Bettina's Brave New World

Gotta have balls.

2009-08-04T00:00:00.000+10:00

You know how much I love accidental humor. This one is pure gold. Have a sensational day, my dears. And why not add some joy to your life by trying out this lovely suggestion?

Hi, my name is Bettina and I live here.

2009-06-11T07:20:00.010+10:00

Yes, yes, yes. I know. I has been way to long. So shame on me. You can tar and feather me, call me names and spit on me, as long as you only do it virtually. And as long as you don't mean it, of course. But thank you to those of you who have told me they missed me- you are stars and of course make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I actually have been back from India for about a month, but somehow just had a total lack of motivation to write my blog. Slack, I know, and a pathetic excuse, but it happens to the best of us, or so I hear. Anyway. Considering I have been absent for such a long time, it would probably be appropriate for me to write a big fat update now, but sadly that's not gonna happen as it is late and I've got an early morning tomorrow and have been having some monster days lately. I just wanted to drop by and tell you that I'm still alive and that I still love you and that it's not you, it's me. I swear.

Oh yeah, and here are some impressions from India. I will be back soon, and if not, you can tar and feather me for real. As long as you don't mean it.

India is never nothing

2009-04-17T14:00:00.001+10:00

Namaste, my friends. Six days in India and already, I can barely remember how Switzerland works. This place is incredible in every single way. And while it was more than overwhelming for the first couple of days when an absolute overdose of Indian craziness washed over us like a wild river and left us gasping for air, we have settled into the Indian life now with an ease that surprises and amazes me. We let the current carry us from one magical moment to the next and let the power of coincidence guide us... it has served us well. My friend and I fortunately have a very similar travelling style: We listen to intuition, let little things amaze us and ignore the hassle as good as we can.

India is different. India is loud, pushy, dirty, chaotic, crazy, intense and challenging. But India is also full of magic and wonder, so colourful, beautiful, surprising, seducing, hilarious. We have learnt not to expect anything while being prepared for everything. India is polarising and challenges us to get involved and live as much as we can. India is always either this or that but never nothing. It always either smells like heaven, of fresh mangoes, curries, saffron, sandalwood and herbs, or like absolute crap, which could be sweat, garbage, urine, cow shit or a mix of all of the above.

India is funny. It still makes me smile to watch the complete traffic chaos that dominates the cities: Cows share the streets with rikshas, street vendors, cars, beggars, little kids, stray dogs, cars, bicycles and sometimes also camels and even elephants. It also makes me laugh how cunning a lot of the people are, although this can no doubt be annoying at times. But we have become street wise in no time and now know what things should cost and that if someone tells us that the hotel we want to go to doesn't exist anymore or that he can sell you a 100% pashmina scarf for 4 dollars, he's probably lying. Those things can be tricky, but they now make me laugh. I listen to my heart and don't take too much advise of people on the street- if they insist on telling you a better way, they often have hidden motives.

India is beautiful. The colours are stunning- I absolutely love how the red, green, pink, orange and yellow saris of the Indian women turn every place they grace with their presence into a happy place. I love the spice stalls, the colour of the bazaars, the incredible old buildings with their light blue colour peeling off. I love the smiles of the kids that run around on the street, the piles of lemons on the wooden carts, the narrow little streets, everything. India has certainly taken my heart by storm.

Chanting chanting shanti shanti

2009-04-08T22:30:00.001+10:00

I know, I know. My track record on this blog has been absolutely shocking lately. And I don't even have a great excuse, other than the usual boring one: too much else going on.

Things are great though. Work is busy and challenging as usual, but I still adore what I for some reason continue to call "my new job", although it's been more than six months now - I think it's because time has just passed so incredibly fast. I really did score the jackpot with this one, I think. Who would have ever thought I would be so happy working for a regional newspaper? Not me. But I am, and I love it. I just had my staff appraisal today with my boss and he heaped so much praise on me that I came out of the meeting rather overwhelmed. He said he couldn't stress enough how lucky he felt to have me on the team and that he wanted to do anything to make me comfortable and make me stay (and no: I did not ask for a raise then, although it does sound like a good moment. But it's still early times). He said he felt I made a really positive impact on both the content of the paper and the team in general. And that he thought I had great potential and he could see me taking on some leadership responsibilities when the time was right. So yeah, a great success on the whole line.

What else? I'm going to India this Saturday for a good three weeks. I cannot wait. It's been a dream of mine for so many years that it feels absolutely surreal that I'm actually going now. I would have preferred to go for longer, three months would have been nice - but we don't want to get greedy. The three months gig is just not a possibility right now, so I take what I can get and I'm still stoked about it. So if you notice someone chanting "om shanti om" while standing on one leg and eating a curry at the same time, it will probably be me. I'll try to say hi on the blog at some stage over the next three weeks if possible but don't hold me to it. Namaste!

You'll be tested

2009-03-07T21:00:00.001+10:00

Today, for the first time in ages, I had a lazy afternoon all to myself with nothing at all I really had to do. Absolute bliss. I've been busy with work and play and a couple of other little projects, so some down time was just what the doctor ordered.

On the website of my favourite newspaper, The Guardian, I came across this article called "Let's play...make your own album cover!" It's basically all about "seeing what beautiful collisions of image and text fate can throw together, and then imagining what kind of music the resulting band might play." I'm a huge fan of accidental beauty and the miracle of coincidences and because I was just in the right mood to do something fun that served no purpose at all, I gave it a try.

These are the five steps:

Get a band name:
Simply use the title of a randomly-generated Wikipedia article.

Get an album title:
Use the last four or five words from the last quote on a page of random quotations.

Get some album art:
Use the image thrown up using this Flickr tool, which generates random images without copyright restrictions.

Make it look nice:
Using Photoshop, Paint, or whatever graphics software you have, fiddle your band logo and album title into some kind of visually-pleasing assemblage.

I swear to god I only spent about five minutes on each album cover and came up with five albums good enough to top the charts, I think. It's amazing how beautiful randomness can be. There is something so pure about coincidence, which you can almost not create by trying. The idea is that you also write a little blurb about what music the band might play but that was a bit too much time for me to spend on this little project, as much fun as it is. Here are my results:

I totally dig this spreading the love business.

2009-02-16T22:45:00.001+10:00

Hello my lovelies. Sorry I've been a bit quiet lately. There's just been too much going on- a lot of work, a couple of new projects on the side and also- yeah, I do gladly admit it- a lot of partying. I'm happy though and really love my life at the moment. I feel balanced and at home here again- like I have finally arrived in Switzerland. And to make up for not posting for a while, I will tell you a cool little story.

Just before Christmas, one of my best friends and I went on a little princess trip to Milano. We stayed in this most adorable little boutique hotel and just spoiled ourselves with good things- lots of shopping, lots of laughs, lots of prosecco, espresso and good Italian food, breakfast in bed... all that kind of stuff. On the last day, I was getting close to a shopping overdose... we had been hitting it really hard. We went and had a prosecco and nibbles break at this cool lounge bar to get our energy levels back up. You do what you gotta go.

When we left, I still felt quite exhausted from all the walking around. We crossed the piazza in front of the beautiful dome and I said to my friend, "My god, I'm so stuffed- I can barely lift my feet." Next thing I know, we see this two young guys, maybe about twenty year old, in the middle of the piazza, holding up a sign saying "free hugs". Needless to say, I loved the idea and went straight over to get a hug. I was so impressed with the idea and we spoke to the guys for a while to find out why they were doing what they were doing. They said it was just an art project for them to spread the love and see how people react. Apparently they had been getting all kinds of people coming up, from business men to kids to pregnant ladies to teenagers and little old ladies.

Then one of the guys said, "Do you want to try?" Of course, I was all over the opportunity. I held up the sign, and before I knew it, I had people queing for hugs. There was a couple of young men, a middle aged woman in a business suit, a young girl, another man... it was amazing. I had seen a couple of people at music festivals in Australia before with "free hugs" t-shirts, but this was in a city in the afternoon, where people don't usually talk to strangers and where the majority is not drunk and feeling more liberated than usual. I couldn't stop laughing and was simply blown away to see how many people craved just a little bit of love. It was incredible. After a little while, we said good-bye to the guys and were on our way. And miraculously, I felt like a new person. Suddenly, I wasn't tired at all anymore. In fact, I felt full of energy, happy and bouncy and ready to take on the world.

It was definitely one of my highlights of this trip. To see how love can multiply itself out of nothing was unbelievable. All it took was someone to do something unexpected and the love spread out like a fire. Every single one of the people coming over for a hug walked off a happier person- even if just for a moment. I've always been a huge fan of random acts of kindness, but this puts a whole new meaning on the term.

That's a bit harsh.

2009-02-01T23:45:00.000+10:00

I think it's ok not to be a huge fan of miscellaneous food, but this is taking it a bit far in my opinion.

Cry me a river

2009-01-20T23:45:00.001+10:00

Have you ever cried for a Swiss army knife? I'm guessing the answer to this will be a resounding no.

I did the other day. It was on my flight from Zurich to Edinburgh. I was still working the morning of the 31st of December and had brought my bags with me to be able to go straight to the airport at lunch time to catch my flight.

I've got this Swiss army knife on my key ring- I love it. It's white and it used to belong to my grandmother, who died about one and a half years ago. She was one of the most influential people in my life and I still miss her almost every day. When she died, she lived in a nursing home and had not many possessions left, so the Swiss army knife is one of the only items I have from her.

At some stage during the morning, I thought: "I must, must, must remember to take the army knife off the key ring and put it into my check-in luggage." But I didn't do it straight away, and, you guessed it: I forgot. I only realised when I was about to walk through customs: my heart almost stopped.

Strangely enough, they put my handbag through the scanner and let me pass without saying a word. It was incredible- I couldn't believe my luck. But I still had to change planes in London and get through customs again. And that's where they got me. They have no mercy in London.

When they waved me over, my heart fell. After I had shown them the Swiss army knife, the security lady proceeded to search my whole bag, as if since I had one knife, I was likely to be a terrorist and have more. Then she examined the army knife. She decided that actually, only the big blade was too big, but the small one and the scissors and the nail file were ok- which I thought was strange, as there had been a time when you could barely pass through with a pair of tweezers. The lady asked me if I just wanted them to break off the big blade so I could keep the knife? I started to get some hope again, although the thought of them ripping out one blade still hurt.

She started to search for a pair of pliers and as she couldn't find one, disappeared and said she would be back. I had a very short transfer time and as I was already almost late for my next flight, I started to get a bit nervous. But I absolutely did not want to lose my grandmother's Swiss army knife.

When she finally got back, she said: "Sorry, but I can't find any pliers. So we're just gonna have to throw it away." And she threw it into a big plastic bin full of confiscated items. I was in shock. I wanted to explain to her that it wasn't just any Swiss army knife and that it was one of the only things at all I had from my late grandmother, and that I promised I wasn't going to hold up the plane with an army knife and couldn't she see I had a good heart? But I could feel tears welling up and a tight feeling blocked my throat and I couldn't say anything. I just walked off, and then the tears came.

Not just one or two tears. I walked through the airport to my gate and had tears streaming down my face. I couldn't help it or stop it. I cried for my grandmother and for life and loss and everything else. I didn't give a shit about people looking at me. I feel like airports are made for crying anyway and if there is any place you should not have to feel ashamed about tears, that's where it is. Clearly everybody just thought that I must have had an emotional good-bye with a loved one.

I just made my flight and as I got in, I realised that the flight attendant was the same one as on the flight from Zurich. She looked at me a bit confused- I'm sure she was wondering how I had been able to come up with an opportunity to cry during a 15 minute transfer at London city airport by myself.

I got tricked.

