Suddenly my blog is a symphony in ... brown. I would never have thought it.
Anyway, this is just to let you know that, having asked your opinions a couple of weeks ago, I am going away on holiday tomorrow with a friend of mine to the Mackenzie Country. We'll be staying at Lake Tekapo for two nights and hopefully going to Mount Cook for a daytrip - if the weather behaves, fingers crossed. It's my 22nd birthday tomorrow so it feels like a fantastic birthday present! I'll probably thrust on the blogosphere a very long-winded and photo-filled blog post on my return.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
who am I?
Now, a title like that can't be encouraging if you're looking for a breezy, lighthearted blog post. Rest assured I'm not going down an existential path here... more a geographic one.
As I said several posts before, I've been craving the mountains. Specifically, New Zealand mountains. I couldn't stop thinking about them while I was away from New Zealand last year; sometimes I felt like being away from things that felt the same way as those mountains made it harder and harder for me to do the ordinary things like breathe... Sounds dramatic when I write it like that! As beautiful as Australia is, and as good a time as I had there, it is just so completely different to this country. I felt oppressed by the heat, by the redness, by the smallness. That doesn't make a lot of sense because Australia is vast and empty whereas New Zealand is small and a lot of Australians feel quite claustrophobic here, apparently. But being in Australia felt, for me, like everything was on a tiny scale, vertically. You could drive for hours without approaching any sort of gradient.
Anyway, this is a tangent. What I mean to say is that I know I am a New Zealander because of this, my love for the land and the seas of New Zealand that make me miss them desperately whenever I'm away for long. At risk of going overboard, I feel a connection to the environment around me. And also to the people - I feel I belong with them and I understand them, even if I don't always get along with them. We are all equal.
I think this is quite recent among New Zealanders. Not that long ago - one or two generations - Pakeha* New Zealanders still talked about Britain as Home, and felt completely out of place in New Zealand. One of my favourite poets, Allen Curnow, wrote in the 1930s a poem that expressed this, ending with the couplet:
"Not I, some child, born in a marvellous year,
Will learn the trick of standing upright here."
In a detective novel I've been reading, written by New Zealand's Ngaio Marsh in 1943, this is expressed as well, in a suspicion of the natural environment.
The main character is looking at a poster of the English Cotswolds.
"It made Dikon, the New Zealander, ache for England. By shifting his gaze slightly, he saw, framed in the sitting-room window, a landscape aloof from man. Its beauty was perfectly articulate yet utterly remote. Against his will he was moved by it as an unmusical listener may be profoundly disturbed by sound forms that he is unable to comprehend. He had travelled a great deal in his eight years' absence from New Zealand and had seen places famous for their antiquities, but it seemed to him that the landscape he now watched through the Claires' window was of an early age far more remote than any of these. It did not carry the scars of lost civilisation. Rather, it seemed to make nothing of time, for it was still primeval and its only stigmata were those of neolithic age. Dikon, who longed to be in London, recognised in himself an affinity with this indifferent and profound country, and resented its attraction."
Well, Curnow's prediction seems to have come true. I feel able to "stand upright here", sure of myself and my surroundings, with the result that a lot of Ngaio Marsh's book just annoys me, with all of her references to the "terrible New Zealand dialect" and all the people longing for England and all of England's constraints. It's not against my will that I love the New Zealand landscape as my own landscape. There are still issues - it's difficult now to be unaware of the cost to the Maori of European settlement, and I recognise that the Maori have a claim on the land that goes deeper than the European claim. I will never be quite "indigenous".
Here comes the problem. I was talking recently to my supervisor, who is Welsh, who is extremely well-travelled, and who knows I want to see Europe someday. After asking me about my passions, which all turn out to be cultural - music, literature, drama - he said to me, "you know, you are actually a product of Europe. When you get there, you will understand what I mean." And he also said, "when you are in England or in Europe you really have a sense of walking on the bones of your ancestors."
Suddenly I'm aware of this tension. Maybe it was easier to be one of those past New Zealanders who never really settled down here, always looking back "Home", never becoming anything other than British. I am, I think, as much a New Zealander as it's possible to be, and I am part of the landscape now, but I am also drawn to Europe, to where my roots are, to the culture that has influenced me the most. And I'm not quite sure if I'll ever balance this. Maybe, after all, I haven't quite learnt the trick of standing upright here yet. If I'm here, maybe I'm not fulfilling myself in a cultural sense. If I'm away, I'll be longing to come back and be where I belong, physically and geographically.
We are still a young country, obsessed with these questions of nationhood. Maybe we all feel this tension; after all, the places we talk about as our nation's roots are on battlefields far away - Gallipoli, the Somme, North Africa, Crete, Monte Cassino... Who are we? How are we different from Europe, from America, from Australia? (Especially Australia!) Why is it that everyone else seems so secure in their nationhood and we are still confused? If anyone else can tell me exactly how long it will take, that would be great!
* Pakeha = of European descent
As I said several posts before, I've been craving the mountains. Specifically, New Zealand mountains. I couldn't stop thinking about them while I was away from New Zealand last year; sometimes I felt like being away from things that felt the same way as those mountains made it harder and harder for me to do the ordinary things like breathe... Sounds dramatic when I write it like that! As beautiful as Australia is, and as good a time as I had there, it is just so completely different to this country. I felt oppressed by the heat, by the redness, by the smallness. That doesn't make a lot of sense because Australia is vast and empty whereas New Zealand is small and a lot of Australians feel quite claustrophobic here, apparently. But being in Australia felt, for me, like everything was on a tiny scale, vertically. You could drive for hours without approaching any sort of gradient.
Anyway, this is a tangent. What I mean to say is that I know I am a New Zealander because of this, my love for the land and the seas of New Zealand that make me miss them desperately whenever I'm away for long. At risk of going overboard, I feel a connection to the environment around me. And also to the people - I feel I belong with them and I understand them, even if I don't always get along with them. We are all equal.
I think this is quite recent among New Zealanders. Not that long ago - one or two generations - Pakeha* New Zealanders still talked about Britain as Home, and felt completely out of place in New Zealand. One of my favourite poets, Allen Curnow, wrote in the 1930s a poem that expressed this, ending with the couplet:
"Not I, some child, born in a marvellous year,
Will learn the trick of standing upright here."
In a detective novel I've been reading, written by New Zealand's Ngaio Marsh in 1943, this is expressed as well, in a suspicion of the natural environment.
The main character is looking at a poster of the English Cotswolds.
"It made Dikon, the New Zealander, ache for England. By shifting his gaze slightly, he saw, framed in the sitting-room window, a landscape aloof from man. Its beauty was perfectly articulate yet utterly remote. Against his will he was moved by it as an unmusical listener may be profoundly disturbed by sound forms that he is unable to comprehend. He had travelled a great deal in his eight years' absence from New Zealand and had seen places famous for their antiquities, but it seemed to him that the landscape he now watched through the Claires' window was of an early age far more remote than any of these. It did not carry the scars of lost civilisation. Rather, it seemed to make nothing of time, for it was still primeval and its only stigmata were those of neolithic age. Dikon, who longed to be in London, recognised in himself an affinity with this indifferent and profound country, and resented its attraction."
Well, Curnow's prediction seems to have come true. I feel able to "stand upright here", sure of myself and my surroundings, with the result that a lot of Ngaio Marsh's book just annoys me, with all of her references to the "terrible New Zealand dialect" and all the people longing for England and all of England's constraints. It's not against my will that I love the New Zealand landscape as my own landscape. There are still issues - it's difficult now to be unaware of the cost to the Maori of European settlement, and I recognise that the Maori have a claim on the land that goes deeper than the European claim. I will never be quite "indigenous".
