I saw a friend, Christchurch City Councillor, Yani Johanson post this you tube clip on facebook. It reminded me of local news and it made my chuckle a bit.
I love it how parking rates rising can make news, from $2.60 - $2.90. I love the fresh-faced youthful newsreaders, who're both probably studying on the journalism course that I completed in 2006 - or they've just finished.
Good work Yani, I thought you were well-spoken and fluent in your media presence. Go Christchurch and local TV!
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
Peculiar pianos
Peculiarly placed pianos are popping up around London. I've spotted two of them; one in Soho Square the other on Liverpool Street outside Liverpool Station. It's a great idea. People seem to assemble around the piano and have turns at playing for each other. It's a nice way for people to connect with each other, share their creativity and be expressive. There seem to be a lot of talented, musical people about.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Lie or genuine break up?
After a few dates, he goes away for work for five days to Monte Carlo. We've planned a date for Monday. I don't hear from him... I text. He replies saying he's had a hellish few days. Says he can't talk about it in person or on the phone. He says he will email. The email arrives finally after much anticipation:
OK, no doubt you're curious. And I do owe you an explanation. I'll apologise in advance for it being a negative one.
Right, my life before I met you. I'd basically just got out of a 3 year relationship. We were engaged to be married, only broke up a matter of weeks ago. After a bout of suicide attempts I started seeing a psychologist, and, honestly, thought I was over everything. That was, until the other night, when I woke up the next morning with the most immense feeling partly of guilt, and partly of wanting to do everything I could to get back with my ex girlfriend. I don't know what the link is, but I came back from Monaco early and went straight to her house. A guy happened to be round there, fight broke out, etc etc... but I've basically now realised I'm totally not over my ex at all, not even close to it. I can't realistically be with anyone else right now, and have also just booked myself in with Dr. Mallberg, my psychologist, for a few more sessions as I'm obviously not as mentally stable as I once was. I'll try to e-mail you again when I've got things in my head a little clearer and I can send you thoughts that I'd totally confused and muddled.
Sorry.
Worst part was I actually quite liked him.
OK, no doubt you're curious. And I do owe you an explanation. I'll apologise in advance for it being a negative one.
Right, my life before I met you. I'd basically just got out of a 3 year relationship. We were engaged to be married, only broke up a matter of weeks ago. After a bout of suicide attempts I started seeing a psychologist, and, honestly, thought I was over everything. That was, until the other night, when I woke up the next morning with the most immense feeling partly of guilt, and partly of wanting to do everything I could to get back with my ex girlfriend. I don't know what the link is, but I came back from Monaco early and went straight to her house. A guy happened to be round there, fight broke out, etc etc... but I've basically now realised I'm totally not over my ex at all, not even close to it. I can't realistically be with anyone else right now, and have also just booked myself in with Dr. Mallberg, my psychologist, for a few more sessions as I'm obviously not as mentally stable as I once was. I'll try to e-mail you again when I've got things in my head a little clearer and I can send you thoughts that I'd totally confused and muddled.
Sorry.
Worst part was I actually quite liked him.
Saturday, 25 April 2009
lest we forget
I've never been interested in violence as a means to stop violence or resolve a problem. I think it's a disease that not only festers but multiplies; breeding fear, insecurity, displacement and despair.
It's ANZAC day. It's always a time where I like to honor what went before. Some may say this is possibly the same as honoring war. Call it what you will. I see it as honoring the choices that others made in our collective history. Or in some cases those that really didn't make much of a choice.
I have an ancestor (Great uncle) who "fought" in WWI. Private Henry Daikee was conscripted and refused to fight. I'm not convinced it was a refusal but more an inability. Some would've called him a coward. He would stand stock-still on the battle field and freeze. The trauma of the scenario left him rigid with fear. He was one of twenty-eight New Zealanders sentenced to death - five we executed. Henry was not one of them.
Henry first encountered war in Cordonnerie in early 1917 with the 1st Canterbury Battalion. The until suffered horrendous casualties; 442 were killed and died of wounds, 1328 were wounded and 19 missing.
Henry kept finding himself in front of a court martial while in combat due to his refusal to fight. The usual punishment was execution. Henry escaped this on several occasions, some would say he was lucky. In the end he made it back to New Zealand to spend the remainder of his life in a mental institution - he was labelled as having an unspecified mental illness.
