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In light of somewhat recent events, I'd like to preface this post with a belated "Happy Australia Day", with special thoughts for the people of Brisbane.

Ever since I was little, I wanted to go to Australia. I was enraptured by its antipodean mystique, brought on partly by the '80s wave of Australia-philia over here in North America. We had Crocodile Dundee, which I was old enough to watch, as well as Coca Cola Kid, which I wasn't. Much later, I would become fond of movies like Picnic at Hanging Rock and Rabbit-Proof Fence. Oh, and almost anything starring Judy Davis.

Also in the '80s, Olivia Newton-John launched her Koala Blue clothing line. One fine day my mom came back from the local mall with a white sweatshirt adorned with a colouful doodle of a koala in a hat. Underneath was the rather mystifying message, "Korner of Australia Los Angeles". If I'd hung on to it, it'd be a cute piece of vintage kitsch today.

A page from my Australia report.
I must have used a very old reference for the population statistic, because there's no way it was only 12M in the 1980s!

On the strength of Australia's invasion in '80s pop culture, and the coincidental assignment of a social studies project in school, I became enamoured with the idea of Australia. Ever the optimist, I procured an Australia travel guide that was so outdated, or poorly fact-checked, that it said "kangaroo" meant "I don't know"--a myth which I half-believed for years until an internet search cleared it up for me).

Yet whenever I told adults that I really, really wanted to go to Australia one day, the response was less than encouraging. "Oh, I've been there," pooh-poohed one. "It's just like Canada, but with the seasons in reverse." Um, seriously? Though I'd no first-hand experience, I knew this obviously couldn't be accurate.

On a more serious, and somewhat sinister, note, I was also warned to avoid the antipodes because Aussies 'don't like Asians'. Oh, please. It's not like Canada didn't have its own version of 'yellow peril'. But today Canada is an ethnically and culturally diverse country that manages to overcome the ghosts of its racist history. From what I've gleaned of its culture in arts and media, I think the same can be said for Australia.

It's been many years since I thought of travelling to Australia. I always have a soft spot for things and people hailing from that country, though. One example is The Wiggles, who rank among some of today's least annoying kids' entertainers*; I also appreciate the fact that most of them had a background in childhood education. My son loved them until he was in school, and we even took him to a live concert. (It was insane. We stood in front of the stage, surrounded on three sides by what can only be described as a toddler mosh pit.) Also, thanks to the Wiggles' cover of "Six Months in a Leaky Boat", my son likes Split Enz.

And last but not least--through my work, I've come to know Atlassian software development. I love this company and its tools. Atlassian, can you please open an office in my hometown? And then I can apply, get a job, and transfer to the home base. A girl can dream, right?

*Except for that blue one, Anthony. Grrr.
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Public transit etiquette

October 6th 2010 04:08
Although I haven't done so in many months, I like taking public transit. It's best in the city, of course; in the suburbs, service ranges from the mediocre to abysmal. My favourite is the subway, followed by the streetcar. Unfortunately, where I live currently (a concrete jungle west of Toronto), we have only buses. Still, taking public transit is ultimately cheaper than driving a car, and while it does suck sometimes--especially when weather is intemperate--it's the green way to go. Plus, I get to squeeze in some reading time that I might not normally have.

BUT...Despite the inconvenience of walking to and from bus stops in the rain, or anytime in winter--which in southern Canada can feel like half the year--there is yet one thing that bothers me even more about commuting on public transit. And that is the other commuters who do not obey the tacit, but vital, rules of taking public transit.

Toronto subway.

Give Up Your Seat

I think it's fairly common sense that an able-bodied person should offer to give up their seat for the following passengers:
  • people with physical disabilities
  • pregnant women
  • senior citizens
  • people carrying large packages etc. *
  • small kids who aren't in strollers
*Only sometimes. If the person doesn't look like they're uncomfortable, it's probably not a big deal.

I should note that throughout my two pregnancies, I was offered me a seat on maybe five times (I took the bus every day for work). I never needed or wanted a seat--as long as I had music or a book, I was fine with standing, but it's the principle of the thing! People have no manners.

