31 October 2010

Nanowrimo Again

I’ve been crazily busy these last few weeks. That opera I posted about a few months back? It turns out I got in after all. And consequently I’m spending every waking hour either at work or at the CDU theatre. It’s all great fun, but there are just a few more sopranos per square metre than I can generally handle without tucking my head inside my jacket and crouching down in the corner.

The point is (sort of) that due to this slight over commitment of time on my part, my efforts towards getting sponsored for Nanowrimo kind of became a non-event. Also, apparently the poll I posted on the subject was getting blocked by certain versions of Firefox, so now I’m left pondering who the hell has been voting if it wasn’t my family. I’m looking squarely at you, K.Kim, although I will confess that the one who voted for ‘it is cheese’ was me, purely because I was absolutely determined that someone had to.

So yes… “Nanowrimo against global poverty” was a bit of a flop. However, due my being an attention seeking knob and a glutton for punishment to go with it, I’ve decided to go ahead and try it for free.

Consequently my usual semi-regular dispensing of inane drivel may have to take a slight hiatus here for November, while I concentrate the nonsense generation faculties on a slightly larger goal. But I will try to update the running word total (over on the right) so you can see my glorious progress, or calamitous lack thereof, depending.

Breath and wind. It is cheese!




Garry with 2 Rs

27 October 2010

In Defence of Our Stupid Warcry

Recently news.com.au published an article from Brisbane’s Courier-Mail and a poll calling for the banning of the Aussie sporting warcy “Oi! Oi! Oi!” on grounds that it’s embarrassing. When I last checked, the yeas were outnumbering the nays two to one and I find that distressing.

I’m not remotely embarrassed to say I love the Aussie Aussie Aussie warcry. Some of my most pleasant memories are of watching cricket on TV, hearing Bill Lawry say something insightful like “There’s a hush around the MCG as McGrath comes in from the members’ end” and being able to hear nothing through the field microphones except bay thirteen yelling “Oi Oi Oi!” at the top of their lungs. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for five minutes after I heard then IOC chairman Juan Antonio Samaranch close the 2000 Olympics by trying the call for himself, and getting a 70000 strong response.

Yes, I know Glen McGrath has retired. Yes, I know the Sydney Olympics were a decade ago. Big deal. Waltzing Matilda is older than both of them. You want to ban that too?

To me, Oi Oi Oi expresses in a most efficient manner the very character of Australian sport; it’s loud, it’s straightforward and it’s awesome. On the other side of the coin, it’s also overly simplistic, slightly annoying and at its most expressive under the influence of alcohol (consumed responsibly, obviously).

What’s not to love?

I know there are those who campaign for an Australia with higher cultural aspirations, free of the cultural cringe of the past and representative of a more modern, intelligent and mature Australia. I’m all for that, and I’ll happily join you for an opera, cello recital or stroll through the national gallery (just don’t ask me to write about it), followed by a rousing chorus of “I Vow to Thee My Country” back at the members’ lounge.

But back off and leave my sports chants alone!

I think some of the problem might be with the over application of the chant. As I wrote earlier, my fondest memories of it are as background noise during a one day cricket final. With the coming of the Olympics in 2000, the chant went spectacularly mainstream and starting appearing in rock concerts, telethons, youth conventions and, most recently and hilariously, the canonisation of St. Mary MacKillop. I have to agree, things have gotten a little out of hand there.

But let’s not get too excited and start banning things like an out of control web filter. Let’s put the chant back in bay thirteen where it belongs and get on with banning something sensible.

Like the Courier-Mail.

...



Garry with 2 Rs

18 October 2010

NaNoWriMo

I’ve been reading back over some old posts recently, and I’ve come to this conclusion:
I have a remarkable talent for generating copious amounts of complete and utter nonsense at an alarming rate of production. This blog is closing out its fourth year now and I’ve come to the realisation that if this random collection of pointless observations, flagrant time wasting and whingey ranting is anything to go by then one of two things is true: Either I really need to get out more…

Or…

November is National Novel Writers’ Month (NaNoWriMo for short). I think the ‘national’ part actually refers to America, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t join in and do it better. The challenge is to write a novel of 50000 words or more during November, which is a pretty big undertaking (it’s an average speed of 1667 words a day for 30 days), but as I said, I’m more or less the king of spamming out large amounts of otherwise meaningless prose in a short time.

The thing is that pumping out three and a half MS Word pages a day is going to put a sizable dent in the amount of time I have to do anything else for the month. I’m not sure it’s something I want to inflict on myself just for its own sake.

I’m looking at trying Nanowrimo for a cause. I haven’t yet decided what cause, but in keeping with my previous socio-political rants I’m looking for something in the global poverty/food crisis awareness line. I’d be looking for people to offer a donation if I can crack the 50K mark, or sponsor me per thousand words written.

