Why are pub bands so loud, or when did I get so old?

Tonight we went to the pub.  Not something I've done a lot of, even in my younger days, I was not a huge fan of pubs.  When I was at uni (the first time around anyway), pubs were not smoke free, and nobody had Responsible Service of Alcohol Certificates, and all bartenders wanted to be Tom Cruise in Cocktail.  This was also when I was still watching Tom Cruise movies, which I won't do anymore because I think he's kind of an arse.  Partly because his religion has given him some seriously overbearing opinions on stuff he obviously has no clue about, and partly because he seems like the quintessential short man.  Now, pubs are smoke free, and all the smokers have to sit outside in the cold in a resentful huddle, where they smoke up a veritable cloud of fumes that everyone else has to walk through to get to their cars.  And it was cold tonight, cold enough to warrant two cardigans.  It's nice being able to sit in the warm in air untainted by the eye watering fug of cigarette smoke. 

The one thing that hasn't changed though - pub bands are still loud.  Loud in a way that makes you uncomfortably certain that your ear drums are being damaged.  So loud that even surrounded by people, you feel terribly isolated, because no-one can hear anyone else speak above the racket.  So I sat in my little bubble of isolation feeling disgruntled, because I really would have loved a catch up chat with a friend I haven't seen in about ten years.  Apart from grimacing at one another, in agreement that yes it was flipping loud, we just smiled a lot, and mouthed stuff that I'm sure mostly consisted of moaning about the loudness.

And I hate drums.  Just putting it out there.  And no offense to drum players, I'm sure it takes a heap of skill and practice to make that kind of noise, but seriously, can't you turn it down?  And the bass.  I'm the kind of easy listener who turns the bass down to non-existent on my car stereo, because I prefer it that way.  So pub bands aren't really my thing.

I was there to hear the support act, my eldest son and a friend who have recently started singing together.  And they were good (there were no drums, so good start for me).  I did enjoy listening to them sing, and it was all very grown up to go out on a Saturday night. 

I've realised tonight, that the thing I enjoy most about being a grown up is being able to please myself and not make excuses about it.  So here I am now, in my pyjamas, sitting in my bed, with a slight ringing in my ears, and this is almost certainly the way I'll spend next Saturday night too - probably without the outing to the pub first (and the subsequent ringing), and I'm good with that. I don't care that it's boring and middle aged, and mundane, it's also comfortable, more interesting, warmer and it smells better.  And I can hear when people talk to me.

Audio books

Since being involved in the production of an audio book, I've realised what a pleasure it is to be read to.  Usually I am the one doing the reading to other people, my own or the children I teach, but listening to someone read is very soothing.

With this in mind I downloaded the amazon Audible app to explore their service.  One book a month for $14.95, might be quite nice to listen while I'm running or knitting.  I might like it.  The app allows you to sample a few works before you commit to anything so tonight I did.  The first book was The Help, which I've read already to myself.  The narrator had one of those drawling southern voices like warm honey, entirely suitable for the work, and I was lost in it.  It truly brought the book alive in a way my In My Head voice couldn't do.  I was fairly convinced that this was a good idea, and when the sample ended, I wanted more, so I downloaded The Hunger Games, which I've also read and loved.  

I don't know who narrated this book, but I didn't like it.  Not one bit.  She paused in the wrong spots, she read too slowly, her intonation was horrible.  I tried speeding it up. But it was still annoying as hell.  I love that book, but I can't listen to that voice reading it to me, there is no pleasure in that at all.

Before I go ahead with a membership then, I need to find out if I can sample a part of a book before committing to it being the one I choose.  Because if I can't then I don't think it's going to suit me at all. 

I'm wondering if I'm just being fussy and hard to please.  I don't think so because I loved the first book, it was beautifully done.  

You did what?

I was reading a forum today, as I do fairly regularly, it is easy to become engrossed in other people's lives as they share them.  It is often a good reminder of the things I have to be thankful for in my own life, be it good health or my children, or functional relationships, my life isn't perfect, but it's not the worst.

One poster described  a situation with her mother and asked if she (the poster) was over reacting.  Now as a general rule, my default position on whether other people are overreacting is Yes, you probably are.  People are so uptight and get their knickers knotted so easily over the smallest of slights.  Move on, move on, you'll be fine.  But as I read this, I felt genuinely irritated on this poor woman's behalf.  The scenario is thus - the poster has a three year old son, a sweet little boy with longish hair that touches his shoulders.  There is a picture of her husband in her signature, and he has the same hairstyle she describes for her son.  It's long for a bloke, but he's a nice looking fellow, and I imagine that it looks cute on her little boy too.  The son went for a visit to Nanny's house.  Nanny, despite knowing that the poster liked the child's hair the way it was and had absolutely no intention of cutting it, decided that she would cut it.  And did.  Shearing it off with clippers, if you please, so not just a wee trim of the ends, but inches, then posted photos of it on Facebook, which the mother saw, before she saw her son or knew about it at all.  The poster asked if it was overreacting to feel angry about this.

Now some people fussed about first hair cuts being special, and I've never been that precious myself about that kind of thing, I'm not saying it's wrong, just that that wouldn't bother me in itself.  What bothers me about this, is that the grandmother deliberately went against her daughters wishes and did something to the child.  Something that is going to take longer to rectify than changing a t-shirt say.  So she did that, behind her daughters back, then posted pictures about it on social media, then laughed and said it wasn't a big deal and not to fuss.  Not a big deal.  Not to fuss.  Are. You. For. Serious?

Wrong wrong wrong.  You get to do this stuff with your own kids.  Not anyone else's, regardless of whether you are the grandparent.  It is not your decision, not your right, not anything to do with you, you had your turn, so back the hell off and don't be so disrespectful.

This is right up there with piercing someone else's kids ears.  It's just not on.

The best suggestion was that Grandma get her head shorn too, after all, it's just hair.  It'll grow back.

Constant entertainment is killing our creativity

I was out shopping today after a horde of hungry teenagers turned up at my house and I rashly invited them for lunch, then realised I didn't have enough food in the house.  Walking past one of the shopping centre hair dressers, I noticed a toddler having his haircut.  Not so unusual, except he was set up in front of not the more traditional choice of a mirror, but a widescreen television.  And he was sitting beautifully still, and the hairdresser was able to cut in peace without being swatted away, or chasing a moving head around as he tried to dodge her.

Initially, I saw the attraction and the sense in such a set up.  Brilliant, really.  But then I started thinking about when mine were little, which doesn't seem that long ago, and I have one still who is still under ten, so I'm not completely out of touch (just to completely justify my right to comment on this particular parenting phenomena), and honestly, I don't recall it being a huge drama getting hairs cut.  I've also done the hairdressing, I still cut the girls hair now, and always have, and when the boys were younger we had clippers and I was reasonably confident in shearing them.  I know for some children it is a huge horrible deal, and if that helps those kids and their mum's to get through something that would be otherwise extremely traumatic, then thats a good thing. These children though are the exception, for your average toddler, I think learning to sit quietly is a good skill to practice, and I think we are taking that away from children.

This new generation are plugged in and switched on from a very early age, navigating phones and tablets with ease before they can even read, but are they able to entertain themselves?  Do they have the opportunity for quiet reflection, for creating something from nothing, for being amused simply by their own thoughts?  And if they lose that ability, what will that mean for the sum of human creativity?  Will there be no more Shakespeare's, no more LM Montgomery's, no more AA Milne's?  If they aren't allowed time to day dream, when will they have time to create imaginary friends, and games?  Constant entertainment may make it easier to navigate childhood, but is it really better, I'm not convinced it is.  And if they lose their ability to create, who will be the game makers and movie makers of the future?  Who will dream the dreams that lead to the next big thing?

Looking around at little children hunched silent over their screens, it all seems so passive, they are spoon fed their entertainment as often and as much as they want.  When I was a kid, cartoons happened as a filler between scheduled programming, you never quite knew when one would come on, and it was exciting, and over too soon.  My brother and I would always call each other to make sure we didn't miss it.  Cartoons were an event.  Then we went back to the business of being a kid - playing.


I don't think that the way I parented my children 19 years ago was the only to do it.  I am sure there are some exciting things going on in the parenting world, and even now I see stuff that I wish I'd had when I had littlies.  But all this screen time bothers me.  Not to be an old fogey about it, but it does.  And if it doesn't wreck their creativity, then it will surely wreck their eyesight and their hearing.   That's all I'm saying.

5:2

So much for writing every day, still, I have made more headway than I expected, given my history of starting things and letting them slide.

There has been quite a bit of hype, and a degree of skepticism around the 5:2 diet.  Usually the word fast is also involved, and I think that's what freaks people out.  Fasting!!!  Not eating for a whole day?  Why would anyone do that.  That was my own reaction to be honest.  I enjoy my food, what's not to like in a world that has given me garlic prawns, steak and mushrooms and chocolate in a myriad of forms?

I watched the documentary, and loved the idea of all the other health benefits that apparently go hand in hand with this way of eating.  With an undisciplined husband with high blood pressure and cholesterol, who can't seem to sustain any kind of healthy eating plan for very long, and 10 extra kilos myself that I wouldn't mind ditching, I wondered if this might be our miracle.

We have been fasting intermittently now for about 10 weeks, and have each lost about 5 kilos.  I'm hoping that the other health stuff is quietly happening in the background, and my body is staving off the horrible possibility of alzheimers and type 2 diabetes and even cancer. 

I'm happy to say, that fasting really isn't as bad as you might think.  In fact it isn't bad at all.  Today is a fast day, and I've just finished eating an apple and had a cup of tea.  I'm still using full cream milk, I just take that into account when I count up the 500 allowed calories.  I tried using skim, but we just didn't drink it on the other days so it would sit in the fridge and go bad.  I'd rather have two cups of tea I enjoy than 5 or 6 cups that are only barely palatable.  For lunch I'll cook up two fresh tomatoes and have them with salt and pepper.  I sometimes have this kind of thing on non-fast days too, though I'll add cheese those days.  Dinner tonight will be vegetable soup.

Initially when we started fasting, I was buying boxes of chicken nuggets for the kids to have for their dinners, or frozen pizzas, neither of which I like particularly which was a plus, and didn't require me to make much effort with their meals in terms of preparation or cooking.  I am a picker, and cooking without tasting is hard.  I realised that that wasn't going to be ideal as a long term solution, and that I was compromising their diets for the sake of my convenience, so we are working around that.  Stir fry is a good family option, we have Slendier angel hair pasta, and they have noodles or rice.  The slendier pasta is made from some weird vegetable called konjac, and in a stir fry it is quite palatable, and only worth about 12 calories a serve which is fabulous.

So far, I haven't failed a fast day.  I did have one week off, where it was just too hard to fit it into the week, there was a staff luncheon at school, and other stuff, so I skipped one fast which was fine.  I think it is this flexibility that makes it work so well.  I don't do rules very well, and sustaining diet rules for any length of time makes me feel deprived and resentful and grumpy.  With the fast diet, I have two days in the week, where I restrict myself to 500 calories, then the rest of the week, I eat normally, I have the odd treat, and don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong.  On the fast day, my mindset is that I may feel a little hungry that day, but I will eat X Y or Z tomorrow.  It is a good match for my all or nothing personality.

People have been funny about it.  One woman asked me if 500 calories wasn't quite a lot to eat anyway.  It's not by the way.  It really isn't and you do feel hungry.  But it's manageable.  Others seem to think I'm going to pass out or it will be very very bad for me in some undefined way.  perhaps my body will go into the fabled starvation mode and hang on to every gram of fat (probably storing it on my thighs where it will feel at home) and it will be that much harder to lose.  Mostly they look kind of sorry for me.

I'm quite happy with it though, and for me to manage any kind of sustained weight loss program is bordering on the miraculous, so as long as I am still happy to do it, I'll keep going.  I can keep anything up for a day.

