Youth Eviction: It's just a state of mind

This week was a big week. I turned 25, I was officially informed that my days of poverty were limited (I got a law clerkship), my flatmate finished her final year medicine exams, we celebrated, celebrated again and once more just to tell ourselves that it was actually real. Then slept for 12 hours. And now I look forward to a dentist ripping my teeth out tomorrow. Not the best note to end on; but you have got to come down sometime, right?

The "I'm on a boat" Party
My actual birthday dinner
My combined 50th Birthday Party
Me (I am in the photo -doing something naughty 4 years ago) and Me (now)
At the Boat Party - It is very very obvious that I am "Where's Wally"

The strange thing is that when it's all over life begins again (well it never really stopped)... lucky it's just a state of mind.

xx jenn (x 5)

The Breadman

The sun was warm and the lunch-timed chatter filled the park.
The passers-by starred under their not-so-dark glasses as the couples bedded on the grass.
Two men lay in solitude. Resting away the hour.
One old. One young.
How old I could not say.

Another man, age settled on his brow, drunk and homeless – or neither.
Just taking his time.
He throws the bread near the older of the two resting men.
The one in the suit. The matching suit.
The birds flock between the three men.
The suit sits up. He looks at me. I shrug a hopeless smile. We both know he’s annoyed.
His eyes pierce at the bread-man. He doesn’t seem to see the problem.
Stiff words fall on absent ears.
He is absent. And so sees no problem.
The suit collects his lunch package. Disturbed. He leaves.
He would have left anyway as time bares heavy on his wrist.

Another man approaches the bread-man, the drunk-man, the homeless-man.
The old man. The breadman.
He wears a brown suit. Unmatched, of course. But he’s better dressed than the breadman.
They embrace and walk towards the giant chess game that has played this whole time in the close-distance.
The birds clean through the bread. The lazy scavengers clear the ground.
The sun is warm and the bread is nuzzled like ducks sifting seeds.

Only the young man lies alone now. With my shaded glasses I sit. And eat alone.
My lover of years past walks by.
I stand. Greet with a kiss.
We look like the rest of them. We chat a while and I watch him eat.
The time passes with familiar ease. My lunch hour rolls over but I still sit.
But soon we stand, shake the scarf.
Then run frantically back to work. Excuses trailing behind.
Like all the rest.
Except the breadman.
The drunk.
The homeless.
Or neither.


(Written during my lunch break in Hyde Park)

The Christmas Season: Celebration or Insanity?

It is Christmas 2009. I can't remember the last Christmas where my family was together. All six of us.

This year all of us will be together. This may not seem like a big deal but between state lines, oceans and significant others it has not been a reality for a few years now. Heading back to Woopi, where we spent most of our childhood Christmas, feels cathartic. It feels like putting lids of old worn presents and opening something new, something bigger and brighter. For the first time in many years the idea of 'Christmas' itself, excites me!

So much is changing. There are wedding proposals, pregancies and for me personally, I am finally a woman. But I guess deep down I will always be 'wren' and I kinda like that.

I just love that feeling inside of genuine excitement(sp?). We are making changes that will impact us greatly. I wanted to cry so much when Meg told me that she was engaged. But for some reason I thought that I needed to hold it together. I don't know why. It was one of those moments where you realise that these decisions will strongly shape where we go. So happy for you Meg!

So Woopi brings back a lot of memories. Some vague, some almost unreal. But it makes me realise that we have all been through a lot and we have made decisions and we have been slowly changing along the way. But more importantly we will be together and I know that we will laugh. There will be excess food, wine, gossip, tears, reminiscing, fights... but I can't think of anything better right now.

I can't help but think of "Little Women" and smile because Will could have been Beth.

xx jenn

Bess...

Who said you can't teach an old dog new tricks

Coffee Next Week?

I live in communication overload. I speak to my friend Sophie on gmail for every waking minute that I am on my computer. She has even great flexibility as she can contact me online with her iphone. This is one piece of communication I still don’t have. I have a Blackberry, but I am too cheap to have internet capabilities. I have an appointment with Apple this week. The situation will be rectified.

