My first time

Liv and Matt at their local




It was magical. It was more than I had imagined... It was my first time in Melbourne. I finally managed to catch a plane south for the weekend to visit friends and explore Melbourne and its surrounds.

From the moment I arrived, I had the uncanny feeling that I had been there before. The city felt so familiar. More than the sense of familiarity I would have gained from watching Kath and Kim and the Secret Life of Us, though aspects of these shows admittedly crept into the weekend. Whatever it was, this was a place I was happy to be reacquainted with.

Melbourne CBD is deceptive. With its prerequisite number of highrise and commercial buildings, it is like any other city. But pleasure is never far from business in Melbourne. Also within the city, hidden, are old cobblestoned laneways, footpaths lined with alfresco eats and coffee shops, talented artists creating museums on the streets, and horse-drawn carriages ready to take off towards the Yarra River which lazily snakes alongside the metropolis, markets covering its banks on weekends. The famous green and gold trams easily pick us up and drop us off whenever we feel the urge.

The people are so well dressed, though fashion does not seem to be effortful here. In Sydney, I so often feel that there is a nervous insecurity that drives the fashion industry. In Melbourne, looking good is all about expressing the art and culture of the place. People, themselves, are walking statements- not of power or position, but of subculture, youth and artistic freedom. The barrista guessed I was not from Melbourne. Oh no, I thought. Do I look that unfashionable in my cargo pants and thongs? Do I scream "tourist" with my camera? No, I had said "skim" cappucino, not "skinny" he offered reassuringly. I was not convinced.

St Kilda was swamped with trendy locals enjoying the line up of cafes, retro bars and- wait for it- practically a whole block of European patisseries! I lingered too long outside one of the cake shops and then realised that I had caused a human traffic jam. To get out of the way, I ducked into the little shop. The sight of the pastries, cakes and breads had been bad enough. Now I was hit with the smell. There are few smells in the world that force a person to think of their future, mostly smells remind us of the past. But whenever I am hit with this smell, my future flashes before me. Maybe I will live in a little flat above such a shop, maybe I will enjoy my breakfast and coffee each weekend surrounded by these perfumes, maybe every special occasion will be marked with a ritualistic drive to buy these treats. I happily left with a fresh poppyseed strichtel in one hand, a "skinny" cappucino in the other.

Next was the nearby Yarra Valley with its melange of vineyards and boutique wineries. We stopped at a couple. At Chandon we ate our fill on platters of cheese and antipasto washed down with a bubbly glass of sparkling rose, it's light pink colour resonating well with the arrival of spring in the area.

The restaurants, bars and clubs were warm and friendly. Melbournites had alot to show-off- they boast an international culture- the food, the music, the art, the mentality. But inspite of this, or perhaps because of it, the city welcomes the newcomer with modesty.

The club we went to took two taxi rides and half an hour of wandering and asking before we found it, tucked away in a dark ally behind some rubbish bins. By the time we arrived, we felt that the city had not intended us to go there, that there was a secrecy behind its friendliness. But we realised that even the locals had not known where the club was, and with possibly the nicest bouncers in Australia welcoming us in, we soon felt that the search had been necessary, that Melbourne wanted to give up its secrets, but only to those who perservered. We walked into what felt like a house party- half indoors, half in an outdoor urban yard- grafiti, metal and bricks looked beautiful here. And the music! I cannot describe it. Just go there. It's called St Jerome's.

Driving towards the airport on my last day I realised Melbourne had been a fusion of what I loved about Australia and what I find so magical in Europe. I had tested out my backpack, but more importantly I tested out this country. A little test before I leave it. Melbourne passed with a high distinction.

Mountain high, mood low

I had to write something for my travel writing course...

This happened to me in 1999. The story is- for the most part- fact. How we managed to get back to civilisation however, has been sprinkled with a little fiction.

Food trails in the French Alps

The passion for the region’s cheeses, breads and pates has long been alive in my family and, like finding the source of a great river, I wanted to explore the origin of this food, to uncover its secrets. The emotional and physical pull of this food was the first secret I would learn…

We were lost. We’d been lost for the last hour or so but no one was brave enough to say it. The cold and thirst were our physical threats. The hunger was both a threat and a lifeline. All we could think about was food.

I’m cross-country skiing in the French Alps, near the Italian border. I left Les Saisies, a tiny resort town in the foothills of Mont Blanc, almost four hours ago. The Mont Blanc (white mountain), standing at 4 808m, is the highest mountain in Western Europe. Today, its thick and perennial white ice peak flashes in and out of view behind white clouds. When the peak can be seen, a postcard-perfect background frames my first cross-country skiing experience.

