All That's Good Friday

There have been a number of positive developments in my life lately. A Zadie Smith essay in 'Feel Free' inspired me to join the Randwick City Libraries, and I've already checked out my first book, a smashing, powerhouse novel called 'America is Not the Heart'. I've also attended my first author talk by the charismatic Jane Caro, who promoted her brand new 'Accidental Feminists' at my closest branch! 

In all the fabulously sculpted words Smith used to leave the impression that libraries are worth saving, it was her tribute to their non-capitalistic credentials - that is, that you don't need to spend money to spend time in a library - that moved my curiosity and saw me walk in the door. 

I am not a paper book sentimentalist - Kindle was the tool that sparked my reading voyage. I felt that I was tricking myself into reading instead of spending the time browsing the net, just by virtue of being in front of a screen. Now, it's the faith I've accumulated in the world of published narratives that sees me taking a chance on a novel (for I usually stick to non-fiction) in its hard copy version. 

Perhaps this is the next step of me embracing an identity as a reader. 

Reading is not the only thing that happens in libraries: I've noticed an art class every Tuesday, and have picked up the equipment to join: a sketch pad and a charcoal pencil. Let's see what happens next week... 

In terms of books I've read this month, there was 'Not That Bad', Roxane Gay's immersive collection of essays on rape culture, which retraumatised me at times, but felt crucial to my understanding of how our society operates. How can something debilitating that affects so many women be so monumentally hushed up? Violently swept under the carpet. Airbrushed out of mainstream discourse. To talk about my experience as a victim of rape and sexual assault is to retraumatise myself, but to stay silent is to be complicit in patriarchy's sadism. It can feel like a lose-lose situation, but thankfully feminist movements like #prataomdet and #metoo have got us talking, and the number of people willing to speak out is too big to be shut down. 

'The Nordic Theory of Everything' by Anu Partanen was most interesting for me when she focused on the strengths of the Nordic "well-being" states, and less so when she tried to endear herself to an American audience by extolling that country's virtues. There is so much to learn from that clutch of European countries, like 'the Swedish/Nordic theory of love', which is that if you supply each individual with the tools they need to be independent of each other, then, and only then, can genuine loving relations flourish. The 'love' is any kind of warm bond between two people, be it child and parent, a friendship, or a romantic relationship. If you're not dependent on someone, you're free to meet them on equal terms within the relationship, which leads to greater happiness all around. 

The best yearly phase of my relationship with my parents is when I've saved up enough of my own money to go overseas, and call back to Australia in the warm glow of my independence, so I would say that this 'theory of love' makes instinctive sense to me. 

**What does it say about the quality of the heterosexual relationships when the guy is *still* the one expected to pay for the dinner date? What about when the woman gives birth and takes time out of *her* career to be financially dependent on the guy? Do heterosexual relationships in Australia (or the US) really have much chance at being truly equal? I think not.**

I think this is a good place to end this post. Perhaps I'll write some more about the books I've read soon. 

Clarity

Seeking clarity is a dangerous thing
20/20 vision to size up the stings
Administered to your flesh
It's a powerful thing -
The force against you

Burgeoning aptitude but
Who really cares
The skill set you work on
Erased or displaced

I think it's a powerful thing
Extra duty perception
When the visionary does sing
People can stop and listen

*

And the sad thing, though
Is that she doesn't know
What she's up against
There are too many menaces
There are too many stories
To follow, to disavow

And the sharpest thing she's got
Is still her mind
And that's a lot
But how?

She's supposed to have lost
Long ago
Surrendered the narrative
The overarching control

Finding a reason to shine
Is the hardest thing in the world
When she's up against dullness
In every sense of the word

Detecting the salient
Cause for disruption
It takes motivation
Dedication to clarity

Plodding through the earth

Have you ever noticed how, when someone spends most of their time living in a suitably conspicuous city, they tend to conflate it with the entire country? I used to think of myself as living in "Australia" more specifically than Sydney, though recent visits to places like Melbourne and Hobart have changed that. I do catch myself saying that I spent two days in "New Zealand" though, knowing that I can get away with it by having flown to one of its two major cities.

My time in Welly was fleeting, but it perked me up somewhat. Insomnia forgot to make way for holidays, I came back home so I could sleep soundly. Or at all. I felt the kindness, though. The leadership style flowing, top-down. Jacinda Ardern's presence being felt in a way that reminded me of Julia Gillard's effect on my society. As another female commentator noted, we recognise in Ardern's empathy, compassion and solidarity with the Muslim community our own repressed need for same. For too long has Australia been steered by psychically damaged, misogynistic homophobes and shift racists. Please, for all our sakes, let's change the game.

