a door to another world

My house has a new front door.
But let me explain.

My parents house got robbed a few months ago. Actually, 'robbed' is a bit too strong a word, cos nothing was taken. Someone got in through the front door, realised my mum was driving down the driveway, and made a speedy exit out the back. So my use of the verb 'to rob' is kind of misleading in this instance. Let's say they got 'broken into'. But I digress.

In response to this 'break in', my parents replaced all the locks. But it turns out that my ancient front door, while having a very sturdy lock, was not very sturdy itself and could easily be busted through. So they had to replace the whole door. When I heard about this on the phone, I was pretty disappointed. The key to our old front door was awesome - a big, gold, old fashioned looking thing. Like a key in a picture from a children's storybook. And I wasn't that pleased about having to give it up.

Despite the forewarning, I got a shock when I came home for the first time after that. It just didn't feel quite the same, entering my house through a different door. And it got me thinking about the symbolic nature of doors. They symbolise security ["behind locked doors"], opportunity ["one door closes, another one opens"], and refuge ["wolves at the door"]. They designate the spaces in our lives, and they allow us to move between them. And they're a good place to hang out during an earthquake, apparently.

I'm getting used to the new front door. I've stopped lifting my foot a little too high when I step over the threshold. The smell of varnish is slowly fading from the wood (I still notice it, though). But I haven't taken the old key off my key ring. To be honest, I'm not sure when I will. Is it "the key to my childhood", perhaps? I think that's taking the symbolism a little too far. Mostly, I just like the way it looks.

secrets

I'm a little bit obsessed with postsecret at the moment. It's a blog where people send in anonymous postcards with a secret written on one side - usually the picture side. They range from the silly and irreverent to the deeply personal and often confronting.

People confess to affairs, petty theft, lies, mistakes they've made, suicide attempts.
They also confess to random acts of kindness, decisions that have changed their lives for the better, fears about their futures.

It often worries me that there's no way of knowing who sends the postcards. I read one a few weeks ago that said "To the lady at the post office who liked my journal: it's full of suicide notes. You can have it when I'm gone." There's no way of knowing whether that person is still alive or not.

I sometimes feel bad for reading other people's secrets. Especially when they're so confronting. But that's kind of the point. The anonymity of the site means that people can express their deepest darkest secrets without fear of discovery. And there's something deeply theraputic about that. Why else do we keep diaries? Or write things on the back of toilet doors? And reading other people's secrets can be theraputic too. They can help you discover a secret you didn't know you had. Or were too afraid to express. Or just let you know you're not alone.

Anyway, I'm hooked.

tea leaves

I've been drinking a lot of tea lately. I used to be a coffee drinker, but after going to Europe and drinking Italian espressos, nothing else seems to cut it. Plus coffee often makes me feel sick. Also I've been lacking in motivation for study, and tea sometimes helps with that. I have a great one called "refresh" which my friend gave me for my birthday. And a green tea with strawberries in it, which is full of caffiene as well as being delish.



I've also been watching The Mighty Boosh, hence the picture. "Howard and Vince are in danger - it's written in the tea leaves!" Classic Naboo.

Reading tea leaves is a funny thing. So arbitrary, really. But on the other hand, random pseudo-psychic things like that can sometimes be revealing. A friend of mine used to have these little cards with words printed on them, and you were meant to pick 5 out and they would tell you stuff about your life. It was all chance, obviously, but we had some great conversations from it. The words were often just enough to trigger a thought or feeling we'd had but haven't been able to put into words. So it's not really psychic, but it can still tell you something about yourself.

Anyway, back to study.

couch surfing

I've been looking for a place to live. It's pretty fun really. Looking up houses online. Going to inspections. Weighing up the pros and cons. Big bedrooms, tiny kitchen. Close to uni, not enough windows. Cheap rent, no heating.

My future housemates and I have only a few criteria. Bedrooms must be big enough for a double bed, wardrobe, and a desk. Kitchen must have enough bench space so we can create vegetarian feasts. The laundry needs to fit a washing machine and dryer, cos one of my housemates scored a set off her grandparents.

I have one or two criteria of my own. I want the house to have some kind of quirk. We looked at one that had a random little nook built into the wall at about head height. I've no idea what it was designed for, but I liked it. Another one had a hollywood star in the middle of the bathroom floor. I'm also a fan of walk in pantries, of which we've seen a few.

Anyway, I keep thinking of this song by Darren Hanlon. I think it's fitting.