The military discipline system was still learning about mental health during World War I. Terms such as shell shock, concussion, combat fatigue, fear, and stress were not seen as excuses for desertion. The horror of war left him unable to function on his own. I know little of how his life panned out in this institution - I am yet to gently quiz my grandma on this... My great uncle was not really talked about openly in the family. The first time I heard about him was when an article came out in 1998 - I found grandma copying the article and I asked to have one; which I later used for my 6th form history project. Henry died in a Nelson mental institution 1957.
I look at my generation and I feel so far removed from the life-long suffering Henry would've endured. I have such an easy life in comparison and to me ANZAC is about honouring the lives of our many ancestors. They had such a different experience of life.
It's ANZAC day. It's always a time where I like to honor what went before. Some may say this is possibly the same as honoring war. Call it what you will. I see it as honoring the choices that others made in our collective history. Or in some cases those that really didn't make much of a choice.
I have an ancestor (Great uncle) who "fought" in WWI. Private Henry Daikee was conscripted and refused to fight. I'm not convinced it was a refusal but more an inability. Some would've called him a coward. He would stand stock-still on the battle field and freeze. The trauma of the scenario left him rigid with fear. He was one of twenty-eight New Zealanders sentenced to death - five we executed. Henry was not one of them.
Henry first encountered war in Cordonnerie in early 1917 with the 1st Canterbury Battalion. The until suffered horrendous casualties; 442 were killed and died of wounds, 1328 were wounded and 19 missing.
Henry kept finding himself in front of a court martial while in combat due to his refusal to fight. The usual punishment was execution. Henry escaped this on several occasions, some would say he was lucky. In the end he made it back to New Zealand to spend the remainder of his life in a mental institution - he was labelled as having an unspecified mental illness.
The military discipline system was still learning about mental health during World War I. Terms such as shell shock, concussion, combat fatigue, fear, and stress were not seen as excuses for desertion. The horror of war left him unable to function on his own. I know little of how his life panned out in this institution - I am yet to gently quiz my grandma on this... My great uncle was not really talked about openly in the family. The first time I heard about him was when an article came out in 1998 - I found grandma copying the article and I asked to have one; which I later used for my 6th form history project. Henry died in a Nelson mental institution 1957.
I look at my generation and I feel so far removed from the life-long suffering Henry would've endured. I have such an easy life in comparison and to me ANZAC is about honouring the lives of our many ancestors. They had such a different experience of life.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
G20
I woke in a hazy apathetic daze and had a faint recollection that it was the start of the G20 summit in London.
Activism for Dummies: if you're really unsure of what is going on, google really basic things like "protest, today, LONDON" ... or, "April 1st, G20 protest". Thankfully mainstream news are on top of things and are sure to give away vital clues like where the pandemonium is set to unfold. Although in this case it was hard to miss; there were so many people. I am really out of the loop these days; long gone are the times when I was organising anti-war protests, planning animal rescues or getting trespass warnings. I have pretty much entered the retired home of activism's geriatrics.
After some pretty basic research I realised that the event was set to unfold right on my doorstop. "Shit, I will have to get the tube to Bank from Liverpool Street". I realised pretty quickly despite my foreign-ignorance that I could actually walk there pretty damn fast.
Earlier that morning I'd popped into HSBC to get a cheque issued in New Zealand dollars in order to post off to get a replacement drivers license (mine was stolen). The teller informed me that the street would be taken over later today.
On the way home from the bank three dozen "anarchist" black-block sprinted past with things rattling in their pockets. Either rocks or their mobiles - I was unsure. Two rotund policemen ran after them cursing under their breath.
There was a general quiet on the streets - not the usual hustle and bustle of Bishopsgate. The calm before the storm.
After getting home from the bank I decided to go back out and observe the protest... from a purely journalistic perspective... well that's what I told myself.
The first set of gatherers I encountered were the climate camp activists; those coming from the environmental activist perspective. Campaigning, they say, against policy that perpetually degrades the environment... using slogans like "Nature doesn't do bail outs." This lot were calm, relaxed and on-the-whole pretty chipper. They had the best live music playing and the more colourful dancing. They'd erected tents along the roadside and were sharing delicious looking food. The police formed a block at one end. Nothing seemed to be happening. I walked on to the Bank of England.
