Month: <span>February 2006</span>

I am in the first set of chosing classes from the beneficial position of having a last name that starts early in the alphabet. This evening I get a msg from Jess (who’s last name starts with a V ie: not at the start of the alphabet) and she lets me know she has her classes. MINE DO NOT FLIPPING WORK. I have a couple of set one’s listed, and NOTHING else. Which means, I have been forgotten, or I will be stuck with majorly sucky class times, or I am sitting in a backlogged queue. I think I will email them fairly agressively tomorrow if I end up with something crap (tomorrow begins the “Oh, I missed my class chosing time, now I’ll pick from the leftovers, session”), I doubt it will achieve much but I do very much care to bring to their attention that their system is pathetically stuffed.

/rant

Work today. 10am-6pm. Too long.

Working with Simone is fine, with Susan is fine but working with Grace gets a bit frustrating. I understand what you mean now Tilla. She has to have everything done her way, tells you what to do all the time without getting the bigger picture, I’ve been told not to disagree with her or she chucks the stink. Lovely Scottish accent, superb with customers (except when you are just trying to get through them fast), fantastic if you appease her. But a whole day of it is a little much. Patience radar on high today. Mark was in this evening (the only guy that works at Dymocks, Bernie doesn’t count: he’s the owner) they pull him in as back-up. Jess has gone overseas, Leigh has left work. We really need to hire someone else.

I saw Rachel Troup of all people yesterday (at work). Did Yr.10 with her, then she left – this is the girl I had great fun debating random things with. She remembered me, and I her. Gave her resume to me. Was weird to see her again, working with her would be interesting.

Quite hilarious chat with a 70yr-old guy about computers today. He does all kinds of courses, fixes his own, has built a computer. Had a bit of fun talking to him about stuff, while he was buying a book on Outlook. He apparently hates Windows 2003 etc. etc. He started recommending various classes to me after I mentioned I was doing multimedia stuff this year. I don’t quite remember how the conversation shifted, and he started talking about stress and pulled his shirt across and showed me this massive scar – pacemaker. Words fled, and I didn’t have any idea where to go with it. The next second he was back talking about computers. How random.

Work was too long. I compromise my 8hr shifts with allowing myself to get coffee. Turns out I get a discount at Mrs. Fields (probably at Gloria Jeans) because I work in ‘the centre’. This is muchly cool.

I had some massively good (if you can say that)constrasts of male behavior. I was taking the rubbish down early on and some kind guy held the door for me, even though he had to wait. Then there was the Swedish guy in the shop who looked elsewhere before looking at my face, I do not exactly appreciate it – it’s rude, not exactly comfortable, particularly before even talking to you. And yes, you can tell where people’s eyes are if you are paying attention. Hi, I’m a lesson in female objectiviy, my face is up here – funny about that. For crying outloud, I was in a work uniform!

…and for something different (you really sort of have to see it) there was this ad that I cut out of the paper yesterday at Jess’s because it made me laugh. Real estate ad for some farm with the following disclaimer:

-Drop the dead donkey-
YES, there has been some interest in this spread at Red Hill South (where?), chiefly from people wanting to konw why the vendors would want to feature a dead donkey in the ad. “We tried to talk the vendors out of that but they insisted,” said Satchwells man Bernard Montgomery. “It’s a newborn foal and in two year it will be a winner. Take it from me.” We trust you Bernine, you’re a real estate agent.

Quite classic. Pity you really need the picture.

After dissing the idea and the crudity of Jarhead, Jess and I found ourselves in front of Good night and Good luck, again in an audience that had at the least, thirty more years worth of life experience per head than each of us.

As I described the movie later, “It engaged my intelligence more than my emotions” – to which Jess prompty replied, “It’s more of a boys movie then” which we both refuted on the basis of not enough of that kind of action in same way a girls movie has a lot of that kind of love.