2009-01-07T22:00:00.001+10:00

I had the time of my life in Edinburgh. Way too much fun. So much fun in fact that at one stage during new years eve, I said to my friends: "You know what? I didn't sign up for THAT much fun. I was just expecting a little bit of fun. And then what happens? I come here and have endless fun. I want my money back." But since they would not give me my money back (bastards!), I told them: "Ok, fine then. New years resolution for all of you: Be less fun and be more shit. Got that?" But do you think they would at least do that for me? Hm? No. Not at all. The inconsiderate pricks continued to be absolute bucketloads of fun. In fact, they were absolute shit at being shit. I just couldn't believe it. I feel betrayed.

(Sorry guys, stupid Blogger won't let me upload any photos right now. Will do it later.)

Update: Now that Blogger has decided NOT to be shit anymore and to be a little bit more fun, I have added a few photos. There are loads more, but I don't necessarily want to show all the world just how silly we can be. I think these ones should do. Love, B.

Not really here.

2008-12-27T20:00:00.001+10:00

Hello my dear friends. I'm just quickly dropping by to say that I'm still alive but not really quite here. Kind of a bit too busy partying at the moment, but I'm sure you understand. After a few months of very little partying, I have finally found back to my old ways. And, what's even more important, I have found some great party partners. An old friend who I've known for many years has developped into a soul sister for me, even more than she already was before. And as an added bonus, she is spontaneous and often up for crazy ideas. On top of that, I met some of the sweetest guys in a club a couple of weeks ago and they just happen to be the kind of guys who can keep up with me and dance until the sun comes up in the morning. Just what the doctor ordered, is what I say.

I'm back to work for two and a half days next week and then off to Edinburgh with a group of eight friends for New Years Eve... should be a legendary trip. And I promise, when I get back, I will be a bit more conscientous with my blog again. But before that, you'll excuse me- I've got a couple of dance-offs to attend. I hope you are all having wonderful holidays. Lots of love to you all.

To give up the ghost

2008-12-16T23:45:00.001+10:00

This is priceless. A friend who is French just sent me an e-mail and told me that he is moving to Switzerland because a Japanese company haunted him.

Must be a pretty horrible company to haunt him so much that as his only escape he sees a move to a different country. Poor guy.

Do yourself a favour and just shut up.

2008-12-10T23:30:00.002+10:00

Don't you think it's hilarious when people justify their behaviour but only by mentioning it, even draw your attention to it?

Yesterday I was at a little supermarket getting a couple of things and as I was going to the check-out (I know, the second supermarket check-out story in a week, but you're going to have to deal with that), there was a woman with quite a lot of groceries just getting into the queue. Behind her was a man who only had one bottle of some liquor, so the lady said to him: "Do you only have this bottle? Well, you can go in front of me then." The guy said thank you and then added: "You know, I'm just getting this bottle for cooking. Just a bit of liquor for cooking, you know." And he laughed a nervous little laugh.

Now obviously, after that, everyone who had heard it was convinced he was an alcoholic. If he hadn't said anything, nobody would have given it a second thought.

It's a bit like this story I read the other day- it might have been by David Sedaris. One day when he was still a teenager, his dad said to him as they were driving somewhere: "I just want you to know, I never cheated on your mother." After that, there was no question anymore for him that his father had betrayed his mother. I guess the moral of the story here is- if you are telling a lie, but your body is not, then better just shut up.

Wanna fight?

2008-12-05T17:30:00.000+10:00

I just went grocery shopping at my local supermarket and there was this pretty odd looking couple in front of me at the check-out. Actually, she wasn't odd looking, she was just normal looking, but he was this mean looking, really tall, fairly big butch guy, maybe about fifty. He had long wavy hair and a weird cap, baggy tracksuit pants and a leather jacket and looked kind of scary. I got this strange vibe from him straight away, but was telling myself not to be so judgemental. Maybe he was just a scary looking guy, but had a good heart. You never know.

Before I could finish thinking that thought, a fight breaks out. The woman just asked a normal question, something like, "So should I just pay this part by cash then and you put the rest on your card?", which apparently was too much for him. He started screaming at her, something along the lines of, "What the fuck! I fucking told you how we do it, we don't do it like that, we fucking do it like this!" He then proceeded to push her to the side, not much, but enough that she bumped into the cash register behind her. Then he loaded the groceries onto the conveyor belt, throwing each item on there like a maniac, scaring the check-out lady and a few people around.

His vibe made me almost physically sick and I was so close to saying something, but in the end decided not to. I'm usually the kind of person who will say something, but he really was super scary and while I didn't think he would have hit me, I had a feeling that if I'd said something, he might get even angrier and later take it out on the woman. But then I couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering if I'd done the right thing. I think in any case, if there is actual violence involved, say, if he had hit her, then people around have a responsibility to not just watch and do nothing. But sometimes words can be just as violent. And it does make me wonder why a woman would stay with a guy like that. What would you have done?

Little donkey small and gray

2008-11-26T23:45:00.002+10:00

We have this old custom in Switzerland called "Samichlaus", which translates to Santa Claus. However, he's not like other Santa Clauses. While he looks like them, he doesn't arrive on Christmas, but on the 6th of December. He lives in the forrest and he comes with a helper called "Schmutzli", who's in a dark robe with a black face and carries a rod made from branches. He doesn't say anything but he's kind of scary. Samichlaus carries a bit hessian bag full of mandarines, peanuts, chocolates and gingerbread. Him and Schmutzli will come to your house and they know exactly what you've been up to during the year, and if you haven't been a good girl or a good boy, then god help you. Because Schmutzli will take you into his bag and they will take you to the forrest. And you might even get your arse beaten.

At least that's how the story goes, and most kids have a cousin who has a friend, who has a sister who knows someone who's friend once got taken away to the forrest. This obviously only applies to you if you're a kid. Once you're an adult, you're fine. You can be as naughty as you damn well will and Schmutzli won't give a rat's arse. He might even like it.

If you ARE a kid, however, and you have been good, or at least kind of acceptable, then things are looking up for you. Now all you need to do is recite a Samichlaus poem to the two guys from the forrest and you will be rewarded. They will pour out the big hessian bag on your livingroom floor and you will have enough mandarines and peanuts to make you sick. They're actually pretty cool guys, Samichlaus and Schmutzli. Once you get to know them.

Anyway. While the proper day for them to arrive is the 6th of December, they usually make an appearance a bit earlier, at Christmas markets and stuff. I had to go to one of them a couple of days ago to write an article about the first arrival of Samichlaus, which is always kind of a big deal. Usually they arrive with a donkey, but this one arrived in a horse and carriage- pretty damn posh, if you ask me. Don't know how he makes the money in the forrest to afford a fancy horse and carriage, but that's not my problem. The kids went mental, of course. They all crowded him to tell him their little poems. Most of them had a mix of fear and excitement in their eyes and the really young ones spoke so softly you barely noticed they actually said something. But Samichlaus was generous and they all got a little Santa bag with goodies. Usually no kids over the age of, I guess, about eight or so would go up to Santa, because they don't believe in it anymore. They're already too cool to believe in fairy tales. So it's really just for the very young kiddies.

But when the first rush of the kids was over, Santa looked at me and then at Schmutzli and he said: "Schmutzli, you need to give this girl a bag of goodies too. She's been giving me such a lovely smile." He went to get a bag but I said: "Hang on. I know a Santa poem too." He looked at me surprised: "Really? Do you?" I said: "Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, this was the first Santa poem I ever delivered, when I was two." So I stood in front of them and recited the "Eseli, Eseli chli und grau" poem. It's about a "little donkey, little donkey, small and gray". And I tell you what, I rocked the socks off that poem. They absolutely loved it. And I was the only person over the age of eight to go home with a Samichlaus goodie bag.

I'm a fool, but I don't mind.

2008-11-19T23:30:00.000+10:00

Well, I still love my new job. But after about 26 fairly stressful hours of work within two days, I think the honeymoon period is probably over. But it's my own fault and will teach me for absolutely having to work in journalism. Actually, it won't teach me. Call me a fool, but I'll have the interesting job over the 5.30pm finish any day.

Lousy Reputation

2008-11-14T11:45:00.000+10:00

I don't very often steal stuff, but I stole this from Mr Jones because I thought it was funny. I'm sure he won't mind. Basically, the idea is to put your MP3 player on random and use whatever song you get as an answer to the next question.

What does next year have in store for me? Dog new tricks/ Garbage (that's right, I'll definitely intend to learn a few of those)

What does my love life look like? Man research/ Gorillaz (hahaha... I swear this came up randomly!)

What do I say when life gets hard? It's Jazz, Baby/ Rob Longstaff (And that's all that matters.)

What do I think of when I get up in the morning? Now I lay me down/ Rae & Christian (Because I'm such a lazy bastard)

What song will I dance to at my wedding? Brainy/ The National (Great song, but maybe just a touch too sad for a wedding)

What do I want to do for my career? Don't stop the rock/ Chemical Brothers (Not even at work. Damn straight.)

Favorite saying? Antichrist Television Blues/ Arcade Fire (Yeah baby, I'm dark. And weird.)

Favorite place? Mansard Roof/ Vampire Weekend (I can live with that.)

What do I think of my parents? How far/ Beth Orthon (Well, actually, not so far anymore now.)

Where would I go on a first date? King of the rodeo/ Kings of Leon (Definitely a bit different for a first date... but why not.)

Drug of choice? Atmospheric Beat/ Kerri Chandler (True, true)

How do I describe myself? Karma Police/ Radiohead (Hahaha... I can be like that, I admit it.)

What is the thing I like doing most? Slow walking/ The Avalanches (That's a lie. In fact, I can't stand people who walk really slow and take up the whole sidewalk.)

The song that best describes the president/prime minister? Pony/ Morcheeba (Well, if we're talking about the US- the last one wasn't quite cute enough for a pony and the next one is a bit too smart.)

What is my state of mind like at the moment? Puppet on a string/ The Hives (Sure... I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me.)

How will I die? Mental/ Eels (Yeah... thanks a lot)

Song they'll play at my funeral? Funky Shit/ The Prodigy (Love it! Remember it, people.)

What song will I put as the subject? Lousy Reputation/ We are Scientists (Thanks to you, Mr Random Generator)

I wish it was that easy.

2008-11-09T22:45:00.000+10:00

This is serious.

2008-11-03T10:30:00.000+10:00

You know how I realised that I'm in a state of emergency? And I mean- a serious emergency? And that the only thing that can save me now is a massive night out where I win a few dance-offs and where everyone else starts to take off their shoes and go home when the sun comes up, apart from me, and maybe my party partner? One of those nights where my mascara ends up on my eyelids and I'm kind of sweaty and my hair is messy at the end of the night, but where I don't give a rat's arse about it, because I'm dancing and my feet move by themselves?

The moment I noticed that this state of emergency has come upon me was when I was at my parents' place, in the kitchen, cooking dinner. The TV was on, and suddenly I noticed that I was dancing wildly through the kitchen to the tacky songs of the COMMERCIALS! I mean, excuse me! Helloooo! Commercials! Honestly. And they weren't even any good. Pretty bad, as a matter of fact.

The thing is, I haven't had a really big night out with lots of dancing in a little while. And I do need them kind of regularly, like other people need other things, like air and stuff. The thing is, since I have moved back to Switzerland, my weekend activities have changed a bit. A lot of my old friends here think that it's more important to have babies and stuff instead of going out dancing their arses off with me. Others again feel the need to fall pregnant or think they are too old to go out dancing. Not all of them, of course, but still, my dancing shoes have been just a touch neglected.

So, the way I see it, something needs to be done about this. Because next time, it could be found in my mum's kitchen dancing to Brittney Spears. And when I realise what I'm doing, I might drop dead. And because I think I'm too young to die, I better go and work out an emergency plan now.

Oh yeah, and if anybody feels the urge to try to dance me off the floor, please, I urge you, come forward, and by all means, do try. I WILL destroy you, but you can always try.

A very lame post.

2008-10-28T22:15:00.000+10:00

You know, I kind of don't really have anything to say today. So I thought I would at least come on here and say that. Really lame, I know. But at least a little bit better than nothing, even if only just.