Walking toward the protest - roars of cheering and screaming rolled down the road. A couple of policemen passed me yawning; an unusual sign. All four corners of the area in front of the Bank of England and St Paul's were completely blocked. I managed to make it in for about ten minutes, but it was impossible to see what was happening. There were no loud speakers. The police moved in and created blocks on every entrance, then left a gap and created another block; at times six policemen thick. From where I was standing protestors were reserved and not challenging police at all. It was said that protesters had broken into RBS and set up camp. I didn't see this. The police I saw were pretty rigid and when challenged were exercising the excuse that they'd been up since 7am. There was a sense of performance about the event. The police immediately playing a role that curtailed even when things were friendly and far from out-of-hand.
All the exclusive shops were well boarded. Activists mingled with local office workers - there were hundreds of photographers and media present. All-in-all it was hard to see what was going on.
A lot of effort had gone in on the part of activists to create witty slogans, costumes and colourful flags to put up by scaling lamp-posts. People were hanging off famous monuments and from subway signs.
My admiration goes out to people who dedicate time to raising awareness of the problem with the current economic structure. Congratulations to Jesus and the Grim reaper; two key performers in today's activities.
I returned to HSBC, as requested, at 4pm to pick up my cheque in NZ$ for 31.10 - but the bank had closed early.
Activism for Dummies: if you're really unsure of what is going on, google really basic things like "protest, today, LONDON" ... or, "April 1st, G20 protest". Thankfully mainstream news are on top of things and are sure to give away vital clues like where the pandemonium is set to unfold. Although in this case it was hard to miss; there were so many people. I am really out of the loop these days; long gone are the times when I was organising anti-war protests, planning animal rescues or getting trespass warnings. I have pretty much entered the retired home of activism's geriatrics.
After some pretty basic research I realised that the event was set to unfold right on my doorstop. "Shit, I will have to get the tube to Bank from Liverpool Street". I realised pretty quickly despite my foreign-ignorance that I could actually walk there pretty damn fast.
Earlier that morning I'd popped into HSBC to get a cheque issued in New Zealand dollars in order to post off to get a replacement drivers license (mine was stolen). The teller informed me that the street would be taken over later today.
On the way home from the bank three dozen "anarchist" black-block sprinted past with things rattling in their pockets. Either rocks or their mobiles - I was unsure. Two rotund policemen ran after them cursing under their breath.
There was a general quiet on the streets - not the usual hustle and bustle of Bishopsgate. The calm before the storm.
After getting home from the bank I decided to go back out and observe the protest... from a purely journalistic perspective... well that's what I told myself.
The first set of gatherers I encountered were the climate camp activists; those coming from the environmental activist perspective. Campaigning, they say, against policy that perpetually degrades the environment... using slogans like "Nature doesn't do bail outs." This lot were calm, relaxed and on-the-whole pretty chipper. They had the best live music playing and the more colourful dancing. They'd erected tents along the roadside and were sharing delicious looking food. The police formed a block at one end. Nothing seemed to be happening. I walked on to the Bank of England.
Walking toward the protest - roars of cheering and screaming rolled down the road. A couple of policemen passed me yawning; an unusual sign. All four corners of the area in front of the Bank of England and St Paul's were completely blocked. I managed to make it in for about ten minutes, but it was impossible to see what was happening. There were no loud speakers. The police moved in and created blocks on every entrance, then left a gap and created another block; at times six policemen thick. From where I was standing protestors were reserved and not challenging police at all. It was said that protesters had broken into RBS and set up camp. I didn't see this. The police I saw were pretty rigid and when challenged were exercising the excuse that they'd been up since 7am. There was a sense of performance about the event. The police immediately playing a role that curtailed even when things were friendly and far from out-of-hand.
All the exclusive shops were well boarded. Activists mingled with local office workers - there were hundreds of photographers and media present. All-in-all it was hard to see what was going on.
A lot of effort had gone in on the part of activists to create witty slogans, costumes and colourful flags to put up by scaling lamp-posts. People were hanging off famous monuments and from subway signs.
My admiration goes out to people who dedicate time to raising awareness of the problem with the current economic structure. Congratulations to Jesus and the Grim reaper; two key performers in today's activities.
I returned to HSBC, as requested, at 4pm to pick up my cheque in NZ$ for 31.10 - but the bank had closed early.
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