who got fantastic grades because they tried very hard, while at the same time totally ignoring any effort put in by those of who were athletically challenged.
When the girls had finally grasped what they needed to do, Mr Swimming Instructor then demonstrated a novel way of praising them. He started shouting out "good boy, well done, see girls, it took a boy to show you how to do it." When they protested that they were girls, he said "oh really? That was so good I thought it must have been a boy doing it." Argh... from bullying to casual sexism in one easy step.
Reading
At church on sunday we were shown a video about the work of the bible society, who translate the bible into different languages and formats. It made a big deal about the need for audio bibles, because of the many people who can't read. All fine, except that this message was conveyed entirely by pictures accompanied by written text and a musical backing track - no spoken words at all. Therefore assuming (I assume!) that anyone in a developed country would be able to read from a screen....
Saturday, 27 October 2007
Public transport
I use a lot of public transport. Most of the time I quite enjoy it, I don't even mind too much when teenagers play music on their rubbish mobile phone speakers to the whole bus, though it does get annoying when more than one person does it and they get into a mobile music war.
On a less grumpy note, this morning I saw 2 young teenagers get on the bus, bringing with them a load of fishing tackle in one of those old person shopping trollies. One of them sat down, but stood up when he saw an older person getting on the bus. However the older lady walked straight past the seat, and a young guy sat down in it instead. The trolly was quite sweet, the standing up was sweet, and the look on his face when the bloke sat down was even sweeter.
On a less grumpy note, this morning I saw 2 young teenagers get on the bus, bringing with them a load of fishing tackle in one of those old person shopping trollies. One of them sat down, but stood up when he saw an older person getting on the bus. However the older lady walked straight past the seat, and a young guy sat down in it instead. The trolly was quite sweet, the standing up was sweet, and the look on his face when the bloke sat down was even sweeter.
Sunday, 21 October 2007
I went to church this morning. The service ended at 11.20am, and these were the things I was asked between 11.20am and noon:
Immediately as the service finished I turned round to speak to the person sitting next to me, who I think was a first-time visitor. Before I'd managed to speak I was stopped by the church treasurer, who asked me to sign some cheques right now because he had to leave. I got up to do so, while at the same time attempting to convey via the medium of international gestures that someone else should say hello to the visitor.
As I signed the cheques, someone walked up carrying a large bronze cross, and asked me to unchain the vestry door so she could take it round the back.
I was about to do so, when someone waved at me from the prayer corner, wanting me to pray with someone. The treasurer went to open the vestry door.
I went and prayed, offered tissues etc. The person recovered herself, and I went into the next room to get a coffee.
On the way to the coffee queue ( a walk of at least, ooh, 20 seconds) the person who I'd been communicating with via the medium of sign language stopped me to ask if I knew anything about the visitor because he'd had such a strong accent he couldn't understand him. I didn't, but had a long and confused conversation, because I initially thought he was talking about the preacher, who had a slight welsh accent and had entertained us by telling stories in a scots accent.
Walked 3 paces and someone stopped me to ask if I could do some photocopying for them. I said I would once I'd got a coffee and if I could remember the code.
Walked another 3 paces and was stopped by someone else. She wanted to know about a notice in the notice sheet, did I know anything. I said I didn't. This apparently wasn't sufficient information, so I added a couple of suggestions of people she could ask and for good luck also outlined their half term holiday plans. This was more acceptable, and I made it to the front of the coffee queue without incident, at the same time waving to a friend to get her to come rescue me.
At this point actually managed a non-functional conversation, which was only interrupted by the photocopying lady who very politely told me she'd got someone else, who could remember their code, to do it for her.
Then all that was left to do was lock up, chase out the stragglers, and run away home. Is it wrong to be slightly horrified at the thought of going to a church service every week for THE REST OF MY LIFE?!