Could you speak up a bit?

2008-10-22T23:00:00.000+10:00

When we came into work the other day, someone had left a message on the answering machine. It was an old lady's voice and it went something like this: "Hi, my name is Marie and I'm calling about an event I want to advertise in your newspaper. (Pause.) Hello? Hello? Could you speak a little bit louder, I can barely hear you. Well, anyway, so as I said, I just wanted to inquire about... excuse me? Are you still there? Yes, hello? This is a really bad line, I really can barely hear you! Hello! Are you even listening to me? Hello! Hellloooo! Excuse me Miss, you must speak up, my hearing is not that good anymore.... hello? Are you still there? Helloooo! Have you left the phone? Well, this is really quite rude. Goodbye!"

The poor dear had been speaking to herself for a couple of minutes or so- and all the while was being recorded. We couldn't quite figure out whether she had never actually experienced an answering machine before or what exactely the problem was. But we sure as hell were in absolute stitches.

So sue me!

2008-10-16T22:15:00.001+10:00

A US judge has just thrown out a lawsuit against God, saying that because God has no address, legal papers cannot be served. Senator Ernie Chambers from Nebraska had filed the lawsuit last year seeking a permanent injunction against God to prevent the "widespread death, destruction and terrorization of millions upon millions of the Earth's inhabitants."

Apparently he wanted to make the point that everyone should have access to the courts regardless of whether they are rich or poor.

The judge has now ruled that a plaintiff must have access to the defendant for a lawsuit to move forward.

Mr Chamers, however, said the court had acknowledged the existence of God and "a consequence of that acknowledgement is a recognition of God's omniscience".

"Since God knows everything," he reasoned, "God has notice of this lawsuit."

He is considering an appeal.

If the world could vote

2008-10-15T21:45:00.001+10:00

Check out this site and cast your vote: www.iftheworldcouldvote.com

I told you not to call the screwdriver a hammer.

2008-10-13T19:00:00.000+10:00

If Sarah only knew what exactly a vice president does.

2008-10-05T21:45:00.002+10:00

I'm grateful to Sarah Palin who seems to do her best to keep us entertained with her stupidity. Now that we will have to say goodbye to George Bush, who can also not form a proper sentence, Sarah Palin steps in and shows the world that ignorance is not only frustrating for those who are subjected to it, it can also be rather funny. Here are some of my favourite examples.

“It kind of cracks me up. It is so far out of the realm of possibility and reality.” On the prospect of becoming a candidate for vice president, August 14, 2008, Financial Post

"I have not, and I think if you go back in history and if you ask that question of many vice presidents, they may have the same answer that I just gave you." After being asked if she had never met a foreign head of state, despite the fact that every vice president in the last 32 years had met a foreign head of state prior to taking office, ABC News interview, Sept. 11, 2008

"As for that VP talk all the time, I'll tell you, I still can't answer that question until somebody answers for me what is it exactly that the VP does every day?" Interview with CNBC's "Kudlow & Co", July 2008

"As Putin rears his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America, where– where do they go? It's Alaska. It's just right over the border." Explaining why Alaska's proximity to Russia gives her foreign policy experience, interview with CBS's Katie Couric, Sept. 24, 2008

“They’re our next door neighbors and you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska, from an island in Alaska.” On her foreign policy insights into Russia, ABC News interview, Sept. 11, 2008

"I've been so focused on state government, I haven't really focused much on the war in Iraq." Interview with Alaska Business Monthly, March 2007

"But ultimately, what the bailout does is help those who are concerned about the healthcare reform that is needed to help shore up our economy. Um, helping, oh — it’s got to be all about job creation too. Shoring up our economy, and putting it back on the right track. So healthcare reform and reducing taxes and reining in spending has got to accompany tax reductions, and tax relief for Americans, and trade, we’ve got to see trade as opportunity, not as a competitive, um, scary thing.” Interview with CBS’ Katie Couric.

"Perhaps so." When asked if America may need to go to war with Russia because of the Georgia crisis, ABC News interview, Sept. 11, 2008

"I'm the mayor, I can do whatever I want until the courts tell me I can't.'" Quoted by former City Council Member Nick Carney, after he raised objections about the $50,000 she spent renovating the mayor's office without approval of the city council

"Nucular." Mispronouncing the word "nuclear" twice, ABC News interview, Sept. 11, 2008

"It's great to see another part of the country." On campaigning in Pennsylvania, Aug. 2008

And here is a look at Sarah Palin's Facebook page (click on the picture for a bigger version):

Spread the love like honey

2008-09-28T01:00:00.004+10:00

I don't know what it was today. My friend Paula would probably say: "You must have showered in honey." That's her explanation for days that are the positive equivalent of a bad hair day- days when everyone seems to compliment you and you start to feel better and better. I had one of those today. The funniest thing about it is that it actually started as a bad hair day. My hair just wasn't looking right, but for some reason I still did not bother to wash it when I had my shower in the morning. Maybe I was in a rush, or maybe I just wanted to avoid having to blow-dry it, which I find a pain in the arse. Actually, I think I was half-asleep when I got into the shower and only noticed as I was getting dressed that my hair looked shit. So I put on a red beret, and then of course, seeing that I'm obsessed with colour-coordination, some other red accessories. After that, I was ready to rock my day.

I went into the city, got myself a big take-away coffee and hit my favourite fleamarket. I love fleamarkets so much that I would probably marry one if that was a viable option. I bought a few old tins (I know. I really don't need any more, but I can't help myself), a couple of necklaces, a leather bag, a book and two old picture frames. I had a long chat with one of the stallholders- an interesting old man who was Swiss but had grown up in India. When he heard that I was just starting out as a journalist, he told me that he knew I was going to be one of those brave journalists the world needs. And when I wanted to buy one of his books, he refused to take money for it, because he said it was such a pleasure to talk to me and he wanted to give me a present. So then I insisted to bring him a coffee, and he said, thank you, God bless you, although it was him who had started the being nice thing.

Next up, a woman with a big camera approached me and asked if she could take a couple of photos of me, because she loved my style, especially the red hat. I said, sure, go ahead, and gave her the biggest smile her camera had ever seen.

But that still wasn't enough of the good things. I had to go and see a concert at night to write an article about. It was fities' style rock n' roll, so the audience was a really mixed group of people of almost all ages. As I left the concert hall, a well-dressed guy, who was probably in his fifties, approached me and said: "Excuse me, can I pay you a compliment?" I said: "Sure, anytime." He looked at me and said: "You are a fascinating woman. Whatever it is you do, you will be very successful, I can tell. Have a wonderful evening." I smiled and said thank you. I was really shocked. But in a good way. The whole way home I had this big smile on my face. Who would have thought that bad hair days can turn out this good.

I'm a huge fan of random acts of kindness. They cost nothing, take almost no effort, yet make the world a better place. So in the name of world peace, dear boys and girls, I urge you, get amongst it. Speak up when you like something, smile, spread the love, be happy, don't hold back. I promise, it will make you feel good. And you might just turn someone's bad hair day into a honey day.

Meow twice if you would like some dinner

2008-09-21T22:00:00.000+10:00

As the train arrived at the main station today and people were starting to get out, I was waiting behind a woman with two dogs that weren't too good at waiting patiently. The woman was talking to her dogs, trying to get them to calm down. She spoke to them as if they were people: "Come on, settle down, stop being so impatient all the time. What did I tell you? Wait now, you just never really listen, do you?" One of the dogs looked at her a bit confused. Now I absolutely believe that dogs are intelligent creatures, but somehow I highly doubted that they were understanding what being more patient meant, or that they should listen more.

I find it hilarious how people try to have conversations with their pets. A friend of mine has a new kitten and she will squat down in the kitchen in front of the little cat and say: "What's wrong? Are you hungry? Ha? Do you want to eat something?" But surprisingly, the stupid kitten just does not answer. I was standing next to them in the kitchen, saying to the kitten: "Come on, answer her! Why don't you say something?" But it just won't. Animals can be so rude.

Are you man enough to handle this?

2008-09-15T22:45:00.000+10:00

Look, guys, you might think that you are pretty cool and stuff. But, and I hate to break it to you, unless you have an underground car fragrance, you are really just chicken shit.

Can I help you into your grave there, ma'am?

2008-09-13T18:30:00.002+10:00

I'm writing on an article about high school education at the moment and in this context went to visit my old high school yesterday. I have never been back since I finished school and got all emotional as I walked up the familar way from the train station to my old school. Memories came flooding back... what a journey I have been on since I last graced this place with my presence.

For my second interview, I found a smart little 16-year-old girl who specialises in old languages, writes for the school paper (awww- just like I did at her age) and wants to be a lawyer later on. I told her that I myself had gone to this very school. "But that was a long time ago," I said, "I finished in 1998." She looked at me with an air of disbelief and said: "Wow. I wasn't even alive then." For a split second I thought: "Shit. Am I really that old?" But then I laughed. "I think you are getting your times mixed up there, girlie." She was quite embarassed. "I'm sorry. I thought you said 1989."

The fact that she even considered I could have finished school before she was alive did concern me just a tiny little bit. But hey, I guess in her eyes, I probably am borderline ancient.

When Marilyn and I used to hang out.

2008-09-11T13:15:00.003+10:00

This is what I looked like in the fifties. Don't laugh, those curls were all the rage then.

And now stop procrastinating and get back to work, Bettina. Seriously.

Don't forget to close the door when you leave.

2008-09-06T00:30:00.001+10:00

I feel like I'm just one step ahead of melancholy at the moment. I'm trying to walk at a normal pace while melancholy is following me around slowly; I can feel its stare in my back. Maybe I should just stop, let it catch up with me and see what happens, but for some reason I'm a little bit worried about it this time. We generally get along well, melancholy and I, we are quite good friends, although I wouldn't say we spend all that much time together. But we respect each other, and sometimes we hang out for a bit- I quite like her company. She is quiet and beautiful and sometimes she whispers inspiration into my ear. But at this very moment, it feels more natural to speed up just ever so slightly, without trying to run, without trying to let anyone notice it. I'm not turning around, I'm not flinching.

I don't know what it is. I do usually get a little bit of a post festival blues, when it is suddenly far too quiet after a weekend of so much colour and happiness, but I think it's a bit more than that. Maybe it's because I have been doing a bit too much thinking, and have occasionally let the thoughts settle down on me like a heavy blanket- I didn't do it on purpose, I just sat there and the thoughts huddled around me. Started to pretend they were all important, profound and meaningful. Were looking at me with those Oh-I'm-so-very-mysterious eyes and asking me deep questions like, "where do you belong?" and "is there truly a place you belong to?" I really think they can get a bit ridiculous sometimes those thoughts. Honestly, they should just go and hang out with other oh-so-deep-and-meaningful thoughts instead of bothering me. Oh yeah, and take melancholy with you when you leave, ok? I don't want her right now.

I love turning thirty. I might do it again soon.

2008-09-04T21:00:00.001+10:00

Happy birthday to me.

2008-08-28T21:15:00.002+10:00

Ok, kids. Today is the last day of me being a twenty-something. The plan is to fly to Ireland tomorrow morning and celebrate my birthday in absolute style at a music festival there. I'm so excited, I think I might pee my pants. Actually, bugger that- I guess I'm too old for that now. Now that I'm all grown up and stuff. I'm so proud of myself.

Surely I must be the only person in the world who cannot wait to turn thirty. I heard stories of people who told all their friends to dress in black on their 30th birthday, because it was a sad day. Me, on the other hand, I'm frenetic. Bring it on baby, yeah!

Excuse me, but I'm a bit stupid.

2008-08-27T18:45:00.002+10:00

I just had a call from some government office in relation to some red tape issue, which is of no further interest here. What is not only remarkable though, but also quite infuriating is how difficult some of these people are to talk to. Our conversation went something like this:

Woman: I see here that you studied journalism in Australia.

Me: That's right.

Woman: So what kind of diploma would that give you?