Lucie and Olivier, a friendly French couple from Lyon whom I met at my hostel, accompany me. Between my broken French and their broken English, we understand each other. They tell me a little about the region, particularly their love of a small town nearby- Beaufort and it’s Swiss-like cheese of the same name. They give me tips on my skiing technique- “move forward” I hear a lot, assuming it means, “lean forward,” though they may just be berating my slowness on the trail.

We would simply stick to the clearly marked trail, right? The trail looped around like an oversized athletics track, so that we would predictably finish where we began in no more than two hours’- back before dark.

But the trail stops. We have not come across a marker for some time, and turn back only to find the light snowfall was not light enough- our own tracks have been buried under a fine layer of powder snow. Cold air from the Mont Blanc has descended into our valley and it is difficult to see even five metres in front of us. Patches of forest, and- more worryingly- changes in slope and snow cover can no longer be anticipated.

A team decision, and we give up trying to retrace our steps and opt to press on, hoping that another marker will direct our way soon- then it could not be more than a kilometre before arriving back in Les Saisies. Through squinted eyes, we see no marker.

It is snowing heavier now, and we can feel our skis are sinking further and further into the snow, making it almost impossible to move more than a few centimetres with each step. The temperature bites suddenly, as though it has dropped 20 degrees in minutes, and snow has managed to find its way inside our boots, turning our feet into heavy iceblocks.

Lucie and I begin to panic. Between chattering teeth, Lucie curses something angrily in French. I begin to imagine the search party that would find us the next day, too late, our bodies sacrificed to the Mont Blanc. It would be a typical “tourists underestimate weather” story that puts all fault on the stupidity of the travellers, sympathy coming only from our families. I think of the two burly St. Bernard dogs outside she ski-hire shop. They are too old now to rescue us with a barrel of rum around their thick necks- they are retired and serve only as a pseudo-tourist attraction for the town.

Only Olivier remains calm and optimistic, assuring us that the town could not be more than half an hour away, that we would soon be drinking steamy chocolat chaud and dipping soft white bread into a bubbly, velvety mixture of cheeses, the prototypical fondue for which the region was famous.

With this, we step up the pace. A snow-white rabbit, sensing our hurry, skirts out of the fog into view, only to disappear into a patch of forest. Olivier begins to talk about food again- rabbit and red wine stew (ragout de lapin) his mother makes on special occasions.

My mind firmly on being alive long enough to taste such a wonderful dish, I follow the rabbit’s own trail towards some conifers. A hallucination- I see lights coming through the trees to our left. Lucie and Olivier agree- I am not hallucinating- these are lights. We are soon met with the sight of a farmhouse.

The residents- a dairy farmer, his wife and son- quickly usher us in from the cold and we are instantly hit with the warm smells of a Savoie kitchen. The family try, without much success, to hide their amusement at our ordeal. Lucie is in histrionics and Olivier looks relieved but also amused at Lucie's exasperation. I have removed my boots, hold one foot at a time in my hands, and look around the kitchen- there are pots bubbling away on the stove, flour dusted like snow on the benches, bread baking, and mouldy cheeses stacked to the ceiling along stone walls. The farmer tells us we are not in Les Saisies but in Beaufort. As though reading our minds, he mentions that the mouldless cheeses are kept in another house altogether, ripening patiently. We would not be allowed to leave until we had had our fill of his family’s produce.

As we are revived by the cheese, bread and cassoulet- a dish of white beans, pork stomach and duck- rich by design to provide energy for peasant farmers working long hours in cold conditions (or perhaps lost and forlorn travellers!). I wondered at the powerful magnetic pull this food had offered. Food had never tasted so good, but the thought of it had been it’s ultimate gift.

Psychologist on hiatus

I am officially on hiatus. I have submitted my thesis and never want to see it again. In reality, I probably will see it again when the time for emmendations comes in a few months. I will also need to write a couple of papers and present at a conference in October but apart from that, I am done. Im also done-in.

Travel is coming as a very welcome reprieve not necessarily from psychology, but from university at least. I dont think I can escape psychology now that I have been "psychologised." I say it like I have been "brutalised." I haven't. There are just the normal hazards of accepting the cons with the pros, the Yokos with the Johns, the hangovers with the champagne, the Starbucks with the "only place open that serves coffee."