If you have been unobservant you would have noticed nothing about me that likes culture or sophistication. If I had the money and could think of less worthy causes, I would visit places like Hamer Hall far more frequently. As it is, I have to content myself with good range of classics (some of which I simply read, to say I’ve read them – by after reading them, realise that I actually found myself slightly enthralled)and the occasional decent arthouse’ish movie. Which I entirely pin down to strange taste and far less to cultural exploration.

Good night and Good luck intitially utterly confused me as it explores a world of journalism and politics (set in the 50’s) – of politics I pretend to have a loathing for, for the fear and suspcision that if I actually took the time to explore it I might find myself vaguely facinated. I know very little about that world and I shall continue to wear the front that I don’t care in the slightest, as it is easier and I don’t quite have time just yet to delve into it.

Aside from the political aspects, what did facinate me was the interplay of censorship and truth and presentation and the potential usefulness of something I generally regard as fairly pointless. Television.

I came out thoroughly satisfied, with my mind overworked and beautifully sharp from being fine-tuned from an hour and a half of semi-intense concentration.

The truth of the matter is that I am a sophisticate fraud. I confess it is a lot of fun. Some day perhaps I’ll cut through the crap of pretense and maybe pack the job. Until then, I’ll hole up at home and line up, Of Mice and Men, 1984, War and Peace, Don Quitoxe, Lolita and maybe even give Wuthering Heights a second chance.

A good thing about working where I do is that occasionaly the ‘staff freebie’ tub yeilds something half decent. I took advantage of this yesterday when I spotted a copy of A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It is minus it’s back cover – as are most of those they are getting rid of, but you do not need to read a blurb when you are going to read the book.

A month or so ago we had this minor obsession from customers about getting hold of this book. It was recommended by Oprah (and I confess I’ve never really watched any, so I can’t complain legimately about how bad it is). The book is an autobiography about a drug addict.

The validity of ‘autobiography’ has recently come in to some speculation. My world will not change if 100% of the novel is not entirely true. I ususally read fiction anyway so I will treat it mostly as fiction regardless.

I have spent a goodly part of today utterly consumed.
This is not a good book, because that would be the wrong word, but a powerfully written book. My mind hurts from concentrating too hard and attempting to keep feelings arms distance away.

The Young Man came to the Old Man seeking counsel.
I broke something, Old Man.
How badly is it broken?
It’s in a million little pieces.
I’m afraid I can’t help you.
Why?
There’s nothing you can do.
Why?
It can’t be fixed.
Why?
It’s broken beyond repair. It’s in a million little pieces.

I assume you have all entirely forgotten about this because it nearly slipped off my radar for explaining.

Any expectations, which I never quite worked out what they were, were situated in a slightly idealic setting. Hence a good slap of realism was necessary. I got that slap.

Iain rocks up around 6pm. Sam, Jess and I are already there. I get a message from Dan saying he’s on his way. We spend a goodly bit of time killing ourselves over a humorus discussion around Brokeback Mountain. Sam entirely lost it. I was very close. Dan shows up minus the friend he was bringing.

We head down to Jessies for Pizza. They do this satay chicken one (which I have secretly come to like rather a lot). Dan calls Cameron (his mate) and gets another pizza. While we wait, we sit in the car because it’s cold and air some ideas. Before we start I suggest we’d probably better pray. Jess makes me do it.

After some James Boag galantry, we get the pizza and head back to Jess’s. Iain has to leave (yes already!) and Dan goes to find Cam – who has no Melways and is a bit lost.

I’d never met Cam before. The others had briefly up at Soul Survivor. It’s rather nice when I realised I wasn’t going to be the only introvert present for the evening. He’s nice enough. Majority of time was spent getting to know eachother all a little better. A little discussion, but not much around the whole point of being there. I asked Dan if he had any ideas on it all. He decides he needs to think through things more, pray about it etc…

So we didn’t get a huge ammount accomplished in the sense of working out what we are/might be on about. It was fun evening nevertheless.

I’ve realised how entirely unprepared we all are for something like this. A lot more exploration of ideas, thought and prayer needs to go into it.

We’ve determined to spend the first good while just doing the ‘share life’ thing. Get to know eachother all a bit more. Bring in being real about what God is doing or has shown us through the week. No one has fully commited to anything.