Me: A university diploma in journalism. I have a bachelor of journalism.

Woman: What would that translate to in Switzerland?

Me: Well, the same. It's a university degree, like in Switzerland.

Woman: So you studied at university?

Me: That's right.

Woman: How long for?

Me: Four years.

Woman: Ok... I'm just trying to find out what your highest level of completed education is.

Me: It's... a university diploma. A bachelor. They are the same all over the world, really.

Woman: And you don't know what that would be in Switzerland?

Me: I'm not sure I understand your question. I have a bachelor, which is a universally acknowledged diploma. I don't know how else I can explain that.

Woman: Do you have another paper that would show the connection? (She has a a copy of my university diploma)

Me: Only the one that you already have.

Woman: So your highest level of completed education in Switzerland is high school?

Me: Yes. But I have a university degree from Australia.

Woman: You didn't do another diploma in Switzerland?

Me: No.

Woman: Ahem... ok. I will try to see what I can do with this information. It's just a bit difficult, these things.

Me: Sure. Good luck with that.

Guess

2008-08-26T11:15:00.000+10:00

what I'm doing for my 30th birthday on the weekend.

Dear doctor, please help me.

2008-08-23T01:15:00.002+10:00

I have this problem. I am completely and utterly incapable of going to bed early. Don't ask me why, I really have no idea, but I'm guessing it must either have something do to with my childhood maybe (universal excuse no.1 for pretty much everything, but starting to get a bit old now) or it might be some illness. I'd say that's what it is, and surely there must be a name for it too. I might have to google that.

It really is quite bad, and I think it's getting worse. I've always been more of a night person, but now it's just getting ridiculous. Take for example tonight. I got home at 11.30pm after the movies, which is pretty early for me. Now I could have just gone to bed then, for example. Or, alternatively, I could stay up until 1am, which is now, and carry on like a fool and do nothing of value. Not even the fact I have to get up early the next day would cause me to go bed at a reasonable time. When people yawn at 10pm and say that they should really hit the sack now because they need to get up the next day at 7am, I look at them as if they were some kind of a freak. Which more than likely they probably are, but that's besides the point here. More to the point is probably the fact that I am a freak. But at least there is hope for me- because illnesses usually have a cure, right? Ok, well, let me just google that now. It should only take me an hour or so, and then I promise I'll go to bed.

Listen and learn.

2008-08-21T11:30:00.005+10:00

I regularly buy myself flowers. I figure I deserve it, and if nobody else is going to get me some, well, then I guess I will just have to do it myself, right? I have a bunch in my lounge room and a couple of flowers in my bedroom at almost all times. I know, it's a cliché, the girl who loves flowers, and I'm probably going to come over all sweet and girlie now and ruin my reputation as a strong and independant woman, but I'm an absolute sucker for flowers. They make me happy. Basically, you give me flowers, preferably regularly, I will love you forever. I think that's a pretty sweet deal.

Flowers are definitely the cheapest and easiest way to win a girl's heart, and I don't understand why guys don't use this trick much more often. Most girls I know absolutely melt even just at the sight of a petal and yet men just do not take advantage of the situation. It's like they have this massive ace in their sleeve and just prefer not to use it, "nah, I can't be bothered getting the ace out, I'll be alright just with my shithouse hand of cards here, thanks." I just don't get it.

One of my ex-boyfriends once told me that he is embarrassed to buy flowers, which still makes me laugh. He was a sweetheart and pretty confident generally, but that must have had something to do with his childhood, right? I mean, embarrassed to buy flowers- there has got to be a therapy or something for that. Come to think of it, he was also embarassed to buy condoms, which I could never understand either. I used to say to him, "what are you embarrassed about? The fact that people know you have sex? Jesus, that really is embarrassing. Maybe you should tell the checkout lady that you are only buying them for a friend."

A man who buys flowers automatically gets a hundred bonus points in most girls' books and moves up into an entirely different category of men. It's like, "yeah, he is smart and interesting and funny and cute"- "that's great"- "and he buys me flowers"- "Oh my God! I am so jealous!" So listen and learn, boys. And don't tell me you couldn't use the hundred extra points. Honestly.

I know it's silly, but I can't help it.

2008-08-19T22:15:00.000+10:00

When I try to get lots of things done and ticked off a to-do list and I end up doing something that wasn't on the list, I add it on afterwards and tick it off. And then I give myself a little pat on the shoulder. I know it's quite strange, but it makes me feel like I've been really efficient.

Not so loud please, Mr birdie.

2008-08-17T01:00:00.001+10:00

You know how we were talking about the yin and yang and the birds singing after the storm and all that just the other day?

Well, it just so happens that my world seems to be lightening up again. I can feel many good things coming my way. And to start it off, I just got the job I really, really wanted as a journalist for a newspaper. So if someone could please tell those bloody birds to keep it down a little bit, some of us want to sleep.

Come on, you know you want to.

2008-08-12T15:00:00.000+10:00

Or would you prefer one of those cute kittens over there?

Tree times as smart

2008-08-10T18:00:00.000+10:00

When I sit at my desk in my new place and look out of the window, I see this big beautiful pine tree. Which is a great thing not only because it's a pleasant sight. But also because it is apparently scientifically proven that girls who grow up with a tree in front of their window will end up being more intelligent than girls who look out onto concrete.

I know, I know, I might be stretching the terms "girl" and "growing up" just a tiny little bit, but honestly, let's not get bogged down with the details. Anyway, I think at 29, I can easily still classify as a girl (and even when I turn 30, thank you very much), plus I don't feel all grown up yet, so the tree can't hurt in any case. I did also, by the way, grow up with a pear tree in front of my window when I was a little girl. Not that I'm trying to insinnuate anything here.

We know.

2008-08-06T08:00:00.001+10:00

A lifetime of happiness! No man alive could bear it; it would be hell on earth.

George Bernard Shaw said this once, and may I concur: the man's got a point. The thing is though, we all know it. We heard the Yin and Yang stuff, and we know about the silver lining of the dark cloud and that birds sing after the storm. And to top it off, we've done it all before, we fought, we worried, we hurt, we were pissed off, we thought it would never end, but it always did somehow. It always got better at some stage and we looked back at how lost we were before and thought, Jesus, thank God that's over.

So yeah, we know it all, but deep down, we still wish we could have the Yang without the Yin, the silver lining without the cloud, and the birds without the storm. We know it's stupid and that we should be careful what we wish for, but we secretly want hell on earth: a lifetime of happiness.

Alright then.

2008-07-23T06:15:00.000+10:00

Ok guys, just because you all begged so nicely, I will lie to you this time. Let's pretend for a moment that my life is one big festival. And here are the photos to go with it.

Mhhhhm.

2008-07-21T06:30:00.000+10:00

I've just come back from another music festival, this time just a little cute one in Switzerland. I could tell you now what an amazing time I had and all this sort of stuff, and I could even post some photos. But I won't do it. Otherwise you people think that all I ever do is party and that my life is nothing but one big festival. Which would be nice actually- I would like that. Sadly not true though.

Big brother is watching you

2008-07-18T19:35:00.004+10:00

I went grocery shopping in this huge supermarket yesterday. It was shortly before they closed for the day and there weren't many people left at all.

I was standing in the cleaning aisle by myself, trying to pick a cleaning sponge for the bathroom. I looked at a few different ones and couldn't quite make up my mind. I wanted one that really scrubs, yet doesn't scratch the surfaces. A few of them said stuff like "do not use on coated surfaces" on it, which confused me greatly. What's a coated surface? Wouldn't anything you potentially use a sponge on (pans, pots, tiles, sink, toilet) be somehow coated in someting? I didn't want to destroy my coated surfaces, but I also didn't want some lame cheap-arse sponge that doesn't do anything. So I'm standing there, deep in thought, trying to pick the perfect sponge and wondering about scratches and surfaces as a voice comes on over the loudspeaker.

"Try our new super ultra amazing cleaning sponges! Soft, yet thorough, they remove any kind of dirt and leave your surfaces brilliantly clean while not scratching them. You will find our new super ultra amazing cleaning sponges in the cleaning aisle. Try them now!"

I stopped what I was doing and carefully looked around, trying not to look suspicous. Was someone watching me? Was there a camera on me? I hesitated for a moment, when the voice came on again. "Do try our new super ultra amazing cleaning sponges now! They are in the cleaning aisle! The only sponges that clean thoroughly while not scratching your surfaces!"

This was getting a bit too much for me. I quickly grabbed the nearest sponge and a few other items I still needed and made my way to the checkout. I'm not going back to this supermarket. I don't appreciate people making fun of me publicly while I shop. Just because I couldn't decide on a freaking cleaning sponge.

Thank you, thank you, I'll be here til Thursday.

2008-07-14T21:00:00.000+10:00

I went to a wedding yesterday and I was everybody's hero because I wore those shoes for 14 hours and was still dancing at the end of the night. All the other girls had taken their basically flat shoes off and couldn't get over how I was still standing, much less dancing in mine. It's all a matter of training, I tell you. But I was still a bit impressed with myself.

I have fallen in love. With Glastonbury.

2008-07-05T23:30:00.000+10:00

I got back Tuesday night, but I think I only just really recovered now. One of the best, and no doubt one of the craziest weekends of my life. Very little sleep, very, very, very much fun.

I saw twentyfour bands in three days. I saw the sun come up twice in a row. I met a thousand people. I regularly laughed until I was gasping for air. I walked about fivehundred kilometres and danced for hours (in gumboots). I ruled the dancefloor. I ate toasted sandwiches. I hugged my friends. I met superman. I drank lots of cider (and some vodka). I made a fire. I danced in the rain. I burnt my nose. I wore silly hats. I made up stories. I laughed at people (a lot. Because there was so much to laugh about.) I screamed. I got goose bumps. I loved it, loved it, loved it. I had the absolute time of my life. I will be back (that's for sure).

I've got a confession to make.

2008-06-22T23:45:00.000+10:00

I admit it, I'm a slut. Not just any slut though, I'm a festival slut. But if you think that I will now spice up your day with a few saucy little stories of how slutty I get at festivals, then it might come as a bit of a disappointment to you that I'm not actually a slut who goes to festivals. No, it's more that I throw myself at festivals the way sluts throw themselves at men. That's right, I'm a sucker for festivals. And seeing that I have left Australia right at the end of the festival season to arrive in Europe pretty much at the start of it, I'm as happy as a pig in the mud.

Speaking of mud, I'm going to Glastonbury this weekend. For a festival lover like me, Glastonbury is like the mother of all festivals, the uber-festival, the one I've always wanted to go to. And I don't even care that the weather Gods seem to hate Glasto and have decided to pour rain on it every year and turn it into a gigantic mud pit- nothing can curb my enthusiasm. I am so damn excited that I am reduced to the state of a small child the night before Christmas. And that I can't sleep tonight, although I have to catch a plane tomorrow morning early to go to London where I will meet my friend who's coming with me.

Of course this means that you lot out there will have to do without me, while I listen to Kings of Leon, Groove Armada, Fatboy Slim, Massive Attack, Panic at the Disco, Band of Horses, Sinnead O'Connor, Joan Baez, Xavier Rudd, Ben Folds, Manu Chao, Crowded House, Martha Wainwright, The Verve, Audio Bullys and about a thousand other bands. But I'm sure you can deal with that and won't be envious, right? I won't be long- I'll be back in about a week, and I might have some stories. And maybe even some photos of the slut throwing herself at the festival.

The good news is, I'm still alive. And there's more.

2008-06-17T15:15:00.001+10:00

I guess it would be safe to say that my soul, the poor dear, has finally made its way to Switzerland. Considering the time it's taken to get here, I'm assuming it has had one hell of a trip, although it won't tell me anything. It insists it just took the overland way and had a few bad connections- busses breaking down and that sort of thing. I don't quite believe it though. My guess is, it took a business class flight and then stopped somewhere along the way, maybe in Greece or in Turkey, and checked itself into a nice, expensive wellness hotel, where it spent some quality time getting massages and stuffing itself at the breakfast buffet. Oh well, I guess I'm the first one who is supportive of my soul having fun. I just appreciate if it doesn't stay away too long, because I kind of need it too.