Here comes the problem. I was talking recently to my supervisor, who is Welsh, who is extremely well-travelled, and who knows I want to see Europe someday. After asking me about my passions, which all turn out to be cultural - music, literature, drama - he said to me, "you know, you are actually a product of Europe. When you get there, you will understand what I mean." And he also said, "when you are in England or in Europe you really have a sense of walking on the bones of your ancestors."
Suddenly I'm aware of this tension. Maybe it was easier to be one of those past New Zealanders who never really settled down here, always looking back "Home", never becoming anything other than British. I am, I think, as much a New Zealander as it's possible to be, and I am part of the landscape now, but I am also drawn to Europe, to where my roots are, to the culture that has influenced me the most. And I'm not quite sure if I'll ever balance this. Maybe, after all, I haven't quite learnt the trick of standing upright here yet. If I'm here, maybe I'm not fulfilling myself in a cultural sense. If I'm away, I'll be longing to come back and be where I belong, physically and geographically.
We are still a young country, obsessed with these questions of nationhood. Maybe we all feel this tension; after all, the places we talk about as our nation's roots are on battlefields far away - Gallipoli, the Somme, North Africa, Crete, Monte Cassino... Who are we? How are we different from Europe, from America, from Australia? (Especially Australia!) Why is it that everyone else seems so secure in their nationhood and we are still confused? If anyone else can tell me exactly how long it will take, that would be great!
* Pakeha = of European descent
Sunday, October 19, 2008
2008
So my academic year is over, and I am no longer an inhabitant of the Honours Room. Honestly, I feel like I should be declared Citizen, or at least Resident, of it because I've spent so much time there this year. It's almost sad to go, especially when I think that hardly any of the people who have made this year so much fun will be continuing next year.
In honour of them and in honour of the big room full of desks that became like a second home, I present ... [drum roll] ... HONOURS ROOM QUOTES of 2008. These were recorded faithfully over the year on four big pieces of paper we had stuck on the wall. Some were quotes from history books we happened to be reading which we found particularly amusing, others were quotes from us which were particularly funny, especially out of context. I'm not including all, because some could be interpreted as ... inappropriate. But almost everything we said this year that we thought worthy of immortality is on this post.
The characters have been listed before, in the Honours Room Murder Mystery. But one term you may need to know is:
480 - this was the university coding for our Research Paper/dissertation/thesis - whatever you would like to call it.
And wisdom of the Honours students
Several of the same theme, which just had to be recorded for the utter irony...
27 April: "I think my 480's going to be quite straightforward."
Amendment #1, 1 July 2008: "Oh f***."
Eric.
3 June: "As soon as I hand in this essay, the rest of the year's going to be really really easy."
Bella.
31 July: "Screw everyone, I'm doing what I want now."
Allison.
Allie and Bella, a friendship of discovery:
Q: Why do dictators have moustaches? (Allie)
A: Because they're stupid. (Bella)
Q: Why do Marxists write in the future tense? (Allie)
A: Because they're stupid. (Bella)
Q: Anything.
A: Ask Michael [our supervisor].
Also related to our brilliant supervisor:
"Michael doesn't read books. He absorbs through osmosis."
Josh.
Out of context creepiness:
"I wish I was Stalin. You can be Trotsky, 'cos you've got glasses."
Allie. I promise you, this made perfect sense in context.
"Murder is always very relaxing."
Allie. Ditto.
"It's not mass murder, it's purifying the human race."
Nathan. Again, out of context.
"It takes a pretty honest man to send hundreds of thousands of men to their deaths."
Nathan. Seriously out of context.
Blame alcohol:
"The frog was saying, 'Eric, you're my man'."
Eric.
"There is an inherent flaw in the fact that there is beer in the fridge."
Eric.
General:
"I need to be hit with the motivation stick."
Liz.
"Kill, maim, eviscerate."
Eric.
"Mugabe doesn't count as a standard guy."
Bella.
"I'm going to go slap von Ranke around for a little while, show him who's boss."
Eric. This needs explanation: Leopold von Ranke, the father of modern academic history, was the subject of one of Eric's essays.
"Now Allie, the Engineers Registration Act of 1924 is always relevant."
Bella.
"Roosevelt and Hitler: Brothers in Arms."
Eric. Who thought this would be a bad/awesome title for a thesis.
Coining of new words:
"Mortopsy" (Bella)
"Reconstored" (Eric)
"Chroniclology" (Eric)
"Noviet" (Allie - Nazi + Soviet)
Literary historians are "literaristorians"? "literistorians"? "literians"? "literararians"? (Allie, Bella)
And finally:
"We're here to learn?!"
Bella.
In honour of them and in honour of the big room full of desks that became like a second home, I present ... [drum roll] ... HONOURS ROOM QUOTES of 2008. These were recorded faithfully over the year on four big pieces of paper we had stuck on the wall. Some were quotes from history books we happened to be reading which we found particularly amusing, others were quotes from us which were particularly funny, especially out of context. I'm not including all, because some could be interpreted as ... inappropriate. But almost everything we said this year that we thought worthy of immortality is on this post.
The characters have been listed before, in the Honours Room Murder Mystery. But one term you may need to know is:
480 - this was the university coding for our Research Paper/dissertation/thesis - whatever you would like to call it.
Wisdom of historians
"Only in terms of alcohol consumption was the East outstripping the West."
Mazower on Eastern Europe under Communism.
"When I was first a research student, my supervisor said to me, quite seriously, at the end of the first term: 'Now don't work every day of the vacations; do take Christmas Day off.' I fear that I took Boxing Day off as well."
Elton.
"Shakespeare predicts Trotsky betraying the Soviet Union for Fascism."
Lion Feuchtwanger.
Walter Duranty on the 1932-33 Russian famine: "There is no actual starvation or deaths from starvation but there is widespread mortality from diseases due to malnutrition."
"The cock-up theory is much better than an intentionalist theory."
Miles Fairburn.
"Only in terms of alcohol consumption was the East outstripping the West."
Mazower on Eastern Europe under Communism.
"When I was first a research student, my supervisor said to me, quite seriously, at the end of the first term: 'Now don't work every day of the vacations; do take Christmas Day off.' I fear that I took Boxing Day off as well."
Elton.
"Shakespeare predicts Trotsky betraying the Soviet Union for Fascism."
Lion Feuchtwanger.
Walter Duranty on the 1932-33 Russian famine: "There is no actual starvation or deaths from starvation but there is widespread mortality from diseases due to malnutrition."
"The cock-up theory is much better than an intentionalist theory."
Miles Fairburn.
And wisdom of the Honours students
Several of the same theme, which just had to be recorded for the utter irony...
27 April: "I think my 480's going to be quite straightforward."
Amendment #1, 1 July 2008: "Oh f***."
Eric.
3 June: "As soon as I hand in this essay, the rest of the year's going to be really really easy."
Bella.
31 July: "Screw everyone, I'm doing what I want now."
Allison.
Allie and Bella, a friendship of discovery:
Q: Why do dictators have moustaches? (Allie)
A: Because they're stupid. (Bella)
Q: Why do Marxists write in the future tense? (Allie)
A: Because they're stupid. (Bella)
Q: Anything.
A: Ask Michael [our supervisor].
Also related to our brilliant supervisor:
"Michael doesn't read books. He absorbs through osmosis."
Josh.
Out of context creepiness:
"I wish I was Stalin. You can be Trotsky, 'cos you've got glasses."
Allie. I promise you, this made perfect sense in context.
"Murder is always very relaxing."
Allie. Ditto.
"It's not mass murder, it's purifying the human race."
Nathan. Again, out of context.
"It takes a pretty honest man to send hundreds of thousands of men to their deaths."
Nathan. Seriously out of context.
Blame alcohol:
"The frog was saying, 'Eric, you're my man'."
Eric.
"There is an inherent flaw in the fact that there is beer in the fridge."
Eric.
General:
"I need to be hit with the motivation stick."
Liz.
"Kill, maim, eviscerate."
Eric.
"Mugabe doesn't count as a standard guy."