My brother just called me to tell me that my mother may be not be well. He didn’t really have the details and this sent me into a panic. I wanted to know more but he didn’t have any further information. He told me to google it. I did. Wikipedia helped me learn about my mother’s condition. I texted mum and told her to call me. Then my friend called me, just as I had sent the text to mum – I was in a bit of a state! He said I emailed you through the documents to sign. I said I would print them and get them to him asap. Surely that will not involve a post stamp… let’s go all out and get the pigeons onto it! Then I got into a gmail chat with a friend in the USA so he asked me to Skype him. So naturally I did. Then I emailed my lecturer for an extension because my friend was a witness in a murder trial and she emailed back to grant wish. And then I came back to my assignment and in a fit of procrastination I thought I would write this and post it on my blog. Oh and I just texted a friend for validation. I have been stalking like crazy on Facebook but I am proud to say that I don’t have a Twitter account. I did. But I thought that was too much on the communication front. In my stalking capabilities I commented on a friend’s wall and then he called me and I freaked out as I didn’t recognise the number. No wonder I can’t concentrate on my Property and Land Rights assignment I have the world chatting to me in one ear and consciousness falling out the other side. But if you gmail chat me, skype me, poke me, blow me, text me I will be there with bells on but be damned if I could have the foresight to arrange a one-on-one coffee.

I clearly don’t have time to see you in person. It would be… too personal and I might blush.

What holds us together

What holds us together, for all the space between each piece, where does one puzzle begin and the other inverted soul stop?

By which piece do they divide? I stop my hand from touching you, I know that my quick, sharp nipples rise and breathe already upon your softwhite salad porcelained body.

Someone stamps my hand, I watch… turn… and fail to see that the reflection in the mirror is me. Through that soft press I am within my self and _choking ^choking for the mercy of small gaps 

that makes me never you nor me

The Postman

None of us write letters any more

Yet I watch the post with pious belief

We are waiting for a phone call

A simple reply

Waiting to come home

For the rain to stop

We are all waiting for something

For something within; something beyond

 

Waiting for someone to stand up for me

To take the fall

Waiting for the beauty within the war

To stand up and dive in

For someone to win

For us both to lose

Waiting for those forever friends

 

Waiting for the zig to zag

To know you’re going straight

Will you wait for me if I am coming

Will you wait for me if I do not

Would you wait without an answer

I wait and hope we meet again

But there are places where waiting does not play

For in some small spaces there is no time and no delay

The Opera within the House

On Sunday I went to listen to Alain de Bottom at the Opera House. I was definitely feeling very cultured for a Autumnal afternoon. The talk revolved around his lastest book: The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work...and resonated many concepts I am battling at the moment with an essay critquing Marx and Durkheim. I expected there to be about one to two hundred people there; not 1044, with the age range easily spanning 60 years. It was quite a fasinating feeling to be there on a Sunday amongst so many people. 

It was an interesting talk regarding the apparent dichotomies of the necessityof work and pleasure. Does it necessarily have to be a balancing act? Weber had a rather depressing out looking believing that happiness and really fullfillment only comes around for one lucky person every 1000... I think the odds are against us...

I think one of the most emotive topics was about how work comes to define us and that many of us have let oursleves be defined by a sixteen year old that no longer really represents our hopes, dreams, desires, values... our identity. I think that this is gradually changing for younger generations as we never seem to stick at anuthing longer enough. We are not bound by the same climate that our parents etc were when they chose their professions. But the same point still applies to younger generations. We relinquish control and perhaps blame others for our choices. Maybe that is a little harsh. Alain alluded the challenge of changing careers with the experience of 'coming out'  for a person who is gay. If our careers are so determinative of who we are, what we stand for, what we want, then people are shocked to think that someone would wish to relinquish this identity if they have stood within the boundaries of that career identity for so long. So people resist a career 'coming out' as it interupts the whole schema of who people think they are. It takes courage to say that this is not me, but this is. It can also be hard to tell you colleagues that you hate your job or that the job fails to represent you, because some may see this a rejection of the values they thought you shared. I thought it an interesting analogy. 

He joked about why don't we have a HR department in home; to come in and sort out teh relationship dramas. It is not surprising that some people do 'hide' in their work because it is something that they (sometimes) have more control over than other aspects such family, relationships, self-endeavour etc. Work can give an avenue into which we have mastery and often reward for such efforts. It's funny how that as culture has developed there has been a transistion from work being perceived as a negative thing, 'what the poor people do', to a complete shift with the rise of the bourgesis and a desire to work, to contribute, to create. Work became the ideal.

The problem with many work environments is that the individual is too far removed from the meaning of the purpose or product or the result which is beneficial to another. When the job is devoid of meaning and you feel that you are not having a positive affect on anybody's life then it is hard to see why people equate work with negative emotions. Have a good weekend. This is the minor part of the week. I would rather have a shit weekend if the other 5 days made me smile!

Some people, many people, beleive that they were destined for one thing, and if they knew what it was, if only someone would tell them then they would do it. I don't think it is that simple, that easy or for that matter that boring. You may as well shoot yourself and write 'BORING' on your tombstone. It is in pursuit of finding that true achievemet comes. 

