There’s not too many things in life I take ‘absolutely’ seriously. It’s an ‘absolute’ in my life, no joking, no negotiation. It’s a true measure of my personality that on a daily basis I’m able to remain calm, and not scream about animal cruelty and the animal/cattle industry. Almost thirty years for me now. I realize, in all things, change comes slowly. In 2020, sales of meat alternatives rose by 18.4% and sales of veggie burgers rose by 37%. These figures back up what my eyes can see. Thirty years ago there was only veggie sausages in the supermarkets, that was our choice. Now, I literally shake my head in wonder when I see fridges and freezers in shops, packed full of plant based options. I do feel vindicated, and, if it was part of my nature, which it isn’t, I’d feel VASTLY morally superior. 😏
I’m at the stage of lockdown, where inanimate objects are hissed at.
I’m going to spite order a pizza tonight, and I will spite the box, and I will enjoy resenting every mouthful, and I will resent feeling bad about feeling guilty in a very spiteful way.
Lockdown causes people to partake in distracting behaviors. Obviously the caption writer at Gladys press conference today has dropped a tab of acid in the last few hours, and, more power to them.
💫✨🧠🤪🧠✨💫
I think sometimes in moments of stress and anxiety, our bodies and minds need a little breather from reality. At times, these moments can be found in dreams.
I just woke from one such dream.
A few friends and I were walking through ‘town’ (if you’re from the Illawarra, you know where I mean). Finding a little community hall in the park we pushed the door open and found a small group of elderly people. Some slow dancing, some jiving to the music coming from a small dancette record player on the floor.
Michael Parkinson was there dancing with a lady. ‘Oh no, this is some swingers thing’, but no, Michael was dancing with his wife. I thought, ‘Oh, this is pleasant!’.
An old dear walked up, hands soft and gentle from frequent dabs of Ponds, and asked if I would like a cup of tea. ‘Oh yes please!’, and it was served to me in fine bone China (In this dream I was spared the hideous sight of people scarfing coffee down from plastic lidded cardboard cups, VUL-GAR!).
As I looked around I could see the walls and tables covered with all sorts of things. I asked a lady who was wearing white snap on kid gloves what all this was. She explained that everyone brought in things to sell they no longer wanted, to pay for their craft items and lessons. Can I have look? Certainly, would you like another cup of tea? Yes please!.
All around me people were talking softly with perfect, impeccable manners.
All the ladies are wearing white gloves, how civilized!
Venturing over to the tables, my eyes widened to the size of the fine bone China saucer in my hand. Before me was every issue of TV Week and TV Times magazines from the 1970’s I’d ever dreamed of owning. Mint copies, all the Number 96 covers, and all only a dollar each.
‘Would I like another cup of tea?’, yes please!. I looked up at the wall, and there I saw a Tammie Fraser Halloween mask with real hair, for only ten dollars. I was squealing inside like Dr Smith. ‘Can you believe this! only ten bucks!’ I mouthed politely, and quietly, to my friends.
All around me were flagrant displays of gentleness and manners. ‘Would you like another cuppa?’ Yes, thank you.
Looking down I could see crates of records. Multiple copies of Bernard Kings ‘Kitchen man’ album (that’s not a dream, I do now own multiple copies of that album, different pressings and labels). There, staring up before me, was a mint copy of Miss Marilyn reading ‘Peter and the wolf’. I sunk to my knees, it too was only a dollar. I clutched it to my bosom and let out a heaving sob.
With my swag in my arms I asked a perfectly coiffed and groomed lady, where should I pay. With her Persil white gloved hand she pointed out it was an honor system, and to simply drop some money in a tin. She then showed me how later they would teach me in craft classes how to fold and wrap paper. We all turned as someone opened the door, and we could see the sky outside was lovely and blue.
Then I woke up.
If anyone doesn’t think that is THE perfect day, then I absolutely don’t know how we’re related, or friends.
Not to be whiney or tiresomely political, but this needs to be plainly understood. The decisions the NSW ‘Gov’t’ are making are business driven, almost as much as they are health driven. There’s only one reason we went with a soft lockdown, pressure from business to stay open. Gladys slipped up and gave that away in a presser last week, that’s she’s taking advice from ‘business’ as well as health. Here we see proof of the Gov’t ‘trying’ to put pressure on health officials to deliver what the Gov’t and business want, not what is best for the health of the people of NSW. That . . is . . insane.
Addendum: Tho I may critique Gladys, a mantra I learned long ago, and it has always held me in good stead . .
‘Be careful what you wish for’.
Remember when we all detested Turnbull and wished him gone?
Having a buff of my crystal ball, and giving it a lingering gaze . . just suppose behind the scenes the right faction in the NSW Gov’t are working to white ant and roll Gladys. If you think she’s bad, imagine the NSW treasurer and his band of ‘Let her rip’ merry men being in power. I’d say a perfect time would be in about two weeks. The general public are now SO disengaged and non thinking, they will fall in behind who ever yells and tells them what they should think.