Thank God I did manage without it for a while though. Although every once in a while, I'm having a little crisis. But generally, I'm doing well and everyone who cares to have an opinion should be proud of me. I'm still staying with my parents, which I have been loving, but I found a place to move into in two weeks. And, it just so happens to be one the coolest places ever. Because, and I think we all know that, only the best will do for me. Or maybe it's just because I'm a lucky bitch- that's more like it, actually. I did search for a while and have a look at quite a few places, but this one just got dropped into my lap by the universe, which thankfully still seems to like me and look after me. The place is in an old monastry, which I will be sharing with another about 13 people. I have my own two and a half rooms, my own balcony and bathroom, and will share two kitchens (actually three, but one doesn't have a stove), two dining rooms, two lounge rooms, two guest rooms, a big band room, three terraces, a chapel for events and to show movies and a big, beautiful garden with roses and old trees. It's pretty damn amazing, to tell you the truth, and I can't wait to move in and can't stop thinking about it. So yeah, I was lucky.

As far as the work situation is concerned, the jury's still out on that. As always, finding work as a journalist is a challenge, and as you can imagine, the market for print journalists in Switzerland is not overly big. Plus, although I have lots of different professional experience, I'm starting out as a journalist, which obviously doesn't make it easier. Still, I have already had two interviews with newspapers, which I'm considering a good start. One of the jobs, I hated. It was one of the worst interviews I ever had and I wouldn't take the job if they paid me in gold. The other one, I loved and I've got all my fingers crossed for it. I should hear back in a few days from that one.

So yeah, things are starting to happen. Other than that, I have been spending time with my family and catching up with my old friends. Drinking coffee, telling stories, sitting in the park, having dinner, drinking wine and talking until late. It's been wonderful. I love all the culture and the history here, the old buildings with the paintings on it, the old trees, the churches, the cobble stone streets, and I look at it with wondern in my eyes, as if I had never seen it before. I do miss Australia, but I can feel that Europe has always and will always run through my veins.

I'm in Switzerland...

2008-05-26T23:00:00.001+10:00

...and it sure feels quite surreal. I've been loving the streets of Zurich, the snow-capped mountains I see from my parents' terrace where I have breakfast, the good bread and cheese, seeing my family and old friends. But other than that, I'm not entirely here yet. The Indians apparently believe that after a long journey, it takes a while for the soul to catch up. Mine is on its way, and I think it should be here anytime soon. At least it shouldn't have a jetlag, since it seems to have taken its sweet time.

Laos, I love you

2008-05-15T23:15:00.000+10:00

Laos moments to remember:

- Getting into an overly full local bus and being waved to the back by five giggling Laos women. I climb over bags of rice and vegetables, kids, cardboard boxes and people's legs and take a seat between a few bags of coriander, mint and spring onions and the five friendly women who offer me some of their food.

- Eating laap (minced fish mixed with fresh herbs, lime juice, chillies and fish sauce) and drinking a Beerlao at a small little family restaurant where I am the only guest and have the whole family look after me as if I was their long lost daughter, although nobody speaks a word of English. When I leave, the grandfather gives me a banana as a present and the baby blows me kisses.

- Driving past a beautiful temple in a local bus and seeing a few women silently lift their closed hands to their foreheads in a prayer-like motion and nod peacefully in acknowledgement of the temple.

- Visiting a tribal village where four little two- or three-year-old girls crowd around me, half curious, half shy. One of them steps forward and touches my hands, and then gently takes my face into both hands and runs her fingers down my cheeks as if to tell me that she trusts me.

- Being invited to sit with a table full at locals at a village festival and then spending the next few hours drinking, eating and dancing the traditional dances with the locals.

- Walking through a garden behind a temple and finding out it is an art school for monks where a group of them work with a beautiful concentration on creating clay Buddha figures.

- Spending two days gliding down the Mekong river in a slow, peaceful boat, reading, thinking and watching the world go by.

- Mountainbiking through hills and little villages and having the kids race to the street in every village, waving at us, screaming "hi", stretching their hands out for high-fives as we ride past and making us feel like they are so happy to see us.

- Getting up at five in the morning to watch the long lines of monks barefoot and in burnt orange robes silently and peacefully wander the streets to collect rice and other donations.

- Realising just how full of beauty, magic and wonder the world is and finding myself incredibly lucky to be able to discover some of it.

Nothing whatsoever

2008-05-08T18:30:00.001+10:00

There is a passage in the Majjhima-nikaya in which someone approached the Buddha and asked him whether he could summarize his teachings in one phrase, and if so, what it would be. The Buddha replied that he could, and he said "Sabbe dhamma nalam abhinivesaya": Nothing whatsoever should be clung to.

My dear friends,
I'm alive and well. I have arrived in Luang Prabang, where I will spend my last few days in Laos, before flying into Bangkok and eventually to Europe from there. Laos has been amazing and I have completely fallen in love with the country- I'm already thinking about coming back. I will write more soon. I hope you're all well.

Much love, B.

On the road again...

2008-04-23T21:06:00.004+10:00

Now look at what a good girl I am. I'm travelling Laos and of all the exciting things I could be doing right now, I have chosen to spend a bit of time in a dodgy internet cafe to type a quick blog update so all you lovely people out there don't need to fret and worry and all that sort of stuff. It's all good- I'm here, and I'm well.

The farewell from Australia was heartbreaking. I bawled my eyes out for hours on the last day. Which some people might think is a strange thing to do, considering it was my very own decision to leave the place. But oh well, considering life is not all black and white, I think we've got some serious shades of gray going on here, and a serious storm of emotions, I might add. In any case, I got over the first heartache, and as much as I miss the people and the place, I'm now trying not to think about it too much and settle into the travel spirit instead. Which is just what the doctor ordered for me.

After two days in Laos, I'm already seriously in love with the place- and I haven't even left Vientiane yet. There is something peaceful, relaxed, beautifully spiritual about the place, which touches my soul in all the right places. The people walk slowly, even here in the capital, smile a lot, and never seem to be in a hurry. When this wonderful slowness is being combined with the usual colourful, happy Asian chaos, you end up with a very loveable place. I love watching how the monks quietly walk the street, sharing it peacefully with a few heavily decorated tuk tuks, some old vans and lots of bicycles and motorbikes. And somewhere in between there am I, soaking it all up as if it was some kind of a meditation.

I remember now how the people you meet along the way are truly one of the things that makes travelling so amazing. I met this very inspiring, interesting and warm Dutch woman yesterday after dinner, and we ended up sharing a few bottles of the devine Beerlao until we were the last guests left in the restaurant, talking about travelling, and life. Today, I met a young monk who spoke excellent English and showed me around this fascinating Buddha park somewhere out of town for a couple of hours. God, I love travelling.

I had the most beautiful message from a friend on my voicemail yesterday.

2008-04-16T17:15:00.004+10:00

"Hello Miss B, I just wanted to call you and wish you a safe journey on your flight to Laos and then homebound to Switzerland. It was lovely to see you on Saturday, as always, and I'm really, really going to miss you. I really think that you are one of those... I think you are one of the angels that walks on this earth. That's pretty much how I sum you up, my dear, because you are the kindest, most generous person that I know, and you have a heart of gold... it's enormous. And I'm really, really proud to be a part of your life, and I hope I will be a part of your life for a very long time.

I'm gonna miss you, darling, you take care and I will definitely keep in touch with you, so... ok, I'm gonna go, otherwise I'm gonna start crying. You take care honey, and we'll be in touch, ok. I love you, bye."

It's the final countdown.

2008-04-09T21:00:00.000+10:00

Only 10 days left in Australia. Time to get emotional. Oh, hang on... I already am. But it's all good. Nothing to worry about. The being torn and being whole, the joy and the sorrow, the goodbyes and hellos, the love and the tears, the hope and the fears, the excitement and the worry, that tight feeling in my chest and the sparkle in my eyes, it's all part of it. They call it life, apparently.

Go away. I don't want a bigger penis.

2008-04-06T18:00:00.000+10:00

E-mail spam is an absolute pain in the arse. We all know that. Some of us are blessed with a good spam filter (thank you, dear Gmail), others just quietly endure the constant harrassment of those who insist we need a much bigger penis (a 10 inch increase, anyone?) an online degree, which will finally give us the respect we deserve (particularly if it is from the university of bullshit.com) and a work-from-home job, which will earn us $2000 a week by just working 10 hours (why we are still stupid enough to work for 40 hours at a ridiculous rate is beyond me).

But while we all hate spam, I do have to admit that I occasionally find the absurdity of it all rather entertaining. All my spam goes into my spam folder, which I am eternally grateful for. However, when I do the occasional spam folder check to make sure no legitimate e-mail accidentally found its way in there, I admit that I often have a quick scan over my many spam e-mails to check whether there are any really funny ones there. Over the last week, I particularly enjoyed the one titled "Enhance your wicked reputation", which was sent to me by Malisa. She says: Your hot secret admirer- Pushing the limits of how large you can be. I have to say I do appreciate her concern that I'm not large enough.

I also love the ones which have a title starting with "re:" to try to trick me into thinking it could be a reply to an e-mail I sent. And particularly if the title is "re: Gaining inches quickly", that's a very cunning plan, as I often send e-mails with a title like that. The e-mail itself is no less disappointing: "Massive even when flaccid- Do not let andropause stop you, keep your hormones going with our herbal help." How good is that- just a bit of herbal help and we all can be massive even when flaccid. Love it.

Arick on the other hand sent me an e-mail where he suggests I give my partner "loving action" and supports his statement with the convincing claim that "new evidence suggests, results are true." Now I always find it hard to resist a claim which is as scientifically proven as this. So thank you, dear spam, to keep me entertained, and to share your real honest concern for the size of my penis. That's the sign of a true friend.

Let's have a bite of that cute puppy

2008-04-01T20:45:00.008+10:00

While without a doubt there are many much more important questions we should discuss, one thing I asked myself the other day is: Why is it that if we see a cute puppy, kitten or baby, we often have the reflex to squeeze it really hard? My good friend Paula goes even further and wants to bite really cute things. I remember one time we were in the lift with a mother who had an extra cute baby in her pram. Paula got all excited and screamed that she wanted to bite the baby into the feet! You can imagine how freaked out the mother was. Before Paula saw her new baby cousin for the first time she said that "he'd better watch out, because I'm gonna bite him so much he won't know what happend to him." I was a bit concerned for the child's safety.

I'm not saying it's a unnatural reaction- I get it too sometimes. I passed a guy yesterday who had probably about the world's second cutest puppy (I saw the cutest one the other day) and I noticed how I was clenching my teeth and felt like squeezing it. Which really makes me wonder who came up with the idea of installing this urge into people. Surely, it can't be good in any way. Some cute helpless baby or puppy comes along, all innocent and stuff, and happens to be so damn cute that someone squeezes it to death? So sad.

My friend Paula the baby feet biter is Brazilian and I always enjoy blaming weird things on her nationality. But that still wouldn't explain why even us Swiss, who are known to be sensible, have an expression which literally translates as "this is so cute I could eat it". And we like to use this one for babies particularly. Maybe we are all just nutcases.

Please stand back. We've got a little issue here.

2008-03-27T23:45:00.000+10:00

Hi guys. Yeah, I'm still here. Sorry I've been a bit quiet lately. It's just that I'm currently in the process of getting pretty freaking emotional about leaving Australia.

Right now, I'm really enjoying just randomly bursting into tears. I've done it twice now in the last ten days or so and it's really growing on me. Both times I was with my boyfriend, the poor dear, who was really a bit perplexed and somewhat unsure about what to do the first time. Which is absolutely fair enough, as I usually tend to have my emotions a bit better under control. I think the second time he got the hang of it and hopefully he is now preparing for further random moments of inexplicable distress on my behalf. I haven't tried it in public yet, but I'm still saving this for later.

