This is an excellent blog on the current challenge to Border Force Act 2015 by workers in Australian detention centres on Nauru and Manus Island.
I fully concur with the sentiments expressed herein.
Tony Abbott: the human face of evil.
Word Nerd Alert on Howard Street
Today I was driving in town with LMC. She was hinting heavily that she wanted to go into town and look at some shops.
I said, “We’re going down Howard Street.”
Bemused, she asked, “Howard Street?”
And I said, “Yes, Howard Street…” and as we crested the hill and she realised it continued into the main street of town, I said, “Howard you like to go down the street?”
She rolled her eyes, and then she said, “Actually that was pretty good. Did you make that up yourself?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Just then.”
She smiled, thought for a moment, and said, “How odd.”
I smiled too, because that is possibly the word-nerdiest thing she’s ever said.
Outrageous outrage.
In the wake of the US Supreme Court’s decision in recognition of gay marriage, I’ve noticed a few interesting things.
The flood of rainbow coloured profile pictures on Facebook and other social media and the parallel flood of statements in support of marriage equality for all suggest at first that there is stronger social support for marriage equality than the Australian government seems to believe. I wonder how many of the people I know splashing rainbows around this weekend have written to any Australian politicians voicing their support.
All those rainbows have also prompted a wave of people bemoaning the loss of their “Christian” right to object or to openly state that they do not support gay marriage.
What nonsense.
Nobody is being asked to live against their morals. Nobody is having their personal ethics persecuted or the security of their family endangered.
In fact, if gay people are allowed to get married, I’m pretty sure that the only personal lives affected will be their own. For heterosexual couples, kids at school, and Rover the family dog, absolutely nothing will change. They can still go on doing what they’ve always done. So can your church, mosque or local football club.
In terms of the Australian constitution, nothing will change. The Marriage Act would change, but that isn’t going to annul or change anyone else’s marriage. And please, don’t start bleating about “undermining the sanctity of marriage”. A 50% divorce rate in Australia, the chronic problem of domestic violence, and a popular culture full of dysfunctional families and parents, usually fathers, made out to look like idiots by smart-arsed kids has done more to undermine the sanctity of marriage than legalising gay marriage ever will. If heterosexuals want to be precious about their marriages, it’s about time more of them started treating their marriages as precious.
I fully understand that the Bible teaches that homosexuality is immoral. No argument there.
However, what most of the predominantly Christian outrage against gay marriage conveniently overlooks is that the Bible teaches that there are many practices and lifestyles that are immoral: anyone who is dishonest, greedy, prejudiced, cruel, selfish, rude, atheist, or sexually active outside of marriage is just as guilty in terms of what the Bible teaches. Let’s not even start on different religions. And judging other people? Oops. There are plenty of people in our world who are guilty of that.
All of these things are called immoral in the Bible. Yet all of these other people are fully entitled, as consenting adults, to marry the person they love. That is, of course, as long as it’s a heterosexual marriage. Anything else would be… well… sinful. And we can’t have that, can we?
The Bible wastes no words in condemning those who oppress the poor, the vulnerable, the widow or the hungry. The Old Testament is very direct in that regard. Ironically, though, we don’t hear people raging against the relationships or marriages of the Australian politicians who are actively involved in locking up asylum seekers in small neighbouring third-world nations, do we? No, because that would be stupid. So would opposing the marriage of Joe Schmoe and Mary Bloggs down the road because they don’t believe in God at all, or they worship the fairies at the bottom of their garden. In fact, I do believe it’s been a very long time since anyone living in Australia was publicly stoned to death for “living in sin”, but that’s immoral too.
My point is that it seems that marriage is an option for everyone except gays and lesbians, even though everyone is flawed or immoral in one way or another.
Nobody is suggesting that churches or individual pastors or priests who hold convictions and teachings against gay marriage should be forced to perform the ceremonies. Nobody is suggesting that because something becomes legalised, everyone has to do it. Smoking tobacco and drinking alcohol are both quite legal, yet many people choose to do neither. It’s quite legal to be a nudist if someone wants to be, but most people don’t practise that lifestyle, either.
It’s high time that we all just got over ourselves and treated one another with respect and kindness. If someone wants to marry, let them. If they don’t want to marry, don’t make them. And for heaven’s sake, stop pretending that someone else’s marriage or relationship has anything at all to do with yours.
Tricky times.
I am so incredibly, achingly sad.
It’s the same kind of sadness I felt when my friend Rebecca was dying of cancer. We all knew it was going to happen, and we all knew that she was going to a better place. Even so, if we could have turned the wheels of time to keep her here a bit longer with her family, or turned the wheels of science and medicine to cure her, we would have. The time came; she was gone, and we all had to carry on despite our sadness at being left behind.
This time is a bit different because nobody is dying, but the deep sadness is the same. Three beautiful friends of mine are moving to the other side of the country. I fully understand why they’re going, and I know that they’re going to be a blessing and achieve wonderful things in a new place with new people. I sincerely wish them every good thing and all God’s blessings as they go. I know we’ll be able to keep in touch via text, emails and Facebook, and heck – I might even call them sometimes and actually talk on the phone. That’s pretty revolutionary for me.