Immediately as the service finished I turned round to speak to the person sitting next to me, who I think was a first-time visitor. Before I'd managed to speak I was stopped by the church treasurer, who asked me to sign some cheques right now because he had to leave. I got up to do so, while at the same time attempting to convey via the medium of international gestures that someone else should say hello to the visitor.
As I signed the cheques, someone walked up carrying a large bronze cross, and asked me to unchain the vestry door so she could take it round the back.
I was about to do so, when someone waved at me from the prayer corner, wanting me to pray with someone. The treasurer went to open the vestry door.
I went and prayed, offered tissues etc. The person recovered herself, and I went into the next room to get a coffee.
On the way to the coffee queue ( a walk of at least, ooh, 20 seconds) the person who I'd been communicating with via the medium of sign language stopped me to ask if I knew anything about the visitor because he'd had such a strong accent he couldn't understand him. I didn't, but had a long and confused conversation, because I initially thought he was talking about the preacher, who had a slight welsh accent and had entertained us by telling stories in a scots accent.
Walked 3 paces and someone stopped me to ask if I could do some photocopying for them. I said I would once I'd got a coffee and if I could remember the code.
Walked another 3 paces and was stopped by someone else. She wanted to know about a notice in the notice sheet, did I know anything. I said I didn't. This apparently wasn't sufficient information, so I added a couple of suggestions of people she could ask and for good luck also outlined their half term holiday plans. This was more acceptable, and I made it to the front of the coffee queue without incident, at the same time waving to a friend to get her to come rescue me.
At this point actually managed a non-functional conversation, which was only interrupted by the photocopying lady who very politely told me she'd got someone else, who could remember their code, to do it for her.
Then all that was left to do was lock up, chase out the stragglers, and run away home. Is it wrong to be slightly horrified at the thought of going to a church service every week for THE REST OF MY LIFE?!
Saturday, 13 October 2007
Hairspray
About twice a year I fill up a free saturday afternoon by buying a super cheap theatre ticket. Today I went to see Hairspray - my tastes tend towards the philistine and I like musicals for the feel-good factor and the fact that you don't need to think too much. I had one of the seats in the gods, the kind where you get an oxygen mask along with your ticket, but the view was ok - I've been to some where I've ended up peering out from behind a pillar. It only started a couple of days ago, so it's still in the preview stage, but it was fine apart from a few lapses in sound and a little problem when the follow spot didn't really follow. I read a paper article a while ago that said Hairspray was successful in the USA because it makes fun of american blue collar workers, but would be less successful in the Uk because... mmm not sure I can exactly remember the logic here, but the prediction was that the stage musical version wouldn't go down well in London. At the time I'd only seen the film version, and didn't really agree that it was mocking a particular category of person. The stage version though does have the mother (John Travolta in drag in the film, Michael Ball on stage) as more of a caricature, if it's possible to be more caricatured than a man in drag- John Travolta's woman is slightly more convincing (as a woman and as a character) at the beginning, and definitely less manky.
So... Loved the film, quite liked the musical, and still not sure if it's stereotyping and if it is, whether it's in an ironic good way or a bad way. Isn't any period piece going to have some degree of stereotyping that time period? But it also reminds me of this vexing question of whether it's ok to call people chavs... is it just an (admittedly derogatory) description of a type of style, or is it similar to racist/sexist labels? Answers on a comment please...
So... Loved the film, quite liked the musical, and still not sure if it's stereotyping and if it is, whether it's in an ironic good way or a bad way. Isn't any period piece going to have some degree of stereotyping that time period? But it also reminds me of this vexing question of whether it's ok to call people chavs... is it just an (admittedly derogatory) description of a type of style, or is it similar to racist/sexist labels? Answers on a comment please...