Others in the profession may similarly curse the day they learnt of personality disorders, the day they uncovered their own deep and painful core beliefs, the day they realised whole-heartedly that the world is not fair, the day they wondered how they would possibly be able to bring up kids in the minefield that is life before them, and the day they realised having a "good day" sometimes meant no one got considerably worse.

If you can get through all that without offending friends and loved ones because you dont always say the right thing, or because you dont want to talk or listen to anyone once home, you're doing alright. If you can get through that without being paranoid about pathologising instead of realising that most facets or life are too complicated to be boxed in any way, without hearing the words "you should have handled that better- you're a psychologist," and without neglecting to find the necessary time and inclination to continually work on your own "stuff," you're doing well. Really well.

I hope the time away will be a chance to work on my own "stuff," a chance to meet weird and wonderful people and a chance to experience a true sense of independence. I dont mean economic independence, I mean the chance to get to know the world, to take my time with it, to feel all the ups and downs and get through them with my own resources, off my own bat. I want to dishelve expectation, mostly my own. I want to be a visitor. I have no unrealistic expectation of getting to know the world without giving something to it. What that is, Im not yet sure. But I have to be open to anything.

I read somewhere... be careful what you wish for- you might just get it. Right now I wish for the hot sticky air of Thailand, the colourful and aromatic markets of India, the warm and comforting feel of Christmas in France and the rushed, cant-stop-to-even-take-a-breath chatter of my sister. Hmm, I better be careful what I wish for.

Feliz Aniversario Ana!

Friday night was spent celebrating Ana's birthday down at Bungalow 8, King Street Wharf. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that the night was a success- lots of drinking, dancing and generally mucking up around town. Not too many accidents, though I did walk smack-bang into a pole. For some reason, despite the force of the impact, I did not feel a thing.

While still somewhat sober, and well before my intimate entangle with the pole, I took a moment to absorb the evening. Friends relaxed and comfortable with each other, lights shining off the yacht-filled harbour, the familiar smell of salt water coupled with sausages sizzling, a blimp with a huge television screen floating above, and the warmth of the outdoor heaters (not really needed despite it being the middle of winter). There was no pretense, no angst. It was the perfect Sydney night.

I could not have thought of a better way to party with our Portuguese girl on her birthday. Ana, you are gorgeous, dont ever change. Hope you had a great birthday.

Two parking tickets in two days

"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes" Oscar Wilde

Lately, Im feeling very experienced. My judgment failed miserably on two occasions in as many days, and I literally paid for it. Now I cant possibly buy that great digital camera I saw on eBay, instead I'll be buying the "ok" one. I have a feeling that the reason my judgment failed, and why subsequently 6 megapixles turned into 5, and then dwindled into 3, is due to two forces: Optimism bias and magical thinking.

Optimism bias, a theory first proposed by Kirscht et al. (1966) states that people consistently believe negative events are less likely to happen to them (e.g. heart attack, injury in a car accident), and that they are more likely to experience positive events (e.g. have a gifted child, own own home) compared to people otherwise similar to themselves. This effect has been found in events that are perceived to be both in one's control and out of one's control, though the amount of perceived control over future events does effect the degree of optimism bias (more perceived control over a negative event, more tendency to believe it's less likely and vice-versa). Interestingly, I read somewhere... that people with depression are more accurate when rating their chances of some event happening- they are less likely to experience optimism bias. So it's not that depression causes people to be more pessimistic, but in fact more realistic about the future. The rest of us are, for the most part, deluded.

On both occasions I knew I was capable of receiving a ticket, but I severely underestimated the chances of this occurring. Further, magical thinking, a style of thinking most of us occasionally engage in (and is present in some psychiatric conditions such as OCD and pathological gambling) played a part. It is best described as our superstitious tendencies, our perceived ability to make judgments about events- decrease the likelihood of adverse events and increase the likelihood of positive events by utilizing some unsupported technique- an old proverb, a good luck charm, a ritual or compulsion (internal or external), or some other constructed unsubstantiated belief. I truly believed that by receiving a ticket the day before, there was NO chance I would get one the next day. I was inclined to believe this even though the car was parked at two different locations, knowing only too well that parking inspectors do not get together of an evening and describe which cars they booked the day before, agreeing to take it easy on some people.

I think my "world should be fair" belief came up, even though I know that the world is in fact not fair, and that on both occasions I was, well, wrong. At the very least, this sentimental longing of fairness should be reserved for times when one is not breaking the law- the most objective measure of what our society has deemed fair. Still, I felt it was unfair. I wish I could "magically" make the tickets go away, maybe by avoiding cracks in the pavement for the next (insert any odd number that can also be divided by 3) days? Maybe they will forget about me down at the Infringement Processing Bureau, it's not like they would send me to court and then to jail if I ignored the tickets. That would not happen. I see I am doing it again! Oh well, I'll keep chalking it up to experience.