Bella.
"I'm going to go slap von Ranke around for a little while, show him who's boss."
Eric. This needs explanation: Leopold von Ranke, the father of modern academic history, was the subject of one of Eric's essays.
"Now Allie, the Engineers Registration Act of 1924 is always relevant."
Bella.
"Roosevelt and Hitler: Brothers in Arms."
Eric. Who thought this would be a bad/awesome title for a thesis.
Coining of new words:
"Mortopsy" (Bella)
"Reconstored" (Eric)
"Chroniclology" (Eric)
"Noviet" (Allie - Nazi + Soviet)
Literary historians are "literaristorians"? "literistorians"? "literians"? "literararians"? (Allie, Bella)
And finally:
"We're here to learn?!"
Bella.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
it's (kind of) up to you!
Today I handed in my dissertation. Ta-da!!!! :
The year is now finished for me, and I think I'm going to struggle finding things to do over the summer, having been so continuously productive and hard-working all year round. First on the list, though, is something I have been craving for months now - getting out of Christchurch.
I can't really afford this, but I'm going to do it anyway! This is my only chance before my summer job starts, and I'll only spend one night away, possibly two if I find somewhere to stay that's cheap enough.
The problem is, I can't really decide where to go. So I have a list here of several different options, all of which are close enough to Christchurch to visit without churning through ridiculous amounts of petrol. And I'd love to know your opinions on them. There are three areas I'm thinking of visiting, with several options about where to stay within these areas.
1) MACKENZIE COUNTRY.
Inland and south of Christchurch.
Mount Cook across Lake Pukaki.
Option one: Above, Mount Cook, the highest mountain in New Zealand and, I think, the southern hemisphere. If I go to the Mackenzie Country at all I'll be going here and doing one of the tracks in the national park, because I have been craving these mountains for yonks. There is also the option that I could stay here at the backpackers or at the campsite. Probably a bit more expensive, but imagine waking up and walking outside to see... that!
Option two: I could stay at Lake Tekapo. This is a peaceful, beautiful spot to stay, as long as you avoid the tourist buses passing through. It's only about ... an hour? an hour and a half? from Mount Cook so it wouldn't be a problem getting there. A bit cheaper, and it also has a FANTASTIC pizza restaurant!
Option one: I could stay at Okarito, a tiny village on Okarito Lagoon. Classic West Coast beauty, with a gorgeous beach and a kayakable lagoon. Not too touristy. From here I could easily visit the glaciers, and it would be a little cheaper than staying right near the glaciers.
Option two: Or I could stay at the township near Franz Josef glacier, which would allow me to easily visit the glacier and also visit other spots around the southern West Coast.
Option three: Punakaiki. Famous for its "pancake rocks" and stunning coastline. Beautiful rivers, also kayakable. A little too far away from the glaciers to visit them, but that's okay, there's plenty to do around Punakaiki itself.
Kaikoura is a small town with delicious, FRESH seafood, and a thriving whale/dolphin watching industry. Some beautiful mountains are a backdrop for the town, and there's some nice walks along the coast. A little bit more expensive than the other places, probably.
So - what do you think? I'll be honest and say I'm leaning towards Mackenzie Country, simply because I've been craving the bigness and stillness of the mountains for so long now. All the same, when I look at those photos of the West Coast I start to salivate a little. And to drive to the West Coast I'd have to drive through the mountains of Arthur's Pass National Park, and so I could get my mountain-fix on the way there or back. I also salivate when I think about the fish of Kaikoura. :)
I can't promise I'll follow your advice. But I would like to know what you think!
The year is now finished for me, and I think I'm going to struggle finding things to do over the summer, having been so continuously productive and hard-working all year round. First on the list, though, is something I have been craving for months now - getting out of Christchurch.I can't really afford this, but I'm going to do it anyway! This is my only chance before my summer job starts, and I'll only spend one night away, possibly two if I find somewhere to stay that's cheap enough.
The problem is, I can't really decide where to go. So I have a list here of several different options, all of which are close enough to Christchurch to visit without churning through ridiculous amounts of petrol. And I'd love to know your opinions on them. There are three areas I'm thinking of visiting, with several options about where to stay within these areas.
1) MACKENZIE COUNTRY.
Inland and south of Christchurch.
Mount Cook across Lake Pukaki.
Option one: Above, Mount Cook, the highest mountain in New Zealand and, I think, the southern hemisphere. If I go to the Mackenzie Country at all I'll be going here and doing one of the tracks in the national park, because I have been craving these mountains for yonks. There is also the option that I could stay here at the backpackers or at the campsite. Probably a bit more expensive, but imagine waking up and walking outside to see... that!
Option two: I could stay at Lake Tekapo. This is a peaceful, beautiful spot to stay, as long as you avoid the tourist buses passing through. It's only about ... an hour? an hour and a half? from Mount Cook so it wouldn't be a problem getting there. A bit cheaper, and it also has a FANTASTIC pizza restaurant!2) THE WEST COAST.
The coast on the other side of the island from me! Much wetter, much wilder, and full of sandflies!
Option one: I could stay at Okarito, a tiny village on Okarito Lagoon. Classic West Coast beauty, with a gorgeous beach and a kayakable lagoon. Not too touristy. From here I could easily visit the glaciers, and it would be a little cheaper than staying right near the glaciers.
Option two: Or I could stay at the township near Franz Josef glacier, which would allow me to easily visit the glacier and also visit other spots around the southern West Coast.
Option three: Punakaiki. Famous for its "pancake rocks" and stunning coastline. Beautiful rivers, also kayakable. A little too far away from the glaciers to visit them, but that's okay, there's plenty to do around Punakaiki itself.3) KAIKOURA
North of Christchurch, on the coast.
Kaikoura is a small town with delicious, FRESH seafood, and a thriving whale/dolphin watching industry. Some beautiful mountains are a backdrop for the town, and there's some nice walks along the coast. A little bit more expensive than the other places, probably.So - what do you think? I'll be honest and say I'm leaning towards Mackenzie Country, simply because I've been craving the bigness and stillness of the mountains for so long now. All the same, when I look at those photos of the West Coast I start to salivate a little. And to drive to the West Coast I'd have to drive through the mountains of Arthur's Pass National Park, and so I could get my mountain-fix on the way there or back. I also salivate when I think about the fish of Kaikoura. :)
I can't promise I'll follow your advice. But I would like to know what you think!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
politics schmolitics
John McCain? Barack Obama? Meh.
Helen Clark, on the other hand. John Key. New Zealand is gearing up for an almost certainly heated election on November 8.
Helen has been our Prime Minister for nine years now. Head of the Labour Government, she stands for slightly left of centre values. I like her. She is one of the few politicians out there who, I am sure, does not have dirty baggage. She actually looks like she's telling the truth. She promises money for students. Her Deputy used to be a historian. However... I'm not so sure I like a few of her policies. And I'm not sure Labour always lives up to the centre left thing. And she's almost certain to go into coalition with a smug greasy old politician called Winston Peters of whom I'd really like to see the last.
John Key is the newbie, the Head of the Opposition, the leader of National. An ex-businessman who made himself a cool multimillion dollars before giving it up for politics. He promises tax cuts for high income earners (something that always makes alarm bells ring in my head and I'm not sure why), he wants to privatise the health system, and I don't trust him. His name rhymes with Donkey. However... is he any worse than Labour? And, maybe, given the recession and all, having someone in power who knows a thing or two about finance wouldn't be so bad a thing. And, if National becomes the leading party, one of my friends has a pretty good chance of getting a job as a policy analyst with one of their leading MPs.
I don't know. Last election, I ended up making my decision based on the rude reception of Helen Clark by the Young Nationals at my university. As soon as she arrived, they started shouting her down. Result: no one who had come to actually HEAR what she had to say had any luck, and Helen had to leave.