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
Christian self-help for beginners
Some of the helpful and tactful self-improvement tips that I've been given over the years. Follow these, and you too can be a shiny happy person:
1. Stick bible verses on your mirror.
2. Stick bible verses in your bedroom.
3. Stick bible verses on your toilet seat (yes really).
4. When you read the bible, stand on another bible and then you'll really be standing on the word of god.
5. Problems like these are often the result of secret sin. Is there anything you'd like to confess?
6. Feeling bad about yourself is a sin, you know. You need to repent.
7. You're great! Well, no you're not, you're a vile sinner like the rest of us.
8. When you get home, contemplate your sins. (Can we feel a theme coming on here?!)
9. These things you believe about yourself are lies from the devil. Just don't believe them.
10. Imagine, when you get to heaven, Jesus will be there, and he'll say 'why did you waste your life?'
11. Well, I came round here to have a chat, but if you aren't going to have a deep and meaningful conversation I might as well go home. (Jumps up and leaves).
12. Spiritual person: Something very significant happened to you when you were 13
Me: Er, no, I don't think so
Person: Did you change school?
Me: No
Person: Parents divorced?
Me: No
Person: Bullied at school?
Me: No
Person: Illness?
Me: No
And so on..... until eventually I got: "Well, maybe if you pray about it god will reveal it to you".
1. Stick bible verses on your mirror.
2. Stick bible verses in your bedroom.
3. Stick bible verses on your toilet seat (yes really).
4. When you read the bible, stand on another bible and then you'll really be standing on the word of god.
5. Problems like these are often the result of secret sin. Is there anything you'd like to confess?
6. Feeling bad about yourself is a sin, you know. You need to repent.
7. You're great! Well, no you're not, you're a vile sinner like the rest of us.
8. When you get home, contemplate your sins. (Can we feel a theme coming on here?!)
9. These things you believe about yourself are lies from the devil. Just don't believe them.
10. Imagine, when you get to heaven, Jesus will be there, and he'll say 'why did you waste your life?'
11. Well, I came round here to have a chat, but if you aren't going to have a deep and meaningful conversation I might as well go home. (Jumps up and leaves).
12. Spiritual person: Something very significant happened to you when you were 13
Me: Er, no, I don't think so
Person: Did you change school?
Me: No
Person: Parents divorced?
Me: No
Person: Bullied at school?
Me: No
Person: Illness?
Me: No
And so on..... until eventually I got: "Well, maybe if you pray about it god will reveal it to you".
Thursday, 20 September 2007
Overheard 2
Might have posted this before, but it reminded me of a text exchange with my sister. I'd just read an 'overheard' column in the paper, which had the line "Imagine if your surname was Key, and your dad decided to name you Alan". I texted this to my sister and got the reply "Imagine being woken up by THAT". Oops.
overheard
Blogger seems to have decided I'm german, not sure why. Anyway...
Getting off the tube this morning I overheard this, delivered in a calm tone of voice:
Younger man: "I'll come with you".
Older woman: "If you come with me, I'll kill you. So don't come with me"
Can't help wondering what the back-story is for that exchange... The man stayed on the platform, obviously deciding not to take his life in his hands.
Getting off the tube this morning I overheard this, delivered in a calm tone of voice:
Younger man: "I'll come with you".
Older woman: "If you come with me, I'll kill you. So don't come with me"
Can't help wondering what the back-story is for that exchange... The man stayed on the platform, obviously deciding not to take his life in his hands.
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
Wedding
I went to the slightly scary wedding at the weekend. Never did find some new clothes, so just reprised this year's wedding outfit. The scary guest just ignored me, which was fine by me. She did cause a bit of a scene by going missing in a strop, resulting in several people who didn't know her running around in a panic, while those of us with previous experience said reassuring things like 'oh she'll be fine, she knows where we are'. She was discovered hiding behind a grass slope in Asda's car park, which was probably not the scenario she'd envisioned for herself. Apart from that, all was good, and the happy couple are well and truly happy and coupled. Best (well, most amusing) comment of the day has to go to someone I haven't seen for a few years. She said "I can't get over how you look - you look..." (great? different? tanned?)... "like a girl!". I kind of thought I looked like a girl the last time I saw her as well, but apparently not. If I'd been quicker I would have said something like "well, the last time we met I was just having my gender reassignment", but I only ever think of these things afterwards.
