Head versus Heart

There are things I should be doing.

At this time, I really should be starting the critiques I have to have done for school tomorrow. School starts online at 9 am. I have four crits to do. Fun.

There are things I shouldn't be doing.

I shouldn't be thinking about getting some prawn dumplings from the local Vietnamese place even though the gastro has got my stomach still not really wanting food. Maybe I'll get some toast and honey in a bit, but I want prawn dumpings, just because they're prawn dumplings and they're a five minute walk away and prawn dumplings fix most things, especially when you've had another day dealing with a compliance officer from purgatory.

And there are things that I want to be doing.

And I really want to go on the #BlackLivesMatter / #BlakLivesMatter march which is happening tomorrow at Parliament House.

I'm not going to the march. Not tomorrow. I can't, with hand on heart, go out there, stand up and be counted with the crowd and this is because of the headway we've made with COVID-19. I don't want to be a part of buggering that up. I won't get on public transport at the moment, so being amongst thousands, even with our low transmission rates, for me, is too risky. A month on, maybe I'd go. If this was happening six months ago, I'd be there. But it's not and I won't take the risk for me or others.

Demonstrating is good. Peaceful protests are a part of our democracy. Peaceful demonstrations give you a visible voice, even if many say they don't get you anywhere.

I look at the marches I've been on in the last few years. I've pulled on my docs and taken to the street. Protesting Tony Abbott. Keeping Medicare publicly funded. Keeping abortions safe and legal. Environmental protections. Rallies against our draconian offshore detention policies. I've been there and I'll keep going to these demonstrations.

I'm not your normal member of rent-a-crowd. I'm a solvent, educated middle-aged white woman. I'm often told I'm nice. Friendly. Obedient. Compliant. That's me.

Well now I'm angry. I'm angry and I'm feeling helpless. This is a bad thing. And it took footage of an American man lying on the ground, a policeman's knee to his neck, the life draining out of his body over eight minutes and 39 seconds, while three out policemen stood around and did nothing.

The man's crime? Allegedly passing a counterfeit $20 note. He allegedly complied with the police. He allegedly wasn't a saint and had drugs in in system. But he complied. He went willingly. He wasn't causing problems. And he died because of it.

Like what the actual fuck!

Say his name. George Floyd.

I know we hear about this in America. We in Australia, we're as complicit in this as the Americans. Over 400 indiginous people have died in custody in the last 20 years. Despite royal commisions and reportings, nobody has been held to account for at least some of these deaths. As a nation, we're in it up to our eyeballs like the Yanks.

Seriously.

No system is perfect. Police aren't perfect. I'm not perfect.

But I'm acknowledging my white privilege.
I don't understand what it is to be black or indiginous, but I'm listening, and I want to hear, and I want to learn.
I want to be told when I say something that offends - so I can learn, not told off, but teach me what should be said. I want to be part of these conversations. 
I want to live in a world where none of this kind of evil occurs.
And as much as I deplore the destruction of property and I don't condone the looting, god, it places a light on how angry people are.
And I want to live in a word where idiots like Trump, Morrison, Dutton and Johnson are banished into the history books as repugnant evils, preferably after long prison terms - a stern warning to the world.
I want to live in a world where the police have consequences for unlawfully killing people. They have a terribly hard job at the best of times, but when the bad apples do this stuff, these closed ranks protections have to end .

It's hard to put all of this down on paper, especially being white, privileged and never having had to deal with this systemic injustice and vitriol.



And I want to take to the streets because this shit has to stop.

I won't march tomorrow.

But I won't stay silent any more.


Today's Song:

Reasons to be Cheerful

After two days of gastro, barely leaving the house for three days, only having to cat to talk to I'm up on my feet again.

Yet with all of the crap in the world at the moment, it's time to take stock of things. Look at the good things.

So here we go 20 good things about life:

1. I get to work out under the stars in the park with my trainer. 
2. I've lost three kilos thanks to gastro.
3. I don't have to pack myself onto crowded public transport of a morning. 
4. My friend Shervin posts songs on Facebook. He's an earthbound angel. 
5. That Australia has this virus largely in check and things are starting to open up. Long may it remain. 
6. There is something to be said for wearing trakkie dacks and t-shirts to work. 
7. My novel writing class is intense, but fantastic at the same time. 
8. I have fast broadband at home. 
9. My pussycat only wakes me if I'm not up after 8 am - and then he's pretty gentle with it. 
10. My pussycat warms the bed at night. I get into bed and there's a warm spot. (It's his bed really)
11. The air is clearer due to less cars on the road. 
12. There's been good rainfall this year - long may it remain. 
13. Cafe's are starting to open again. 
14. I'm not in America.
15. I'm not in England. 
16. HRT is a good thing. 
17. I have a job that goes through until next year.
18. I work with lovely people. 
19. When work gets a bit much at the moment I can lie down on the couch for ten minutes or go talk to the cat. 
20. The barista at my coffee shop knows my order on sight. 

These are little things.

But in this crazy mixed up workld, other than posting unflattering memes about Trump and Scummo, there are a good things to focus on.