And on Saturday night, friends of mine started talking about politics. It's not quite as extreme here as it is in the States with people telling you "if you are Christian you will vote X" but all the same, they tried it out on me. There is nothing that annoys me more. A few years ago, Labour passed into law a civil union bill and a prostitution reform bill, and suddenly a lot of Christians decided Labour was evil. Now these National supporters have the effrontery to tell me that I'm a single-issue voter, because Labour supports students, and that I don't take a moral stance, and that I should vote National. a) Their objections to Labour are based on, er, SINGLE issues, and b) I take a very moral stance. No way am I eager to vote for people that want to give rich people more money and take easy access healthcare from the poor. I don't see how that is any less Christian than their own stance.
If that paragraph didn't make any sense, ignore it.
Anyway, the point being: it seems like every time I vote, I really make an effort to make a cool, calculated, sensible decision. However, I end up deciding who to vote for based on what I don't like about the supporters of other parties. Is this just me?
By the way: thanks very much for the messages of support and the prayers for my nephew. He is doing well and has just gone home from hospital. More details on my other blog if you're interested.
Friday, October 03, 2008
prayer request
I have a baby nephew, he's about two and a half months old, and today he was admitted into hospital for heart surgery next week. I would really appreciate any prayers for him and his parents.
Update 8/10/08:
My nephew's operation was yesterday afternoon. Everything went to plan and he's now recovering! Thanks very much for the prayers.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
the best advice my parents ever gave me
I have decided to move out of my dad's house next year. For many reasons, including that I can now afford it, and that it seems a bit odd to be doing a masters and still be living at home. So I've started looking at flats, and there are at least two places near university where friends of mine need a new flatmate next year - exciting.
Recently on the radio, whenever they interview someone slightly, quite, or very famous, they've asked the question, "what's the best advice your parents gave you?" Often it's something like, "never give up", "believe in yourself", or "work hard".
It got me thinking - now that I'm moving out of the family home, what advice can I take with me? What catchy little slogans have been inculcated in me over the last twenty-two years by my parents?
Actually, nothing. I was talking to my dad about this last night, and he said he never wanted to be the type of parent who is always telling their kids the best way to live. He thinks it's more important to set the best possible example, instead of preaching slogans he will never live up to.
My mum was the same, pretty much. She'd advise me on very specific things, i.e., "if you don't work harder on your exam study, you will fail Calculus" (a prophecy which came true). Probably the most bittersweet memory I have of her is our talk soon before she died, in which she knew she was supposed to give some pithy, meaningful advice but found the idea so funny and alien that she advised me to "wash your clothes, keep your room tidy, and be patient with Dad", with a slight twinkle in her eye. But neither of them ever said, "y'know, Allie, life is just like a [insert metaphor here]. You've got to [insert instruction here] or you'll [insert horrible fate here]. But if you [insert unlikely task here], you'll be blessed with everything you ever dreamed of!"
Both of them were more likely to go out of their way to help others on a regular basis, to work hard for people that weren't going to give them anything in return, to care about people in practical as well as vocal ways, to be responsible yet generous with their own money, and to keep things in the ultimate perspective that God comes first and that fame or success in the world isn't really what we should be trying to achieve. If it came, good for you, but if it became the most important thing in your life, there was no point in having it. Neither of them ever told me this in so many words but I think I could fairly say that that's what they have taught me - and I'm not sure I would have listened if they'd said it in so many words.
It may even sound a bit corny having put that into words. For me, however, although there are things about my parents I don't want to be like, everything I've written above is something I will try to keep in focus for the rest of my life.
Recently on the radio, whenever they interview someone slightly, quite, or very famous, they've asked the question, "what's the best advice your parents gave you?" Often it's something like, "never give up", "believe in yourself", or "work hard".
It got me thinking - now that I'm moving out of the family home, what advice can I take with me? What catchy little slogans have been inculcated in me over the last twenty-two years by my parents?
Actually, nothing. I was talking to my dad about this last night, and he said he never wanted to be the type of parent who is always telling their kids the best way to live. He thinks it's more important to set the best possible example, instead of preaching slogans he will never live up to.
My mum was the same, pretty much. She'd advise me on very specific things, i.e., "if you don't work harder on your exam study, you will fail Calculus" (a prophecy which came true). Probably the most bittersweet memory I have of her is our talk soon before she died, in which she knew she was supposed to give some pithy, meaningful advice but found the idea so funny and alien that she advised me to "wash your clothes, keep your room tidy, and be patient with Dad", with a slight twinkle in her eye. But neither of them ever said, "y'know, Allie, life is just like a [insert metaphor here]. You've got to [insert instruction here] or you'll [insert horrible fate here]. But if you [insert unlikely task here], you'll be blessed with everything you ever dreamed of!"
Both of them were more likely to go out of their way to help others on a regular basis, to work hard for people that weren't going to give them anything in return, to care about people in practical as well as vocal ways, to be responsible yet generous with their own money, and to keep things in the ultimate perspective that God comes first and that fame or success in the world isn't really what we should be trying to achieve. If it came, good for you, but if it became the most important thing in your life, there was no point in having it. Neither of them ever told me this in so many words but I think I could fairly say that that's what they have taught me - and I'm not sure I would have listened if they'd said it in so many words.
It may even sound a bit corny having put that into words. For me, however, although there are things about my parents I don't want to be like, everything I've written above is something I will try to keep in focus for the rest of my life.
Friday, September 26, 2008
fa la la la laaa la la la laaaa
It's September! What better time to start selling Christmas decorations?
Sadly enough, when I walked through Kmart yesterday, I came across a whole row of artificial Christmas trees, including this: (or something very like it)
A Yuletide palm tree!
The Kmart one had multi-coloured lights, but otherwise it's very similar.
If I ever start buying fake palm trees made out of glitter with multi-coloured lights and claim that it's somehow related to a spiritual festival, please slap me.
Sadly enough, when I walked through Kmart yesterday, I came across a whole row of artificial Christmas trees, including this: (or something very like it)
A Yuletide palm tree!
The Kmart one had multi-coloured lights, but otherwise it's very similar.
If I ever start buying fake palm trees made out of glitter with multi-coloured lights and claim that it's somehow related to a spiritual festival, please slap me.
Friday, September 19, 2008
academia
Today I went to a departmental seminar about historiographical nationalism. It was a very last minute decision because it can be quite daunting going to these seminars with big scary historians, especially if you walk in late. But you get Brownie points with the staff for attending, and I think it was worth it, because academic criticism can yield quite interesting people-watching.
I wouldn't have known it, but apparently this seminar was a bit controversial. Immediately after the speaker finished, and the request had gone out for "Comments? Questions?", one of the particularly scary professors, who is rather old, fierce and stuck in his ways, gave some quite provocative-sounding criticism. At least, it sounded so to me. Then the other resident staff started putting in their two cents. It was all very amicable but given that I've just decided to do a Masters, it's terrifying watching the door open into the world of peer review and criticism. Not that we don't get criticised now - it's just we're so liable to burst into tears if they do it aggressively that I think they've learned that Honours students are not to be dealt with carelessly.
Then, as the speaker was summing up his final defence, he said: "Of course, his book is the perfect antidote for fretful sleepers."
I laughed.
A few heads turned my way. One professor who could stare down a Basilisk fixed her eyes on me for at least FIVE WHOLE SECONDS.
What did I do wrong? Wasn't that supposed to be a witty historical insult?
It wasn't until later that I realised Fretful Sleepers is a famous book in the New Zealand history world.
I think I can sum up with what one of the current Masters students said to me via Facebook a few days ago, when I was complaining about essay-writing. Hang in there, it will soon be over, and then you can come and join me in the world of self-doubt and academic criticism!
[By the way, regarding the Masters decision (as I did ask your opinion) - this isn't a rejection of the Russia trip idea but simply a postponement. I think it makes a lot more sense to do a year of undergrad Russian language at uni next year while I do my Masters, and then go, instead of plunging straight into Russia next year without a word of Russian other than "do you speak English?"]