Even so, it’s not going to be the same as seeing them and working with them every day. They’re the sort of people that everyone needs in their lives. Dynamic, honest, encouraging, empathetic and loyal to the core. On top of that, they totally get me. That’s rare.
The knowing looks across the room, trying not to laugh at private jokes at inopportune times, encouraging smiles and fist pumps as we pass one another in the hallways, and the understanding smile of someone who gets it when life is difficult are just some of the many things I’ll miss. There’s going to be a very conspicuous absence when they’re gone.
It’s a big challenge to try to be positive in these last few days. but I really want to soak up the time I have with them, and enjoy every moment, even if it is hard to push my sadness aside and not let it pervade everything. There will be plenty of time for misery when they’ve gone, after all.
Yes, I have other friends who are wonderful, and supportive, and fun, and all that. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their friendship – I do, and I make sure they know it. I know life will go on, and people will always come and go from it. Sometimes that can even be a good thing. When it’s not a welcome change, though, it goes against every instinct and sense to willingly say goodbye to someone you love and let them go away to be wonderful in someone else’s life instead of mine, or ours.
So, for now at least, sadness it is.
Attn: Amber Heard and Johnny Depp: It’s not just your dogs that are unwelcome.
Dear Amber Heard,
We don’t care how ridiculously rich, famous or beautiful you both may be. That does not give you a licence to break Australian law and do whatever you damn well please.
Our quarantine laws exist for very good reason, and there are no exceptions.
Kindly keep your opinions and your non-quarantined dogs to yourselves.
Thank you,
Me, and the rest of Australia
.
My Canadian brother from another mother.
I have a friend that I love a lot. We live thousands of kilometres apart, but we spend part of every day talking with each other. It’s a beautiful friendship that has grown out of a chance meeting, a random response to a random tweet.
When I visited Canada last year, I spent some time at Sean’s house.
I remember we were both nervous about finally meeting each other after talking online for so long, but that first hug was just incredible. The next few days were proof that our friendship was real. Even our partners commented on how it seemed like Sean and I had known each other forever.
On the morning that we left, the mood was sombre. Goodbyes were tearful. As I was about to go, he said, “Please don’t leave.”
My response was immediate and honest. “I’ll never completely be gone. You’re my brother now. I’ll be back.”
When I do go back in September this year, Sean and I are going to have our own little adoption ceremony. What we have is a friendship more valuable than we ever realised it would be when we started joking with one another on Twitter way back when.
Today, when I signed into the instant messenger that we both use, I found these words from him.
He may have known how timely his words were, but I don’t think he realises just how healing and restoring it was to read these words after a tough week in which I had confronted some tough challenges, both professionally and personally.
It’s so incredibly good to know you have someone who has your back, no matter what critics and problems life might throw at you. Sean is by no means the only one of my friends who does that, but I wouldn’t want to be without him. He has his own very special place in my heart, and nobody could replace him.
Thank you, Sean, from the bottom of my heart, for your words and for being an amazing friend and brother.
The perils of report writing.
After being a teacher for twenty-six-and-a-half years, I’m surprised that it has only just occurred to me that the effect of report writing on the body is much like pregnancy cravings.
I’m working away, absorbed in the delicate task of crafting a finely constructed, highly expressive report of the achievements and needs of each student when all of a sudden, my body speaks to me.
“Sugar. I need sugar.”
I think of ice cream, then of oreos. Ice cream with oreos. Awesome.
I’m about to get out of my chair and go foraging, but then I remember that I have an enormous amount of work to do and I don’t want to get too distracted. Instead, I look for sweets in the drawers beside my chair. An almost-empty packet yields two licorice allsorts which are consumed in quick succession, shortly after which I decide that this may not have been a good idea, even if the choice of licorice did seem healthier than the unholy amount of chocolate consumed while writing Year 10 English until 1.45 am. Feeling a little queasy, I continue working.
“Mmmm. Pickles. I’d love a pickle.”
Subsequent investigation in the kitchen leads to the conclusion that there are no pickles in the house and then to the discovery that a couple of large slices of tinned beetroot makes a fabulous substitute. Who knew?
Feeling surprisingly sated, I return to my work and let my creative juices flow.
The industry with which the words flow from my mind to my fingertips and onto the screen is impressive. This lasts for at least fifteen minutes, until the dilemma of how to write about young Miss Elsie Whosiewhich’s failure to submit any work at all for the entire semester leaves one wondering if there are any cheese and onion flavoured potato chips in the house.
These thoughts are set aside with determination to at least finish writing half of the Year 10 history reports before I take another break, but before long the jar of coffee on the counter is calling out to me and I’m powerless to resist. Caffeine will keep me alert and help me concentrate, right?