PS> I read somewhere... that optimism bias may play a role in the so-called "environmental paradox"- that despite increasing concern for environmental degradation and the knowledge that the impact of humankind on the natural environment may ultimately threaten life on the planet, commensurate adoption of pro-environmental behaviour is lacking. If everyone exercises optimism bias here, it makes sense that the individual is not spurred to act. Problemo.

Apple pancakes anyone...? Anyone...?

Warum? Warum ist die Banane krumm? ~ Why? Why is the banana crooked? German expression, used when a question has no answer.

I doubt Jack Johnson could sing about apple pancakes with the same nostalgia, I know that a smoothie now requires thought and construction, I suspect that Weet Bix has counter-intuitively become less healthy and more boring, and I downright oppose the notion of carrot bread for breakfast. That's right, the banana drought in Australia is very much upon us, with a myriad of unseen repercussions. It's turning breakfast on its head, causing cafes to change their tried and tested menus, reducing lovers of the fruit into "let's do breakfast" weekend recluses, and causing me to curse at anyone named Larry. I miss them!!

While still available at exorbitant prices (exorbitant for bananas anyway), the decrease in average intake of this once common, lowly regarded fruit must come at a price.

I read somewhere... that bananas contain tryptophan, a protein that converts to the neurotransmitter serotonin. Low serotonin is associated with low mood. While it's not like antidepressant medication sales are going through the roof at present, including tryptophan in your diet everyday for over 20 years, as I have, and suddenly not getting your daily hit could potentially affect a person. Though it might be nice to blame Monday morning grumpiness, PMS and any shameful chocolate binges on a natural disaster and protective import policies.

Age-old proverbs like "You dont know what you have until it's gone" or "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" might be replaced with "You dont know how much you like a fruit until a cyclone hits" and "Absence makes the stomach grow louder."

I was worrying what I would tell my grandkids, with no experience of war or economic depression, no "we had to walk 20km in the snow with no shoes in the mid of winter to school" stories. Now I have the "Great Banana Drought of '06" to remind them that life used to be a lot tougher, that breakfasts used to be a lot plainer. While they complain about eating their own breakfast I will remind them that banana pancakes were once considered an unforgivable extravagance, what with all the (banana) starving children in the country, and that they "don't know how lucky they have it."

No longer can we say someone "is going bananas" with a cheeky smile and good intention. The phrase has taken on a more ominous meaning. Bananas are going and things are not the same.

And they thought Galileo was crazy

It's true, the universe does not revolve around Earth. Click here.

I thought this was a lovely example of grasping an abstract idea, understanding something on an intellectual level, but still not "getting it." I tried- I looked up at the stars, I imagined I was a grain of sand, I thought about being up in space looking down on an ever-shrinking planet, I said to myself, "We are a cosmic accident," I thought about the Big Bang and all those algae-like life forms, and how the earth has been around for a fraction of the time the universe has, and also how in an eyeblink of that time we have managed to completely and thoroughly stuff it up, then I got too pessimistic and distracted myself. But I tried, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't understand. Not really.

There are a couple of things in life I find similarly difficult to understand, no matter how hard I try... Hunting, anorexia and Tom Cruise are up there.

(Thanks to Aaron for the link!)

Blind luck

"What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies" ~Aristotle


Blue Steelin' it at the East Sydney Hotel- me, Blake, Hel, Rosco and Neil

The DCPers, last day of the course

Kritsin, me and Bron at Liv's birthday

Trace and Ana on the ferry


Me, Lis and Blake in the Blue Mountains, happy hours before Lis' accident ;o(

Rosco, Hel, Neil, Ana and Lyndel at Trace's BBQ

Me and Sal at the DCP Ball, Centrepoint Tower

Kristin and Phil, a favourite picture

Blake, Rosco and I at the DCP Ball

Ana and Niel on Pittwater

At the office- Belinda, KT, Blake, Sadhana and Ana

I am nearly there. I can see the finish line for all its promised freedoms, can smell the scent of living life on the other side, can hear the bursting exhalation from family who have- till now- been holding their breaths, can feel the proverbial weight lift from my collapsed shoulders, can taste the yeasty bubbles of that celebratory glass of Bollinger... yet, for some reason I hang on.

