Friday, January 26, 2007
WARNING: not a celebratory post. Some strong language. Contains Themes. May distress young children and zealots.
Happy Australia day, everyone. I know you're as excited as me... which is not very. I know I should care, but quite often I don't know it is/was Australia day until someone else brings it up. Then their reply is invariably 'well, why do you think we have a public holiday, then?' I don't know. Maybe some idiots are riding horses around a track, or perhaps we've got the day off because some woman born into a special family has a birthday somewhere close to this date. There are a lot of public holidays I don't care about.
Of course, this time last year was a big deal. I arrived home on the day before Australia Day, and the holiday was never so approproate in all the history of its celebration - no, not even when they called it 'invasion day'. My Australian friends (three) in Guiyang were very upset about being left behind on the annual day of... what? Barbeques? Endless themed playlists on the radio? Half-assed concerts?
Let me explain myself. I love my country. I really do. I love it with a passion that frightens me. For a large part of my time overseas, while I was happy on a day-to-day level, on a deeper level I was miserable. Many people don't know where they belong. I do. I belong in Australia, in South Australia, in the Adelaide Hills. This is my home, the home of my heart and all that soppy stuff, and when people talk about Indiginous Australians pining away when put in prison, a part of me understands.
Further, I love the culture of Australia, I love its people (mostly). Yes, I hate our Prime Minister with a passion, but most of that is because, well, he's fucking up my country. It's a very personal hate. I love our history, even the unsalibruious parts.
I love our language (maybe I should make a resolution to use it more - strewth. Bonza. Bloody Oath.) I love our traditions, such as they are, and I love our attitude. I never thought all those stereotypes were true, but let me tell you, going overseas makes you see them, like it makes you notice the accent (which, I might add, can be heard across a crowded room. It's that nasal quality.) Although I consider myself quite highly-strung, in our little office overseas I was by far the most laid back person.
What I do not love is advocation of our country over all others. I happen to think it is, in fact, the best country in the world, but if you think yours is better - great. I'd be happy to talk about what makes your country great, too. I love my country in spite of it's flaws (one of which starts with a 'JH') I love it too much to pretend that those flaws aren't there, because I want to make it better. I will never put an Australian flag outside of my house because - well, because it quite frankly is not the Australian way (whatever the hell that means). I don't need a piece of material with the Union Jack on it to remind me what country I come from, thankyou very much.
Less depressingly, I also do not love organised celbration. I am not a crowd-loving people person. I am, in fact, a sit around, drink some tea, kind of gal. (I freaking love that. I just love it) Also, I am contrary. Require me to be enthusiastic, and I will fold my arms in a recalcitrant manner, and 'humph'. So, Australia Day? Not on my list of exciting celebrations.
Actually, I think this and my New Years comments are why I feel so strongly about the Christmas season. December is when I do all of my New Years/Australia Day appropriate thinking. It's Christmas and my Birthday, it's hot. It's nostalgic - those long summer nights sure bring back the childhood memories, don't they? It's a set time each year, and I spend a lot of the month thinking about where I am this time around, and why I like it, and why I want to be in this beautiful country of mine, and not in someone elses beautiful country. That is why, although most of my eyar overeas passed fairly smoothly, the month of December was sheer hell. It was cold, it was depressing, it was not what December is supposed to be.
Anyway. I had a question. It's a netiquette question. It's about comments. I love to comment on other people's blogs, although I try not to do so if I have nothing to say. what I like about it si that I do have something to say, and that sometimes, when I say it, other people listen. Did that make sense? Anyway, I talked about this last post, blog love, yadda yadda, blah. So, anyway, I know a lot of people talk about trying to reply to every comment. Sometimes people leave an email address along the lines of 'email@example.com' in which case, obviously, no reply is called for. Checking out other's blogs is nice, but as yet I have only had one comment form someone whose blog I do not already read.
So my question is this: when I comment on a blog, and the author replies to me, should I reply back? How long does this go on before it becomes weird and annoying for the person on the other end?
Now that I type this it doesn't sound very important, does it? I have a bit of guilt because I've had a couple comments I haven't replied to in a row, because I read those people's blogs, and I feel like it's not really necessary to reply - we are already interacting. Anyway... I guess I'm just a geek.
In other news, I'm moving tommorrow! Very exciting, but it means no internet for at least a while. I don't know how I'll survive, although i am informed that the internet does not, in fact, supply oxygen, and that non-internet survival is technically possible...
And something for the road: My grandma (who is soooooo cool - more about her some other time) has a habit of giving things away. Since she's lost a whole bunch of weight lately, some of her clothes can now be legitimately be passed on to me, the largest of my generation. I saw her on the weekend, and I scored two shirts for my interview on Monday and a top. The top is black and white stripes, 3/4 sleeves (which I hate, usually), and a sort of turquoise/teal stripe under each arm and for the zip thingy. Placard. Anyway, the point it, the shirt is made by a company called Black Apple, who if theyhave a website, I can't find it. So I put the thing on, and do you know what the first thing that went through my head was?
"*gasp* I'm Inside a Black Apple"
I'm such a geek.... :-D
All cartoons from inkcint.com