July 31. Day 213. Sweet tooth

I have a sweet tooth. I'm not afraid to admit it. There wouldn't be much point really. It's pretty obvious. But then again, when it comes to the question of sweet or savoury, I'm a determined fence sitter. The fact is, I've never met a carbohydrate I didn't like. I like the sugary type and those in chips and dips. I'm a human crow, a garbage guts.
The gummy bear shouldn't be part of the natural diet of the crow any more than it should be part of the diet of Susan. But the evidence suggests that neither of us does what we should, at least not all the time. I have not yet taken to picking up scraps off the ground like the crows at South Bank this afternoon. But I confess I admire their determination.
They clearly didn't find picking up the sweet treats all that easy but the best things in life are worth fighting for. If at first you don't succeed try, try again. And to think the world gives crows a bad wrap. So unfair. Now hand me a gummy bear.

July 30. Day 212. Extremely wooden

Monday mornings. Not exactly many people's favourite time of the week.
I have my first lecture of the week on Mondays. The attendance is normally pretty good which I have to say is a credit to the students. However, they are somewhat less "animated" than they might be later in the week or even later in the day.
I threaten to perform an interpretive dance. No-one wants to see that. I get a bit of a reaction, probably out of sympathy. There are wooden chainsaw carvings outside the lecture block. They show about as much animation as some of those in the lecture theatre. But then we head down the hill with time for a coffee break on the way and there's life in those little creatures after all. Clearly they are just not early birds, at least on Mondays.

July 29. Day 211. With Open Arms

I intend to file a lawsuit against the makers of fortune cookies. Today was QUT Open Day 2018. It's my annual opportunity to wear my employer's name close to my heart and sell the virtues of QUT Journalism. It is also my annual chance to see what freebies the other faculties and how they compare to those on offer by Creative Industries. I have been doing this for a large number of years and I note this - the number and quality of freebies is declining. In addition, our faculty seems to think our program doesn't need gimmicks to attract attention. Well, that's my way of justifying why we don't have many good freebies. Today I spent a bit of time roaming around the tents with my soon-to-be school leaver niece Cleo. We found the Business School most interesting. This may or may not have been to do with the M&Ms and Fortune Cookies. My fortune cookie said something like "He who climbs a ladder must begin at the first step". This may be good advice but that was not the fortune I needed to be told today. What I needed to be told was something like "Look left and right before crossing the road".
Just after opening and reading my cookie, I headed home. I was chatting to my nieces. I saw the parked car with my husband, son and dogs. I stepped off the footpath and would have been squashed under a car had strangers not yelled and pulled me back. I scared the life out of myself, the Uber driver and the onlookers. One moment of inattention from someone apparently smart enough to know better. The fortune cookie didn't predict that. Let's just say the future is looking far brighter than it might have been.

July 28. Day 210. Candid camera

 

There is something really captivating about a wedding. Really, it's the traditions and rituals that I find so interesting. Sure there's something to be said about the excuse to eat, drink and be merry. There's something about the most public of displays of affection. It's a great excuse to bring family and friends together. It's the bad speeches and often bad behaviour. But that's for the inner circle, the people actually invited to the wedding. I am drawn even when I see the weddings of strangers. I always check the dresses, the flowers, the suits. I watch the body language. I check out the cars and the photographers. I look at the hair. I perv on the jewellery and the shows and the accessories.  I can't help myself and if I have my camera handy, I'll take some photos. The truth is I rather prefer the candid shots of trying to walk in overly elaborate dresses and crazy high shoes. I enjoy watching how the group is organised and how it organises itself. Who stands where and how they talk to each other, it's all part of the ritual. It's the happiest day of someone's life and just watching that gives me joy. Today that happiness was at The Powerhouse at New Farm. I know that alcove well. We've had family photos taken right there. I know the professional photos will look awesome. I'm very happy with my not so poised shots. That's my ritual.

July 27. Day 209. Bursting my bubble

Sometimes I allow myself the indulgence of thinking I am a creative person. But then something comes along and bursts my bubble. I feel like I'm not even trying. So I walked through The Mall tonight. There was a bloke wearing a gas mask and using a collection of spray cans. His tools of trade included a whole range of spatulas and knives. A crowd gathered to watch him because his methods were as interesting as his art. I joined the crowd and watched for a bit. I walked on. And then there was a young woman. She was blowing bubbles. They were great big bubbles. They were huge and colourful. I was happy to stand and watch. Many people had other ideas. Their first instinct was to run and burst her bubble. The girl didn't seem to care. As long as people were interested, she didn't seem to care what the fate of her bubbles was. Her art was as transient as it was beautiful. You have to admire the art for arts sake attitude.