I wouldn't have known it, but apparently this seminar was a bit controversial. Immediately after the speaker finished, and the request had gone out for "Comments? Questions?", one of the particularly scary professors, who is rather old, fierce and stuck in his ways, gave some quite provocative-sounding criticism. At least, it sounded so to me. Then the other resident staff started putting in their two cents. It was all very amicable but given that I've just decided to do a Masters, it's terrifying watching the door open into the world of peer review and criticism. Not that we don't get criticised now - it's just we're so liable to burst into tears if they do it aggressively that I think they've learned that Honours students are not to be dealt with carelessly.
Then, as the speaker was summing up his final defence, he said: "Of course, his book is the perfect antidote for fretful sleepers."
I laughed.
A few heads turned my way. One professor who could stare down a Basilisk fixed her eyes on me for at least FIVE WHOLE SECONDS.
What did I do wrong? Wasn't that supposed to be a witty historical insult?
It wasn't until later that I realised Fretful Sleepers is a famous book in the New Zealand history world.
I think I can sum up with what one of the current Masters students said to me via Facebook a few days ago, when I was complaining about essay-writing. Hang in there, it will soon be over, and then you can come and join me in the world of self-doubt and academic criticism!
[By the way, regarding the Masters decision (as I did ask your opinion) - this isn't a rejection of the Russia trip idea but simply a postponement. I think it makes a lot more sense to do a year of undergrad Russian language at uni next year while I do my Masters, and then go, instead of plunging straight into Russia next year without a word of Russian other than "do you speak English?"]
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I LOVE spring!
Last year I think it would be fair to say I missed spring. I was in Australia, and Australia doesn't have a real winter, and so September just feels slightly warmer and flies begin to annoy you. Back in Christchurch, however - it's like the first day of September is a sudden, uncanny change. Winter is no more. Spring is upon us! We may have had a few days of icky weather in the last two weeks, but it's the icky weather of spring, not the icky weather of winter. Best of all, flowers are suddenly appearing. Everywhere!
The daphne bushes are out in flower - my favourite smell in the whole wide world! [This is not my photo.]
At uni, the trees are blossoming around us...
I was going to be a good girl today and study hard, but as soon as I got to uni and allowed myself to be distracted by the sun and the flowers and the general niceness, I got a sudden urging to go into town, to Hagley Park, with the rest of Christchurch, and wander lonely as a cloud among the daffodils.
At this time of year, daffodils, snowdrops and bluebells carpet the floor of the Christchurch Botanical Gardens and it's rather lovely to join everyone else in wandering and admiring. It's one of those genuinely beautiful things about Christchurch that not only tourists enjoy.
I thought these two girls were particularly cool for finding parasols for the occasion.
Now I am back at university, about to start writing my essay. I wanted to share this final photo, though. This is a tree just outside the History building. Apparently the tea bags are an addition by a Fine Arts student. They looked horrid during winter, limp brown sacs hanging on bare branches, but for some reason, with the blossom coming out, I rather like them. At least, I'm intrigued. Is it supposed to be a tea tree? or is that too obvious? Is there some deep significant meaning inherent in the act of hanging old tea bags on a tree?
The daphne bushes are out in flower - my favourite smell in the whole wide world! [This is not my photo.]
At uni, the trees are blossoming around us...
I was going to be a good girl today and study hard, but as soon as I got to uni and allowed myself to be distracted by the sun and the flowers and the general niceness, I got a sudden urging to go into town, to Hagley Park, with the rest of Christchurch, and wander lonely as a cloud among the daffodils.
At this time of year, daffodils, snowdrops and bluebells carpet the floor of the Christchurch Botanical Gardens and it's rather lovely to join everyone else in wandering and admiring. It's one of those genuinely beautiful things about Christchurch that not only tourists enjoy.
I thought these two girls were particularly cool for finding parasols for the occasion.
Now I am back at university, about to start writing my essay. I wanted to share this final photo, though. This is a tree just outside the History building. Apparently the tea bags are an addition by a Fine Arts student. They looked horrid during winter, limp brown sacs hanging on bare branches, but for some reason, with the blossom coming out, I rather like them. At least, I'm intrigued. Is it supposed to be a tea tree? or is that too obvious? Is there some deep significant meaning inherent in the act of hanging old tea bags on a tree?Wednesday, September 10, 2008
got some answers?
Why do I sometimes crave a food that doesn't seem to exist? I walk around the supermarket searching for it and it just isn't there! (That wasn't supposed to be an existential question even though it sounds like it.)
Can the phenomenon of Nazism be adequately explained within the framework of Marxism?
People seem to like the sweets of their own particular countries, and other countries' versions of them never quite live up. Are we, therefore, taught to like chocolate by our upbringings, or is chocolate or saturated fat intrinsincally yummy?
Why are people stupid? Myself included?
Why is it that baby creatures are so much cuter than adult creatures? Of any species?
Is being an academic really a justifiable career?
Why do dictators have moustaches?
Nicos Poulantzas' Fascism and Dictatorship: is his argument really original or is he merely putting his fingers in his ears and insisting that everyone else is wrong?
Should I have a stir fry or pasta for dinner tonight?
Do real skeleton keys, that could open ANY door, actually exist?
Analyse the controversy between 'intentionalist' and 'structuralist' historians over the genesis of the Holocaust. Is it possible, at last, to resolve the main points of the debate?
Did my entire ancestry exist just to produce me? :)
Can the phenomenon of Nazism be adequately explained within the framework of Marxism?
People seem to like the sweets of their own particular countries, and other countries' versions of them never quite live up. Are we, therefore, taught to like chocolate by our upbringings, or is chocolate or saturated fat intrinsincally yummy?
Why are people stupid? Myself included?
Why is it that baby creatures are so much cuter than adult creatures? Of any species?
Is being an academic really a justifiable career?
Why do dictators have moustaches?
Nicos Poulantzas' Fascism and Dictatorship: is his argument really original or is he merely putting his fingers in his ears and insisting that everyone else is wrong?
Should I have a stir fry or pasta for dinner tonight?
Do real skeleton keys, that could open ANY door, actually exist?
Analyse the controversy between 'intentionalist' and 'structuralist' historians over the genesis of the Holocaust. Is it possible, at last, to resolve the main points of the debate?
Did my entire ancestry exist just to produce me? :)
Friday, September 05, 2008
am I the antichrist?
I always get very irritable when the US elections come around again - no offence to American readers but if I have to read about politics every time I open a newspaper or magazine or watch the news, I prefer to be force-fed my own country's politics, which I actually have some say in.
But then I came across a Ship of Fools article. Ship of Fools is my favourite online Christian magazine, being subtitled "the magazine of Christian unrest", with its tongue firmly in cheek, and willing to laugh at the nuttier/scarier adherents to our faith out there.
This article asks the pertinent question: "Is Obama, like, the Antichrist?" Writer Steve Tomkins has done the rounds on a whole heap of blogs, which offer compelling evidence that Barack Obama is, in fact, the spawn of the Devil.
The Damning Evidence:
- "On the very day Obama became frontrunner in the election, we are told, the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro was struck by lightning."
- "Obama hails from Chicago whose zip code is 60606" - that's three sixes in a row!
- "Nostradamus prophesized the name of the antichrist is 'Mabus.' If you write obama+bush, you end up with obamabush. Do you spot 'mabus' in the middle? Bingo."
- "Obama could very well be the anti-christ, because he was born the year sodomy was decriminalized."
- Obama is left-handed, and "the Bible says that the Devil is left handed?" Yup. Sure.
- "The famous apocalyptic phrase 'Abomination of desolation' is an anagram of 'Obama in Sion, tool of end'."
- "Obama has said he hates Israel and Jews. Admires Hitler, Osama etc."