Don't Do the Butt Swivel

It's a simple thing, really, but it irks me because it's discourteous. The butt swivel is what 99% of people do when they have the aisle seat and the passenger in the window seat has to disembark. Instead of getting up and moving into the aisle to allow the other passenger to get out easily, butt swivelers stay seated and crab-walk their legs while pivoting on their butts. Why so lazy?

Don't Crowd the Back Doors

It's rush hour. The bus is crammed with people. It's so packed that you're afraid you'll miss your stop unless you camp out right at the doors at the back of the bus. You know what? That's annoying. Many people have to get off the bus before you do, and you are taking up valuable space, making it hard for them to get off the bus in a timely manner. Same thing applies to subway doors.

Stop Blasting Your Music/Talking Loudly on the Phone

Why do people do this? Don't they realise that their hearing is a precious thing? Talking loudly and listening to loud music is detrimental to your hearing. Using a cell phone, instead of say Bluetooth, is detrimental to your brain. (Mmm, irradiated brains.) And no one wants to hear your gossip, your idle chit-chat, your arguments, or the trivial conversations you have when you're bored on a long commute and need to yap. Shut it.
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A parasite lives in my house

September 14th 2010 23:46
He watches our TV, eats our food, and doesn't work or go to school. He's supposed to be looking for a job, but we suspect he spends most days watching TV and surfing the internet.

Oh, and he's almost 40 years old.

No, he's not our son--our son is in grade 4, and pointedly does not spend all day watching TV, though he is rather attached to his Nintendo DS. This parasite--let's call him Adam--is a distant friend of the family. And by distant I mean that he's really my husband's friend, not our friend.


Adam arrived on our doorstep with his few belongings and his cat. (Okay, to be precise--he has no car, so my husband picked him up.) He had a condo, but he lost his job and could no longer afford the monthly payments. He then moved back in with his parents. Unfortunately, his relationship with his family is a fractious one, and he had a particularly nasty blow-out with family. As a result, Adam was metaphorically kicked to the curb.

Adam's always had personal issues. They became more apparent in the past few years, when his presence in my husband's loosely defined group of friends and acquaintances became more and more scarce. I think the relative 'success' of his peers depressed him. (By 'success' I don't mean millionaires with trophy wives, perfect kids, and nice cars; just normal, everyday adult guy stuff.) Every get-together meant that he'd be faced with all that normalcy. And there he'd be, in his 30s, broke, precariously employed, single, and painfully self-conscious.

Maybe we all know someone like Adam. He doesn't quite fit in, and not by choice. You watch him and your other friends and can see few interests, personality traits, or anything else that might arouse an affinity between them. You wonder, how did he become friends with them?

But I think I know what happened in Adam's case. When they became friends over a decade ago, my husband and Adam had more in common. And while my husband evolved--as is natural--Adam stayed the same.

Despite some trepidation on the subject, we did not want to see Adam living on the street. We gave him our guest room, with the understanding that it would be a temporary arrangement while he pulled himself together.

A few days after Adam moved in, I offered to look at his resume. Let's just say that it would not have looked out of place printed on a dot-matrix printer. Spelling/grammar mistakes were also egregious. Later, Adam admitted that he hadn't bothered updating it, aside from adding subsequent employment history, since 1999.

The state of his resume ought to have told me something about Adam, which I've only just started to see.

We told Adam that this was no free ride. We had to buy more food for him and his cat, and also provide him with bus fare in case he needed to go out. In return, we expected him to take care of some household chores like vacuuming and mowing the lawn. In other words, he had to contribute to the household in some manner, since his presence would contribute to bills but not to household income. Most importantly, he would have to make a concerted effort to find work and a place to live. The approach might seem unduly harsh, but it's what my husband and I agreed would work best in this case. (He says it's tough love. I call it pragmatism.)

It didn't take long, however, for Adam to lapse into some worrisome, and irritating, habits.

One day my husband came home to a puddle of cat pee on the carpet. Adam had left it alone because he "didn't know where the carpet cleaner" was. (A cursory look in some cupboards would have enlightened him.) Had he had any intention of cleaning it up, he should have texted, emailed, or called us about the carpet cleaner. But he didn't.

And there was the time my son came home to the stench of cat pee. The entire first floor reeked of it. In this case, Adam "ran out of upholstery cleaner" and there was still a large dark spot on the couch where he'd given it a half-assed scrubbing. It seems fairly obvious that even without a can of 3M, one can do a lot to alleviate the odor of cat pee in a modest-sized house. My son opened all the windows to air out the place. Then, my husband removed the seat covers for a deeper cleaning. If I were there, I'd have made Adam do it--but I think my husband was too upset to deal with him.

Yet the worst thing--for everyone involved--is that Adam is not seriously looking for work. A while ago, he was supposed to have dropped off some resumes at various local businesses. But he didn't do it because he "didn't have any printed out". Technically, it was true. It's also true that Adam saw my husband buy a new ink cartridge and print some other papers, using the printer to which everyone has access, the day before.

Adam was shown some rental listings. Then he proffered various reasons for not liking them. He doesn't seem to understand that he is not really in a position to be picky. (And these were small, affordable apartments, not roach-infested flophouses or anything like that.)

Adam's been living with us for about a month and a half, ever since the big falling-out with his family. But that's not when his problems started. I don't know when they did, but it's clear that his emotional and social problems, and his immaturity, have deep roots. At the same time, I think his current situation can be attributed to inherent laziness as well as his personal problems.

We've tried to motivate him to look into other options. We've given him a 'move-out-by' date. But in the end, there's only so much we can do to help him; he has to take steps to help himself. Will he be out of our house, with a job or at least a place to stay? I'm cautiously optimistic. (Stay tuned.)
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Dreaming, in particular lucid dreaming, is a hot subject these days because of the success of Inception.** Lucid dreams have been been depicted in film before (Paprika and Waking Life come to mind), but far from being a film convention, the practice of lucid dreaming is an ancient one that goes back to at least 1000 BCE, where it is mentioned in the Mandukya Upanishad. Many theories exist as to how one can be trained to lucid dream, however--meditation and keeping 'dream diaries' are methods that are known to work.

Goya Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters
Goya's The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters

[ Click here to read more ]
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Liberty or peace?

July 9th 2010 04:19
Is it acceptable for the police to misrepresent their authority if doing so is intended to protect life and property? Must an individual's civil liberties be subordinate to the task of keeping the peace for the 'greater good'?

These are just a few of the questions that have arisen in the aftermath of the G20 summit in Toronto


[ Click here to read more ]
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Yesterday was the last day of school. In honour of the real beginning of summer, I present a report card of cool--by which I mean geeky--fictional schools. They make for interesting reading/viewing, but if these schools were real, I would think twice before sending my kids to some of them.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
[ Click here to read more ]
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Travellers to Toronto: Whether you're here for business or for pleasure, I'd like to apologise for our slapdash G20 summit. You might have stumbled around the curiously empty streets (empty except for the thousands of bike cops, that is), gazing dimly at the security fence surrounding the outer perimeter. You would have passed many boarded-up shop windows and banks; but sooner or later, you would have come across a large group of protesters being held back by police.

And don't even think of going out for lunch today. About 10,000 protesters are planning to take to the streets--and fences--minutes within my publishing this post. If I were you, I'd order room service. Again, sorry about this. If it means anything to you, the man running this show will probably not be elected again


[ Click here to read more ]
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Thoughts on an earthquake

June 25th 2010 03:07
The shudder worked its way up from the floor to my knees. It felt like someone walking heavily, or possibly jumping (the office has a games room, where Mario Kart races have been known to get out of hand). But the shuddering continued, becoming stronger. I knew then that no one was making the floor shake. Tearing off my headphones, I peered at my co-workers, whose faces all failed to register even a hint of alarm. (In retrospect, I think some of them must have felt it, but didn't react because, earthquakes? In Toronto? They don't happen.)

Canada earthquake epicentre
Epicentre of the earthquake

[ Click here to read more ]
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