Sunday, 5 August 2007
Clothes dilemma
05 Aug 2007
clothes dilemma
I'm going to a wedding at the start of september. Pleased to say it's not mine. It will however be interesting because there will be someone at the wedding who I really don't want to see. This meeting therefore requires the kind of outfit that instils confidence and self-esteem, and preferably makes me look 6 inches taller and 3 stone lighter. Went to the shops yesterday and discovered that all the clothes are either magenta, lime green, or black... which means I'll probably put it to the back of my mind for a couple of weeks and then have to make emergency lunch time, after work, Saturday and sunday afternoon shopping trips in the final week.
clothes dilemma
I'm going to a wedding at the start of september. Pleased to say it's not mine. It will however be interesting because there will be someone at the wedding who I really don't want to see. This meeting therefore requires the kind of outfit that instils confidence and self-esteem, and preferably makes me look 6 inches taller and 3 stone lighter. Went to the shops yesterday and discovered that all the clothes are either magenta, lime green, or black... which means I'll probably put it to the back of my mind for a couple of weeks and then have to make emergency lunch time, after work, Saturday and sunday afternoon shopping trips in the final week.
Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Lefties
31 Jul 2007
lefties
The news today informed me that scientists have located the first gene that influences handedness. Good, I thought, a genetic basis for being left handed is much better than the other theories, which as far as I understand it, are basically different types of brain damage. Then I looked at the smaller print... This candidate gene only makes someone slightly more likely than average to be left handed (i.e. it's likely to be working in conjunction with other genes or in fact brain damage), AND the same gene is also associated with a higher risk of psychotic illness. Ditch the brain damage and gain psychosis - lovely.
lefties
The news today informed me that scientists have located the first gene that influences handedness. Good, I thought, a genetic basis for being left handed is much better than the other theories, which as far as I understand it, are basically different types of brain damage. Then I looked at the smaller print... This candidate gene only makes someone slightly more likely than average to be left handed (i.e. it's likely to be working in conjunction with other genes or in fact brain damage), AND the same gene is also associated with a higher risk of psychotic illness. Ditch the brain damage and gain psychosis - lovely.
Sunday, 22 July 2007
Apologies
22 Jul 2007
apologies
First a confession. My name is Defying Gravity, and I watch Big Brother. Yes, it's shameful but true...
Anyway, tonight I was watching and admiring the BB apology technique. I personally am not very good at appropriate apology giving. I tend to either apologise profusely when there's actually nothing to apologise for - this reaches its pinnacle when I automatically apologise to inanimate objects for bumping into them - or find myself tied up by a British emotional reticence and have to make a huge effort to actually apologise rather than burying my head in the sand/running away/emigrating to avoid the issue. Ostriches and Jonah are nothing compared to me. However I was amused by an apology on BB tonight. It was a development on the 'I'm sorry for upsetting you' (but I'm not sorry for what I did because I still think I'm right and I'm only apologising so that you'll talk to me again and stop throwing things at my head) technique, and went something like 'I'm sorry, you still shouldn't have said what you did and you were well out of order, but I'm sorry anyway'. Well at least it's honest... although can't help wondering exactly what the person thought they were saying sorry for, or whether they genuinely thought that 'I'm sorry for my behaviour but it wasn't my fault, actually it was your fault' counts as an apology.
apologies
First a confession. My name is Defying Gravity, and I watch Big Brother. Yes, it's shameful but true...