This was a huge shock for me. Not only had I believed Obama was no Satanist, I had also believed I had quite a good chance of being a Christian. How wrong I was!
For:
- in the year 1986, when I was born, the first PC virus started to spread. There were earthquakes, fatal fires, and plane crashes. The Cold War was ongoing!
- on the 30th October, which is my birthday, Antioch surrendered to Muslim forces in AD 637!! Likewise, the day I was born is also known as "Devil's Night" in Michigan.
- My name, when rearranged, can also read "Satan Reclaimed Song" or "Satan Genocidal Rems"!!!
- My zip code, when multiplied by my driver's license number, divided by my street number, and then multiplied by 2.3479, becomes 666!!!!
Isn't that evidence enough?!
But then I came across a Ship of Fools article. Ship of Fools is my favourite online Christian magazine, being subtitled "the magazine of Christian unrest", with its tongue firmly in cheek, and willing to laugh at the nuttier/scarier adherents to our faith out there.
This article asks the pertinent question: "Is Obama, like, the Antichrist?" Writer Steve Tomkins has done the rounds on a whole heap of blogs, which offer compelling evidence that Barack Obama is, in fact, the spawn of the Devil.
The Damning Evidence:
- "On the very day Obama became frontrunner in the election, we are told, the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro was struck by lightning."
- "Obama hails from Chicago whose zip code is 60606" - that's three sixes in a row!
- "Nostradamus prophesized the name of the antichrist is 'Mabus.' If you write obama+bush, you end up with obamabush. Do you spot 'mabus' in the middle? Bingo."
- "Obama could very well be the anti-christ, because he was born the year sodomy was decriminalized."
- Obama is left-handed, and "the Bible says that the Devil is left handed?" Yup. Sure.
- "The famous apocalyptic phrase 'Abomination of desolation' is an anagram of 'Obama in Sion, tool of end'."
- "Obama has said he hates Israel and Jews. Admires Hitler, Osama etc."
This was a huge shock for me. Not only had I believed Obama was no Satanist, I had also believed I had quite a good chance of being a Christian. How wrong I was!
For:
- in the year 1986, when I was born, the first PC virus started to spread. There were earthquakes, fatal fires, and plane crashes. The Cold War was ongoing!
- on the 30th October, which is my birthday, Antioch surrendered to Muslim forces in AD 637!! Likewise, the day I was born is also known as "Devil's Night" in Michigan.
- My name, when rearranged, can also read "Satan Reclaimed Song" or "Satan Genocidal Rems"!!!
- My zip code, when multiplied by my driver's license number, divided by my street number, and then multiplied by 2.3479, becomes 666!!!!
Isn't that evidence enough?!
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Cutting a wheedle with a mawkish chawbacon who smells of April and May
I'm a big fan of Georgette Heyer, especially her Regency novels. Those (and Agatha Christie's detective novels) are basically the only things I can read for enjoyment at the moment without getting a headache, after spending maybe ten hours a day plowing through history books.
One of my favourite things about Georgette Heyer novels is the rich and enchanting vocab she used. And so I thought today I'd write a post about some of my favourite words-that-are-used-in-Heyer-novels and which I want to bring back into circulation.
Bluestocking ::: a woman with considerable scholarly, literary, or intellectual ability or interest. In Heyer novels, this is usually used as an insult by some nitwit male. The word came from a mid-18th century London literary circle, according to dictionary.com.
To cut a wheedle ::: to deliberately lead astray or decoy by flattery and insinuation
In a dudgeon ::: angry, in a bad mood
To outrun the constable ::: live beyond your means, overspend
Mawkish ::: falsely sentimental, insipid or nauseating
Flummery ::: false compliments, ie "Don't you try to flummery me!"
Plumper ::: an arrant lie. Possibly from the false cheeks worn in previous centuries.
Swimming in lard ::: very wealthy
Smoky ::: suspicious, curious
All the crack ::: in the mode
Gammon ::: to pretend, lie or deceive; nonsense, lies
Smelling of April and May ::: madly in love
Gulled ::: duped, fooled
Drinking
In his altitudes ::: drunk
Bosky ::: drunk
Eaten Hull cheese ::: drunk
Foxed ::: drunk
Making indentures ::: drinking
Shoot the cat ::: to vomit
Insults
Clunch ::: a clownish person, awkward, foolish
Wet goose ::: simple or stupid person
Chawbacon ::: country bumpkin or stupid man
Loose fish ::: unreliable, someone of dissipated habits, a lecher or a drunk
Mutton-head ::: stupid person
A bit of muslin ::: a girl/attractive female, usually willing to be seduced or taken as a mistress
The thing I love about all these words is how expressive, how imaginative they are.
But my favourite word of all is:
FUSTIAN
Simplest meaning: pompous rubbish.
According to dictionary.com, this can mean:
* inflated or turgid language in writing or speaking
* pompous or bombastic, as language
* worthless; cheap
Someone says something you think is a load of rubbish?
You shout, "Fustian!"
Someone says something that is clichéd, overly sentimental or wordy?
You shout "Fustian!"
It's the best word ever!
[I got a lot of these meanings from Jennifer Kloester's book Georgette Heyer's Regency World. A highly recommended book for any other Georgette Heyer fans!]
Oh, and by the way: latest issue of Halfway Down the Stairs is out, for those who are interested. Both Stacy and I contribute to it. This issue's theme is "Bon Appétit". Anyone else who writes... we accept submissions! The theme for our next issue is "Twists of Fate".
One of my favourite things about Georgette Heyer novels is the rich and enchanting vocab she used. And so I thought today I'd write a post about some of my favourite words-that-are-used-in-Heyer-novels and which I want to bring back into circulation.
Bluestocking ::: a woman with considerable scholarly, literary, or intellectual ability or interest. In Heyer novels, this is usually used as an insult by some nitwit male. The word came from a mid-18th century London literary circle, according to dictionary.com.
To cut a wheedle ::: to deliberately lead astray or decoy by flattery and insinuation
In a dudgeon ::: angry, in a bad mood
To outrun the constable ::: live beyond your means, overspend
Mawkish ::: falsely sentimental, insipid or nauseating
Flummery ::: false compliments, ie "Don't you try to flummery me!"
Plumper ::: an arrant lie. Possibly from the false cheeks worn in previous centuries.
Swimming in lard ::: very wealthy
Smoky ::: suspicious, curious
All the crack ::: in the mode
Gammon ::: to pretend, lie or deceive; nonsense, lies
Smelling of April and May ::: madly in love
Gulled ::: duped, fooled
Drinking
In his altitudes ::: drunk
Bosky ::: drunk
Eaten Hull cheese ::: drunk
Foxed ::: drunk
Making indentures ::: drinking
Shoot the cat ::: to vomit
Insults
Clunch ::: a clownish person, awkward, foolish
Wet goose ::: simple or stupid person
Chawbacon ::: country bumpkin or stupid man
Loose fish ::: unreliable, someone of dissipated habits, a lecher or a drunk
Mutton-head ::: stupid person
A bit of muslin ::: a girl/attractive female, usually willing to be seduced or taken as a mistress
The thing I love about all these words is how expressive, how imaginative they are.
But my favourite word of all is:
FUSTIAN
Simplest meaning: pompous rubbish.
According to dictionary.com, this can mean:
* inflated or turgid language in writing or speaking
* pompous or bombastic, as language
* worthless; cheap
Someone says something you think is a load of rubbish?
You shout, "Fustian!"
Someone says something that is clichéd, overly sentimental or wordy?
You shout "Fustian!"
It's the best word ever!
[I got a lot of these meanings from Jennifer Kloester's book Georgette Heyer's Regency World. A highly recommended book for any other Georgette Heyer fans!]
Oh, and by the way: latest issue of Halfway Down the Stairs is out, for those who are interested. Both Stacy and I contribute to it. This issue's theme is "Bon Appétit". Anyone else who writes... we accept submissions! The theme for our next issue is "Twists of Fate".
