Composting

A couple of days ago, I wrote a post questioning what a blog was for and why I was writing this blog, beyond the obvious. Well, I have since come up with an answer which, whilst it doesn’t answer what a blog is, does answer why I write this one to my own satisfaction – which is good enough for me. :)

As some of you know, I am serial journal keeper and some-time writer of fantasy stories. I really enjoy writing and the buzz that creativity gives me has no equal! I’ve never been published, have very little hope of ever being so, and in fact haven’t completed a story since I lived in Melbourne, but I have been writing my thoughts down in books of various hefts for as long as I have been able to write. I wrote a couple of complete stories in primary school between the ages of 8 and 12 that I vaguely remember, but writing didn’t actually become a regular part of my life until 1989, when my grade 9 English teacher insisted that her class keep a journal. Thank you Mrs Fisher. I have become addicted. Writing is now a compulsion for me and as necessary to my health as eating or breathing. I don’t doubt I would have tried to do something drastic to terminate my existence or become addicted to some of the more unsavoury activities available to us in high school if I hadn’t had an outlet in which to vent my angst and teenage depression.

For you see, I can’t stop thinking about things. I obsess over so much; how work is going, how home is going, how friends and relationships are going, how the government and the environment and the planet are going, in short, how life is going. But it is not just things in this reality that revolve around in my head, but also stories that endlessly repeat themselves; I imagine a spiralling series of events happening to various characters in ever increasing iterations with minute changes to cast or settings… and these thoughts won’t leave me alone…until they are out on the paper in black and white.

Oh how wonderful was the day that I discovered that if I write down what’s in my head then I don’t have to think about it any more!! And when I do, I find both my sanity and sense of proportion return and I feel immediately at peace. When I now find myself emotionally pent up to the point of madness, I just write down the contents of my head, and Hay Presto! Reason returns. It is a blessed relief too, not to mention fun.

I have also noticed that my creativity increases with the amount that I write. If I manage to keep up the head-writing for a week or so, I find that stories will blossom and flow out of me at a prodigious rate, and generally in a consecutive and comprehensible flow, not the higgledy-piggledy mess it usually comes out in. I once spent a month living in Queensland on an army base and had nothing to do of an evening but study and write, and I found on several occasions that I would write between 15 and 20 pages of a story in one sitting, generally only stopping because my wrist gave out from the pain!

The writer Natalie Goldberg uses the metaphor of a compost heap to describe this phenomenon which I find very apt in my case. In daily life you accumulate experiences, thoughts and feelings like so much useless trash. If you don’t sort through them, they tend to pile up and become an overwhelming heap of garbage, smelly and unsightly. However, by turning and aerating the pile, adding bits here, taking out bits there, getting perspective and gaining distance, you allow your experiences to break down into valuable organic matter and it becomes fertile ground ready for the planting of new ideas. And without conscious effort, because it has such rich soil to grow in, a story germinates. So I do my sorting and composting through the process of writing. It turns the garbage in my brain into healthy soil. ;)

I don’t write as often as I want to. I’m too tired, or have too much work to do, or I am out living life, or I feel that it would be too much of a self-indulgent procrastination, or I am too immersed in my own brain to notice that it needs emptying. And unfortunately, I frequently forget the beneficial result of writing for my sanity, and stop doing it for a long enough period that I get very confused…until I recognise that my sense of proportion has slipped. So, I have as yet been unable to grow any of my story seedlings into trees, or even into saplings – I keep burying them in more garbage.

But I just realised that this blog thing provides me with the PERFECT excuse to write and hence a potential trash-disposal unit. I have committed to writing it to inform you all of my activities whilst I’m away, so I’m obliged to keep it up to date. And if I post to it regularly, it also provides a soothing balm to the monster of parental anxiety – Ali doesn’t have to spend horrendous amounts of money on international phone calls – she knows I’m ok as long as I keep blogging. My writing is no longer a self-indulgent thing but is actually providing information and security to others, so I feel justified in my procrastination. Of course, I’m not going to bore you with the contents of my head in this forum, nor my stories, but it is yet another nail in the coffin of my confusion, or maybe another light to ward off the darkness of disorder and best of all, another pitch-fork to help turn the garbage into mulch. I have been writing on this blog just as often as I do in my journal, and it provides a similar service and with beneficial side-effects. Wow.