I have no reason to stay in this limbo, I have been here too long. But something, and I suspect, some people, are giving me reason. I read somewhere... that true friends are hard to find. Not for me. I walked blindly into the most arduous three years of my uni "career," expecting nothing and noone. Ok, I expected a huge academic learning curve, I must admit. I expected an outcome that generally saw me becoming a psychologist, a job that has- and still does- give me not only work- but life-satisfaction (as well as keeping me firmly on a "scenic path" that will never cross the highways of the corporate world). I got all of this.

What will I remember? What will I be forever grateful for? I walked blindly into a group of people who have opened my eyes to the unconditionality of true friendship. A group of people, who without knowing it, have showed me that life should be smothered with laughs, albeit peppered with tears. A group of people who reassured me that when there are tears, they are nature's way of calling on your friends.

I never used to drop to the ground from laughing.

I think I walked blindly into me.

Some interesting stats

"Life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not" Oscar Wilde

If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following:
There would be:
57 Asians, 21 Europeans, 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south, 8 Africans
52 would be female, 48 would be male
70 would be non-white, 30 would be white
70 would be non-Christian, 30 would be Christian
89 would be heterosexual,11 would be homosexual
6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the US
80 would live in substandard housing
70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death
1 would be near birth
1 (yes, only 1) would have a tertiary education
1 would own a computer

Thank you stranger

"Smile... It confuses people" Sandi Thom (title of album)

I just walked past someone with the biggest smile on her face!! I want to know what she was thinking, I want to tell her "thank you," and I to walk past a smile like that more often! I know there is no recommended daily intake for smiles, but there should be. There is for vitamins, carbohydrates, salts... all to improve health. Why not for smiles, laughs and grins, with a warning against too many frowns and sneers? Whatever the minimum recommended dosage, we are all not getting enough of the leafy green vegetables, the potassium and the iron of what is needed for "head-health."

I wonder if she was thinking about her friends, or maybe she is in love for the first time? She may have won $10 on scratchie, or actually (for once) remembered a good joke. Who knows! That's what's nice about it.

I think we notice people more when they are smiling. I do. Is it because so few people smile outside the context of a positive interpersonal exchange, or outside the arena of social expectation? Maybe. I think we are also naturally attracted to smiles, they are not threatening, they do not need to be avoided. People look better when they smile, no? They make the recipient smile, and who doesn't like smiling?

I read somewhere... that the average child laughs around 400 times per day, but the average adult laughs only 15 times per day. Quelle domage!

I read somewhere... that it is not happiness that makes us laugh. It is laughter that makes us happy. C'est vrai, je croix.

A study at UNSW asked participants to solve what they didn't know were unsolvable anagrams (a task often used to induce low mood). There were two conditions: In the first condition, participants were required to attempt the anagrams while placing and holding a pencil horizontally in their mouths. The second group were asked to attempt the same anagrams, while holding a pencil by its end in their mouths. Both groups were then asked to complete a mood inventory. It was found that the second group scored higher on measures of depression following the impossible anagram task. The researchers concluded that the difference in the position of the lips and facial muscles contributed to the difference in scores. Thus, even holding your mouth in a position more smile-like could improve mood/protect against low mood. Bizarre, non?

So, smile and let people wonder. There's benefits.

N.B. "head-health" as it is used here, is a newly coined term that describes good mood, low stress, healthy brain function and everything else the ol' cerebral cortex requires for smiling at a stranger, humming under your breath, singing in the shower or with a hairbrush, and feeling a little like a kid again.

In general, we need to get specific!

"I am not young enough to know everything" Oscar Wilde

Lately I've noticed that some conversations may start out innocuous and mundane but end up heated. The heat has been coming from an old, tried and trusted friend we know as the "generalisation." It's almost as though a small hole in the bucket that is the conversation appears and then the stream of generalisations pour out like a never-ending pack of Tim Tams, with a horde of insatiable followers. Any question is answered with a definitive statement that one or more of the parties agrees with, and then the conversation gains a life of its own, a breathing and sometimes controversial creation that can be as dangerous as it is entertaining. Why, when a specific question is raised do specifics go out the window? Why, when a harmless and positive conversation on love comes up, does it dissolve into a scathing assessment on the differences bewteen men and women??

I've come to a realisation that almost no one is immune to falling into the pit that is the generalisation (ok except you, Hammo- See? I'm not generalising) I wondered why we, as the *liberal "free thinkers" we like to think we are, continually manage to take the simplistic and determinsitic route, wander down the road that is most travelled, and take one person's behaviour and explain it all away with brash generalisations? We do it for nearly everything- the person's sex, culture, religion, birthplace, whether they are an only child or a middle child, -the list is endless. It happens so easily in conversation, yet at close inspection it is often the most insightless and strange response you can come up with.