Thursday, August 28, 2008
if you read this post (and give me a million bucks) I'll give you free chocolate
Driving down Blenheim Road on the way home from university, I pass a certain shop which has put up a sign that says this:
*contented sigh* I would like to thank that shop from the bottom of my heart for lightening my evenings and putting a smile on my face.
*contented sigh* I would like to thank that shop from the bottom of my heart for lightening my evenings and putting a smile on my face.
Monday, August 18, 2008
and the winner is...
[Before you read this, see my last post, the Honours Room murder mystery]
The murderer is... Bella.
After a stash of skewers was found in her second desk, which was not originally searched (the police aren’t really all that smart), Bella confessed to the heinous crime.
“That b**** stole my coffee” she thundered. “A crime of that magnitude cannot go unpunished.” Psychologist Dr. Phil has diagnosed a nervous breakdown, due to caffeine deprivation, and Bella will spend the rest of her days at a spa in the Maldives.
Liz went on to be highly successful in her career as a P cook. George is one of her best customers, due to the shock of finding out that the unnamed man Liz and Allie were fighting over was in love with him. (Amendment: George has just gone on a killing spree…cue Murder Mystery No.2 ‘Why did George Finally Lose It?’)
Eric is now fluent in German, and has found, in contrast to Dr. Phil’s beliefs, that bat heads and heavy metal can cure cancer. He is a multi-trillionaire, and lives on the moon, because the acoustics are better.
Posthumously, Allie’s half-finished thesis has become a best seller, and she has been awarded a Pulitzer, a Booker Prize, and a Nobel Prize for Peace. The movie version (staring Tom Cruise as Stalin, Tom Cruise as Churchill, and Tom Cruise as Roosevelt, and Produced by Tom Cruise for Scientology Productions Ltd.) has been given an Oscar for best screenplay, but bombed at the box office, because people hate Tom Cruise.
Michael and Tom are on trial for the murder of Gillian, who took credit for Allie's thesis inspiration.
Allison has changed her name to Helga after she was denied copyright of the names ‘Allie’ and ‘Allison’.
Nathan has published a 30,000 word rebuttal on why Wittgenstein is not a load of c***. It has been critically acclaimed, and is written in post-structuralist form.
Tim was spotted by the CIA outside the engineering library, in Switzerland, and possibly on the Moon, visiting Eric.
Andrew now has dominance over the pie market.
The murderer is... Bella.
After a stash of skewers was found in her second desk, which was not originally searched (the police aren’t really all that smart), Bella confessed to the heinous crime.
“That b**** stole my coffee” she thundered. “A crime of that magnitude cannot go unpunished.” Psychologist Dr. Phil has diagnosed a nervous breakdown, due to caffeine deprivation, and Bella will spend the rest of her days at a spa in the Maldives.
Liz went on to be highly successful in her career as a P cook. George is one of her best customers, due to the shock of finding out that the unnamed man Liz and Allie were fighting over was in love with him. (Amendment: George has just gone on a killing spree…cue Murder Mystery No.2 ‘Why did George Finally Lose It?’)
Eric is now fluent in German, and has found, in contrast to Dr. Phil’s beliefs, that bat heads and heavy metal can cure cancer. He is a multi-trillionaire, and lives on the moon, because the acoustics are better.
Posthumously, Allie’s half-finished thesis has become a best seller, and she has been awarded a Pulitzer, a Booker Prize, and a Nobel Prize for Peace. The movie version (staring Tom Cruise as Stalin, Tom Cruise as Churchill, and Tom Cruise as Roosevelt, and Produced by Tom Cruise for Scientology Productions Ltd.) has been given an Oscar for best screenplay, but bombed at the box office, because people hate Tom Cruise.
Michael and Tom are on trial for the murder of Gillian, who took credit for Allie's thesis inspiration.
Allison has changed her name to Helga after she was denied copyright of the names ‘Allie’ and ‘Allison’.
Nathan has published a 30,000 word rebuttal on why Wittgenstein is not a load of c***. It has been critically acclaimed, and is written in post-structuralist form.
Tim was spotted by the CIA outside the engineering library, in Switzerland, and possibly on the Moon, visiting Eric.
Andrew now has dominance over the pie market.
Friday, August 15, 2008
who killed Allie?
This blog post is the product of:
- boredom
- all the detective novels I've been reading lately
- my tea tasting odd, leading to the obvious question of "who has poisoned me?"
- my friend Bella (not her real name), whose gracious permission has been given to publish this product of her boundless imagination.
The Honours Room Murder Mystery
Characters*:
Allie
Students: Bella, Liz, Eric, Allison, Nathan, Tim, George
Historians: Michael, Tom, Andrew, Gillian
* Most names changed
Crime:
At the end of a long, dark, rainy day (its Christchurch in the winter, after all), Gillian went down to the Honours Room to speak to Allie about how wonderfully she did in her essay, and to offer her a life time job as an academic… But, oh dear, she found poor Allie dead over another 700 page book...
At the end of a long, dark, rainy day (its Christchurch in the winter, after all), Gillian went down to the Honours Room to speak to Allie about how wonderfully she did in her essay, and to offer her a life time job as an academic… But, oh dear, she found poor Allie dead over another 700 page book...
Autopsy Report:
The primary cause of death was a skewer, stabbed through the back of the neck. Also present in her blood were high levels of sodium-methaline-something-a-rather, the most deadly poison known to man (created by the University of Canterbury Chemistry department, which was recently broken into). However, she was stabbed before the poison could take effect.
The primary cause of death was a skewer, stabbed through the back of the neck. Also present in her blood were high levels of sodium-methaline-something-a-rather, the most deadly poison known to man (created by the University of Canterbury Chemistry department, which was recently broken into). However, she was stabbed before the poison could take effect.
The Suspects:
Allie arrived at Uni at 7.30am, attended her 10am class on European History, had sushi and a bar of chocolate for lunch, went to her 1.20 class on New Zealand history, and then went to work on her marvelous, stupendous thesis at 3pm. She was found dead at 5pm. The autopsy-person was highly intoxicated and originally put her death at 11am; this has since been amended to between 3.34 and 4.45. Each of the suspects were quick to dob in each of their colleagues for approaching Allie's desk, however, none admit to talking to Allie after the last class.
Allie arrived at Uni at 7.30am, attended her 10am class on European History, had sushi and a bar of chocolate for lunch, went to her 1.20 class on New Zealand history, and then went to work on her marvelous, stupendous thesis at 3pm. She was found dead at 5pm. The autopsy-person was highly intoxicated and originally put her death at 11am; this has since been amended to between 3.34 and 4.45. Each of the suspects were quick to dob in each of their colleagues for approaching Allie's desk, however, none admit to talking to Allie after the last class.
Bella:
Police originally searched her desk as they had had a fight earlier in the day, over the use of kitchen items. Or possibly hand cream, priced at $12.99 (what, we’re in the middle of a recession, that’s pretty pricey…)
Liz:
It is well known that Liz and Allie were in the middle of a very large fight over the possession of a boyfriend (the fact he actually wanted George instead apparently doesn’t matter). Liz has a key to the Chemistry Department, as she is secretly starting up a P lab with one of the Chemistry lecturers….
Eric:
We couldn’t get a coherent statement from this young man, as he kept yelling in German and head banging. However a search of his desk revealed several bats with their heads bitten off. Psychologist Dr. Phil believes that this is because the evil metal music, and lack of meat, has gone straight to his head. “Y’all need to lock up your children now.”
We couldn’t get a coherent statement from this young man, as he kept yelling in German and head banging. However a search of his desk revealed several bats with their heads bitten off. Psychologist Dr. Phil believes that this is because the evil metal music, and lack of meat, has gone straight to his head. “Y’all need to lock up your children now.”