King hit

There has been a spate of assaults in Sydney over the past weeks.  The scenario all too often involves young men out in the city, going to clubs and drinking.  What is alarming is how it seems to be escalating, with the worst cases ending in hospital on life support, or in a morgue - and that so many attacks are either unprovoked or the provocation so trivial that it is incomprehensible.  Last weeks victim refused a stranger a cigarette.  For that he was king hit.  He is so severely injured he requires brain surgery.  His friends who tried to deflect the attacker were also injured. The perpetrator? A man out on parole.

I can think of at least three examples of offenders on parole in the news recently for committing significant violent acts.  These men were supposedly rehabilitated, surely that is the only reason they could be considered for early release?  Why is our justice system all of a sudden having all these failures?  These men (and they have been men) have been locked away once for violent acts, then set free to do it all over again.  And I am not an advocate of locking people away indefinitely, not at all, but something is going badly wrong, and it needs to be addressed.  

I must admit, these items of news do draw me in, and I have been reading the paper more recently, so perhaps it is the change in my own behaviour as a news consumer that is at issue.  I am interested in the items because I have a son in the age group of these victims, a young man of 19, who does enjoy a night out in the city with his friends, seeing bands and having a beer.  And he goes by train. And the last train home gets to our stop at 12.30, meaning the night out finishes at 11.18pm, or he stays in the city till the next train at 4.03am.   Neither of these are good options.  I don't like the idea of him in the city, or on the trains at night.  He's a big bloke, and strong but that is no guarantee of safety.  Being in a public area is no guarantee of safety.  

When my children were babies, I naively thought that that time was the hardest time.  I was so terribly tired and disorganised and life felt out of control.  It seemed endless and the days stretched ahead of me.  Now, I'd love that degree of control, knowing they were all tucked up safe and well in their beds - before I got into mine, safe and warm until morning.  Even the stumbling in the dark as I tended to their physical baby demands, then their toddler nightmare anguish, school child anxieties and teenage heartaches pales into insignificance, compared to lying in bed waiting.   Waiting to be sure they return, safe to me again.  Waiting for the reassurance that the nightmare of random violence has not fallen on my family this night.

Kevin and Julia

No doubt the blogosphere is teeming with angsty posts about Australian politics today.  It is inevitable after the latest leadership debacle (no other word quite encompasses the situation).   Only months from the federal election, Australian Labor have voted out the current PM, and chosen another.  The same man they tipped out of office 3 years ago, just before the last election. It is a last ditch effort to win back the voters, with a leader who is apparently 30% more popular than Ms Gillard, and it worked for them three years ago, so who knows what will happen come election time.  The Australian voter is a capricious creature, unpredictable, changeable as the wind.  I didn't think Ms Gillard would triumph three years ago, so my prophetic abilities are dubious, and I have no idea what will happen in September, I don't even know who I will be voting for.

The picture the Herald printed last night of Mr Rudd smirking looked undeniably smug.  I am sure I heard him interviewed on the radio in the last 12 months insisting he was committed to the current leadership and had no intention of challenging it.  This is a man unable to keep his word, and what will that mean to the electorate?  I think as a nation we have a problem with authority figures, and in three years, if Kevin gets in, he'll be equally unpopular.  He's only attractive now because of the weird under dog thing we have going, we like the losers until they succeed, then we ruthlessly cut them down and toss them in the trash. 

He does present an alternative to Tony Abbott, a politician I truly dislike.  Just an aside, but why can't we have a well dressed, smart looking head of state like in the days of Paul Keating? Now he knew how to dress.  He had polish.  Rudd looks like he's ready to get into a scrum on a footy field, maybe that's his appeal, though I think his major appeal to the common man is that he isn't that red headed woman.  I don't understand why red heads are so maligned, it's just a colour (and a pretty one).  As for maligning women, there is undeniable precedent for that.  