Here are some recent examples:
"He is the messiest person I have ever lived with!!" Response: "He's a boy"
"She hates eating anything spicy" Response: "She's from the country"
"Why cant he make one phone call instead of sending 50 texts?" Response: "He's Australian"
"She is so indecisive " Response: "She's must be a Libran, or a Gemini.... or a Scorpio, I cant decide"
"He falls in love so easily" Response: "He's very young"

Hmmm... I have said some of these things! I mean, really. What is it with some of these explanations? She's from the country?! So?? It's scary because it's so easy. The other problem is that we dont mind, and in fact welcome, positive generalisations (or when they provide convenient excuses).

"He's so level-headed and practical" Response: "He's a boy"
"She's so down to earth" Response: "She's from the country"
"He is interested in the environment" Response: "He's Australian"
"She's a perfectionist" Response: "She's a Libran" (rather than "She's obsessive")
"He's a player" Response: "He's very young"

Ok, this is all very well and good but one thing always gets forgotten. What about the INDIVIDUAL?? What about the idea he's a player because he is having fun playing or because he hasn't met anyone to be "not playing?" with? What about the notion that she is a perfectionist because she gets a warm fuzzy feeling inside whenever she feels she has put everything into a task, or because she's scared shitless of failure? While we will never know for sure, the reason behind human behaviour, as complex as it inherently is, cannot always be simple. Sometimes it will be, most often it wont.

Camping at the Basin

"I believe in God, only I spell it Nature." Frank Lloyd Wright

Finally managed to get away camping with the gang. We caught the ferry from Palm Beach with all our gear and had a great two nights in the "wilderness." No cars, no hot water, no mobile reception... Neil brought the Defiance, so we ended up going for a sail. Camilla was scared by a particularly out-of-sorts wallaby, likening it to a James Bond villain. Trace slept on a grasshopper, or so she thought. Ana felt "priviledged" when half the wallabies, possums and bandicoots were in our tent making a mess and eating all our food (others naturally thought this was a disaster), Blake conceded and ended up loving all the camping games (particularly "Crossed or uncrossed??"), Belinda won the attentions of an admirer, Anthony made us all spaghetti bol and cut down a tree (still alive mind you, hmmm) for the campfire, KT amused us all with stories from the other side (of normality), some Irish backpackers showed up, there was a commitment ceremony, Sal caught Camilla rolling her eyes, Richard, well he was Richard, and volleyball never really kicked off. WHY DOES NO ONE LIKE VOLLEYBALL ANYMORE???




Ana on the Defiance in Pittwater

Now that it's over, can I please have it back?

Student Life. Two words that are mutually exclusive, aren't they? As much as I am in a hurry to be done with the student life, the seemingly endless demands of both coursework and internships, the worry and anxiety over a research project that has no one blame but you, juggling two jobs, the need to keep family and friends happy and feeling like a priority in your crazy life, I am starting to realise that not only have I been a student, I have had a life. And a bloody good one at that. So what if there have been moments when I wished I was doing something (anything!) else? These times are always softened by moments when I would wish to be doing nothing else.



It's a hard life, this student life.

(Blake, Ana, Me & Tracy at the Marly Bar in Newtown)

The Ins and Outs of it all

Belly buttons. We all have one, but what do they mean? Following a recent discussion on the relative merits of so-called "Innies" and "Outties" and simultaneously discovering that some people do in fact have both an Innie and an Outtie-in-one, I was driven to consider the question- can we say anything about a person based on their belly button?

What is a belly buttton anyway??
The umbilicus or belly button is the scar from the umbilical cord that nurtured you while in your mother's womb. This pit or depression is an attachment of your skin to the underlying muscle fascia or covering sheath of the muscles. The divided cord scar typically forms a cavity or "innie" configuration. A projecting structure is often called an "outtie."