So I have discovered the reason for my blog: It's a compost heap! :)

Pain: The High Cost of Living

I had an edifying experience yesterday. I got chucked out of my hostel. It was my own fault - I miscalculated the number of nights I'd paid for. But I was fast asleep when the guy came and said to the room at large, "Katrina? You're moving out today. I need your keys." Which he then proceeded to take from me, and then let me know I had half and hour to leave, and I couldn't think what to do. I just sat there for a good five minutes trying to process the fact that I had to go and I'd thought I had until Sunday to do so...

Once I had managed to wake up enough, I rang Richard in a panic, asked if I could stay the night there, had a five second shower, packed my bags, and ran. I think I set myself a record of the shortest time that I've ever been ready to roll with full gear.

Of course, since I had been planning to take my stuff in two trips to my new abode, I was, just slightly, overloaded, the consequence of which is that I am now in whole worlds of pain, and I'm not sure that my back or shoulders will forgive me anytime this century...I have just made myself a heat pack after unsuccessfully searching all over Camden for one this morning. But anyway, I had to laugh - the whole thing was so farcical. Just like me to forget that since I moved in on a Saturday, I'd have to leave on a Saturday. Idiot.

On the bright side, I had asked my new flatmate Jane if I could drop stuff off to the flat a day early (I wasn't supposed to move into the place until Saturday) and when I got there, she said I could stay the night instead of going back to R & H's, so I moved into my new place yesterday! I have a double bed!! And a room to myself!!! It is SOOO good to have my own space.

I am also quite happy to have been removed from the (insert multiple expletives here) hostel. Staying there definitly wasn't one of the highlights of my trip so far - the hostel in Edinburgh was much better. Ah well, chalk it up to experience and move on!

The cost of moving / living here is rather extortionate though. So far for my new abode I have bought: 1 vacuum cleaner (40 pounds), 1 microwave (30), 1 bookshelf (10), 2 new quilts - or as they are know here - duvets (30), 2 new pillows (12), 1 mattress protector (5), 2 new duvet covers with 2 fitted sheets and 4 pillowcases (45), and a bottle of gin (12). So, it has cost me over 170 pounds so far (~A$400), and yes, every purchase was required...well, the bookshelf probably wasn't, but it is tiny, holds all my gear and only cost 10 pounds! But the gin definitely was. I really needed something to celebrate having a new house with and gin and tonic hit the spot... I think my body wanted the quinine. :)

However, I did know this, London being one of the most expensive cities in the world and all... it's just that knowing something, and experiencing something are two totally different kettles of fish...(?) (If anyone knows where that expression comes from, please let me know)... My point is, I am now feeling the pain of a pinching purse. It hurts! I do hope I get paid next week as promised!

Three kinds of pain in less than three days: Emotional Embarrasment, Physical Agony and Financial Discomfort... This is Sore & Wishful, signing off.

The Curious Case of the Aberrant Assumption; or, Shouting into the void…

I’d like to discuss a phenomenon that I have witnessed – in fact, one I have been party to for many years without realising – as it has now come home to bite me on the butt.

I had noticed, being a long time reader of JBS’s blog, that whilst he blogged his heart out, and as I read everything that happened in his life, I felt no need to contact him myself. I knew everything he wanted to tell the world, so what was there to talk about? I thought I knew what was going on with him. But what I failed to realise was that Jase had no idea what was going on in with me and that my lack of reciprocal communication meant he, to a certain degree, discounted me because he thought I wasn’t interested.

The same thing happened to Brads when he started to blog. In fact he wrote a rather explosive blog some months into his trip to try to get a rise out of his unresponsive audience – he thought no-one was reading, but in fact, we were – we had just failed to communicate the fact to him.

Now I am experiencing the same kind of isolating communication – and no, this is not a request for those of you who read this blog to communicate with me, but an observation of a curious gap in the awareness and behaviour between the blogging and non-blogging community.

Which brings us to the central question I guess: What is the purpose of a blog? Communication, by definition, is imparting information, so a blog is definitely a form of communication. Anyone and everyone can tell the world what they think of anything out there. But it is not specifically designed as a form of interaction. It does not pose questions to be answered nor is it directed towards a specific person. However, the way that a blog is written is very informal, and usually quite personal, and for a lot of us, we are using this medium to inform our friends in far off places what is happening in the world of us.