Is it ironic that a career councellor is disatisfied with their job? Of all people that should know! Unfortunately there is no god shining a light saying you will... and you will be...so we have created batteries and batteries of tests... which it is still questionable the extent of their validity. We all want to be happy, 99% of us have to work and would like that endeavour to be a pleasant and rewarding; yet challenging experience. The problem is that not all of us will be great. If we believe in a meritous society where people get what they deserve. Where the best deserve the best and get the best the horrible corollary is that we have accepted that some people are shit and deserve shit. On a superficial level this might seem amusing and even true; people get what they deserve right? Well maybe not; there are so many other factors that warrant success that are not purely driven by the indivdual. Those who do well deserve to be rewarded but it does not imply that those at the bottom aren't worthy of greatness too. But not all of us can be creative writers or elite athletes. You can wish and you can try; but sometimes wishing and doing is not enough. In theory we can all be great at what we want (Watson would like this, Skinner too) we can try; but we will not all suceed. 

Alain talked about how one drop of blood or one drop of saliva can have enough germs in it to kill an entire civilisation (possibly exaggerated; not sure) but the point is that one small comment from a teacher, friend, family member at some allegedly insignifcant moment may have made a derogatory comment about our acheivement, ability and efforts which like disease can spread and infect our entire sense of worth. Don't underestimate the power of small words esp. if they cut right to core of someone's identity. Some men were interviewed after they had lost their jobs recently and were asked what they really wanted to be and why they were not that. It was intriguing to see that grown men still haboured energies; which objectively appear trival, have hindered them for ever attempting to pursue it was that they always wanted. Comments made to a child at the age of 6 can have devasting affects that linger decades and decades later. This is not to say that we can not over come such barriers but how once we establish an identity it can be hard to change. But if you don't change for yourself in the end you will laid to rest in a very lonely grave. 

This is an exerpt from Alain's website:

Logistics Two centuries ago, our forebears would have known the precise history and source of almost every one of the limited number of things they ate and owned. The range of items available for purchase may have grown exponentially since then, but our understanding of their genesis has grown ever more obscure. We are now as imaginatively disconnected from the distribution of our goods as we are practically in reach of them, a process of alienation which has stripped us of opportunities for wonder, gratitude and guilt. Critical to this imaginative impoverishment and practical enrichment is the field of industry known collectively as logistics, which comprises the arts of warehousing, transport, storage and data control.

------

p.s I have had 12 hours sleep in last 72 hrs. My apologies for typos. 

Jenda

A friend just sent me this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY&feature=related

Totally cried. Makes my attempts at this essay a little bit meaningless. Dolly steps baby, dolly steps.

We, the poor consumer

I was in the shower the other day (actually I am in the shower at some point most days really) and I was washing my hair and having mild ADHD I always need something to read (you should see the pile of books next to the toilet: Cosmo, delicious. [which is kinda gross if you think about it], The Australian Constitution, How to save the world for 10 bucks - just to name a few) or at least have my mind pondering something. So I was reading  my conditioner bottle and it said something along the lines of 130% increase in softness and then I noticed that there was a little asterisk next to it. So I looked to find the disclaimer: Compared to non-conditioning shampoo... WTF???

Ok, so conditioner makes your hair more soft than a substance that is not only not a conditioner but a non-conditioning substance on any level. So it is like saying that this conditioner will make your hair softer than washing petrol through your hair. Now, that's not really that surprising, is it? And the funny thing was that this conditioner only claimed to have a 130% improvement... So it actaully isn't even that much better than using a product that isn't even designed for the purpose of conditioning...

I am glad that we, the consumer, are not suckers for these big FMCG companies... jeeesh!

I was eating two-minute noodles yesterday and there was this huge 97% fat free star popping out at me - which I must admit was part of the reason I ate them because everyone knows these types of noodles are like solidified deepfryers, so I felt excited about the apparent lack of fat. But as I looked closer I saw an... ASTERISK... so I found the disclaimer which said that the noodles are 97% fat free in a 400 g serve. But the noodles only weigh 82g... so how does this make sense... well, if you include the 2 billion cups of water and divide the total weight by the fat in the noodles then you discover that the meal is 97% fat free. Is that smart or are we really dumb and guliable? By increasing the overall weight the % fat decreases but this doesn't change the fact that 40% of the noodles are still lard and saturated lard at that... I may be using a little hyperbole to demonstrate the point...a little. And then the packaging goes on to say that Maggi noodles are the healthy noodle choice... my arse!

Just like McDonald's beef is 100% beef... It is if you patent a company called '100% beef'...