Well I haven't paid rent in a month or more
I'm couch surfing
And I don't have a key cause I don't have a door
I'm couch surfing
I'm not taking calls
I'm between houses

Of my material possessions I've lost track
I didn't need them
Everything I need fits in my backpack
I call it freedom
A pair of jeans some shirts and a guitar lead
A toothbrush, socks and a paperback reader
All the rest is what's hanging off of me
I'm not answering questions
I'm between houses

Outside the night is cold and stormy
And you blew up the air mattress for me
We'll talk all night like an open book
And I'll sleep on every breath you took
Before you leave I'll sneak a look up at you

But there's an old saying that could bare retelling
When you're couch surfing:
'the guest should leave before the fish starts smelling'
When your couch surfing
It's romantically existential
To reduce your life to the bare essentials
All that which is inconsequential guides me

But this whole theory really depends
On whether or not you've got good friends
And all this weightlessness the philosophers preach
Reduces you to societies leach
But tonight I've landed on my feet
I'm still one friend away from the bum on the street
And I've used up all my good will vouchers
On every single friend with couches
It won't be long before they'll ask me to leave
It's time I cut myself some keys
Give me a pen I'll sign a lease and go get me a home

given time

I wrote this song about a year ago and I'd almost forgotten about it until I discovered it in my trusty book of songs. (It's not a particularly long book, and half of it is blank pages I've left in the hope that I'll be overcome with lyrical inspiration sometime in the future and finish what I've started. I ususally don't. But nevertheless.) It's kind of a combination of things I was wondering about for fun, and stuff I was wondering about for my philosophy class.

I seem to blog a fair bit about philosophy. I guess it's the subject that manages to interest me above and beyond whatever piece of assessment I have due. Actually that's not true. My other classes do as well, to an extent, although it's mainly a negative one. I've recently been obsessed with a comment someone made in a Political Economy tute last week implying that AIDs was a good thing because it would counter over-population in Africa; I can't stop talking about what a douche this guy is! But that's not so interesting to write about.

Anyway, in true philosophical style, the questions in the song remain questions; I don't know if I have answers for all of them just yet. But still - they're interesting to think about.


Does it still count as being in love if I thought it at the time but have since changed my mind?
What is love, if not the strongest feeling you can feel for a person at a given time
Even if, given time you change your mind?

What is time if not the gradual changes in the light as night turns into day and day turns into night?
Tiny particles reverberate and penetrate the endless empty spaces between me and the edge of time
Even if, the edge of time is only in my mind

And what's my mind if not the stream of images and thoughts that have crossed it since the beginning of my life?
Imagination, concentration, perceieved reality, and memory, and all the bits and pieces that are mine
Even if, given time I lose my mind

Does it still count as being in love if I thought it at the time but have since changed my mind?
What is love, if not the strongest feeling you can feel for a person at a given time
Even if, given time you change your mind?

Given time . . .

hallelujah

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music
Do you?


Dear Leonard Cohen,

Why did you write such a beautiful song for someone who doesn't "care for music"?

That is all.

thinking about thinking

I was watching a friend's band last week when it suddenly occured to me how rarely I listen to music. That feels like an odd statement, coming from someone who constantly has music playing no matter what I'm doing - in fact, the only times I turn it off are when I'm watching TV, or making music of my own - but it's always the background. Listening to music isn't what I'm doing, it's just incidental. I hardly ever put a song on, sit down, and just listen. I used to. I remember listening to whole albums from end to end without doing anything else at all, but I lost that ability to be still and listen somewhere amidst the busyness of life.

Anyway, this got me thinking about thinking. I tend to avoid letting my mind roam free. Mainly because, I think, for a few years I couldn't trust it not to lead me places I didn't want to go. But now it's such a strong habit to always be distracting myself that I can't let go and just think about whatever comes into my head.

There are a few places where still can, though. Usually whilst doing tasks that require very little brain energy. Like showering. Or driving. Or watching a gig. I'm stuck in one place until I finish whatever it is I'm doing, with little for my mind to do but wonder. And consequently, a large proportion of my songs are written in these places. The shower. Behind the wheel. At gigs. I've always noticed this, but never really thought about why.

steep street

I took this photo in Montemart, Paris. It's my favourite photo from my favourite part of Paris. Thought I'd post it.

motivation

I struggle to get motivated, a lot of the time. I procrastinate. Obsessively. It's actually got to stage where I feel like I can't study if my room is messy, because I associate studying with a clean room thanks to years of cleaning to procrastinate. And it's not that I'm disorganised. I have two 50% essays and a take home exam to complete this weekend, and I've known they were coming for months. I've even been trying to work on the essays for the past few weeks. I've been thinking about them, and worrying about them, but I've done hardly any work on them.