I walk into the kitchen to make coffee but get distracted by thoughts of a peanut butter sandwich. Suddenly it’s all too much work, so I pour another glass of Coke Zero and head back to my study. It occurs to me just how freaking awesome cold coke tastes and feels. Delicious, ice-cold bubbly goodness delivering caffeine to my brain with every sip. Then I realise that I am a bit hungry and I should have grabbed that peanut butter sandwich while I was up. Dammit. I hunt for one of my Reese’s cups that I’ve hoarded in case of an emergency, and almost cry with happiness when I find it. Oh, that delicious peanut-buttery goodness…
Oh, wait. The caffeine was supposed to help me concentrate, wasn’t it?
Right. Back to it then.
Broken.
You did… what?
That was you?
I’m stunned. I am horrified.
I don’t know what to make of this.
I never would have believed that of you.
You’re the one who speaks of unity and trust.
You’re the one who is supposed to look after us… to look after me.
You’re the leader. The protector. The mentor. The guide.
At least, I thought you were.
At least, I thought you were.
How can I trust you now?
There are shards and splinters of faith scattered all over the place.
The fine, toxic dust of of doubt is still in the air, settling slowly, tainting everything, choking the life out of the relationship between us.
You lied. You cheated. You schemed.
You took every opportunity to work things for your own benefit.
How carefully you wove the web of deceit, trying to camouflage your actions and to conceal the heart behind them.
As for unity… you chose to break that, too.
It was no accident. You knew exactly what you were doing.
At some point, you decided that your own interests are more important than our interests… that your future takes precedence over any shared future that we might have had.
Maybe you hoped that you could do what you did without anyone knowing.
Maybe you hoped that you could evade the consequences that were always going to be inevitable.
Maybe you thought that people would just trust you to do the right thing, and that you wouldn’t face any questions.Could you really have believed that such betrayal could go unnoticed?
It’s impossible to imagine how.
Maybe that’s a confirmation of just how different we are.
Don’t tell me I don’t know anything about it.
Don’t tell me that it has nothing to do with me.
This has everything to do with me.
This has everything to do with how I look at you, how I respond to you, how I respect you.
Only now am I beginning to realise how little I ever knew you.
I always assumed you were genuine. I never questioned your integrity, or my loyalty to you.
That’s all changed.Everything has changed.
I don’t even want to be in the same room as you.
I don’t want to hear you try to rationalise what you’ve done.
And you certainly don’t want to hear anything I have to say to you.
Don’t tell me everything will be okay. It won’t.
Things will never be the same again.
The Football Blues.
Last night, I watched the match between Geelong and Carlton. It was abysmal, but with a sense of grim determination, I watched to the end.
I’ve been a Carlton FC member for over 20 year, and I love my club. Naturally, I want to see them win, but right now I’d be happy to at least see them being competitive.
I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that.
However, I feel like I’m the only one not baying for the coach’s blood in a silver chalice by the next full moon. I’m so tired of people calling for Mick Malthouse to be sacked as coach of Carlton.
It’s true that the team couldn’t beat the Lower Gidgeebugga reserves at the moment. But I don’t think it’s fair to put the blame on Mick Malthouse. Before him, they blamed Brett Ratten. Before him, they blamed Denis Pagan.
Let’s be honest. Since the glory days of the mid 1990s, Carlton have struggled to string a few consecutive wins together. You can’t blame the current coach for something that has been a problem for two decades.
The way the media and most football pundits are behaving reminds me of those years when Richmond couldn’t put four good quarters of football together in the one game, and subsequently changed their coach more often than some people change their underwear. Melbourne have been guilty of the same thing.
I think it’s time the players took some of the responsibility.
Yeah, I know.
Shock and horror.
A Carlton member blaming the team for the most incredible demonstration of under-performance in living memory. Unheard of.
Seriously, it’s about time the boys went back to basics.
Kick it straight.
Kick it long.
Quit stuffing around with the ball and turning it over.
Watch every Blues match from 1995 and learn to play like that.
Stop playing as individuals and learn to work together as a cohesive, cooperative unit.
The team as a whole need to stop looking at themselves as underdogs and developed a positive, determined attitude every day of the week instead of trying to muster one on game days when they don’t think the opposition is too hard to beat.
This is stuff that I’m just not seeing. I watch every game, even though it hurts, and I listen to the commentaries of ex-players and experts who know far more about football than I do, and I know I am not the only person saying these things.
I really hope they don’t just blame Malthouse, let him go, and find another coach who will turn into their next scapegoat. It beggars belief that this is all his fault.
Unless he really is a Collingwood plant, a suggestion that I discussed a couple of weeks ago. Then it might be his fault. Sadly, though, I think I’m at the point where I actually do believe that my team really is so bad that such conspiracy is completely unnecessary.
I know it’s a big call when the season isn’t even half-way over, but it would be a miracle if Carlton make it off the bottom of the competition ladder this season. Wooden spoon, anyone?
Contentious.
Today I asked my senior English class to formulate some contentions drawn from the set text, Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’.
This is the submission from one group of students, and my responses.
Gosh, I love these kids.
Day made.
WordyNerdBird 