July 26. Day 208. I'm on fire

There was the drag act called Miss Poodle. Blokes walked in heels so high they gave me vertigo just looking at them. Trapeze artists, dancers, singers. Everywhere you looked were amazing performers. But in the end I had eyes for only one man. If I was superman he was my Kryptonite. It wasn't the patent leather, bum cheek exposing unitard, it wasn't the full body ink art. It wasn't the glitter hair. No, when push comes to shove my weakness is fire. I'm hypnotized by it. And Matthew Bonasia AKA Kryptonite is a man who knows what to do with a fire stick. The Boy&Girl Cabaret at the Tivoli tonight was a gender bending good time. Sexy and smooth, this was an all adult party for pyromaniacs - and those who like hot stuff of a different type.

July 25. Day 207. No Dramas

I'm old. Old enough to remember the repressive Bjelke Petersen years. Old enough to remember when the only place in Brisbane where same sex couples were visible was The Beat nightclub in The Valley.  Today's kids, they have no idea how much the world has changed in such a small time. It is this generation who will really eat up Lysa and Freeborn Dames at La Boite. For me, it was a little bit preachy and screechy but I fully understand that to get the power of sexual politics across to this new generation, you have to make big statements loud. And you have to do it through the mouths of young people if it is going to have any authority at all. As such, this production made a genius decision to work with QUT acting students. These are the voices this production needed. The young people in the opening night audience was clearing eating up this production. The opening night speeches were the most political I've heard in quite some time. I guess they had earned the right. Okay, I wasn't the biggest fan but I'm old enough to understand that it's not always about me. You can hear the younger member of the mother and son podcasting team try and tell me why I'm wrong here 

July 24. Day 206. The graduates

Things I hate about my job.
1. Marking
2. Meetings
3. Moderation.
In the interest of good taste and future employment I shall stick to the M words. It is easy to forget the good bits. However, this week marks the beginning of my 21st year working at QUT. I would not have survived this long if it wasn't for one thing - students. Twice a year I get to stop and reflect on that. Graduations are special. They are big milestone days. We live in a world that rewards success on the football field, the catwalk and the red carpet. But on graduation days we stop to reward academic excellence. I applaud that with both my hands and my heart and soul. I didn't actually get to attend today's graduation ceremony because I was teaching but I rushed down to QPAC to try and catch up with a graduate or two as they left the building. to those I didn't see goodbye and good luck. We shall all watch your careers with interest. Don't be strangers.

July 23. Day 205. Been There. Done that

If you think we've been here before, it's because we have.  In fact in recent times it has become far too familiar. Hospital home. Hospital. Repeat. It's frustrating for everyone especially the woman at the centre of it all, my neighbour Margaret. Last time she was home five days before being readmitted. The time before it was only three. She was barely in the door long enough for the birds and the dogs to realise the mince supply had been restored for it to be snatched away again. There have been times - many of them if I'm honest - when I've thought this has to be it. She won't be coming home. By now I should have learned that Margaret is made of stronger stuff. So she's back and the welcoming committee was ready. Let's hope the celebrations don't end prematurely.

July 22. Day 204. When I grow up

One day I will figure out what I want to do when I grow up ... or not. How 17-year-old are supposed to know is beyond me. So much pressure is put on Year 12 students in what it already a horrendously difficult year to choose a course of study. It was hard in 1982 when I finished school but let's face it the number of options has skyrocketed since. We had three unis. That's it. Now the number of unis has ballooned as has the number of private education colleges and courses. There was no such thing as a course in film and special effect make-up. Paramedicine  was not a university course. Walking through Tertiary Studies Expo (The provocatively named TSEXPO) today did my head in. So many choices - which is in equal measure awesome and terrifying. Just as well I'm in no hurry to work out what I want to do when I grow up.

July 21. Day 203. Food for thought

Do you ever wonder where your food comes from? If you are like me you probably think the fridge or the supermarket. On a good day perhaps the cafe or restaurant. Technically that's probably true but there's a growing movement that want us to think how the food got into the fridge, the supermarket or the cafe in the first place. Specifically they would have us by fresh, local produce in season. This is a more ethical, sustainable way of eating. Of course for lazy, hungry people like myself that argument only holds so much weight. We want delicious, affordable and available and local produce ticks all those boxes too. If you need any evidence of how this movement is winning hearts, minds and stomachs, you only had to visit South Bank today where the annual Regional Flavours event was in full swing. All the best people were there but more importantly the best food and drink was being served up to an adoring public who clearly have an appetite fort his sort of thing.

