Census Consensus

In Australia, we had our census a couple of months ago. The propaganda had called it a snapshot of Australia in a moment in time. It's purpose was to give the government an idea of who we are as Australians. This is so they have the statistics that they need to build the infrastructure that we require. It makes sense really.

The census asks us all sorts of questions about where and how we live, what type of families we have, and what religion, if any, we choose to follow. Last time we had a census, an idea went viral. It was a wonderful idea, centered in the Aussie larrikin persona that we as a country are often well known for and that I for one am very proud of. The idea was that if enough Aussies thought it was funny and declared their religion as being Jedi Knight, that the government would have to recognise it as a valid religion. It was a brilliant, hilarious idea, and we joked about it right up to the point where our pens hit the paper, but at the end of the day most of us filled out our census sensibly.

I was expecting something similar to be buzzing about this time. What I was not expecting was this;

"Australia will be holding a census this week. Don't leave the 'Religion' section blank. Be sure to at least tick Christian (or write Jedi Knight in the box).

One million Muslims will tick their box.

Ten million Australians will leave it blank then wonder why Christmas Carols are being banned in schools. Not to mention, Easter Hat Parades.

It's not about religion, it's about keeping our way of life.

Repost if you agree."

This set my brain into immediate conflict mode. One part of me wanted to scream and yell that I couldn't believe that such filth was polluting the airways, or more specifically my Facebook feed. Another, more sensible part of me however, just sighed, and thought to itself, "I love my country because it defends the right of every Australian to free speech". Suffice it to say though, I did not repost.

A census is supposed to be a snapshot of who we are, and if one million of us are Muslim and ten million of us have no religion, then so be it, we are who we are, and we should be proud of that.

One thing positive this status did achieve though, it did get me thinking. Always a positive thing. I started wondering about my part in this snapshot. As such I have been doing a bit of soul searching, and I have come to a conclusion.

I am pagan.

I have no active belief in any all-powerful, super omnipotent, omnipresent, massively awesome paternal-like deity. It's really not my style. I'm really not a follow the masses kind of girl, and as for the church-thing, I gave it a good solid go when I was younger, but it never really took.

I have, however, on many occasions, acknowledged and made sacrifices to both the Party Gods and the Travel Gods. Most recently, a sacrifice was made to the God of All Good Parties in the form of my dear little camera Sophie. It was during my last birthday party, as the merriment increased, the party-goers (including Yours Truly) all got very smashed, as did poor Sophie. The party-goers and myself were, of course, only 'smashed' in the figurative sense of the term, Sophie on the other hand, was quite literally smashed.

It was a great loss, Sophie who had travelled the great lengths of Japan with me, who had been responsible for most of the photos here on this very blog, had met her end. It was a immense sacrifice, but an even more epic party, and so I thank thee Party Gods and bid farewell to my wonderful little Sophie.

Home Sweet Home aka Blogtoberfest Day 3

I'm in love.

I am in a state of true domestic bliss.

As of about 2 months ago I moved in with a good friend of mine and I'm loving it. She is my new found heterosexual life partner, she is the Jay to my Silent Bob, the cheese to my macaroni, the Wicket to my Totoro, and I can't imagine life at the moment without her.

My roomie is just altogether awesome, if we were in The Babysitter's Club she'd be Claudia, if we were in Care-a-lot she'd be called Sassy Bear.

About a week after I moved in, Sassy Bear was talking to one of our neighbours, who mentioned it must be working out well having me as her new housemate, Sass agreed as our neighbour went on to explain that they had assumed this as they could hear nothing but us laughing constantly most evenings. It is usually until we're both in tears, and I can't even remember, what about.

Though we are about to have an argument about who gets to be Silent Bob, so who knows? It's possible that this whole living together thing won't last, but I doubt it.

Simple aka Blogtoberfest Day 2

Small things amuse me.

For example, that sentence, the first thing I would like to do with it, is to succeed it with the time honoured quip "That's what she said..." and giggle like a schoolgirl for longer than is socially acceptable.

The phrase "small things amuse small minds" always seems to float around my grey matter at this point, and I wonder at it's validity or my intelligence. Is the ability to laugh easily, to find amusement and pleasure in simple daily things, really a characteristic of the small minded?

Oscar Wilde, JRR Tolkien and Leonado Da Vinci have all spoken on the subject of simplicity. Wilde once said "I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex", and Da Vinvi is quoted with "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication", whilst Tolkien states through his character Bilbo Baggins "it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life". As these three are generally not considered to be small minds, I conclude that I too, am safe to like the little things.

Kelloggs, in relation to their cornflakes, would also have us believe that "The simple things in life are often the best". I agree with their marketing whole heartedly, especially as I attribute this as being the reason I love my Dad (aka Captain Obvious) so much.

Nothing brings this home to me quite so much as the movie Amélie. It's a truly beautiful film, about petite pleasures. About all those teeny tiny things in life, that just give you that feeling, that minuscule electric rush, that always causes a flash of a smile to creep, unwittingly into the corner of your mouth. It's these little things that make everyday life worthwhile. Each character is introduced with a short biography of their indulgences.