Based on the number of web sites, it seems to be "all the vogue" to undergo plastic surgery on your belly button, particularly those with outties wanting innies (or after navel peircings goes horribly wrong!) But should we be fighting destiny in this way??
From a highly scientific and reliable review of the literauture, I have found the difinitive answer to the question- can we say anything about a person based on their belly button?? Yes, it appears so...
"The horizontal navel belongs to a complex and highly emotional individual.
The vertical navel indicates a person who is self-confident, generous, and emotionally stable.
The outtie navel belongs to an optimistic person who is enthusiastic about life.
The innie navel belongs to a person who is gentle, loving, cautious, sensitive and prone to worry.
The off center navel indicates a fun loving, unusual individual who is full of mood swings.
The round navel indicates a modest, even tempered person with a quiet personality. "
(Extracts from the website Belly Full of Button, created by Naomi Stegenga 02/04)
Maybe those with "combo order" navels are just more complex and intriguing people.... Another question we might ask ourselves...
Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?
It is thought that because both Adam and Eve were 'created' by God, they therefore had no need for an umbilical cord. Meanwhile, famous painters such as Michelangelo and Raphael have painted Adam with a belly button. Ooooh...the controversy!!
Finally, a question that some are demanding answers to...
What is belly button lint?
Despite what some more creative sources say, lint comes from the clothes you wear. While some fabrics shed more than others, the shape of your belly button might also determine the amount of lint you are capable of collecting. A hairy belly button will collect more lint than one that is not hairy. If you perspire a great deal, your sweat will also contribute to more fuzz buildup. Keep that belly button clean!!!

What's in a name?

"..that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet"~ Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

As some of you may know I have had a name dilemma of late. During the whole process I had to ask myself "what indeed, is in a name?" After much deliberation, I have decided (for the moment) that Shakespeare was right.

Getting out of Sydney

Sometimes the best thing about living in Sydney, is getting out of Sydney.

After weeks of slow, deep breathing while sitting in traffic, pretending to be really busy texting so someone wont try and sell me something on the street, and needing to write every single thing down in my "To Do" list but never actually having the time to read it, I have had enough. I need to get out!!

While plans to visit my friend in Canberra were unexpectedly delayed, I have felt a restlessness for the bush that leads me to take the scenic route in everycase, walking knee-high in lawn clippings and leaves (and I will purposefully do this whenever I walk to work) just so I can smell something natural. Does this make sense to anyone else? Dont get me wrong, I love Sydney, but sometimes I need to inhale something other than bus exhaust, foul smelling brickwork (walls are NOT toilets, people) and greasy take-out.

To answer my prayers, I will be spending the weekend at a friend's house in Narrabeen (specifically, Pelican Point- how cute and "country" is that?) It's not exactly "getting out of Sydney," but a change nonetheless. The last time I went up there it did actually feel like a mini-holiday. So maybe it's what we make of Sydney that counts- just find a little respite amongst all the chaos- you might only have to go a few kilometres north of Manly...

If all else fails, I will be the one hugging the tree ;-p

Misplaced professional help

A man is walking along the street when he is brutally beaten and robbed. He lies unconscious, bleeding. While he is lying there, a police officer passes by, but crosses to the other side of the road without trying to help. A Boy Scout troop does the same, as do a number of pedestrians. Finally, a psychologist walks by and runs up to the man. He bends down and says, "My God! Whoever did this needs help!"

Ok, this joke isnt that funny. I liked it, but think I may have inherited some German humour, a dominant gene for which I cannot be blamed. I read somewhere... "There is nothing more serious than a German joke."(Oscar Wilde). I very seriously agree. Ha. Ha.

Classic quotes this year have been in abundance, and thanks to Lyndel for documenting them, we were able to publish some in "Discount Therapy." I can recount a few:

KT: "My friend was recently talking to Jesus and..."

(Lecture 1: ADVANCED Adult Neuropsychological Disorders. Pointing to a picture of the brain, Dr C (our lecturer) "This is a brain." (audible sigh of relief from students fearing the term advanced)

HH: "I look good in any hat, I really do!" BH: "So it's just the top of your head that's letting you down then"

MS: "No, let's get personal!"

HD: (After refusing all week to play table tennis while on holidays with HH) finally says: "Look, I just think there are enough things Im good at, why would I waste time doing things Im not good at?"

LM: (While teaching a slow breathing technique, LM has her hands on her chest thinking, "Geez, this kinda looks like Im feeling my breasts") says: "Dont just breathe with you breasts, I mean chest"

LA: "I am so drunk! I love you, and you, and you..., you most of all"

DT: "I want to kill myself but I just dont have time"

HD: (after a day at an eating disorders unit) "I've had a crap day. I just spent the last 3 hours cognitively challenging the belief that body butter can cause weight gain"

AL: (AL was running a social skills training group for kids with Asperger's, and thinking she was getting somewhere too) 12 year old boy says: "Miss, are you a transvestite?"