I believe that, because this kind of personal communication would usually take the form of a conversation, when you read a friends’ blog, your mind does an exceptional feat of mental acrobatics, believes that you have had a conversation with your friend and so assumes that they know what is going on in your world too. But of course they don’t.

So everyone who writes a blog to inform their friends of their daily activities is disappointed when they get no interaction. But then the writing of a blog is not actually a request for response, so why are we surprised by a lack of reciprocity?

In the wider blogging community it is accepted that you ‘comment’ on other peoples blogs, which provides the interaction side of the equation, but not all of us have been inducted into this behavioural pattern. There is actually a ‘comments’ section built into every blog. But blogging hasn’t been around long enough for a behavioural pattern dealing with it to have permeated into the general community. The only person who actually comments on my blog is Jase – who has a blog so knows the protocol.

Now, I have heard from a few of you very regularly, but this is generally because I’ve also sent out emails, in addition to the blog. My emails, directed even as they are to a group and not an individual, elicit the craved response which the blog does not.

Jase now knows how to deal with this phenomenon – he sends out emails of his blog, catching both the personal and impersonal sides to the coin of blogging. And now with the explosion in popularity of syndicated web feeds (RSS and Atom being a couple) and of dedicated feed readers, it will become even easier to keep up with the latest news about everyone.

It was only in his first period away that I lost contact with Jase, and I did realise that I hadn’t contacted him after a while, so I know my friends won’t loose touch with me completely, but still…

I find it interesting, how we as humans continually develop expectations of events in our lives without thoroughly considering the rationality of such a desire. A blog is not really a forum for interaction and yet I expected it to be. My wish for responses from by blog has been pretty well dashed, but I really didn’t think it through did I? Until the world blogs, I shall keep up my emails. I know you guys will respond to them!
Humans really are such strange creatures.

Sun Walking

Mad Dogs and Englishmen: I think I may have discovered why the poem came about.

This morning, walking my bit along Oxford Street, I found myself drawn inexorably to the meagre strip of sunlight to be found on the roads’ very edge, and I am not usually a sun-seeking person. My entire walk consisted, unconsciously for the main part, of getting as much sunlight as I possibly could. As I was hardly awake – no, let me rephrase – as I was somnolent, I didn’t recognise what I was doing until after my first coffee of the day kicked in, which was just now, but I was sun-walking. My body was unconsciously trying to soak up as much vitamin D as it possibly could in the shortest amount of time.

We think the English are mad for sitting on our beaches until a state of lobsterhood has been reached, but here it seems to be a biological drive for Londoners to obtain as much sunlight as possible, to store it up in effect, to get them through the winter months of no ‘D’. The sun here isn’t out often, and isn’t strong enough to burn – well, not lately anyway – so overexposure isn’t an issue. But underexposure is. I’ve heard several people refer to fears that this winter, the incidence of depression and mental illness will skyrocket as there hasn’t been enough sunlight this summer to provide Londoners the protection they need against the winter SADs. And my body is doing it’s darndest, by-passing my head completely, to get enough sun.

Very weird.

Cardiff: A Washout.

This weekend I was supposed to go to Cardiff, Wales, with Brads… supposed to being the operative words. It didn’t happen due to excessive rain… Rain in London, who’da thunk? But no, this was even excessive by English standards and has caused widespread flooding right across the west of England – Flooding to a level which hasn’t been seen since 1947 or so I’m told.

Of course, I didn’t know this when I got to Paddington station; which had been a minor feat in it’s own right as the tube system hadn’t liked the rain either. I had just watched, along with everyone else, the sky turning black at midday and the downpour that ensued. Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing and stared actually. It is supposed to be summer. No-one seems to believe it. But I have never seen so much rain come down in such a short period. An hour later the sky was blue again. But as a result, the Circle line was totally suspended due to flooding, the District, Northern and Hammersmith lines were all partially suspended and the Jubilee and Metropolitan (my routes home) were experiencing sever delays. In fact the only running lines were the Victoria and Piccadilly, which are usually the recipients of ‘Severe Delays’ and ‘Passenger Action’, so their passengers must have been laughing!