If I were portrayed in Amélie my preface would be;

Little Girl Lost likes running her fingertips over the smooth, cold, satin edging on blankets so much so that she is compulsively unable to walk past a satin edged blanket without touching it. She likes baking and decorating biscuits and cookies of all shapes and sizes, and hates the way no one says "goodbye" when hanging up the telephone in movies.

What would your Amélie-esque introduction be?

Back from Outer Space aka Blogtoberfest Day 1

Recently I dropped off the face of the planet. I have no good reason for doing this, no super exciting tale to explain my absence, no epic narrative of my comings and goings, and no splendiferous ballad outlining my whereabouts, just a tiny squeak of an apology.

Sorry.

I do, however, have an offer to make amends. An offer to make it up to all my loyal readers. I deserve the lash, the cat'o'nine at least, to be hung, drawn and quartered, but my atonement will not be so macabre, my penance shall not be 'Hail Mary's' or 'Our Father's'.

It shall be posts.

Lots of posts.

Daily posts even.

I am going to attempt Blogtoberfest. For those of you who are not familiar with it, Blogtoberfest is a yearly festival of all things blog, where those who blog come together to celebrate their blogginess, their blognificence, their blogevity and have an all round blogging good time, but most of all, everyone participating posts every day for the month of October. This year I am participating, I've officially signed up, and have the cute little button to prove it.

For those of you who are also of the blogger persuasion and would like to join me in the great carnival of blog that is Blogtoberfest, you can sign up at {tinniegirl}, add your name to her list, and follow the instructions to add the button to your site, or just check out some of the other participants.

As for me, I have to go find something interesting to say for the next 31 days. On second thought, I'm making no promises with regards to quality. I have to go find something (anything) to say for the next 31 days. What have I done to myself?

Happy Blogtoberfest Everyone!

Nightly Journeys

I get a call last night, or more accurately early this morning, at 12:10. It was Semi-Naked Guy and he's standing at the back door with no keys. He did wake me but I didn't really mind.

"Where do we go when we sleep?" he asked after I had walked the length of the house and let him in, I assume inspired by the groggy nature in which I had answered the phone. He's full of big questions like that, big questions that cannot be contained by his lack of shirt.

I left the conversation for bed, without an answer. Shortly after I could hear soft snoring from the lounge, indicating that where ever we go, he's beaten me there.

I lay awake for a while pondering my destination. The Land of Nod as it were, and the journey we take there each night. We show an innate knowledge of it in the words we choose, all suggesting some form of movement, sometimes "drifting off" like a leaf tumbling in a summer breeze. At other times, the violence of "falling" asleep, of dropping sharply between worlds, as our bodies plummet from our control and our consciousness goes... where?

Before I had tottered off back to bed he said "Thank you for being part of my journey", "You're welcome, I guess" I answered uncertainly.

All I did was open the door.

The Tale of the Random Rickshaw

So at the moment I'm living with this dude, not "living with" just living with, and he likes to walk around sometimes in different levels of semi-undress, so I call him Semi-Naked Guy (not to his face, just, you know, in my head).

Anyway, the other day, Semi-Naked Guy walks into the house and says "Hey, wanna come look at my rickshaw?". I'm thinking euphemism, but no, as I walk outside, there it is, a bright red rickshaw.

He'd hired it for his friends' wedding they were using it as the bridal vehicle and it was parked outside the house for a week.

The day of the wedding arrives, and he has the bright spark idea of getting the rickshaw to the wedding on the train, he gets to the station all right. He's set with his 2 tickets, one for him, one for the rickshaw, and gets all the way up the 40 odd stairs to the platform only to find that when the train arrives, his bright red rickshaw doesn't fit through the doors.

So S-NG and his mates end up hiring a trailer or something and manage to get the Bride to the alter on time, or at least only the usual amount of late for a Bride.

After the ceremony he's driving the bridal pair around for their photos and he turns the rickshaw, as he turns, he moves, the rickshaw moves, and the couple moves with it but one of those massive cartwheels on the side doesn't. The guests are all watching the situation in slow-motion, yelling out with one voice that real slow drawn out "NO!" that only ever happens in movies and bad sit-coms. Semi-Naked Guy realises just in time to not ruin the Brides day completely.

He spends the remainder of the day, riding around offering all the cute girls a ride on his rickshaw. Now how's that for a line?

"Ladies, want a ride on my rickshaw?"

Happy Wandering Woman-niversary!

Exactly one year to the day, after I set foot in Japan, I set foot in my new office into my new role. I'm still wandering, just in a more centralised location for now. Centralised specifically around the Central Business District in Sydney. It's my city and I love being back here, I have rediscovered the strong sense of home that I have here. I have come full circle, ready to start saving for the next adventure.

Now, two weeks in, I'm really loving my new job too, successfully being incognito as the mild-mannered insurance something something.

Thanks for following.