July 20. Day 201. The Unexpected Guest

 At one point of my life I owned all 66 detective novels and 14 short story collections written by Agatha Christie. I've seen The Mouse Trap many, many times (although I always forget who did it between viewings). In short, I'm an Agatha Christie fan girl. Perhaps, I'm just a bit of a crime fan girl given that the obsessive reading of Agatha Christie came after The Famous Five and before James Patterson. Now my bedtime listening choice is normally a true crime podcast because who  doesn't want to drift off to sleep to the details of a grizzly murder?
In today's crime world where DNA sequencing, facial recognition software, surveillance footage and forensic profiling are the buzz words, concepts such as "the little grey cells" seem kind of quaint. But I'm okay with quaint. It's piecing together the puzzle. It's swallowing then spitting out the red herring. It's figuring out if the smoking gun really is a smoking gun. It's my, perhaps macabre, happy place and tonight I was there at Nash Theatre's The Unexpected Guest. It was classic Christie. I changed my mind on Who Done It many times, just as Christie had intended it.  Here's a spoiler free review. Be my guest. I expect you to listen.

July 19. Day 20. You're Beautiful

It doesn't happen often so here goes. 1) a Broadway musical I haven't seen. No, I haven't seen Hamilton but I intend to correct that. However, what also doesn't happen often is that a photograph of me appears on the blog. Indeed that a photograph of me appears at all. But I brushed my hair and everything before going out tonight and didn't entirely feel as though I looked like a creature from the black lagoon.
And anyway a red carpet is a red carpet and a girl should not turn her back on the opportunity to walk down one, right?
For the record, I'm pretty happy to be associated with Carol King's music. To be honest, like the rest of the world I know songs from albums such as Tapestry. What I didn't know was the wonderful things she had written for others. What a woman. What a talent.
Beautiful, I say.

July 18. Day 199. Curve ball

Just when I think I have a plan, life has a way of throwing me a new one.
I thought I had this week mapped out. That was my first mistake. That would assume a very rare level of control that seems unlikely. There are many balls in the air so dropping one seems almost inevitable. Yesterday I got a phone call asking where my Ekka photo competition entries were. I had two hours to get them to the judges. Just put them in a cab, the said. You're only at Highgate Hill. This would be a fine plan except I hadn't actually chosen the pics much less printed or mounted them so I decided to thank them for their kindness in contacting me but admit defeat. There would be no entries this year. I felt a bit sad but resigned myself to it. And then late afternoon came a text. The entry deadline had been extended. This is good except #$%^. Time to pull one's finger out. So it's been crazy frantic but the images are now with the judges and it's now in their hands. So after running around like a blue-arsed fly I paused at Roma Street Parklands to walk the dogs and perhaps find the first entry for next year's competition. Once again, I promised myself to be more organised. Once again, I know next year it will be a crazy last minute rush and I'll end up submitting pics of birds. It's what I always do.

July 17. Day 198. Sweet as

 When it comes to choosing between sweet and savoury I make the only sensible decision - both. By both I don't mean the more modern trend such as salted caramel where sweet and savoury are in the same dish. I don't even mean bacon and maple syrup together. These are both fine options of which I thoroughly approve. It's just that if the world is divided between those who like sweet things and those who prefer it when things are a little spicy, I'm a firm fence sitter. I like both. Do you want entree or dessert? Yes. Why choose one. But having said that even I have limits. I think these were set in infancy. My Dad was a dentist and we didn't eat sweet things. There is NO WAY we'd have been allowed fairy floss EVER. Even now I happily walked by the free fairy floss being handed out at O Week. I know had I taken some I would have been shaken with the unmistakable conviction that my teeth were decaying in my mouth right then and there. I walked away into the gardens and watched baby ibis fight for lunch for a bit. That was just the right level of sweet.

July 16. Day 197. Taking off again

 Just when I allowed myself a second to think the workload might - just might - be dropping off a bit we've had lift off. It's Semester 2 O Week and that means the level of crazy is well and truly about to amp up. Still in 13 Weeks I'll be thinking
1) how time flies and
2) how insane I was to think I was tired before semester began.
All I can say is that I have now survived 20 full year and this semester marks the beginning of the 21st.
No wonder I feel tired.

July 15. Day 196. It's cold outside

 Every time the forecast is for unseasonally hot or cold weather the news bulletins always carry the same warning - check on the elderly. It almost goes in one ear and out the other. Yes, I visit my 90-year-old neighbour almost every day but I have long since given up suggesting a fan in summer or a blanket or heater in winter. She's not one to be told. I think we may have both learned a lesson today. Hyphothermia is a thing and it is not a thing you want - unless you like a trip to ambulance in hospital. The degree of confusion is really alarming. Until today, I'd never seen a warming blanket that heats by blowing hot air. It's pretty cool (pun intended). And with hot air and food inside her, Margaret was back to being much closer to her normal self by bedtime ... which in her world is 7pm. At least I will sleep well knowing she is in a warm hospital bed ....