Last week saw the presentation of the very first CTC online poll. It was a phenomenal success with a whopping 6 responses flooding in. That might not sound like much, but for a blog with 6 followers it’s an impressive 100% participation rate. I’ve replaced that poll with a new one to find out if this Nanowrimo thing is likely to be worth my time and effort. If you’re so inclined, cast your vote in the poll or drop me a comment and let me know if you’d be willing to get behind me on this.

Otherwise shove it.




Garry with 2 Rs

07 October 2010

Is Anyone Not Aware of Breast Cancer?

Last night three of my female friends posted unusual updates on Facebook about where they liked it.

I wanted to know what was going on, so I Googled it (I often find this approach less stressful than talking to women). It turns out it’s a campaign to draw attention to October being Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It’s an idea along similar lines to last year’s effort which centred on posting your preferred bra colour on your favourite online social network.

Like most men, I like breasts and I hate cancer. I would prefer it if the two came together as infrequently as possible. But I can’t help but wonder why breast cancer in particular gets a whole month’s worth of awareness. Yes, it’s a terrible disease that according to the Australian Cancer Council affects somewhere in the region of one in nine women. Yes, it is the second most common form of cancer in women behind skin cancer (although it also comes in behind lung cancer, stomach cancer, bowel cancer and liver cancer if you add men to the equation). But come on – a whole month?

Last month in my office we attempted to raise money for prostate cancer research by holding a weekly barbeque each Friday at lunch time. We gave up after the first week due to lack of interest and managed to raise a triumphant eighteen dollars fifty which just about covered the cost of the meat. And don’t get me started on the questionable symbolism of combating prostate cancer by holding a sausage sizzle.

Just this week in the same office we participated in National RUOK? Day in aid of combating the insidious rise of suicide, which according to a federal government fact sheet claims more than 2000 lives in Australia each year. The basic idea was to spend some time making sure your friends and co-workers were feeling okay. We also get behind Daffodil Day, Jeans for Genes day, Red Nose Day and Australia’s biggest morning tea.

They’re all great ideas, but my point is they’re all just for one day. Why does suicide get one day with an awkward acronym while breast cancer gets a month, a viral internet meme and pink lights or ribbons strung up all over the place? And when is it going to be national liver cancer awareness month?

I’m trying hard not to arrive at the cynical conclusion that it’s because breasts are much sexier than suicide. And frankly I’m failing. I know which one I’d rather talk about. I suspect any given group of Australians in any pub in the country could come up with as many distinct synonyms for ‘breasts’ as there are other varieties of cancer. The Australian Cancer Council lists sixteen broad categories of them on its website. The American cancer institute list several hundred different types. Cancer varieties that is, not synonyms.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t be aware of breast cancer, or even that the awareness campaign itself is not a great thing. And I don’t mean to belittle the suffering and experiences of those afflicted with this terrible condition. All of us need to be aware of what can and is being done to combat and, more importantly, prevent this disease.

My point is that there’s got to be a more universal way of promoting the need for research and action; some way of drawing attention to the issue that focuses on the cancer, rather than the breasts.

When it comes down to it, I don’t care where you put your handbag and I have only a passing interest in what colour your bra is. If we’re really serious about taking on cancer, can’t we find a campaign we can take seriously?

...




Garry with 2 Rs

04 October 2010

I Love You Baby

I went through a phase a few years ago when I got passionately vocal about my distaste for weddings. It might have had something to do with the frequency with which they were occurring; at one stage I got back from uni break to find four couples had become engaged during July. It was a strange sort of a phase because I enjoy a nice dinner and a catch-up as much as the next guy, and Christian wedding services are usually (depending on all sorts of things) quite nice. I think after my fourth or fifth wedding in quick succession the excess pageantry and forced emotion started to grate on me. Thank goodness, weddings amongst my contemporaries these days are becoming increasingly rare, possibly due to almost all my contemporaries being married by now.

The wedding craze being over, the latest craze is equally insidious in terms of forced enthusiasm. It consists of a couple rocking up to church one morning sporting a newborn baby and immediately being beset by flocks of churchwomen babbling unintelligibly. Said flock then invites their begrudging husbands/fiancés/boyfriends/me into the huddle to meet the newest addition to the congregation and to try to come up with a compliment for the baby that sounds credible and sincere.

I don’t find babies attractive. I find them small, delicate, messy and loud. I can understand why parents of newborns are so besotted; that’s a tangible biological connection. I don’t understand what goes wrong in the brains of the gaggle of clucky womenfolk at each new arrival. Rhetorical questions like “hasn’t he got lots of lovely thick hair?” or “he’s got a lovely strong grip on him, hasn’t he?” or “isn’t he just as cute as a button?” are not only strange things to say, in many cases they’re patently absurd. Babies are generally bald and weak, and buttons aren’t remotely cute. So I guess that last one might actually be true.

The point is, I was pleasantly surprised this month to be informed of two new engagements of old uni friends in Brisbane. Hopefully this signals a turn in the tide of public behaviour and we can go back to fancy parties and church services instead of hospital visits and arranging our social lives around breast-feeding schedules.

We can only hope.





Garry with 2 Rs