To the average Australian though, there is a degree of distaste at the bickering, and changing and ganging up.  I don't profess to know much about politics, but it really doesn't present well, however good the reasons behind the moves are.  I suspect it is all smoke and mirrors and we are being manipulated in some way to do something.  Maybe this is why we don't spend money on education, dumb down the population so we are easier to fool.  Maybe.

How does this happen?

When I first saw Kristi Abrahams during this interview for the television news, I was unconvinced of her sincerity, there was something that just didn't "feel" right.  And I wanted to believe her.  I wanted to believe that no mother could ever do what it was suggested she had done.  I wanted her to be better than I felt in my heart she was.  I told myself that I couldn't judge her by her appearance, by her awkward manner. She was a woman who had just lost her child, who was I to say how she should or should not act under those terrible circumstances.

I followed the Facebook page a little obsessively, dismayed that the reaction to her was so similar to my own.  Where was our compassion? 

It took more than a year for the truth to come out, more than a year before her body was found in a shallow grave, in a suitcase.  And as more and more facts of the case are revealed, the more my heart breaks over this poor broken little girl who was betrayed by the people who should have protected her, and by a system overloaded with other heart breaking cases of neglect and abuse.  Overloaded to the point that even though they knew that Kristi Abrahams had burned her daughter with cigarettes, that she was almost constantly covered in bruises, that she was screamed at and hurt, they did nothing.

In the 4 or 5 months that she should have been in school in what was the last year of her short life, Kiesha attended 4 times.  4 days that yielded a total of 7 separate reports to DOC's.  And they left her there.  She told her case worker that Mummy made the bruises and the burns.  And they left her there.

They did take her for 18 months at one point, after Kristi bit her so badly that she had to attend an emergency department for treatment.  She bit her.  I cannot fathom what kind of deranged human being thinks that that is ok.    And DOC's gave her back.

The news articles that describe the child's ordeal are chilling, and I can hardly bear to read them, except in some way I feel like I owe it to that little girl, to know her story, to grieve for her, to care in a way that the adults in her life failed to do.  And that is so very little.

Resilience

I have been pondering resilience for a while now, specifically working to build it in my children.  The fact is, life is often not very nice.  We cannot control the way other people speak or behave, what we do have control over is our response to this.  Basically, because some parents fail at the kindness lesson, I need to help mine gain skills of resilience, so they are not crushed by those others.

I read this in the SMH this morning, and it more or less confirmed what I thought, though it goes quite a lot further.  Are children getting "soft"?  Does all our reassuring, and shielding really produce more confident children, or are we creating a generation that will crumble at the first sign of hardship?

Being kind of a control freak, letting my children make mistakes and learn from them has not been easy.  And I've probably failed a lot of the time, though I am making an effort to rectify the errors of the past, and they can now all light their own birthday candles, crack eggs and peel and chop vegetables.  I should probably work on ironing next.

Looking at this, I think there are two types of resilience that need to be formed - emotional and practical.  Our children must learn that life can be uncomfortable, and that people are sneaky, conniving and unkind, not all of them all the time, but most of them some of the time, and this must somehow be dealt with.  The trickiest bit is helping them respond to the bad stuff - calling the bullies on their actions without diminishing themselves by responding in kind.  I don't think I've had enough practice myself to be honest, but I have to lead the charge on this one, and propel them towards their adult lives as functioning citizens who can not only take care of their own stuff, do their own hair, feed and clean themselves, but also navigate the uncomfortable emotions associated with failing.  Because they cannot be cushioned from that inevitability forever.

Different church, same scandal

The Sydney Morning Herald ran this story this morning.

Abuse of children has been wide spread in many religious (and other) institutions.  I say has been, because I am hopeful that it will become less common, that there will be more accountability, that the monsters who prey on little children will be caught and punished rather than shielded from consequences as they have been.  I have to be hopeful, because accepting that it is inevitable and unavoidable it not something I can comfortably contemplate and keep living in this world.