Allison:
In amongst John’s German ramblings it has been revealed that Allie and Allison were in the middle of a dispute over copyright of the names ‘Allie’ and ‘Allison’. Both women have death threats in their desks from the other.
In amongst John’s German ramblings it has been revealed that Allie and Allison were in the middle of a dispute over copyright of the names ‘Allie’ and ‘Allison’. Both women have death threats in their desks from the other.
Nathan:
Allie was overheard telling Nathan that Wittgenstein “was a load of c***”. Nathan is reported to have had steam coming out of his ears. [For the uninformed: Wittgenstein is a German philosopher.]
Tim:
Tim is described as the dark wolf of the Honours Room. His desk is mysteriously empty, and yet he is challenging Allie for the title of Queen of Honoursland. “How is this possible,” Allie was overheard saying. “I spent 32 hours here yesterday, HE CANNOT BEAT ME.”
Michael:
Rumours are abound that Allie was about to disown Michael as her supervisor as she was about to publish her thesis, and credit someone else as the inspiration behind it.
Rumours are abound that Allie was about to disown Michael as her supervisor as she was about to publish her thesis, and credit someone else as the inspiration behind it.
Tom:
A message on Allie's phone from three days before reads as following:
“I think your thesis is awful, and refuse to have my name linked to it.” In response Allie began blackmailing him with the knowledge that he cheated his way into his PhD by bribing the external examiner.
“I think your thesis is awful, and refuse to have my name linked to it.” In response Allie began blackmailing him with the knowledge that he cheated his way into his PhD by bribing the external examiner.
Andrew:
There was only one pie left on campus… Allie got it.
Gillian:
She did find her, after all...
WHODUNNIT???
Vote now! The murder will be solved on Monday.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
yes, I am that person
So, in New Zealand most urban roads have a speed limit of 50 or 60 kilometres an hour. However, it's generally accepted by most drivers and also the police that you won't be stopped or fined for going up to about 58 km/hour in a 50km zone. Which means that if you go at 50km exactly, now, you're seen as holding people up, even though you are following the law to the letter.
I usually drive between 55-58 km/hour although my foot has been known to "slip" sometimes. I try to keep within the limits because I hate being fined and anyway, there are speed limits in certain areas for good reasons. But I usually wouldn't drive at 50 or below because I know how much it annoys people.
However...
When you come up behind me, desperate to keep driving at 70 km/hour in a 50 km zone, inches away from my car and I am already driving 8 km over the speed limit, I will slow down. That's a promise. Nothing makes me happier than slowing down to 50 km when an impatient dangerous Neanderthal goon is shadowing me. I especially love it when you eventually pull over beside me at an intersection, or you pass me, infuriated, and I look sideways with a smug grin, just to rile you.
Seriously! I noticed no heavily pregnant wife in the back seat. If you're late to something, that's your fault and it doesn't mean I have to speed up and risk getting fined or, worse, hitting someone or something because I was going too fast to stop in time. Think about it - do you really want to annoy me in future?
I usually drive between 55-58 km/hour although my foot has been known to "slip" sometimes. I try to keep within the limits because I hate being fined and anyway, there are speed limits in certain areas for good reasons. But I usually wouldn't drive at 50 or below because I know how much it annoys people.
However...
When you come up behind me, desperate to keep driving at 70 km/hour in a 50 km zone, inches away from my car and I am already driving 8 km over the speed limit, I will slow down. That's a promise. Nothing makes me happier than slowing down to 50 km when an impatient dangerous Neanderthal goon is shadowing me. I especially love it when you eventually pull over beside me at an intersection, or you pass me, infuriated, and I look sideways with a smug grin, just to rile you.
Seriously! I noticed no heavily pregnant wife in the back seat. If you're late to something, that's your fault and it doesn't mean I have to speed up and risk getting fined or, worse, hitting someone or something because I was going too fast to stop in time. Think about it - do you really want to annoy me in future?
Saturday, August 02, 2008
happiness is...
...finding an Agatha Christie novel that I haven't read before! Just when I thought life with unknown Christie plots out there was over, up pops Death in the Clouds at a second hand bookshop. I'm going to savour this one, along with Why Shoot a Butler?, by Georgette Heyer. Once there are no more new Christies for me, Georgette Heyer's 1920s murder mysteries are definitely next on the list. Then there's the books written by Christie under the pseudonym of Mary Westmacott, or G. K. Chesterton's Father Brown Stories. My life is not, in fact, over.
Is anyone else addicted to murder mysteries? What does it for you? Which ones would you recommend?
For me, I think it's the utter pleasure I get out of them. I am not ashamed to admit I read them for pure entertainment. They're not completely mindless because I do have to figure out who I think the culprit is, but they're such welcome relief from the tomes I read at university. I love that I start thinking I've figured out Christie's pattern, and can predict who the murderer is, and then suddenly she changes her pattern again and I'm completely shocked at the end. I love the characters, who are so strong and interesting and distinctive.
My favourite Christies, for anyone who's interested:
The Man in the Brown Suit
Ordeal by Innocence
They Came to Baghdad
The Moving Finger
(although it really is difficult to pick out of the long list of books she wrote...)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
petty bourgeois counterrevolutionary imperialism
So, in the last few weeks there have been pretty little fliers pinned up around campus for the Workers' Party of New Zealand, with good old Che Guevara's image (because he's so much trendier than Stalin or Mao and ever so slightly less notorious) which invite students to join in the fun of creating a Communist future.
Not that I have any desire to impinge anyone else's freedom of speech (after all, I am not a Communist) or to protest anyone's fundamental human right to be an idiot ...
... but which bright spark thought it would be a good idea to pin one on the History building's notice board? History, you know? The discipline that remembers things that happened, especially the things that went badly wrong?
Sunday, July 20, 2008
help!
... or, in this case, Allie needs YOU. [See poll on the right hand side of webpage.]
Despite having had two of the most horrible weeks yet this year (feeling completely overworked, as well as dealing with family worries, annoying people whom I have to persuade to work together, and sickness), a persistent problem has been ringing in my head.
What am I going to do next year?
It's not just that. It's more like, What am I going to do with my future?
Here are the options. I could:
a) do a Masters (in History, of course). This has the bonus that I am almost definitely, barring death/destruction, intending to do a masters degree in History sometime in the next five years. A Masters will give me much more of an edge if I end up wanting to get into a government department such as Foreign Affairs. And I just really want to do one! I love History!
On the other hand, if I do a Masters next year, I will be pretty much limited to studying something in the English-speaking world. I'm doing Russian history at the moment; it's okay not to know Russian at Honours level, but at Masters and beyond, it's a must to be able to understand the language of the society you're looking at.
But if I'm simply doing a Masters to give me a edge in careers outside History, there's not a whole lot of point in spending all that time on a language just so I can do a Masters in it.
b) go to Russia. Teach English for a living and try and immerse myself in Russian. Bonuses: an adventure! And useful for my History in the long run.
On the other hand: scary, and apparently not an easy destination. Culture shock, et al. As above, unnecessary if I'm not going forward with History as a career.
c) go to France. Teach English in French high schools and immerse myself in French. Bonuses: a very easy way to travel, and good for furthering my French language skills. A good gap year experience.
On the other hand: Unnecessary for History. Of course, learning another language is never pointless - still, this would be simply a gap year and nothing more.
d) do some other thing that hasn't occurred to me yet (suggestions welcomed).
Basically, it comes down to this: Do I want to do a PhD in History? Do I want to go on to be a historian? If so, I'm going to Russia next year. If not... I don't know.
Help me! Make up my mind for me by voting on my poll!
Oh, and by the way: family worries culminated in a new nephew on Friday night. :) He's called Daniel and he was very, very stubborn about the eviction date.
Oh, and by the way: family worries culminated in a new nephew on Friday night. :) He's called Daniel and he was very, very stubborn about the eviction date.
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