TR: (in bottle shop looking at wines) "Who wants some mer-Lot? Or white? Should we get some semi- LLon?" (and later) "I feel like a paster-ray, can we get one? Let's go to Michel's Paster-ray"

BH: "I dont care what CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) can do! There's one thing it dont do. It dont cure ugly"

A one night stand with chocolate and Diet Coke

When you've got a whole night of writing ahead of you, when you know that there is NO WAY you will get it all done and you are cursing yourself for "leaving it till the last minute, as usual," there are three things that come to mind- 1) Poor, poor me; 2) How will I possibly stay up, Im already tired!!???; and 3) What do I get?? (the usual cost/benefit evaluation)

I'm sure that we can all relate, however, unlike most people, in a kind of weird way I look forward to these nights. Ok, so it's not fun and I would much rather be home watching the OC (I'm not stupid), but these are the nights I get to OD on two of my favourite vices without feeling an ounce of guilt. It's for the good of my future, I say! Without it, who knows what kind of work I would produce? Further, I have evidence (Ok, it's anecdotal, but evidence nonetheless) that caffiene not only helps a person concentrate and "stay awake" but actually IMPROVES the quality of the work. I do my best work on nights like these! The sentences may not ever end and the sentences may not ever end and the - it might be a little little little repetitive repetitive, but so so so what??? Anyone one marking this will see beyond these small details and wonder at the meaningful, no, profound quality of the work.

For instance, did you know that if you drink alcohol before trying to remember something, you are more likely to remember it?? This information is not only meaningful and profound, but highly practical. We should all be going to work and uni pissed! In fact, I should be drinking before an all-nighter like tonight!! Then I will not only be bouncing off the walls and typing at a million miles a minute, I will also be disinhibited, loud, likely to sing and find everything really attractive- Imagine the meaningful and profound work that I would produce then!!

Hmm... maybe I should just stick to my original plan... ;o)

We long for the old simple days

“We long for the old simple days but we are, most of us, caught in a world of paradox. We have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but we have less, buy more but we enjoy it less. We have bigger houses, and have smaller families, more convenience, but less time. We have more degrees, but less sense, more knowledge but less judgement, more experts but more problems, more medicine but less wellness. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch too much TV and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions but reduced our values; we talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often. We’ve learned how to make a living but not a life. We have added years to our life but not life to our years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet our new neighbour. We’ve conquered outer space but not inner space. We’ve done larger things but not better things. We’ve cleaned up the air but polluted the soul; we’ve split the atom but not our prejudice. We write more but learn less; we plan more and accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush and not to wait, higher incomes, but lower morals. We’ve got more food, but less appeasement, more acquaintances, but fewer friends, more effort but less communication. We’ve become long on quantity but quite short on quality. These are the times for fast foods and slow digestion, of tall men and short characters, of steep profits but shallow relationships. These are the days of world peace, but domestic warfare, more leisure, less fun; more kinds of food but less nutrition. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, of fancier houses but broken homes. These are then days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw away morality, one night stands, overweight bodies and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It’s a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stock room. Indeed it’s all true. The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want most for what we want at this moment.” Anonymous

Banana Pancakes

Buddha Bar, The Arts Factory at Byron Bay







But baby, you hardly even notice
When I try to show you this song
It's meant to keep you
From doin' what your supposed to
Like wakin' up too early
Maybe we could sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes
Pretend like it's the weekend now
And we could pretend it all the time
~Jack Johnson

Well, what can I say? I have been lazy with this whole blog concept. But now that I have kicked myself into gear, I hope to post some news at least once per month.

Thoughts, feelings and behaviours are what psychologists are always on about: thoughts trigger how we feel and this affects how we behave. This is the only simple formula that exists in psych, everything after that becomes far more complicated. It's how 2 different people can be in the same situation, but end up feeling and acting very differently. Sometimes it's a good idea to notice this formula at work in myself.

Since going to see Jack Johnson in Centennial Park recently, I have not been able to stop playing his latest CD, In Between Dreams, probably to the frustration of those I share an office with, friends and flat mate (sorry guys, I will be over it soon)

Thought: I love this song!! (listening to Banana Pancakes, Jack Johnson)
Feelings: Content, Relaxed, Hungry!
Behaviour: Keep hitting "repeat", continue listening to the track, continue to avoid doing case report
Thought: I know what I can make to eat tonight!!

So, it was a great concert- over 15 000 people, and an energetic, fun and eclectic crowd. I have never been so wet, cold and miserable in my life, but it was all worth it. I didn't even get sick!! (must be all those bananas Ive been eating...)