But anyway, I got to Paddington, picked up the train tickets and then saw the notices (That was stupid Kat, really stupid! Next time look BEFORE you pick them up!!!) – all the train services to the west of the country had been suspended… no one was going anywhere in fact. There was limited or no service to all destinations from Paddington.

So, no Wales.

Brads & I went and saw Harry Potter 5 instead.

The next day – a very wet Saturday – we did get to the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew as a tourist-action like substitute, but it was still raining, and we had to catch a bus when the District line got totally suspended (from being only partially suspended) when we were halfway there. The gardens were lovely and relaxing and I did get a few pictures, but you’ll have to wait until I move out of the hostel to see them, as the gear I need to transfer them onto the web is still at R & H’s.

So, now I am just waiting until I hear about the house… please, please, please whoever is out there – please can I get the house? I really, really would like to have a home again.

Foxes!

This morning, when I went downstairs to have breakfast, I saw three foxes playing on the lawn. I didn't even think to get my camera, I was so mesmerised by their antics. Two where playing like young kittens, jumping on each other, playing tug of war with ears and tails and generally looking like they were having a ball. The other was a little more dignified and contented itself with just investigating the garden. They are probably pests here, but they were so very cute!! One more English thing I never knew I wanted to see...

2nd Night at the Proms

On Saturday night I went to the 2nd Night at the Proms at the Royal Albert Hall. The first had already sold out, but Wow.... wow wow wow. I was seated on the prompt side of the stage, behind the cellos & double bases and the SOUND!!! I was in row 2, 2 from the end, for Prom 2.


The night's presenter was Richard E. Grant, and the theme of the night was English film music to celebrate the 60th year of BAFTA. And I was in heaven. Amongst music from Harry Potter, Much Ado About Nothing, the Dam Busters and Laurence of Arabia, it was an emotional roller-coaster. I was blown away. Most of the time I was grinning manically, when I wasn’t almost in tears. The hall’s organ was also deployed and boy was it amazing! I cold feel the sound through my feet! And being so near the brass section, we got all the blasts of volume you could desire. It was wonderful!! This was what I heard:

Walton: Battle of Britain - 'Battle In The Air' (5 mins)
Lambert: Anna Karenina – Suite (10 mins)
Vaughan Williams: The 49th Parallel - Prelude (2 mins)
Adler: Genevieve – Waltz (3 mins)
Maurice Jarre : Lawrence of Arabia - Theme (3.30 mins)
Easdale: The Red Shoes - Suite (15 mins)
Arnold: Bridge On The River Kwai – March (3 mins)
Ireland: The Overlanders – March – Scorched Earth (4.30 mins)
Sir Richard Rodney Bennett: Love Theme From 'Yanks' (3.30 mins)
Eric Rogers: Carry On... Medley (7 mins)
Patrick Doyle: Much Ado About Nothing - Overture (4.20 mins)
Stephen Warbeck: Shakespeare In Love (5 mins)
Debbie Wiseman: Wilde – Suite (4.30 mins)
John Powell/Harry Gregson-Williams: Chicken Run (4 mins)
Addison: A Bridge Too Far (3.30 mins)
John Williams : Harry Potter - Harry's Wondrous World (4.30 mins)
Coates: The Dam Busters (3.45 mins)

Lining up for tickets before hand was a minor nightmare: note to self, buy tickets at least the day before the performance next time! I waited in line for ¾ of an hour, only getting my tickets 15mins before the performance started, and there were MANY more people in the queue behind me.

Afterwards though, I had a surreal experience. Unlike almost every classical concert I’ve ever been to, where most of the patrons disappear into their cars and a traffic jam ensues, it seemed to me like the entire audience filed, in very orderly fashion, down the road to the nearest tube station… which was a good 10 minutes walk away. So for 10-15 minutes, I was part of a continuous stream of people walking from The Royal Albert to Knightsbridge Tube Station, and even though it was the middle of the night, I felt safer then than I have ever felt in London. I crossed the road at one stage, and checked out the procession: there were people as far as I could see in both directions. It was very like being in Sydney after the New Years Eve fireworks without any drunks! It was very cool.