Prayer for this as we stumble further into an unknown would be great. I hope we can get a few others there next time and that we haven’t scared Cam and Dan off for good.

Jess and I both need to be content to let the planners, the J;s in us be harnessed by some hefty restraints. Structure is exactly what we shouldn’t be on about. We also need to uncross some wires with Iain, who has some slightly different ideas.

All good. We shall just have to see.

I feel very strongly about the whole love thing.

I do not quite know what it is in me (I hope it is God) that lets me get so caught up in feeling for others when they are failing to find the hope in life, if they are sitting in a big fat messy cloud of a problem, of despair, of discouragment. I am not an extremely emotional person. I am not someone that gets teary during movies – unless my mind is making some odd connection with real life. I find myself sitting a looking at what issue I must war next and know that I can do it with God’s help (Although that does more often now need to come through someone else as I seem to have passed off my self reliance for something greater – which is not always entirely convinient.). I struggle more for others than I do for myself.

I think love is important. I think we underestimate love in friendships. We instead exculsively tie love to relationships of the truly that kind.

I was reading tonight something about Eve. I’ve never really bothered looking at Eve’s story as its always the yep, I know it. Woman plus snake plus apple (yeah Granny Smith) plus temptation equals first submission to temptation equals first sin, followed closely by offer to male, which can’t be resisted, hence second sin. Goodbye – thus the fall of mankind. Farewell garden, farewell easy life, farewell condensed beauty. Hello desert, hardwork, painful childbirth (and child rearing), discord and difficult relationships.

I have in my travels around the outskirts of theology and looking at I guess the whole ‘being a woman’ in this world of two kinds of humans, definitely noticed the original blueprint woman. Her perfection before everything was interferred with, and have had the whole word ‘ezer’ flashed in my face when covering various ‘women and submission and leadership’ jargon.

Ezer. First ignored by biblical scholars and translated helpmeet/helper or something, then eventually realised and pushed to strong helper, and then further to actually mean something more like warrior (no the whole warrior idea doesn’t fully appeal to me – probably because it sounds kind of feminist, but it definitely has merit).

It was also dumped primarily in the marriage setting. Where it actually sort of extends further.

This is what frustrates me. Why women are expected to only be exclusively helpful to their husbands/husbands to be when we should be (to an extent) be allies/friends/ezers to our male friends. It’s not a practice thing – well perhaps, but a love thing.

1 John 4:7-12:
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son[into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

It is unreasonable to suggest that we could improve everyone in the love arena.

“After Eve and Adam ate the forbidden fruit, relationships between men and women collapsed from unity into tension and conflict. Instead of being valued as the man’s strongest ally and spiritual resource, the ezer became an object to possess and control. The noble calling to rule and subdue the earth in God’s name was peverted…” (Curtis James, Carolyn)

I find it quite frustrating (as I said before) where Christian guys dance along the edge of this. I am not dissing guys or even talking about how people fail in treating females. These are well meaning guys who (and I’m sorry but you probably do know who you are) will not do something individually with a girl because it might look like a date when it isn’t. Writing this out has made things a little clearer and has reminded me that yes – the whole ‘fall’ did happen, so of course there is still this underlying impression that ‘ezers (ie: females) are/can be possessable’ etc. But sitting in this role as a friend?

I remember hearing something, probably from that Josh Harris sermon (haha, quick run before it’s too late!) about giving guys the freedom to go and have lunch or whatever, with females without the pressure of ‘something more’ being there.

Why does this always hang over our heads with friendships with the opposite sex? A platonic relationship is apparently rarely possible without at some point in time one individual being attracted to the other – if not both (and then guess what happens!)

It annoys me, because if we looked at things differently. If we didn’t have so many expectations or just normalities I think we might function with a lot more freedom. Can’t we just be honest with eachother about where things stand, be genuine friends and leave things until circumstances change (if ever)? Or is it too much to hope to ignore the discord, disunity, and the desert loneliness?