And just for the record- I am actually very happy and excited about going to Switzerland. I'm just not excited about leaving Australia.

I'm leaving. On a jet plane.

2008-03-17T23:30:00.001+10:00

I booked my ticket to Switzerland last Tuesday. I leave on the 21st of April, stop by in Laos for three weeks on the way and get to Switzerland in mid May. It's a one way ticket. I put down the deposit on Wednesday and paid off the balance today. There is no turning back now.

It's funny how I started to feel emotional almost instantly after I booked the ticket. I stood at the bus stop afterwards half in shock and stared into nothing with big suprised eyes. I went for a walk in the evening, the same way I take when I go for runs, along the river towards the city. The sun set behind the bridge and shed a golden light over it. The water was deep blue like velvet and a million of city lights looked like every building had been covered in fairy lights. It was all a lot more beautiful than it usually is, and it usually is beautiful. It was only a couple of hours after I booked my ticket and already I looked at everything with sentimental good-bye eyes.

Awwwww......

2008-03-10T22:00:00.000+10:00

When I walked up to my bus stop this morning, a middle aged rather large lady with a happy face gave me a big smile and said, "Good morning!" I smiled back. "Morning." I appreciated the fact that she acknowledged me, as most mornings there is about the same group of people waiting for the 7.25am bus, but although that makes us almost something like a team, most of them just ignore each other. I'm fairly new to the 7.25 team, so it was nice to get a welcome.

The big lady looked at me and said, "You always look so lovely."

"Oh, thank you!" I smiled again. I was quite surprised.

"Every morning you wear something different and it always matches and is all beautiful and perfect", the lady said.

I laughed. "Some of my friends give me a hard time because I've got a bit of an obsession with colour cordination."

"Oh no no no", the lady said, "it's just so delightful to see you in the morning. I always look at you and think, I wish I had such good taste."

Inside the bus, I looked at my chocolate brown high heels with the beige stripe which exactely matched the colour of my belt, which in turn was a shade lighter than my jacket. The singlet underneath my jacket was the same colour as the other stripe on my heels and the bag was pretty much the same beige as my jacket. It goes without saying that of course the earrings matched the colour scheme as well as my ring.

I really am a bit of freak with my obsessive colour cordinating. But it's nice to see that some obviously don't hold that against me and in fact even make the effort to tell me I look nice. Awww... random acts of kindness. They are the best. Especially if they are directed at me.

Tonight at 6.05pm, this is what my world looked like.

2008-03-05T20:15:00.000+10:00

Bettina's Wonderful Tips of the Day

2008-03-03T22:15:00.000+10:00

If you would like to impress your girlfriend, don't take her to this restaurant:

Take her at least to The Amazing Restaurant. If not to The Bloody Fantastic Restaurant.

This could come in handy:

... and they will unsteal you immediately.

The police are generally pretty friendly chaps. As long as you make sure you inconvenience those around you:

So don't even think about helping the old man over there. The police won't like it.

And if you value your life, you might want to stop goofing around straight away:

Nice hat, isn't it?

2008-02-26T22:00:00.001+10:00

I officially graduated from university last week, with a degree in journalism and with distinction. Presents, flowers, cards and large sums of money can be sent to my address or dropped off at my house. Inappropriately loud cheering, mad clapping and crazy shouts of joy are also more than welcome.

Moonstruck

2008-02-22T22:15:00.001+10:00

I'm standing in my beautiful kitchen making myself a salad for dinner; my CD player sings a song just for me and I look over the river, which is black and made from liquid glass. I've been craving a little bit of time to myself, but now that I'm at home the first night this week, I feel kind of alone, although I'm not lonely.

The moon was full yesterday and it is still so beautiful today that it takes my breath away. It lights up the surface of the water and turns it into a velvety mysterious ice field. I turn off the music because the night is so quiet and gentle and stand on the window, surrendering to a sudden sadness that washes over me like warm water. I feel like crying but the tears stop just before they reach my eyes. The melancholy is friendly and not without hope, but still I feel like I used to be able to handle it better, which of course is not true.

I think about how I feel like going and staying at the same time and it makes my head spin. While I know that tomorrow morning all will be well again, tonight I'm not sure where I need to be and where I belong.

I'm sorry

2008-02-12T23:45:00.000+10:00

Tomorrow is a historic day for Australia. After the previous conservative government refused for almost 12 years to apologise to Australia's indigenous peoples for policies that removed thousands of Aboriginal children from their families, our new government has made it one of their first items of business.

The apology will be delivered tomorrow in Canberra, on behalf of the Australian government and does in no way attribute guilt to today's generation. Our new Prime Minister Kevin Rudd says it reflects on the past mistreatment of Aboriginal people. The parliament will apologise to the indigenous people for breaking up families and for causing enormous pain, degradation and suffering.

Although the apology is close to the heart of many people, the previous government under John Howard persistantly refused to bow to the pressure, claiming that saying sorry would place the blame on the public and leave the commonwealth liable to a flood of compensation claims.

Between 1910 and the early 1970s, about 100,000 Aboriginal children were forcefully removed from their parents and held in prison-like facilities before being placed with new families, based on the premise that they would have a better life growing up with white people's culture and lifestyle. Most of the stolen children were of mixed-blood Aboriginal heritage. A nation-wide national inquiry called the "Bringing Them Home Report" has shown that the majority of the children from the stolen generation suffered long-term psychological trauma.

The apology will read that "we today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians. A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again."

Although an apology alone is not enough, I am grateful that we finally have a government in place who can see that reconciliation is necessary in order to move forward together in peace and with mutual respect. A considerable number of people in Australia still feel that they should not say sorry for something they are not personally responsible for, and some of them feel quite strongly about it. Some friends and I were insulted today on Facebook as "commie bastards" and told to "get fucked" because we put our Facebook status to "I'm sorry". What those people don't understand (apart from the fact that the connection to communism is also very unclear) is that it is not about attributing guilt. It is about recognising that unspeakable trauma has been inflicted on many families and that considering we also live on their land, we need say on behalf of our ancestors that we are sorry for what happend. I too, say sorry.

Apparently I look like Mandy Moore. I can live with that.

2008-02-08T22:30:00.000+10:00

I should be doing stuff, but I prefer to be procrastinating. And doing really, really useful stuff like finding my celebrity face doubles. Oh sweet procrastination... I love you. You bring me joy. Like when you tell me that I look like Mandy Moore.

Quote of the day

2008-02-07T22:00:00.000+10:00

"Dance like it hurts, Love like you need money, Work when people are watching." (Scott Adams)

We are weird.

2008-02-03T19:45:00.000+10:00

One of my friends sent me this message on the morning of Australia Day, just before I became an Australian citizen: "G'day mate. Welcome to Australia. Home."

And being able to officially considering Australia home has indeed been great so far. The only problem I now have is the fact that I cannot really complain about Australians anymore. Michelle and I had a chat the other day and I said, "Australians are weird." I paused for a moment, then correct myself. "Us Australians are weird, I mean."

Saying that is definitely not as much fun though. But apart from that, being an Aussie has been totally awesome and stuff. As the kids around here would say.

And that's me, displaying the pride for my new homeland at my citizenship party. If only I knew how to hold the flag the right way around.

Hi. My name is Brucina. Nice to meet you.

2008-01-26T01:30:00.000+10:00

Tomorrow is Australia Day and at 9.30am I'm officially becoming an Australian citizen by taking the pledge at a citizenship ceremony. After the ceremony, we'll come back to our place and have Champagne and homemade muffins and ham and cheese croissants. We'll probably move down to the little park between our house and the river to have lunch and drink more Champagne in the afternoon. I might also have a few gin and tonics. I consider it my duty as a new Australian to drink like one- of course.

It's half past one at night and I'm sitting at my laptop with earphones, singing the Australian national anthem. Only quietly, so as not to disturb anyone. I need to practise a bit before I sing it tomorrow. I'm so excited.

And here is a before and after shot of me. Before and after being Australian, I mean:

One of my friends has decided to start calling me "Brucina", now that I'm going to be Australian.

I'm a little bit drunk and I've got nothing to say.

2008-01-23T23:45:00.000+10:00

But I thought I should post something anyway, just for the hell of it. Not quite sure why. Anyway. That's about all I've got for today. I know it's very lame. Sorry- to avoid further disappointement you might want to avoid this site in future.

Ok, it's official now.

2008-01-18T13:45:00.000+10:00

I have, at best, a mild case of internet addiction. I'm in between jobs at the moment so have no access to the net at work and our internet at home was down for at least a couple of weeks. It was hell.

I don't even spend that much time on the internet, but I realised how heavily I rely on it. I couldn't find a job because I couldn't send any job applications per e-mail or call employment agencies because I couldn't look up their number on the net. I couldn't remove the rust stain from my yellow dress because I needed the internet to look up how to do that. I couldn't keep in touch with my family and friends overseas because my beloved Gmail account was not accessible. I didn't know how to get anywhere because I couldn't look up the best route on the net. I couldn't pay my bills because I use netbanking. I couldn't book accomodation or restaurants for our weekend away, because I couldn't look it up on the internet. My spelling and use of synonyms went downhill, because I couldn't use the appropriate reference sites. I didn't know what my friends are doing and couldn't see their silly photos because I couldn't access Facebook. I didn't know what was happening in the world because I couldn't read online news. My blog friends started to desert me and take me off their blogroll (wink, wink, SJ) because I didn't update my blog for a couple of weeks.

My life lost its meaning. But thank God my internet is back now and I can finally function like a normal person again.

I had the strangest dream last night.

2008-01-14T17:15:00.000+10:00

I was standing on the bottom of a ramp leading out of a large underground car park. In front of me was a long mini bus which seemed to be somehow stuck on the ramp, with another car right in front of the mini bus. I was pushing the mini bus from behind, trying to stop it from rolling back into the car park. I seemed to be holding both the mini bus and the car in front of it, which had rolled back onto the mini bus. Someone else was watching me. Both of the cars seemed to be empty.

After a little while, I had no more strength to support the two cars and had to give up, let go and jump out of the way. I was stressed and felt scared about letting the cars go, but thought that I might be lucky and the cars would maybe only roll back a little bit into the car park and come to a halt. They did roll back slowly, but I realised that they rolled towards an expensive, yellow sports car, which was parked in the middle of the car park and was leaking petrol. Alarmed and petrified I looked at the person who was watching me and without saying a word, we both sprinted away from the scene as fast as we could. The mini bus had now reached the sports car and gently bumped into it at a slow speed. However, as soon as the two cars touched, they both caught on fire and a huge explosion followed, which turned both cars into a massive ball of fire and swallowed them up completely.

I was horrified and felt sick with guilt. I knew I had failed in preventing this terrible accident. When I woke up, I still felt guilty and had the same feeling in my stomach I get when I hurt someone unintentially.

How Bettina learnt a lesson from a little boy

2008-01-09T15:00:00.000+10:00

I hate being unemployed. I wish I could get myself to enjoy the free time, but it's a struggle. Which is pretty strange, considering I usually value my free time like a precious treasure. But being on holidays is worlds apart from being unemployed. I feel like I should be job-hunting around the clock or else I feel guilty. I realise this is uncalled for and I want to hit myself over the head for being so stupid, but I don't think that would help either.

I went for a long walk in the rain this morning, which was lovely. It only rained a tiny little bit, which felt as if someone was constantly spraying a fine mist of water into my face and over my arms. Considering it's stinking hot at the moment, it was perfect. When I was almost back at my house, I walked past this older style house with a huge trampoline out the front. And there was this little boy, all by himself, in the rain, jumping up and down on the trampoline relentlessly, as if nothing else in the world mattered. He looked so happy and relaxed that I couldn't help but smile. I stopped and watched him for a while and when I continued my walk, I thought to myself, that's what I need to do. Live in the moment as if nothing else mattered. Because once the moment is gone, it will never come back. I shouldn't be wasting any of my moments with silly worries or wanting to hit myself over the head for no reason.

Maybe I should myself get a trampoline.

The times they are a-changing

2008-01-04T18:00:00.000+10:00

Happy new year, my dear friends. Sorry I haven't been around much. I've been busy watching my life change. Over and over and over again.

My job of three and a half years came to an end just before Christmas, because the business was sold. It was a strange feeling- not only was my own job finished, but I also had to say goodbye to all my work friends and watch the premises being completely emptied. The business- a restaurant, where I've worked as the functions and marketing manager- had been in the same position and run by the same owner for 21 years. To see it being torn apart and broken into small pieces was quite emotional for me. And how ironic it was, that I, who used to pride myself that nothing at work could ever made me cry (and I have seen plenty of people cry there), cried a couple of big tears as I walked out of the door for the very last time.

I spent Christmas Day with my boyfriend's family, which was also quite the novelty, as it was the first time in three years I didn't work on Christmas (and could therefore not pretend that it didn't exist) and also the first time I celebrated Christmas with a family since my husband left me three years ago. It was a lovely and very relaxed day and we had a few good laughs. I think my personal highlight was when a present was called out as being "from Zac the dog and from Charlie the bird to mum". It was hilarious. I should maybe add here that Zac the dog is a litte white poodle which is extremely old and blind, and the fact that he still had the energy to get together with the bird to plan a present is quite admirable.

On the 26th of December, we took off early in the morning to go to a week long alternative music festival, as I have been doing for the last four years. I absolutely love it and cannot get enough of it. It is a truly amazing week of unbelievable freedom and happiness- so wonderful, that we all did not want to come home. Just like every year. All my friends and I are only now, a couple of days after we got home, starting to get over our serious case of "after festival come down".

And now I'm unemployed. For the frist time in friggin' God knows how long. It is not a problem at all and will no doubt not last long, but in the current phase of my life, I don't particularly enjoy the feeling of being unemployed. I consciously did not try to get a job lined up in advance, as I will just get a temp job for a couple of months before I go back to Switzerland in about March. I've got lots of qualifications, the employment market is very favourable and I'm not worried at all. It will just be a little temp job anyway. But even just a day of being unemployed makes me feel somehow useless. It's different from being on holidays. I feel like I don't serve a purpose. Which of course is a load of bull, but that doesn't change the way I feel.

Anyway. I didn't mean to sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself, because I don't. Trust me, I'm in a good spot and happy with my life. I'm just at one of those points again where everything in my life is changing and one thing has finished and the next hasn't started yet- and I'm standing in front of the hole and wonder where my life will take me.

I feel fine, God damn it!

2007-12-18T17:00:00.000+10:00

Do you ever get days where you feel great until everyone asks you whether you are alright, after which you suddenly start to feel bad? I had one of those today. I had more sleep last night than I have had for a long time and came into work feeling great. On top of that, I thought my hair looked particularly good when I left home and I strode into the office happily, ready to take on a big day. My boss was already there, which is highly unusual- he usually gets in about 10am. He was on the phone when I walked in and nodded at me- he looked a bit stressed. I gave a wave and a smile. When he got off he phone, he asked me a question before even saying hi and then looked at me with what I felt was an accusing look and said, "are you ok?" To which I answered, slightly irritated, "yes- why?"- "Oh, just asking."

After that, I already didn't feel quite as chirpy anymore. I went upstairs to make myself a coffee and walked past Ben, the cleaner. "Morning Ben. How are you?"- "Good, thanks. Ahem... are you alright? You look really tired." I started to get annoyed. "I'm fine," I said, now feeling grumpy. "It's only Tuesday," Ben added. "You can't be that tired already on Tuesday." I took a deep breath. "Thanks Ben. I felt fine before everyone started to point out that I look like shit."

After that, I had to go to the bathroom to check whether I really looked that bad. Well, I looked grumpier than before, that's for sure. And there was a little dark shadow under my eyes that I hadn't seen before. Damn you people and your stupid self-fulfilling prophecies.

How not to apply for a job

2007-12-17T12:53:00.000+10:00

When work gets hectic, it is often the little laughs that get us through the day. Quite unfortunately really, one of the things that surprisingly often make me laugh is job applications. It is amazing how many people apply for jobs with resumes and application letters that look like they've been put through the Google translator. Because I'm a bit of a language nazi and find pleasure in other people's mistakes (yes, I know, I'm evil), I started collecting some of the funny excerpts from resumes. And because I'm sure you can all do with a little laugh, and in the hope that your sense of humour is at least partly as twisted as mine, I'm pleased to share this little list of "How not to apply for a job" with you:

Opening Statements
I’m a reliable person, unless I’m working at my other job.
I am possible to work anytime.
I am a hard worker. I've tried to work all the time.
I have very good altitude.
I can work in any position.
I am friendly and well manured.
I have no experience in the workplace.
I am hard working, punctual, dedicated and attitude. I hope an answer.
Position applying for: staff
So, if you train me being patient, then I will work for your company with strong passion.
If you give me a chance to work for you I will do my best whatever these are very hard.
If you choice my resume, when I will my best.
It is never too old to learn, so I think that people should have the various learning all the time.
I am enterprising, I have excellent relationship and potential for obtain goal.
By my grand moral qualities I consider myself and able candidate for answer with quality to yours expectations.
I love my job and I'm very serious.
Thanks for spending the time on my resume. I am looking for your response.

Objectives
To utilize my skills and abilities to adapt too many working conditions.
I want to experience everything.

Skills and tasks accomplished
Helping Out with Dish Person
Body piercing
Smoke orders
Suggestive selling
Help Children to bowl and get involved
Caring to cliental who have passed out
Up-selling wet and dry products
Excellent food prepare skills- Excellent communicate skills- Excellent compuuter skills
I have experience in an office environment with answer phones, typing, i good communication skills and booking appointments.
I am also excellent English skill.
I can work even on weekends, so please touch with me if you're looking for a reliable worker.
I have experience in sales, waiting staff and make drinks and look for job.
Concentrating on customer satisfaction, enjoyment and their personal needs.
I was arrange party and meeting meals.
Responsible for got order from guests.
Responsible for take care guests in the pool.

E-mail addresses
roadkillpuppy@domainname
Kingofprocrastination@domainname
im_a_nerd@domainname
bludger@domainname
booze_hag@domainname

Interests
Facing challenges
Love the party atmosphere. Love all of life’s recreational activates.

I had a letter from the Department of Immigration and Citizenship today

2007-12-06T00:30:00.000+10:00

"Dear Bettina,

On behalf of the Government and people of Australia, I am delighted to advise that your application for Australian citizenship has been approved.

[...]

The final step in becoming an Australian citizen is the making of a Pledge of commitment. You will not be a citizen until you have made that pledge.

[...]

On behalf of the Government and all Australians I offer my warmest congratulations and best wishes for the years ahead."

Do you have some change?

2007-11-27T17:00:00.000+10:00

Oh yes, and plenty of it. It seems that everything is changing in my life at the moment. Which is good, in a lot of ways. Change is refreshing, renewing and challenging. And scary, sometimes. I haven't had any panic attacks about it yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were some lined up in the next few months. But that's ok. I can deal with it. You can hit me literally with anything (although preferably not with a fish in my face, thanks) and even if it knocks me out, I will get up again and soldier on. Sounds great, doesn't it? Such a strong girl. Yeah, kind of, but I forgot to say that I will also shed a tear and more than likely have a panic attack at night at some stage, maybe a few moments of emptiness and most definitely a few what-the-hell-did-I-do-that for's. But again, that's cool. There is no bitterness in the land of Bettina.

If you are interested in a little overview of the recent and upcoming changes in the life of yours truly, read on:

- I have just finished my degree after four and a half years. Yay for me!
- The business I have worked in for the last three years and a bit (and full time for more than a year) has just been sold and our jobs are all finished by the end of the year.
- I have applied for Australian citizenship, which I should hopefully get by January or February next year.
- I have just committed to a relationship again a few weeks ago, for the first time after quite a long time of refusing to acknowledge relationships and insisting the men involved were just "guys I was seeing" rather than boyfriends. Which I am not proud of, by the way. I was "seeing" a guy for ten months at one stage without allowing him to call me his girlfriend.
- One of the best friends I've ever had, the beautiful Paulinha, has left the country a couple of weeks ago to return to her hometown in Brazil, after many years away. Paula and me lived together for three years in four different places and we used to also study and work together for a while. We used to say that we were twins mixed up at birth and placed into different countries (and years.... yes I know, this theory doesn't work. Leave me alone.)
- At least six other good friends have recently left Australia or are seriously considering it.
- I am planning to move back to Europe for a while in about March next year, after having lived abroad on and off for more than nine years (with a couple of stints back home in between). Definitely Switzerland first, and then we'll see.
- I cut my hair off after having long hair for many years.

Anything else? No, I'm not pregnant. But apart from that, I think I've got all the major areas of my life covered: work, tick, study, tick, love, tick, friends, tick, appearance, tick, country of residence, tick, country of citizenship, tick. Considering this rather impressive list, it's quite surprising that I'm not very freaked out. Yet.

My very wise mother used to say that in order to start something new, something old needs to go first. There is unavoidably always a gap in between the old and the new, a hole, which is what can make us feel empty and a bit lost. But the hole needs to be opened up to create space for a new beginning- nothing new will find space if the old hasn't been removed first. Such a wise woman, my dear mum. She's got it all worked out.

And considering this has been all about change and considering we are getting a bit deep and meaningful now, I would like to step it up a notch and close with an English translation of one of my favourite poems by Herman Hesse, called "Stufen" (Steps) in German. So if this is getting too deep for you, run now. Otherwise, enjoy:

Steps
As every flower fades and as all youth
Departs, so life at every stage,
So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever.
Since life may summon us at every age
Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,
Be ready bravely and without remorse
To find new light that old ties cannot give.
In all beginnings dwells a magic force
For guarding us and helping us to live.
Serenely let us move to distant places
And let no sentiments of home detain us.
The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us
But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.
If we accept a home of our own making,
Familiar habit makes for indolence.
We must prepare for parting and leave-taking
Or else remain the slaves of permanence.
Even the hour of our death may send
Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,
And life may summon us to newer races.
So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.

From Kamtchatka to Cape Town with one toe longer than the other

2007-11-16T16:30:00.000+10:00

Seraphine has tagged me. I used to find the tagging thing a bit strange but I'm happy to comply because Sera is so cool. The rules are: I must list one fact that is somehow relevant to my life for each letter of my middle name. My middle name is Maria, so here we go:

M is for My second toe is longer than my first one. I've got a couple of friends who think this is some kind of a birth defect and makes me a freak. I'll happily admit that I'm a freak, but for entirely different reasons. I had a few arguments with those friends about whether God intended for the second toe to be longer (which clearly he did). So I was obviously delighted when I read that Manolo Blahnik, who undoubtetly is the king of shoes (if not the God of shoes) and would know better than unqualified sillies like my friends, said that in his humble opinion, the second toe should be slightly longer than the big one. Which proves once again that I'm simply always right. So stop arguing with me, kids.

A is for Around the world. I consider myself a citizen of the world and I'm grateful for it. I love travelling and living in different countries and I love meeting people from all over the world. I miss my family and old friends like hell sometimes but I believe that the distance from one heart to another is more important than the geographical distance. Travelling is possibly the coolest thing ever invented. On my next few trips I want to travel accross Mongolia on horse back (ok, pony back), I want to see Georgia and Armenia and I would love to travel down to the tip of the Russian peninsula of Kamchatka plus I always wanted to do a trip from Marocco all the way down to Cape Town. Mhhh... so much to see. Maybe I should attempt to become a travel writer after all, so I can get paid to travel. (Fantastic idea- bet nobody else has thought of that one yet.)