July 14. Day 195. Quite the Powerhouse

As a woman it is supposed to be in my DNA to do two things at once. Possibly. Unfortunately the one thing I have yet to master is doing them in two different places at once even places not very far away from each other. This is unfortunate because that means you have to choose and I'm very bad at choosing. Tonight at the Brisbane Powerhouse (one of my favourite Brisbane venues) I had to walk past the set up for a Dead Puppets Society workshop performance AND the World Press Photography exhibition to get into the Visy Theatre.
Tricky stuff. I love the work of the Dead Puppet boys. Press is my chosen career and photography my chosen recreation but in the Visy Theatre was the one thing that tops all that - musical theatre. Done well that's my thing. The rest I just had to peek at and think "there's always next time".

July 13. Day 194. Hands off

Thought for today: "There are more ways of killing a cat than choking it with cream." Right now the issue on the table is privatising the ABC. Let's be honest, that's not going to happen.  Rural Australia won't let that. The Country Women's Association, The National Farmers Federation and the National Party none of them will see the ABC out of public hands. But the devil is in the detail. You can kill off the ABC in a death by one thousand cuts. Funding cut after funding cut, staff cut after staff cut, content cut after content cut and the ABC name may remain in public hands but it will be an empty shell of a public broadcaster. Those of us who love the ABC  are determined not to let that happen and we took to the streets today. A large crowd gathered outside the Russell Street studios to protest the latest in a long line of threats to the ABC. It was a very well mannered affair, considered and dignified. Actually I thought a bit more chanting and fist pumping would have been in order. I like a good chant - but that's not my reasoning. While the speeches were very motivating and well thought out they were preaching to the converted - literally. The message needs to be sent to politicians and governments who like to use the ABC as a whipping boy. It is the ultimate shoot the messenger target. A rowdy crowd gets TV coverage and TV coverage gets attention. It's as simple as that. These may not be the usual demographic for loud protests which is exactly why it would be so powerful. Give me a megaphone people.

July 12. Day 193. Sing. Sing out loud

 

My neighbour Margaret is quite hard of hearing. I know this because of the often weird conversations we have where the answers given often bare no relationship to the questions asked. I know this because of the volume at which she sets the TV. I know this because of the number of times I'm asked to repeat myself. But there were two clear signs early on, before we had as much to do with each other as we now do. Sign one. She asked me my son's name. Clearly my yelling OLIVER! had escaped her. But then there was the time I mentioned I was going to see him sing in a concert. "Oh," she said. "I didn't know he sang." Call the audiologist immediately. That boy is always singing and he sings with a great deal of gusto. To put it another way, he is really, really loud. I've always said he was born with a faulty volume switch. In a domestic situation, loud is not always an attribute. On stage, finding that can be your friend. That big strong voice was showcased at a singing concert tonight. A number of Fame students whose mothers pay for private singing lessons  (to quote my own joke) got to display their talents before a group of family and friends. It was a special kind of awesome. These performers are all still young but some I have watched develop for about a decade. It's so wonderful to see how both the talent and confidence has grown. That's something to be loud and proud about.

July 11. Day 192. Down a rabbit hole

It was my dad who first introduced me to the works of Lewis Carroll. He loved him. He would recite great chunks of text  about Alice's adventures. He was especially fond of the Walrus and the Carpenter and the Jabberwocky in particular. It makes me smile to think about how happy these rhymes would make him. As such, I've always felt a great deal of affection for the crazy tales that are Alice, even though it's a bit too out there for more normal taste. Indeed I sometimes think Carroll should follow his own advice  "begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop." That suggests something quite straight forward and linear. Alice is anything but. And so translating it for the stage and making sense of the "stuff and nonsense" is no easy task. But today I went down the rabbit hole with Alice at the Brisbane Powerhouse and it was an exciting journey. It was bright, colourful and zany. For a piece of children's theatre I have to say it looked beautiful. I couldn't help but think it would have received the Barry Hetherington seal of approval.

July 10. Day 191. Homecoming queen

 I've been here before. So many times. Too many times as it happens. But today Margaret was discharged from hospital. It has been quite the journey since June 1 and an ear infection. Two outpatient visits followed by being admitted. There was a hospital stay and a stint in rehab.
June 23 she came home - for a full three days before a fall.
There have been many a time I thought that she wouldn't be home again but no-one should count Margaret out. She's made of strong stuff and she's a woman who lives by the motto "there's no place like home".
There was a line up of feathers and fur ready to greet her shortly after she arrived. The mince was ready to go.
Let's hope it is far, far longer than three days this time.