I think there may be a place in society for whole foods...real honest natural food... just maybe... oh, and non-conditioning conditioner that is better than using plant fertilizer in your hair... a thought for the poor consumer please...

j

Bushfires – schadenfreude or philanthropy?

Amy recently sent me an article published in smh.com – a rather cynical article about the insatiable hunger the Australia tabloid media has for natural disasters and Australian’s voyeuristic attitude to such events – and great ability to throw money at these issues in a way to mitigate person guilt/responsibility: http://business.smh.com.au/business/the-punters-love-a-good-disaster-20090217-8a98.html

It also makes me wonder why the fire disaster received so much publicity and fundraising energies yet those affected by the floods up north receive virtually no media or fundraising attention (not to mention the state of affairs in Central Australia). The media decides that it will jump on the bandwagon of two disasters a year and is sure not to exceed this quota. I understand that all disasters cannot receive hype-attention otherwise we just raise the basal line and the care-factor will return to a relative stable level. However my issue is that people are being praised for giving money/services/blood/basic needs to the bushfire disaster yet fail to give blood routinely throughout the year/acknowledge the health problems with Indigenous Australians etc. The real heroes are those who give when NOT in a time of disaster. The unsung heroes, if you wish.  I must say that it is incredible that Australians give so generously during these times of need but it is interesting that people don’t give to charities throughout the year. However when the media personalises the issue we are more than happy to give money – almost thanking god that it was not I who was affected. Cancer? Poverty? Mental illness? There is no face, no story… surely I can’t donate to these causes… 

Do we donate because we care or because we fell guilty? Why does it take a disaster for people to donate? Is it vogue to donate? What will your contribution be in a month’s time? 

Another issue that I find interesting is the dilemma that arises when determining where such funds go. I was at the pub the other having a discussion with a friend who was suggesting that the money donated should go proportionally to those affected by the fires. Such that those who have insurance will receive less than those who have paid insurance. I understand that the purpose of charity is to help those in need but I find it hard to accept that someone who has paid insurance their whole life should be disadvantaged by such foresight or risk-management. (I should clarify that I am not advocating people profiting from such fundraising efforts). The money should be allocated to rebuilding the community. But this is such a ambiguous concept – nebulous to the extreme. Do we look at short term problems or a 5 year plan? Where should the money go? By what criteria do we merit funding? Compensate lost income? Tangible as well as conceptual loss? 

After spending a month in Bangladesh mid 2008 I was involved in determining a criterion for which local families were assessed to receive payments to improve their living conditions. I thought this was a hard and ambiguous task – and I admit that I thought that this was exacerbated by the fact that I was working in a third world city – where poverty is at an all time high and desperation is the currency of the day. However thinking about it now, I don’t think that being in a developed country will make the criteria any easier to determine – except that hopefully the process may be a touch more transparent! We can hope. The sad thing is that it will hard to compensate everyone equally… or should that be proportionally?

Victorian Bushfires Arrive in NSW

I just wanted to post these pictures that Dad sent. The bushfires were about 1000kms from where we live yet the smoke has arrived two weeks later. And Dad, your shirt is hilarious. I'm sure Mum loves your bagels!

"Did you want me for forever for those three days?" - Tomatoes and Basil Dish

I’m still not sure what I think of this blogging thing. But I guess I must see more positives than negatives at the moment (as is evident by this entry). Writing is constructed for an audience; however the problem with blogging is that there can be too many variations of audience and not enough voices. Or perhaps too many voices. Trying to speak to individuals, when perhaps a phone call or a visit would actually be a more successful level of commitment and expression. In one sense it is an incredibly private experience (which almost becomes arrogant due to the medium for which it is published) and on the other hand it is an incredibly open experience in which you let others into your thoughts and ideas on a controlled yet passive level. All this aside; the word ‘blog’ just sounds fucking stupid.

Poem: I promised Amy a poem this week. There are a great number of stories that will never be told. Is this the greatest tragedy of all? I wrote this over the past few months. Still in draft stages.

Untitled – for Amy

 

The curtains are being drawn now

The sun has surrendered

Your crimson face needs rest

Time is not your choice

Nor is it with me

The curtains are being drawn now

For both of us need rest

And have suffered fools too lightly

Songs/Artists of the week:

 

Shirley Bassey – Because she is amazing!

Damien Leith – Come to Me

Eric Hutchinson – Supporting Jason Mraz here in Sydney 15^th April

Powderfinger – Album: Dream Days at Hotel Existence (sounds like a bit of a rip from the Eagles?) particularly Nobody Sees, Wishing on the Same Moon and Whatever makes you Happy from the album Odyssey Number Five.