Right, bedtime. Still a bit fragile from the gastro. Early nights are still needed. Besides, I've been called to bed.

Today's song: 

Creature of Habit

My cat doesn't like me.

I broke the routine.

Today, I spent the day in bed. His bed. He's wasn't overly happy about this. See, I'm allowed in his bed between the hours of midnight and seven a.m. where I've got the role of sleeping support officer. He normally snuggles up between my knees to keep warm. It's cute. It's sometimes a little uncomfortable. It makes turning over in the middle of the night a bit difficult, but as he's slept with me from the day he arrived, I'm not complaining. (I also sleep better hen I have somebody with me - even a cat).

Last night I was up every hour on the hour, racing to the loo. It's been a crap 24 hours. I finally remembered the Indian Survival it in my medicine cabinet - all the drugs I took with me to India just in case things went south. In the kit there is:

• Imodium (for the runs)
• Hydralyte (for rehydration)
• Claratyne (just in case there's an allergic reaction to something)
• Paracetamol
• The magic tablets which stop you getting the runs when you're in India (Travelcalm) - you take them before you eat - they're amazing. 
• Antibiotics (also as a just in case)

I've nearly exhausted my supply of Imodium. But it's done the job. 

At 7 a.m. the cat demanded to be fed. 

At 8.30 a.m. I called my boss to say I wouldn't be logging in today. 

And the rest of the day was spent in bed, much to the cat's displeasure. 

He's a creature of habit. Normally, between about 8-10, he plays zoomies, runs about, sits by me in the windowsill and growls at the birds and thinks about eating.

Between 10 and 4 he sleeps on the bed. 

From 4 pm he starts to bother me for dinner. He gets fed at 6 pm. I've told him this, but he doesn't believe me. Every day he starts asking for dinner early. He's stubborn.

After his dinner, he again sleeps, or comes and talks to me. Normally a mix of the two.

Today, spending the day in bed, I was treated like a bit of a pariah. I was walked over, stomped on, stared at. I was told at regular occurences to get out of the bed. He wasn't happy.

He's a creature of habit. My need to stay in bed today upset the apple cart. At present, he's under the blanket at the end of the bed, sulking.

At least I'm feeling better now.

All will be back to normal tomorrow.

The cat will be happy about that. 

Today's song:

Thank God for Hydralyte

Today:

• I went to work (in my lounge room, online)
• I went to school (in my lounge room, online)
• I moved between the loo and the lounge
• I ate two pieces of toast and vegemite
• I had a hot water bottle strapped to my back
• I admonished the cat for wiping his arse on the carpet
• I started Pip Williams The Dictionary of Lost Words
• I got some work done.

And that is it. Thank goodness for hydralyte.

I hope to be better tomorrow. 

Blah.

Today's Song:

Today I put on makeup

Today I put on makeup. Just a bit of eyeliner and mascara. But I put on makeup.

I can't remember the last time I did this.

Honestly, it felt a bit strange.

It was only done because I had to go out for a meeting at the bank on a mason's mission. Thought it best to put a face on, just in case I got hassle at the bank, this would be a mask. A bit of war paint for what may be an impossible mission. I was also meeting a lodge mate who'd just gorgeous inside and out. Makeup gave the confidence a bit of a boost.

Thankfully the banking stuff which took place at the Clifton Hill branch of Bendigo Bank was probably the easiest time I've had in a branch when it comes to Mason's stuff in the history of Christendom. Most dealings for anything to do with the masons, to date, has been excrutiating. This was a pleasant surprise.

But putting on the makeup was strange.

For over 35 years I've barely left the house without eyeliner and mascara at a minimum. Normally there's a bit of red lipstick plastered on my lips. I didn't bother with that today. Just the eyes. Just because.

There's a lot to be said for this working from home and this pandemic lockdown. One of those things is not feeling the need to put on makeup. I don't feel the need to put it on when I go to the supermarket. I've never liked wearing it to the gym. I feel like there is no reason to wear it at the moment - and that's great.

I think about the last 30 odd years. I've barely left the house without drawing lines on my eyelids and plumping up my eyelashes.  I've always had eyeliner, mascara and red lipstick in whatever handbag/backpack I've carried. For three months I've barely touched the makeup sitting on my bathroom shelf. The skincare routine remains the same, but I've not worn any makeup.

I've not work leather shoes for three months either. As it's now winter, the Birkenstocks have been replaced with Converse sneakers and ugg boots.

And I like it.

Just as I like working in a pair of trackie dacks, a t-shirt and ugg boots. Just as I really don't give a fig what I wear down the supermarket. Just as I'm happy running around in activewear when I'm walking / gyming. My hair is washed regularly, brushed a few times a day, but not for the video camera on my machine - that rarely gets turned on. It's more for practical reasons. My hair gets knotty if its not brushed a few times a day.

I'm going into miss this life when it's over. I like not having to impress anybody. I like not spending five minutes preparing my face for the world. I like not wearing office garb.

Maybe there are some good things to come out of this 'new' life.

Maybe I'm just born to be a slacker.

Today's song: