when sharing is not caring (part 1)

I have actually been a bit reluctant to write this post because I don’t want to give the impression that I think I know everything about this matter (which I don’t) but it’s something that I think about a lot, so I wanted to just put this out there and see what other people think. I was going to just make this a singular post, but it ended up being so long, I’ve decided to split it into two separate posts. [Part 2 will be published next week.]

People who know me well will know that I care a lot about environmental conservation. I spend a great deal of time reflecting on how my actions affect the environment (quite possibly as a result of getting this drilled into me in Grade 4). Lately I’ve taken to pondering about the impact of societal changes on energy usage and waste production.  Continue reading

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love and cholera

I’ve been meaning to write and post this blog entry about Love in the Time of Cholera for a while now (a couple of weeks, really) but just haven’t gotten around to polishing it off. It’s gotten to the point where I think if I leave it much longer, I’ll never come back to it, and so, complete or not, here are some thoughts on Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera…  Continue reading

chronic romanticism and letter writing

The week-end before last, I finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera (by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) on a flight home from interstate. I finished reading it about half an hour before we were due to descend, and I spent this time staring out the window (I always choose a window seat if I can), reflecting on the events and characters of the novel, and also contemplating any parallels with my own life.

One of the principal characters, Florentino Ariza, is what most would call a hopeless romantic. At one or two points in the novel, his mother proclaims that the only ailment he ever truly suffered was love. Indeed, he is lovesick to the highest degree, as he waits over half a century for the woman he loves, even after she rejected him and married another man.  Continue reading

possibilities

Sometimes I wonder if my tendency to attach meaning to even the most ordinary things is a product of my being a reader or a writer.

Reading shows me many possibilities. Writing makes me want to seek more possibilities.

Symbolism, metaphors, analogies, lyricism…

Did I learn these from reading or writing? (I suppose the two go hand-in-hand.)

Lightning, butterflies, a speeding car, an ominous cloud…

Do I dramatise things because that’s what I’ve been shown, or because that is what I seek?

Still water, a familiar scent, refracted light, cautious footsteps…

How do I know if it is excessive? An affliction?

Nervous excitement, a poem, fallen leaves, a dream…

Of all the possibilities in the world, I’m not sure if it’s possible to really change this. I’m not sure if I would.

A waterfall, memories, a soothing melody, sunshine…

Thursday Doors: Footscray

Back to Melbourne for this instalment of Thursday Doors, specifically to the suburb of Footscray, in Melbourne’s westside.

I suppose you could say Footscray is a very culturally diverse part of Melbourne. If you walk through the main part of the suburb, you’ll find shops and restaurants selling food and wares from various Asian, African and Middle Eastern countries. I think there are probably as many signs in other languages as there are in English (perhaps more signs in non-English languages).  Continue reading

lessons from tomatoes

I’ve been thinking a lot about gardens lately. Somewhere in Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott uses gardening as a metaphor for life: you plant some things, you look after them, they grow, some of them die, you learn, and then you plant more (or other) things. Gardening is a good metaphor for life because gardens are full of life (hopefully).

A few months ago, a couple of friends of mine went on a road trip. They would be gone for about three weeks, so they needed someone to look after their cherry tomato plants. I seemed the most suitable/reliable candidate, so one week-end they brought two large pots, each with several little tomato plants, over to my place. The only instructions they left with me were to water them every day, and make sure they got lots of sunlight.  Continue reading