The Whitlams – There’s No-one

 

The Films that I can’t afford but have seen in the past week:

 

Changeling – Definitely see this!

W. – Fishing for the moon in the water. I had no idea what to expect from this film but I liked this quote which I assume relates to the strikes between illusion and reality and perception.

 

The Reader & Revolutionary Road – Definitely encapsulates the following: Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. I love when films challenge the belief you are special/unique/destined for greatness/ somehow different from the status quo and if indeed this is what we want/need/are prepared for. Is it the fool and the insane that only have such clarity of mind?

Doubt – “Certainty is an emotion, it is not a fact.” Merryl Streep and Hoffman were amazing even if the film was more conceptually driven than plot driven.

My wonderful friend from home visited me from Brisbane this weekend and we had a brief yet fabulous time. I love it when you find those friendships that live outside time and distance simply because you care about each other. We saw “He’s just not that into you” – unfortunately (although perhaps not surprisingly) I didn’t learn much from this film. Later that evening we headed out to a champagne-filled evening at Opera Bar looking out over Sydney Harbour. At that moment the world was simply wonderful!

I wanted to post Marybeth’s recipe too. It was lovely to hear from you MB!

Tomatoes and Basil Dish – SUPER EASY STYLE:

 

This is yummy but requires a couple things from the store:

 

1. Tomatoes – really fresh preferred – 2-3
2. Basil leaves – 3 leaves or so
3. Mozzarella cheese – cubed or sliced or pre-made balls
4. Olive oil (preferably higher purity virgin olive oil - the dipping kind – not the cooking kind)

 

 

Cut up the tomatoes in half circle slices.  

Chop up the basil or tear off small pieces. 

Add about a tablespoon of olive oil and mix the basil leaves and tomatoes. 

Put this mix on a plate with some cheese slices.
EAT- yummy!!!

 

You can also dip with some bread or chips. You can add avocado to it too!

 

 

Battles: winning or learning?

I was just sitting talking to Dad over a 'cuppa' (queen's english: translation: noun & verb: a hot cup of tea with honey as well as the process of drinking this warm beverage which is rumoured to solve the world's unhappiness and tragedies). And he reminded me of an email that my eldest sister forwarded the other week:

There comes a point in your life when you  realise who matters,
who never did, who won't anymore... and who always will.
So, don't worry about people from your past,
there's a reason why they didn't make it to your future.

Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some
kind of battle.

I think the last line resonates a beautiful message. We balance between chance and control. There are some things that I think we want to think are in the hands of fate/chance/luck. But I think we give way too much credit to these forces. I think that we think that things are the way they are because there is no other way that they could be. But this is bullshit. We fall in to the trap of thinking that habits are hard-wired. They are not. You can change your habits and consequently change the luck which lays upon you. Of course we cannot control everything. Although some of us will die trying. Not me. But we can control what we present to the world. The irony of this is that I write this whilst procrastinating about writing a god damn cover letter... argh... not sure if the real world is better or if dreaming is where it's at. Was it Yeats who said that to dream is to awaken?

In the End We Begin Again

Dad's Workshop - Where many of the 'shitty inventions' come to life

Blossoms down the driveway

Mum and Dad - Toasting Life and Mum with her new benches

I have returned home. For 84 days I thought that 'home' would simply be within me. I was wrong. There are small pockets across the world that I left feeling very touched and blessed to have walked there. Hoping to return to some places. But there is nothing like 'Pindari'.

Dad & I - August 2008 in Lilyfield

Mum and Dad in the 70's - Crazy Shit

Mum & I - Will's 19th Birthday Dinner

Pindari - 2008

'Bobby' should have behaved better... Poor thing

Dad & I - Moments before my flight to NYC - Dad has a dirty mo!

Dad in the roof of his latest project - how many shooms can we have? How many shitty invention?

Will & Thomas a.k.a Tom-arse, Gremlin, Nelson (he has eyes like Brendan Nelson), ScumDog Millionaire...

Pindari Afternoons


Song of Day - You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma - Frizzell

Recipe of the Day - Meringue and Raspberry Cream Torte - 

Found in Better Homes & Gardens Mag - August 2008. 

Mum made this for us once. She made her own meringues which are ummm... amazing... but you don't have to.

Prep Time: 10 min plus 3 - 4 hrs freezing time

Serves: 8 (or 1 if you don't like sharing)

2kg good quality vanilla and strawberry ripple ice cream

300g fresh or frozen raspberries

10 purchased meringue nests (gently crushed)

Extra 300g fresh or forzen raspberries

Line a round 22cm springform cake tin with cling wrap. Allow ice cream to soften but not melt. Put 1/3 of ice cream in the base of tin, cover with 1/2 the raspberries and 1/2 crsuhed meringue. Continue to layer ingredients in this manner, ending with a layer of ice cream. Cover tin with cling wrap and freeze 3 - 4 hrs.