Anyway, tonight I was watching and admiring the BB apology technique. I personally am not very good at appropriate apology giving. I tend to either apologise profusely when there's actually nothing to apologise for - this reaches its pinnacle when I automatically apologise to inanimate objects for bumping into them - or find myself tied up by a British emotional reticence and have to make a huge effort to actually apologise rather than burying my head in the sand/running away/emigrating to avoid the issue. Ostriches and Jonah are nothing compared to me. However I was amused by an apology on BB tonight. It was a development on the 'I'm sorry for upsetting you' (but I'm not sorry for what I did because I still think I'm right and I'm only apologising so that you'll talk to me again and stop throwing things at my head) technique, and went something like 'I'm sorry, you still shouldn't have said what you did and you were well out of order, but I'm sorry anyway'. Well at least it's honest... although can't help wondering exactly what the person thought they were saying sorry for, or whether they genuinely thought that 'I'm sorry for my behaviour but it wasn't my fault, actually it was your fault' counts as an apology.
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Neighbours
neighbours
I live in a block of flats, and I've blogged before about the fact that our downstairs neighbours like to smoke out of the staircase window and then go back into their nice smoke free flat leaving ash all over the window-sill and the hail/rain/snow blowing into the hallway while the open window bangs against the wall. The other problem we have, which will be familiar to all flat-dwellers, is the bins. Our rubbish bags used to be left in a big pile by the back door, which was nice for the foxes and less nice for everyone else. We now have big wheelie bins in special enclosures, and recently we also got a recycling service that has a brown bin, green bags, and orange sacks to be left by our front doors.
This is evidently all a bit complicated for our neighbours. Several months after the bin enclosures were built people are still leaving their rubbish at the back door, where it won't be collected. They're also fond of leaving furniture, fridges, cardboard boxes etc, which don't get taken away. So now we have bin bags and random items by the back door, and recycling bags plus random items in the bin enclosure, and a great stack of letters from the managing agents instructing and threatening everyone. I'm deeply embarrassed to admit that I even went as far as phoning the agent (outside office hours so I didn't actually have to speak to anyone) and left an authoritative and articulate voicemail that went something like:
"um, I'm, um, from flat 23, er, we just rent but, er, well, there are bin bags being left by the doors and, er, I don't think people know where the, um, the , er, bin enclosures are because there aren't any signs and, um, well, lots of the people here aren't, um, well,, they're not that fluent in english, and your letters are, um, well, erm, not that easy to read or, erm, understand, and well I don't think they're reading them, maybe they don't get them or, er, understand them and, erm, well, ok, that's just it really..."
I live in a block of flats, and I've blogged before about the fact that our downstairs neighbours like to smoke out of the staircase window and then go back into their nice smoke free flat leaving ash all over the window-sill and the hail/rain/snow blowing into the hallway while the open window bangs against the wall. The other problem we have, which will be familiar to all flat-dwellers, is the bins. Our rubbish bags used to be left in a big pile by the back door, which was nice for the foxes and less nice for everyone else. We now have big wheelie bins in special enclosures, and recently we also got a recycling service that has a brown bin, green bags, and orange sacks to be left by our front doors.
This is evidently all a bit complicated for our neighbours. Several months after the bin enclosures were built people are still leaving their rubbish at the back door, where it won't be collected. They're also fond of leaving furniture, fridges, cardboard boxes etc, which don't get taken away. So now we have bin bags and random items by the back door, and recycling bags plus random items in the bin enclosure, and a great stack of letters from the managing agents instructing and threatening everyone. I'm deeply embarrassed to admit that I even went as far as phoning the agent (outside office hours so I didn't actually have to speak to anyone) and left an authoritative and articulate voicemail that went something like:
"um, I'm, um, from flat 23, er, we just rent but, er, well, there are bin bags being left by the doors and, er, I don't think people know where the, um, the , er, bin enclosures are because there aren't any signs and, um, well, lots of the people here aren't, um, well,, they're not that fluent in english, and your letters are, um, well, erm, not that easy to read or, erm, understand, and well I don't think they're reading them, maybe they don't get them or, er, understand them and, erm, well, ok, that's just it really..."
What gender is your brain?
05 Jul 2007
what gender is your brain?