This mornings report was not about the Catholic church which has taken a beating (deserved) in the media, but focuses on a Sydney Jewish school.  The rabbi quoted, apparently said that the child in question had given consent.  The child in question was 11 years old.  I have an 11 year old myself, and if some adult man ever took advantage of her in such a despicable fashion, and then subsequently described her as a "consenting partner," I would rip that persons head from their body.  What an utterly disgusting thing to imply.  What a repellant man the Rabbi Lesche is, that he would dare to suggest that the child, child! was in any way to blame.

Rabbi Lesche does not confine his loathsome commentary to the 11 year old in question.  He would have us believe "teenagers from poor backgrounds had ''nothing else to do in life, only thinking 24 hours about sex with each other, members of their own families and even dogs."  He continues in this hateful fashion by saying that that "some non-Jewish boys, who he termed ''goyims'', began acting or thinking sexually from the age of five."  There are so many offensive things in these sentences that I am having trouble separating them.  Apparently "the poor" are more sexually deviant than the rich, as are non Jews in comparison to Jews. 

How sickening that someone who is apparently part of an educational institution is far more interested in protecting dirty old men who molest those in their charge, than in protecting the innocent.  And worse, maligns the victims, demanding that they share some of the blame.  He asks that the offenders not be reported as it will destroy them.  Says that it was all so long ago, that nothing can be achieved by pursuing them.  Only justice, only righting a wrong, only closure for the victims of crimes so heinous that reasonable people are sickened by them. This man is a disgrace to education, to religion, to decent society. 

Sometimes I just can't see the point in human beings. 

Asylum Seekers and Leaky Boats

I am not a political creature.  That is not to say I don't appreciate the privilege it is to be allowed a say in our government.  It is something I have always been glad about, and I looked forward to be being 18 so I could start having a say in the process.  It is something I take seriously, and probably too much to heart.  I have cried after casting my vote, because I have been overwhelmed by the responsibility, and unsure if I made the right decision.  I like to consider the issues carefully, and vote accordingly.

In September we go back to the polls, and I am torn.  As usual.  But the biggest problem I have this time, is that I feel like I am choosing between two bad options, or two options that are so similar that it really won't make a difference.  I won't vote for any party that uses that abominable catch phrase "stop the boats".  I hate hearing that, and the implication that stopping the boats is about protecting Australia from being over run with dodgy foreigners makes me angry.

It seems so obvious, that the only people who are going to get on a barely sea worthy vessel are so utterly desperate to leave behind their present situation that they have no other option.  Asylum seekers who arrive by boat are far more likely to be genuine refugees than those who arrive with valid visas.  If you don't have a passport, and can't get one, what are you supposed to do?

 This picture shows the aftermath of an attack at a Shia Muslim rally at Meezan Chowk in Quetta on September 3 2011 that killed 42 and injured 80 people - mostly Hazaras.

Above them is an Australian-sponsored billboard saying "Don't go on a leaky boat - the illegal way. Just stay where you are".




 Sure, stay where you are, because that is going to work out so well.


 It is not illegal to seek asylum.  These people want the same things the rest of us want, peace, freedom, safety.  It is not too much to ask, not at all. 

From the Australian Human Rights Commission website:

"Australia has obligations to protect the human rights of all asylum seekers and refugees who arrive in Australia, regardless of how or where they arrive and whether they arrive with or without a visa.
As a party to the Refugees Convention, Australia has agreed to ensure that people who meet the United Nations definition of refugee are not sent back to a country where their life or freedom would be threatened."

This year, come election time, I am looking for a party with a bigger idea than just stopping boats.  I want leaders with compassion, who don't play on the general public's ignorance and prejudices.  

As Bob Hawke so pithily put it:  "We're all bloody boat people.  That's how we found the place."

University and Breastfeeding and Exams.

Discrimination? I don't think so

This news article popped up in my Facebook feed this morning, and I read it with a degree of disbelief.  The woman at the centre of the story insists that she is being discriminated against, because she wasn't allowed to take her ten month old daughter to an exam - a university exam.  She says she was planning to let the baby sleep, then breast feed her when she woke up.