Remove from freezer and turn out onto a large plate. Top with extra raspberries and cut into wedges to serve.

Ummm... awesome... we are loving the 80's with these kitchy desserts!

The Vatican and the Poor People

The most incredible view was from the top of St. Peters. Well worth 7 Euro!!!




The Poor in the Vatican
The 'Round' Jerry

All I have eaten is Pizza and Croissants and bottles of cheap cheap wine... hmmmm

Roma Tomates? Are they just called tomatoes here?

Me Being dopey at the Colusseum - I have this outfit in most photos across the past three months. Insert background here!
Outside Picasso Gallery in Roma
On my way to The White Horse - Parsons Green - same oufit
Tate Modern - London
Book Sale on South Bank - London - Loved this area

Bouna sera!

It has been a few days since Sonnie J (aka Vanessa or Annej) has ventured into the cyber world  - so here in Roma - we enter again.

Karen and I had a fabulous last night in London. Highly recommend a bar and restaurant The Greedy Buddah around Parsons Green. Half price coctails till 7:30 or 25% off the bill. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing. I wish I could have made that more dramatic! It was just awesome to see Karen and catch up... really catch up on those girly details that bar tenders don't really want to know but you think you are being really quiet and subtle... maybe we were, and through the language barrier I think we didn't do too much damage to our egos. Was a beautiful last night. We contemplated going out but realised that we didn't actually want to. The zen flowing through us told us that we didn't really need to... Actually as I write this I realise that we did go to a pub on the way home...hmmm... maybe the details here should then not be trusted. We went to the White Horse and had some really strong cider and then got shouted expensive bubbles by these men - again the female in the congregation was not impressed... It's funny how young women, old bats and male libido don't mix. Funny... huh?

But needless to say (actually probably not needless to say) it was all above board fun. We pretty much feel asleep in our cider we were that tired/drunk. 

I just found something I wrote done after my first night in Roma (which was massive and totally random). I wrote this sitting on the path leading to the Colusseum (I was actually hiding from the Colusseum - wasn't ready to take it all - it just jumped out of nowhere):

Life begins when you realise that your greatest beauty is your most fearful weapon.

A woman whose finger is wed,

Whose jeans have shrunk,

Will never find relief in what she can never be.

I am sitting on a bench and there is a small potted tree to my right and behind that is the Colusseum - but for some reason - I am too scared to look.

My first full day in Rome I wandered around to the Colusseum and other ridiculously massive monuments. My favourite was just wandering around the ruins and seeing whay nooks-and- cranny-type streets I could find myself up. I found a 'rounder' version of Jerry which amused me. He knew I was trying to snap a photo which made it a little awkward esp. as it was a totally non-photo worthy street. In the evening I hung in the hostel and met a few guys and a girl over a bottle of wine and then wandered around for some pizza.

Today I sight saw for about 8 hours! Crazy.  The Vatican was incredible and the best part of the trip was going up to the very top of the Basilica in St. Peters. Looking out over the whole of Roma! 360 degrees. The highest point I could see for miles. Definitely a highlight! and the Fontana de Treve was just nice - it was just a good time to sit and think 'this is nice'...

I head to Florence tomorrow for two nights and then to Cinque Terre for two nights before returning for one night in Roma before flying out. I can't actually believe that the days are turning into hours and that like all life's lessons we only seem learn them when we no longer need them learnt. There's always time for Level 2 of Life Lesson 1! I think that I have finally started to chill out but maybe that is only because I am going home soon. A job always takes the length of time given to fill it... so maybe it was always going to be that way.

Poem of the day - written 5pm 1st February 2009

My feet have touched the ground

But I am a long way from home

I know not where you find me resting

But in my heart together we rome.

 

Salmon and Solitude = Happiness

I just watched "The Dark Knight" for the second time - makes me want to watch V for Vendetta again - and find myself really intrigued by the quotation:

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

It may be a bit pessimistic but nonetheless I liked it and has some validity in  the constant flux of power that we see today in all arenas. Human nature is fickle. And it must be realised that even villains die - and to someone they are a hero. Every hero needs a nemisis. The concept of hero/villain may even be flawed (at least in a a

bsolute fashion). Robin Hood - Hero or Villain?