Ways in which I've been told I'm quite male:
1. When I get home from work I can't cope with having a conversation straight away. I have to process the day first. If I was married it would be my partner going 'have you had a nice day at the office dear?' and I'd be the one grunting and pouring myself a drink. Actually, I've often thought it would be handy to have an old fashioned wife - someone who would know how to do things like make a cake or hem some trousers without having to look up instructions on the internet.
2. I really dislike it when people give non-specific warnings about an 'important conversation that's coming up', e.g. sending me an email saying 'there's an issue you need to know about, please phone me tomorrow night.' That's just wrong. Either tell me what the problem is so that I actually have time to prepare myself, or just phone me and talk about it. I quite like having the prep time, but I really don't like spending a day or 2 wondering what the 'serious issue' is going to be. Actually, I don't really know if this is a male trait, but someone once told me it was, and who am I to argue?
3. Although I have - I think - reasonably good interpersonal skills, in meetings I like to stick to the point. If we have a decision to make, I like to go straight to that decision without faffing around. Feel free to state your opinion, but please do it without unnecessary details or diversions. Tell me about your personal life/ existential philosophy/ detailed procedures for paying the cleaner AFTER the meeting, not during it. Meetings are for problem solving, not for sharing.
Since I'm definitely female, and am not feeling very sleepy tonight, I thought I'd see if I could find some kind of 'what gender is your brain' test. And indeed there is one on the BBC website. I'm pleased to report that my brain is on average female, but somewhat more masculine than the average woman's brain, if that makes sense. It seems to be masculine in very specific ways - I was better at a couple of tasks than the 'average' woman, but on one of the tests of maleness I scored an impressive 0 out of 20 - it appears I don't have any drive at all to systemise things. This is a bit of a relief I suppose, since one of the theories about autism is that it's an extreme version of the male tendency to systemise.
what gender is your brain?
Ways in which I've been told I'm quite male:
1. When I get home from work I can't cope with having a conversation straight away. I have to process the day first. If I was married it would be my partner going 'have you had a nice day at the office dear?' and I'd be the one grunting and pouring myself a drink. Actually, I've often thought it would be handy to have an old fashioned wife - someone who would know how to do things like make a cake or hem some trousers without having to look up instructions on the internet.
2. I really dislike it when people give non-specific warnings about an 'important conversation that's coming up', e.g. sending me an email saying 'there's an issue you need to know about, please phone me tomorrow night.' That's just wrong. Either tell me what the problem is so that I actually have time to prepare myself, or just phone me and talk about it. I quite like having the prep time, but I really don't like spending a day or 2 wondering what the 'serious issue' is going to be. Actually, I don't really know if this is a male trait, but someone once told me it was, and who am I to argue?
3. Although I have - I think - reasonably good interpersonal skills, in meetings I like to stick to the point. If we have a decision to make, I like to go straight to that decision without faffing around. Feel free to state your opinion, but please do it without unnecessary details or diversions. Tell me about your personal life/ existential philosophy/ detailed procedures for paying the cleaner AFTER the meeting, not during it. Meetings are for problem solving, not for sharing.
Since I'm definitely female, and am not feeling very sleepy tonight, I thought I'd see if I could find some kind of 'what gender is your brain' test. And indeed there is one on the BBC website. I'm pleased to report that my brain is on average female, but somewhat more masculine than the average woman's brain, if that makes sense. It seems to be masculine in very specific ways - I was better at a couple of tasks than the 'average' woman, but on one of the tests of maleness I scored an impressive 0 out of 20 - it appears I don't have any drive at all to systemise things. This is a bit of a relief I suppose, since one of the theories about autism is that it's an extreme version of the male tendency to systemise.
Monday, 25 June 2007
Hello mum
25 Jun 2007
Hello mum
Apparently I have a regular reader (most probably just the one) - so I'd like to say hello to Bonus Lady's mum.... Hello mum!
Hello mum
Apparently I have a regular reader (most probably just the one) - so I'd like to say hello to Bonus Lady's mum.... Hello mum!
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