Here's the thing.  I am a big advocate of breast feeding.  I really am.  I was disgusted by David Koch and his ignorant comments on the morning show earlier in the year, when he asked for women to "be discreet" about feeding their infants.  It was all a bit of a sideshow, and I doubt he's ever had more press for anything, which may have been the idea all along, or that could just be the taunting voice of my inner cynic speaking to me.  Anyway.  I do think women should be able to breast feed at will wherever they feel like it. 

This particular case though, could be the exception that proves the rule.  Babies have no place in examination rooms.  The end.  It is that simple. A ten month old is unpredictable, noisy, and on the move, none of this belongs in an exam that other people are also taking. This woman had a hiccup with her baby sitting arrangements, and by calling a breast feeding foul, is trying to circumvent university protocol.  The university allowed her to reschedule the exam, and I think that was bending over backwards to be accommodating.  Asking for a separate room, and comparing having a child to being disabled is laughable at best and offensive at worst.  Babies are a choice, and the limits a child puts on your life have an end point, bit by bit you regain a portion of your freedom.  Disabilities aren't like this.  This young woman has a serious case of entitlement.  The world will not stop for her because she has a baby, like every other parent on the planet she needs to work out how to fit her baby into her lifestyle.

Additionally, I have a clear memory of my second son at ten months eating pizza with the family on a road trip.  He only had about 8 teeth, but he could suck the topping off a pizza pretty well.  He was still breast fed at the time certainly, but it wasn't his only source of sustenance, or even his main source.  Supplementary is the word.

This shouldn't have been a story.  There is no story.  Just another selfish young woman who thinks life is all about her.

Beginnings and I ponder good driving

Starting a brand new blog is almost as much fun as starting a new diary, there is that same crispness, albeit of the imaginary variety, and that lovely newness is still there, even if it only exists in my mind.  The screen is unsullied by my thoughts as yet, and the binding is tight.

Or something.

I want to write but I need to be more disciplined.  I've tried (and failed) before this, and who knows how long I can sustain writing every day, it is my very good intention to do that, but I have a history of enjoying beginnings a little too much, and neglecting the follow through.

My thought, as I was driving to school on this cold winter morning in June, was that I would find something, some piece of news, or trivia that I came across in my day, and write a response to it.  Now, this is not a new thought, it isn't even an original thought, but as I am not publishing the fiction I write on a blog (yet), this could be the exercise that keeps me going, and makes me exercise my writing muscle.

Today's response is to yesterdays morning radio show.  I listen to WSFM on my way to school in the morning, I like the morning team of Jones-y and Amanda (Keller), and the music suits me.  I don't listen beyond 9am when those two finish, that's when I turn to my ipod.  But I enjoy the programme (I do confess to turning off Delta Goodrems interview this morning, I don't know why she bothers me, but she does).

So yesterday they were talking about driving, and asking people to ring in about their pet peeves, re driving.  I am as impatient as the next person on the road, and have been known to quietly curse the stupidity of the masses.  People are generally irritating, and never more so than when behind the wheel.  Callers listed the usual suspects, not using the indicator, tail gating, driving in the right hand lane, overtaking on the left.  All very annoying, and all things that I am reasonably sure most of us do, perhaps not deliberately, or consistently, but certainly occasionally, when our concentration lapses for whatever reason.

I started thinking about driving, and all the drivers on the road, and there are many many many of them.  All those people driving, every day.  And every day, I might see 1 or 2, or on a bad day, 4 or 5 examples of bad manners and recklessness and thoughtlessness in my 30 - 40 minute journey.  But.  I see hundreds of cars in that time.  Hundreds.  All scooting along between 50 and 120 kilometres an hour, depending on the road.  All multi - lane roads, with traffic lights, pedestrian crossings, varying speed limits and other unexpected hazards.  And if all those drivers are driving 30 - 40 minutes too, that is a lot of driving that I am exposed too.  Really, it's a wonder I don't see more instances of lapsed judgement.  Driving is a complex skill, and lots of us can do it, and do it with a reasonable degree of competence.

So despite my irritation with bad driving, I've decided, that in the grand scheme of things, we are probably not as bad as most of us think.  In fact, by and large, I think, we are pretty good.