This is the problem with travelling on your own. You have too much time to think and you start to go loopy and thinking about things in way to much depth and in some ways almost lose sight of reality. Some may say that this is a good thing. But I think that there is a healthy limit to thinking and particularly self-analysis. There is a point at which it becomes destructive not because of the critique itself but becasue of how the critique comes about. It happens in a non-reality. You begin assessing yourself with respect to a particular context which you have completely removed yourself. So have you lost sight of the very thing that you are critiquing? Perspective is good. And it is good to detach yourself from the minutiae of life but I wonder if too much removal become fruitless because the very thing that you 

are critiquing in a sense fails to exist anymore. Or you start critquing things that would not actually be an issue if you put yourself back in 'reality'. Maybe that is why it is the pursuit of happiness that we ache for not the actualisation of happiness. What would we do if we actually got there? Pack up camp. 

This brings me to another thought. In a world of free thought and theoretically unlimited possibilities to advance ourselves why do we dream so small and live in doubt? Instead of opening doors we seem to dream of them and quietly close them when we abruptly awake. How much should we listen to society around us - do we ignore the marketing or do we accept it? Do we live with it/coexist? Perhaps we can either choose to accept or rej

ect commercialism/marketing influences and then we have the choice to either indulge in that choice and then we have the further choice to be happy or sad about that. I.e. don't reject marketing and chose to indulge in that philosophy and be bitter about it. It's your choice to be happy. Damn I have spent way too much time alone in museums this week. Going coo-coo. 

I have just been going through one of those 'what is you favourite movie/musical artist? and must have an answer ready' moment. And coincidently two of my favourite films also include some of my favourite musical and lyrical moments: The film 'Once' for which Glen Hansard from The Frames acts and sings and the other is As it is in Heaven (Swedish). Glen Hansard is great: raw and captures a desperation for love that I think many would understand. And the other film (longest running film in Oz!) is simply beautiful. 

I am currently at a cafe. Indulging for what feels like the first time in a little while. I have turned my back on the galleries and museums and decided that no guilt can come from doing what you really want to do. So right now I am doing just that: scoffing (like an English aristocrat - NOT) on my salmon and olive panini and sipping on my blueberry smoothy and inhaling my massive cappacino. It feels great! I have my laptop to dick around on and my book to soak up the remains. This book likes to mock me I feel... Holds mirrors to me. I still think my tombstone should read '...in pursuit of a resume...' 

I will try and complete that in the next week in my villa in Tuscany... That doesn't sound too horrible now does it?

Wow seeing easter eggs and Valantine shit everywhere... gimme gimme! Far Out! 

Pea and Ham Pasta

I was in Oxford recently and as I was waiting for some new friends that I had never met and so I waited in Blackwell’s Bookshop and stumbled across this recipe: I admit that I have never made it and that I may have completely forgotten the actual recipe. I also think the blurb mentioned that the dish is more about peas than it is pasta – so bare that in mind.

 

But if inspiration breeds creativity then a few words are all you need.

 

• Slug of oil.
• One onion

Diced, perhaps finely if memory serves me well… now from here on in is where the rest of the recipe gets a little hazy…hehe.

• 200 – 400g the best ham you can afford.

I would imagine that off the bone would be best… but as I said… no idea… just don’t use spam… as it has more application at a building site than in a kitchen (or in Nana’s bin – we didn’t mean to hurt her feelings).

• 600 – 800g frozen peas or canned…whatever Trevor.

Having said that I would expect a very different taste depending on which you use.

• 200ml white wine.

Make sure that it is drinkable. I imagine a dry white or sav blanc… not riesling or a sweet one.

• 200ml chicken or vege stock… ok now I am making shit up… but it could still be faithful to the recipe.

Try it! Either use stock cubes and follow instructions or use pre-made tetra-pak stuff.

• Perhaps 200g of pasta… we’ll see…
• Pretty certain that a handful of mint comes in at this point too!

 

Now for the fun part (esp. when you have no idea what your ingredients are supposed to be and have never made it before in your life).

 

1. Heat the oil over a mid-high stove and brown/sauté the onion. Add the ham and slightly caramelise.
2. Add the wine and reduce to above half the volume – I totally made this bit up…
3. Add the peas and the stock and let that simmer too, letting the peas turn a bit mushy… whilst you…
4. Cook the pasta in a separate pot for 5 minute less than is recommended on the directions and then drain. Add to the pea mixture on the stove and cook for a further 5 min or until pasta is al dente… again I don’t really know if the pasta is supposed to soak up all the liquid or if there is supposed to be a jus type thing going on… but as long as it is flavourful I guess any liquid can’t hurt and if you need more liquid just add stock? Maybe question marks are not ideal in recipe writing?
5. Remove from the heat and fold through fresh mint (whole leaves or ripped). However I also thought that heat makes mint go black… so maybe do this at the very last minute.
6. Add salt and pepper to taste.
7. Serve with parmesan cheese and warm crusty bread.