My dad beats me up emotionally for my political imagination - he finds it mostly incomprehensible and definitely unpleasant that I root for the Nordic countries and "hate" the US & UK. (Even though I don't hate them - I just think their more rightwing tendencies are not serving their considerable leftwing populations. There is hope for us all.) He is an attack dog, cruel and sadistic.

But nothing can shake my Democratic Socialist convictions, even though sometimes it feels like I am psychically mauled. Sometimes, I need time to recover from the bruising. Like right now. It takes time for my imagination to reassert myself: those Nordic countries are a long way away. I'll be back and it will soothe me, and I will renew my visions, but now I feel squeezed. Right now I feel like lashing out in non-violent ways. Something has been punctured within me. 

Disowning my suffering

I am no stranger to distress

Society has told me I should

Push it down so that 

It doesn't notice

Collect dust

I become one

Of the ignorant souls

Disowning my suffering 

Unearthing

The last week has been a dramatic one, and drama can often lead to the type of anxiety that prevents me from shining. I am plagued by the annoying urge to somehow find that a university education would be just the thing to ride off into the sunset with. There are no doubt benefits to having a diploma I can then use to access jobs, and I'm not too old to study. But when I gain access to the course, I feel overwhelmed. It all gets too much, and the commitment scares me. I reach a thick wall of can't.

Maybe even writing about this is part of the addiction to 'quick fixes'... and my respect-starved way of reminding myself that past academic success (still) makes me eligible for most of the top universities in this town. According to Johann Hari, we human beings each have a need for respect within our communities. It doesn't do great things for my self esteem that I am stuck in a sort of existential void: neither studying nor working. Maybe I need more therapy? A thoroughly intensive type?

Let's go back to the concept of riding into the sunset... I have a fantasy that I will get my life "back together" to conform to someone else's notion of perfect. Without knowing much about me, a Facebook friend opined that I seemed like a Golden Girl. Well, maybe one day 'a Golden Girl' will encompass the development of various mental health disorders. Probably not anytime soon, though. I don't feel I'm ready to be the Germaine Greer, agenda-setting writing sensation, for the cause of disability rights... worthy as that would be. I'm okay, though. I'm surviving. I'm getting through. Occasionally, I reach new summits. I want to learn. Curiosity is my stimulant of choice.

My curiosity led me to book a ticket to Wellington, New Zealand for this Tuesday.

The Fear of Insanity

I am someone who enjoys listening in on random conversations in a café setting. Very often, the conversation will reach a point when one person declares, “it’s crazy!” about something they have evoked. I do believe we each have a fearful side of ourselves that is always censoring our public discourse with in/sanity in mind. I used to know someone who didn’t want to write down their thoughts in the medium of long-form email, because they didn’t want to unintentionally write something that seemed crazy. They preferred to get constant feedback on their conversation in person.  What to do with a society which collectively fears having thoughts so outside the norm that they are stigmatised?

Sometimes I think the only difference between those locked up in psychiatric wards and the those who are not is their ability to signal sanity. To participate in modern Australian society is to continually affirm the righteousness of your worldview, and to exclude those that don’t play along.

Sometimes I am scared to think in certain ways. How much of society’s norms can I challenge without being seen as a lost cause? Do I have the energy to question everything? “Question everything” may be a good motto, especially when you’re a teenager or in your early twenties, and that questioning is foundational, but what happens when you wake up to a new reality where you have to choose a few norms to conform to for the sake of navigating the world in a simple and/or safe manner?

I mourn my lost explorer, my Alternative Reality Generating Mindset, my ‘question everything’ mode. I’m not sure what I have gained is ethically sound from the most radical of perspectives. (Perspectives I still have affinity with.) But I will keep modifying myself in relation to my environment. I will strike the balance necessary to remain safe in this world, with all the compromise that it involves. Perhaps kind and revolutionary souls will build on my work in the present and future, as I have noticed them doing in the past.

The Climate Change Refugee That Can’t Be

The trend for Australians to move to the colder climates of countries such as New Zealand, Northern Europe, Canada and possibly Japan seems weak as yet. I found what the ABC described as ‘anecdotal evidence’ that people are moving to Hobart and Tasmania from places like Queensland, Melbourne and Sydney. But how long before we reach a tipping point of climate change immigrants flowing out of this country, into ones better able to handle the pressure?

HSBC (and possibly others) recently ranked the OECD countries accordng to how vulnerable they were to climate change, and how prepared they were to deal with the consequences. The five countries with the best scores were Finland, Sweden, Norway, Estonia and New Zealand. The US and Australia were two of the worst performing rich countries. 

Now, I am not in a position to relocate. I dont have the financial power to pack up and leave my parents home, and they havent identified global warming as the threat that it is. But I can gather information and be ready to act when the opportunity finally comes around. I just hope that immigration laws wont work against me. Which is why I’m anxiously identifying the trends that shape them.