And I'm actually starting to think that my motivation issues are the last bastille of my depression. I've had it for years, and I keep it mostly under control these days. But maybe this is the area where it still gets me. Motivation. Because I actually quite like my classes. Human Rights and Global Justice. Ethical Theory. Media, Politics and Society. Even the names are distinctly identifiable as things that interest me. (I actually do four subjects, but the last one I find so incredibly tiresome that it's not even worth posting here. I'm only taking it cos I think it'll be good for me.)

Anyway, perhaps I shouldn't be so hard on myself when it comes to study. I've got into the habit lately of handing things in a day or two late. They only take away 2% per day for most of my subjects, and I work much better when I know something's due but I don't have to stress about getting it done on time. Unfortunately, the work I have at the moment will probably take more than a day or two to complete. Hence my motivation struggles today.

But at the same time, I wonder. How different can I really claim to be? Everyone has issues, whether they be based in personality, learned habits, or so called 'mental illness'. This is the ADHD generation, after all. My motivation issues are no more legitimate than anyone else's. Maybe I should just stop making excuses and get back to work.

(Interestingly, my boyfriend sent me this article today. Scary.)

don't let go - kate miller heidke

I've been very busy, lately.


First of all I apologise for this long period of silence
Being busy's no excuse to pull away and lose touch with my friends
Last time we met on the net
Maybe you didn't like those things that I said
But the day I sent you that sad mail
Not one, not two, but three couples of friends just split up

Please don't start your reply with 'sorry I was busy too'
It's the busyness that brings us to our knees
Who invented all these things we have to do?
Cos if I don't have you babe
What I'm trying to say is
Don't let go

And as for me the snow has returned
The cat is scratching at the cotton buds on his fur
Mum never calls, Laura's going to Spain
The ethics teacher killed herself last Saturday

Please don't start your reply with 'sorry I was busy too'
It's the busyness that brings us to our knees
Who invented all these things we have to do?
Cos if I don't have you babe
What I'm trying to say is
Don't let go

musings on utilitarianism

Utilitarianism is a theory of morality that states that the right action is the one which brings about the most utility (aka happiness), all things considered. It's the theory that says everyone's happiness is equal and should be considered as such; no preferences for the happiness of rich people over poor people, and no judging anyone on what makes them happy (if you're big dream is to complete a pogo stick marathon, then as long as you're not hurting anyone else it's fine by utilitarianism!)

However, it's also the theory that says if you can save 5 lives by killing 1 person, then you should do it. More happiness will be created by the five lives being spared, and this outweighs any sadness created over the one life lost. But I'm just not convinced this is true. I don't think you can weigh up happiness and sadness like that. For one thing, sadness is more than just the absence of happiness. It's not like light and darkness (darkness being merely the absence of light). Sadness/anguish/grief/guilt/etc are states of being in their own right. And I don't think you can put them on the scales against happiness and say one weighs more than the other. It's just not that simple.

One of the most common objections to utilitarianism, however, is that it makes EVERYTHING a question of morality. At any point in time, the theory tells us to ask ourselves whether there's not something we could be doing that would create more happiness than what we're doing at the moment. And that's not just happiness for ourselves, or our loved ones. Our own happiness is no more important that anyone else's, therefore we should always be considering how we can make the world a better place, every minute of every day.

Whilst this is often considered a knock down objection to utilitiarianism, I think it's actually the theory's strongest point. Sure, it's challenging. And sure, if we really took it seriously it'd revolutionise the way we live our lives. But why is that a bad thing? Utilitarians have almost always been social revolutionaries (or at least had feminist mistresses, a la John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor). Our society is not beyond the need for revolution. Not by a long shot. So while I'm not convinced that utilitarianism is a practical ethical theory, I think the fact that it seriously asks us to look at every sphere of our lives (especially, I think, the sphere of consumerism: what would happen if we really considered the implications of every purchase we make on the happiness of those who produced it? not to mention whether we really need it, or could our money be better spent elsewhere?) is utilitarianisms strongest point.

friday, I'm in love

I can't really think of anything to write tonight. I'm tired, and sick of study, and I just want to dance.

Here's some Friday night type photos:

elephants balancing

When I was a kid, we always used to dance to the opening music of Playschool when it came on TV. I remember all the little coloured squares flipping over on the opening credits. My favourite host was Benita. She had long, curly, grey hair. I've no idea why she was my favouite. My sister liked George.