 

Disclaimer: I have no idea. Sounds kinda fun though right? 

Tara's Black and White Photos from Heavenly and the ones we never paid for!

MB's Photos

I just received an email from Marybeth and it reminded me of some of the goodtimes we had in California/Nevada and Texas...

Australia Day

...ok... so Australia Day was a write off...not because I am a crazy wild drunken sex mink... but because I WAS a drunken crazy wild sex mink... no that's not true either. But I did have an awesome time in Oxford and did need some time to recover from 3 days of fun times in Oxford... so I spent Australia Day (official Australia Day - Sunday in London) horizontal sleeping for all but 2 hours of it cause I felt so damn exhausted and like the Black Plague had paid a visit. But in true style I did go to a pub with Karen for those 2 hours and then curled up to watch Friends, 27 Dresses at 4:30pm that afternoon and asleep by 7:30ish. Well done you!!!

But thanks to night sweats and a good night's sleep I was up an'at'em at 7am this morning... in pursuit of unravelling t

he mystery of Stonehenge. I headed to Bath, Stonehenge and Salsibury for the day with an old friend who has recently entered my life again... Nyssa. She was travelling with 3 of her girlfriends and I decided to join them on this day trip. I had an awesome time. Bath was beautiful. I wish I could have spent 3 days there... well I could have... but I am on strick ration control...Similar to Oxford in a way. Similar vibe perhaps?

Stonehenge at first glimpse was nothing like I expected. In true Jenna-style I had no idea where in England Stonehenge was. I assumsed that there would be a sunset??? Why?  Well why the hell not? Even at 1:30pm? Yes! Stonehenge = God reaching down at sunset... Well to my surprise at 1:30pm on an overcast day there was not a sunset and nor was there a cliff over looking the ocean. Much like the one in the 3 Musketeers where Sabine jumps off the cliff. Why? Well why the hell not? All the postcards, calenders, pictures you ever see make you believe that a) the sun is a continual state of setting and b) an ocean in just out of view.

To put you out of misery (if you have not been) it is not in a perennial state of sun-setting nor is it anywhere near an ocean. If you had looked at a map this may have been obvious. As it would appear, I had not. So at first, when the bus drove towards the Henge I was a little underwhelmed... I here you saying..."Jesus, what more do you want?" But when I actually walked around the structure it was purely, simply and quietly a breathtaking structure. Despite the other tourists wandering about there was an incredible silence yet incredible presence about the entirety of not only the structure but the space in which surrounded. 

It was strange to see it within 1 metre of a bitumen road. A horrible mix of modernity and history - maybe it shows how values change? And as Bill Heslop would say: you can't stop progress...(???) It was sad (yet in a way understandable) too see that people used to hire picks and chisel off there own piece as a soveigner. It is no different to Ayers Rock. Does it often take the destruction of something to realise worth?

We then headed to Salisbury which was a great surprise for several reasons: 1) I didn't know that was part of the tour 2) didn't know what/where/who/why/what it was 3) didn't know that only one of 4 original Magna Cartas resided at the Cathedral in Salisbury (which also has the tallest spire in Europe). So all in all that was an incredible experience (and there was a beautiful rainbow after the rain wilted away).  Unfortunately my camera died at this point. It was amazing to understand the Magna Carta and to see a copy of the original from 1215 and to realise that one of the most recent Magna Cartas from 1297 is in Canberra, NSW. 

I had a great chat with my friend Nyssa the whole way home to London; exhausted but had a great day. I then met Karen at the Wheatsheaf at Parson's Green and then went to 'Tapas for a Tenner' in Fulham Broadway (near Cafe Del Aziz) where all you can eat tapas can never be a bad thing! After a bottle of red there could not have been a better way to end the night. Although having just said that I naturally tried to think of a better way to end my night: several options came to mind - the Cadbury Creme Egg that sits patiently in my handbag is a close second. 

xx Jenn

Book Recommended: The Tyrannicide Brief

Youtube: The Jayhawks - All The Right Reasons

Recipe: Scallops Seared in Oil - Thanks to Henry Foster - New York 

sea scallops seared in oil

4:50pmJenna

yeah and... details mr!!!

4:50pmHenry

after scallops are tossed in flour first

4:50pmJenna

yo

4:50pmHenry

then drain oil and but 3 tablespoons of butter, a bunch of parsley and juice from half a lemon

4:51pmJenna

sweet easy as!

4:51pmHenry

add salt/pepper for flavour and then serve with the scallops

soooo good

im amazing