London for me though is both Sunshine and Shadow; I both love and hate this city. I was depressed this morning. It was raining, and I am sick of my hostel after only two days and unhappy that I have to go back there, and the server at work went down overnight and didn't come back up for three hours and I have to produce over 1000 maps in the next week and a half... So, not happy. Then I went for a walk during lunch along Charing Cross Road, visited 6 bookshops in the space of 15 minutes before settling on one (needless to say, making a couple of purchases) and came back to work Euphoric... such a strange city.

My Head Hurts!

After 6 weeks off, it really ain't fun being back at work! I'm exhausted and the only reason is that I am having to concentrate all the time. I have to THINK! Oh No! She's using her brain!

It's a good job though - it's definitely challenging, there is plenty of work, and it isn't boring ...but I am SOOOOO Tired!

I don't much like being homeless though. Trying to find a house is just not something I can put a lot of energy into right now and it is something that requires a lot of energy here. One needs to be bright and bubbly when meeting potential housemates... which I just can't do! :s

Grr Argh ... *sigh*

Window Shopping Overload

I have been working for four days now and am located quite close to the centre of things in London - a place called Soho. And there are plenty of 'things' to explore. But I am overwhelmed! I am surrounded by an embarrassment of Shopping Riches - I don't know where start looking! Where should I go first, which direction to head, how to encompass such a huge range of possibilities...? so I've done virtually none. I've walked up and down Oxford street a couple of times, but I haven't really explored Totenham Court Road and haven't even been down Charing Cross Road (the 7th heaven district for book shops new and old) and that for me is showing incredible restraint. There is just too much to look at!

Although I do feel like every day I'm becoming a better city dweller. I've taken to getting off the Tube a couple of stops short of work and walking the rest of the way - rain, hail or shine - just so I can get some fresh air of a morning (and wake up truth to tell) and also to help me wind down of an evening... Walking against the crowds on Oxford street - stalking really - striding along at a cracking pace whenever possible - dodging kids and cyclists and people left, right and centre. Impatient when I'm stopped for even a moment of time and annoyed by random intrusions into my intended path. It's fun! And to think that I said I'd never live in Sydney because there are too many people there.... Ah well, live and learn!

The Beginning of the End...or the End of the Beginning?

Today and tomorrow are my last two days of Freedom. The end of my holidays and the beginning of a new career as a GIS Consultant - I have a job! But as I haven't received the contract yet, and I am supposed to start on Wednesday, I'm a little dubious as to the validity of the position it must be admitted! Anyway, I can hope - I have a starting time at least. Yay for me! I won't get paid until August though, so it won't seem quite real to me until then I don't think. Actual Pounds. Wow. Will be able to buy stuff... Mmmm... Stuff...

In the mean time I am looking for a place to live - which is proving more difficult than I had anticipated. This is more due to fact that I need to get my head around the amount of money I'll have to pay for accommodation (which is truly frightening!) and the difficulty of finding compatible housemates (people I can actually converse with in a language I speak) on the right tube line (so I can get into work in under an hour - honestly, it would be quicker to walk from some places!) and not within a neighbourhood which scares me silly (and there have been a couple I would just not feel safe living in) than actually finding a place because there seem to be loads...but then appearances are deceiving here. The process is interesting none the less.

I also visited some lovely places on the weekend. I went to the Borough Market with Richard on Saturday which was amazing - so many different vegetables! I hadn't seen a good majority of them in the flesh before, only on TV, so I was feeling very privileged to be able to touch and taste them -I wanted to buy samples of everything just so I could try them! I also got very wet for my first time in this country, as it absolutely poured with rain, so I feel like I've had a baptism of sorts and can feel myself truly introduced to England! I then visited Sarah and David (family friends) on Sunday and walked around Marylebone, visited the Farmers Market there and walked around Regents park (absolutely gorgeous!), and had tea in a lovely little cafe in the middle somewhere. So I'm now feeling more at home in this place. Have caught up with almost everyone I know here, but still have plenty of things I want to do, so it is all good.

So, all in all, I am quietly happy. I am scared of not finding a place and apprehensive about work and worried about money but I am also excited about visiting all the bookshops on Charring Cross Road, and amazed at being able to go to a different musical every week of the year and not repeat myself, and in awe that I can buy a ticket to go to Berlin next weekend if I so choose... I know for sure and certain that I am alive. And this is very, very good!