There was one animation they used to play a lot which had a song about elephants balancing on a piece of string. Every verse, another elephant would join them on the string, until eventually it collapsed under their weight. The song was very cheery, but for some reason it terrified me. I just didnt' understand why elephants would think a piece of string could hold their weight, and why they kept pushing their luck by inviting more elephants on board. Anyway, I used to hide behind the counter whenever it came on.

One day, my dad was home from work on a weekday (which didn't happen all that often) and playschool came on, and he asked why we didn't dance to the music anymore. I'd forgotten we'd used to do that.

sun, sun, sun, here it comes

I've had Here Comes the Sun stuck in my head all day, because we were practising it in my a capella group this morning. George Harrison didn't write many songs (at least, not many that The Beatles recorded) but the ones he did write just hit the spot! (While My Guitar Gently Weeps, anyone?)

Anyway, I've been thinking today about songs about the weather. There are so many of them, and I don't think it's because the songwriters just couldn't think of anything else to say ("sooo . . . how (hot/cold/mild)'s the weather been lately?"). The weather really does affect your mood. (As ex-love-of-my-life and Relient K frontman Matt Theissen once put it: "lately the weather has/ been so bipolar and/ consequently so have I"). And mood is pretty similar to emotion. And emotion is the basis for a hell of a lot of songs. Plus it makes for some ultra simple imagery. Feeling sad =  it's raining in my heart. Feeling happy = sunshine on my window. Things are getting difficult = storm clouds gather overhead.  For every emotional state imaginable there's a weather condition. So why not sing about it?

Anywhere you go
You always take the weather with you

Yes, I miss you like the rain
Falling softly on a summer's day

I'm walking on sunshine . . . whoa-oh-oh!

Looking out on the pouring rain
I used to feel so uninspired

Love's a hurricane
And you meet me in the middle

The answers my friend
Are blowing in the wind

The sun is up
I'm so happy I could scream

Day is dyin' and the night is born
Baby don't leave me so lovelorn

Nights are long
They creep up upon us
Like a storm when
Nothing's in order

Can't you see that it's just raining
There ain't no need to go outside

If I could bottle up the sea breeze
I would take it over to your house
And let it loose through your garden

I know it's up for me
If you steal my sunshine

But I'll always remember what you said to me
The stronger the wind, the stronger the tree

In your eyes were all the colours the rainbow forgot

Cloudy
The sky is gray and white and cloudy
Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me

It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

We step outside into the Melbourne weather
And with a shock it brings her back to where she is

And the fence
It shimmers in the heat
Like it wants to disappear


Wow. I got well and truly carried away there. Here's a picture of Ringo Starr eating a sandwich.

dreams and visions

The other week when I was walking home from uni, I had a premonition.

I was walking around this blind corner, and the thought flicked through my head "I wonder what would happen if someone was coming from the other side" and a microsecond later I walked straight into the girl who was coming from the other side.

This happens to me reasonably often. I think of something, and then it happens.

I also often mix up my dreams with real life. Something will happen in a dream, and I'll think it really happened until someone corrects me. Like the other night, I dreamed that my friend was killed by a drug dealer with superhuman powers (combination of watching Weeds and Buffy before bed), and I got such a suprise when I saw him the next day. Not that I'd been thinking all that time he was dead, I just didn't remember the dream until I saw him, and then it was such a relief to know it wasn't true. Or other times I feel angry with someone and don't understand why, until I realise I dreamt about them betraying me. And then I have to apologise for being rude. Which is confusing, to say the least.

But really, I don't think my premonitions are real premonitions. And I don't think my dreams are, either. Considering the multitude of thoughts we have every day, some of them are bound to come true.  'Law of large numbers', or something?

Joan of Arc had dreams and saw visions. (Were they premonitions? Or just good ideas for winning battles? I can't remember.) In Paris, there's a statue of her in the middle of an intersection. Joan of Arc, with tonnes of cars driving past her every second. I wonder if she ever forsaw that?

See, it's true. J of A. Intersection. Paris.

things between people

I've been meaning to start a blog for awhile now. I have a lot of thoughts, and I quite like writing them down. And I thought this would be a good way to do it.

The song Things Between People is the number 1 on my Top 25 Most Played list by a very long way. The reason I chose it, though, actually has nothing to do with why I love the song. The name just suddenly struck me as very profound. What is more important than things between people, after all? As much as I love philosophy and politics (and I do love them), it always comes back to things between people.

So that's what I intend to write about. Memories. Observations. Reflections.

Things between people.

Probably.