In two weeks people will be sick of lockdown, and, being the imbeciles the majority of the general public now are, if the treasurer makes a move, the public will approve, because hey, let’s lash out and kick someone, anyone, because, that’s what we do these days. Morrison detests Gladys, and, the boys club aren’t happy there are too many women running the show.
It’s just a feeling, I could quite possibly be wrong.
“Be careful what you wish for”.
Who knew Britannia delivered The Queen, Prince Phillip and Princess Anne to Wollongong in 1970, well, Port Kembla harbor to be exact. I was five years old, and I have a vivid memory of standing on the north eastern side of Gladstone Avenue and Crown Street with my family to greet them. I remember seeing The Queen and Princess Anne, probably because their clothes stood out. The photos are courtesy of the Lost Wollongong Facebook Page.
A Saturday morning musing.
Me being me, I’m loving all the Royal chaos and drama, but also, I must admit, I’m feeling ‘VERY’ uncomfortable with Harry and Oprah etc discussing trauma, PTSD, anxiety etc. Is part of it me being worried because it (here comes that word) triggers me? yep, probably a ‘bit’, but it’s more than that. Genuinely, I know it’s good to talk about such things.
Hear me out (or not), I’m ‘really’ worried, because, I know celebrities and royals are people too, but it’s bullshit to think that they don’t have greater support that their (here comes another shudder word for me) privilege affords them. They have the safety nets, they have the fundamentals like shelter etc.
When an issue, both social or medical becomes cause célèbre, yes, the public and Gov’ts become aware, but with that, often soon after, comes a perception of, ‘Okay, we know about that now, isn’t it all fixed, get on with it, we don’t need to keep hearing about it’.
No more evident has this been seen post marriage equality. In my experience many now think, and assume, ‘Well, now it’s out in the open, just get married, find a boyfriend, be openly gay, what have you got to worry about’.
There is no instant magic wand, one piece of legislation, one allowance by the public does not instantly erase thousands of years of distrust, homophobia, damage, violence, pain and dysfunction. But, people think it has. It’s the same with the addressing of mental illnesses and disorders.
I see this with OCD, depression, and chronic anxiety. When something IS discussed, and becomes a (I’ve gone to the trouble of copying and pasting this term, so I’m going to overuse it) cause célèbre, the seriousness of the situation, for the average Joe struggling with these disorders and illnesses, can be trivialized.
These decimating situations can be co-opted, sometimes in well meaning empathy, ‘Well, it’s not so bad, I have OCD, I like to hang my washing strait with the same coloured pegs’ . . ummm, no, that’s not OCD, that’s a quirk.
The same with Complex trauma/PTSD, everyone can say they’ve been impacted by trauma. The risk I fear is people may come to think, ‘Well, I’ve had trauma, I got over it, you just need to get on with it’. Never quite grasping the multilayered and truly disabling depths Complex trauma can be.
Once you add in Oprah and Hollywood, and yes, for the first time in my life, I’m going to use the word, ‘privilege’, I worry this will come back to cause great trouble and heartache to the truly marginalized.
The gov’t will probably throw some money at the problem, but in many cases, that could work against the marginalized, because the Govt’s perception is, ‘We gave money, you should be fixed now, what are you complaining about’.
No more has this phenomenon been better manifested than in ‘RU Okay’ day. Where Govt’s and work places think that if they hand out some balloons and Donuts one day a year, that somehow negates the still appalling and damaging behavior by them towards people for the other 364 days a year.
I get what Harry is saying needs to be talked about, but I’ve seen good intention backfire and work against people. The reality is, there IS a vast difference in circumstance between a Harry and an Oprah, and a suburban shit kicker man or woman sexual abuse and/or violence survivor, sitting at best, in a housing commission flat. Crippled by nightmares, addictions, decimating physical manifestations, trying to get on, or stay on, a pension as they’re demeaned at every step by govt departments trying to save a dollar and reduce percentages.
The conversation needs to be far more nuanced and forward thinking for the impact on the most vulnerable and desperate than what I’m seeing.
The news cycle is fickle, soon Harry and Oprah will be last weeks news, and the general public will be left thinking, ‘Haven’t we talked about that? Isn’t that all sorted for you?’ This can, and I’m almost certain will, come back to bite the most vulnerable people on the arse.
If the balloons, t shirts, donuts and ribbons come out, we’re in trouble. It’s far too big, far too delicate to be ‘Oprah-ized’, for want of a better word. Just my thoughts, your mileage may vary.
My first prolonged period of ‘masking’ today, medical face masks I mean. Things I learned:
1) Eating a wonderfully aromatic cheese and garlic gnocchi for lunch is nice, however, reliving the aroma for five hours, it kinda loses its allure.
2) Falling asleep on the train is good. Dribbling whilst asleep with a mask, bad.