R is for Ready to Rock n' Roll. Which is relevant to my life because I'm always ready to rock n' roll and consider it an important virtue. I love a good boogie and will dance even if I'm the only one in the whole night club. I'm over propertionately proud of the fact that nine out of ten times I'm the last one standing on the dance floor. I can almost not be danced off the floor, unless I have a really bad day or have lost a leg or something.

I is for Insanity is better than dullness. I don't dig boring people. And by boring I don't mean quiet or introverted. By boring I mean people who have no opinions and no passions. People like that bore the living daylight out of me. What makes a person interesting and attractive to me is when they like who they are, have an opinion of their own and embrace their own uniqueness. I love hearing someone talk about their passion and see their eyes light up- even if it's something weird like collecting miniature cats or being a fan of Ricky Martin. I like people who have peace in themselves and dare to be different without having to rub it in. And just to clarify, I use the term insanity very loosley here. I mean a touch of craziness rather than serial killer insanity. I don't dig that.

A is for Anybody can be happy if they choose to. Yeah, don't think you get out of here so easily without a dose of Bettina wisdom! So sit down and get a load of my insightful thoughts. I actually get in trouble for this one a lot by people who choose to be miserable because it pisses them off when I say that most pain and misery is selfinflicted. I do believe this, although I'm not saying you choose to have darkness enter your life. But when it does, there are different ways to deal with it. And the more you believe that you are cursed and that bad things always happen to you, the more they will. Your brain gets used to a certain way of thinking and a peaceful, optimistic person will be more likely to have good things happen to them. Ok, now all the negative people can come out and shoot me and tell me that obviously nothing bad has ever happened to me. Not true though. I just choose to be happy anyway.

You have to admit I gave that tag a serious run for its money. The rules request that I tag more people but because I'm a little rule breaker, I won't.

Have a happy day everyone. If you choose to.

The new Bettina

2007-11-08T01:00:00.000+10:00

Well, my friends, I think I killed that last exam. It seemed so easy that I was wondering if they might have made a mistake. I did all there was to do, took a quick look around the room and decided that my job had been done. So I got up and left the room and went and cut off my hair. And sang on the scooter on my way there. Oh the relief! It was all so amazing. Now I've got a degree (well not quite yet, but let's not get too technical) as a journalist and a new haircut. I'm pretty damn happy. And that's an understatement.

Please feel free to send presents.

Straight from the horse's mouth

2007-11-01T23:30:00.000+10:00

I know, I know. I shouldn't be blogging. I should be studying. Here's my hand; you can slap it. It won't help much though because the problem is that I enjoy blogging particularly when I should be doing something else. It's my second last night before the last exam and I haven't studied much yet. Procrastination is so much more fun. Besides, Homer Simpson made a valid point about learning:

"How is education supposed to make me feel smarter? Besides, every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain. Remember when I took that home winemaking course, and I forgot how to drive?"

I wouldn't want that to happen to me. Having said that though... the home winemaking course sounds tempting.

Come into my arms, sweet freedom

2007-10-28T00:30:00.000+10:00

That's right. It's Saturday night past midnight and I'm at home, studying. And last night was Friday night (quite surprisingly, actually) and I was also at home, studying. This is how much my life sucks at the moment. To be fair, nothing else really sucks, apart from the studying, but I feel the situation demands some dramatisation and the studying simply sucks so badly that I have no words to describe it. I know, I usually always have words to describe stuff, but this is how serious the situation has become. My eyes, just in case someone is interested, are so tired and sore that I need to tilt my head slightly to the side and back a bit with my arms stretched to reach the keyboard and squint my eyes if I want to see what I type. Surely that's not normal. I don't know about you, but I feel sorry for myself.

Having said that though, there is some good news. I only have one week left of my degree and then it's all over. All over! And once it's all over, I'm going to make up for all the suffering and pain. Big time. So to all you people out there who at this very moment are having a grand old time and are carrying on and drinking Gin and Tonics and dancing on tables and cooking lobster and skinny dipping and laughing this stupid loud laugh and feeding each other chocolates and are just generally having a disgustingly good time while I'm studying, to all you people I would like to say one thing. Tonight I might be studying and let you have all the Gin and Tonics and do the dancing on tables. But wait until I'm back next week. You better have a few disco naps now and get ready for it, because I will be partying like there's no tomorrow and you better be up for it. And I won't stop until the sun comes up and then I still won't stop. And if you can't keep up with me I will have no mercy because it's your fault for having a good time while I suffered. Oh, sweet freedom, I can already taste it. It tastes like.... vanilla.... raspberry vodka... Swiss chocolate... paradise... and all things nice.

If you don't feel like a soppy story, you might want to leave now

2007-10-23T20:00:00.000+10:00

I'm feeling melancholy today, but not in a bad way. I feel transparent and a little bit vulnerable, as if my skin was made from paper. I'm touched by everything and would forgive anyone for anything and everything makes me sad, even the beautiful things. Or maybe it's the other way around, that there is beauty in sadness, but it doesn't matter. In any case, I'm not bitter at all, which is always a good thing.

I think the guy at the carpark set it off. A new company has taken over the carpark underneath my work, and there is this little old man who has started to work the cashier counter. He is so sweet and looks so scared that I feel like giving him a hug and telling him that everything is going to be ok. His nose is a bit red and he has the kindest eyes with this little twinkle in them. I met him the first time yesterday. When I went to pay he obviously didn't know that he needs to hit a different button for a scooter than for a car and made a mistake. He looked frightened when he realised and had this little scared smile as he went to get his supervisor who looked mean and was cold to the little old man and thirty years younger. I felt like shaking the supervisor and telling him that he has a responsibility as a human being to protect the weak. Instead I just smiled at the little old man and when I left I felt like crying.

I've got this thing for old people, especially when they look helpless or lonley. It breaks my heart. I saw this old woman today, sitting by herself at the take away shop, with her handbag and a cup of coffee on the table, looking lost and eating a sandwich, and it made me so sad.

When I went to pay for my ticket at the carpark today, the little old man was there again. I so desperately wanted to brighten his day a little bit with a smile and a few nice words. We had a bit of a chat and when he handed me my change he accidentally gave me the ticket back. I told him that he needed to keep the ticket for his files and write my registration number on it. He smiled a shy smile and said, "you are a wonderful woman for helping an old man like me." I had done nothing worth mentioning but it made my day that he looked happier.

I feel like bringing him a piece of cake tomorrow or something to make him smile again. I know, I'm just a silly soppy fool.

Quote of the day

2007-10-21T16:45:00.000+10:00

"I drink champagne when I'm happy, and when I'm sad. Sometimes, I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company, I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I'm not hungry, and drink it when I am. Otherwise, I never touch it, unless I'm thirsty." - Lily Bollinger

That's not a bad way of looking at it.

You'd better be scared. Very scared.

2007-10-16T01:07:00.000+10:00

Some of you might remember that I want to be a bikie. That's me on a friend's very impressive Harley. I'm such a bad ass that sometimes I scare myself.

(Damn, I wish I didn't smile in this photo.)

Pass me the hammer, will ya?

2007-10-08T23:00:00.000+10:00

I shouldn’t be here. Really, I shouldn’t. But I just briefly dropped by to have a little cry and a bitch. I’m desperate for some sympathy, so please don’t let me down. And I promise you one thing: In four weeks when I’m finished with this degree, I’ll be little Miss Sunshine again and won’t whinge anymore. Not very much anyway.

I’m at the goddamn computer lab at uni, it’s almost eleven (Yes. At night.), my neck and my back are sore and my eyes burn while I’m writing on a 3000 word research essay about how the forces of globalisation are impacting upon the Australian newspaper industry. Without a hint of sarcasm, I can actually say that I don't mind the topic- it is somewhat interesting. The problem is just that I’m so tired and so terribly over the whole uni thing that I feel like hitting the guy behind me over the head with a book. He’s been on the phone to some girl for about fifteen minutes now and he has this whiney annoying voice and speaks really, really slow, which drives me absolutely insane. I’ve never heard anyone speak that slow. Seriously. I feel like screaming at him. Or snatching his phone and yelling at the girl, “Stop talking to this loser! He’s annoying!”

The reason why I’m working on this essay at the lab rather than at home is that my friends have decided to have some frigging pyjama party with movies and wine at home, which obviously is fair enough. Just because I’m not having any fun doesn’t mean they can't either. I would have a pyjama party too if I could. The only problem about this is that this computer lab stinks (yes, both literally and figuratively speaking). And I want to hit the guy behind me over the head with a book. Actually, make that a hammer. But I better get back to my beautifully balanced academic essay now.

Thank you for wasting my time. Now leave me alone.

2007-10-04T12:45:00.000+10:00

I'm having one of those days today at work. It appears that a substantial percentage of all people who have decided to call me today, drop by without an appointment or liaise with me in any other way are either incredibly difficult, really bizarre, annoyingly undecided, disgustingly rude or just plain dumb. Don't you wonder sometimes what the world would be like if stupidity was illegal? Mhhh... that would be bliss.

Thank God my day receptionist Miss C feels the same way so at least we can have a bit of a bitch and a laugh together. Miss C is a real delight and often cracks me up when I need a laugh. She just put a call through to me before and announced it with "pain in the friggin ass is on the phone." And the woman's e-mail address is apparently "nightmare at hotmail dot com."

I don't generally let annoying people get to me too much, but every once in a while I wish it was socially acceptable to tell a client to just go to hell if they don't like it.

Bloody fair enough, mate.

2007-10-02T18:00:00.000+10:00

I handed in my citizenship application on Friday. If all goes well, I could be officially Australian by Australia Day next year, which is the 26th of January.

This is so exciting. Just excuse me for a moment while I go and put on my stubbies and my rubber thongs and go have a VB in a stubby holder to celebrate. Damn straight, we are so classy in Australia.

Stubbies, mate. So bloody Australian.

Cheers, cobber, have a VB.

Good honest Australian thongs. Fair dinkum.

Keen for a tallie? Nah, I'll just have a tinny in a stubby holder, thanks mate.

Does this jacket make me look fat?

2007-09-24T13:00:00.000+10:00

No, seriously, you can tell me.

Smokin' a whole lotta nothing

2007-09-20T00:30:00.000+10:00

That's me smoking a pencil. They're not bad actually, you know. A bit boring maybe, but then again, they're quite healthy, I hear. As long as you don't eat them of course. It's the only thing I've been smoking for the last seven weeks.

And now would be a good time for a little round of applause.

Now I know I shouldn't be saying this. I should say how fantastic I feel and that I'm so much fitter and happier and all that. But to be quite honest, I don't feel much different at all. Alright, it's only been seven weeks, but the problem is most likely that I felt good before. And I feel good now. Not that this is really a problem, it's obviously good to feel good. But I need some more motivation. I feel like something is missing from my life but it hasn't been replaced with anything else. Some people tell me to eat chocolate or chew gum instead, but come on. How dumb do you think I am? Smoking was a little ritual for me, eating gum hardly is. And as much as I like chocolate, it makes you fat if you have it all the time. And while before I could go and have a smoking break from studying, I don't feel like just going to sit there for five minutes and chew on a friggin' piece of gum.

So to all you good and righteous people out there, please tell me how it is. Please set me straight and tell me how evil smoking is and that it makes people unattractive and rotten from the inside and that their lungs melt and then they die a slow painful death. Tell me stuff like that, stuff that will really gross me out and keep me going.

Probably the one thing I have started to notice now though is that a lot of smokers stink. And I don't. I love that. When my friend Dan gets into the car after smoking a cigarette it's like an ashtray enters the car. I didn't use to notice that much before.

But yeah, apart from that, I haven't really noticed an improvement in my life. The fact that I quite ironically also have a really bad cough at the moment probably doesn't help either.

So I beg you my friends. Help me out here, tell me how disgraceful, pathetic and disgusting smoking is. But do it well please, I don't buy cheap propaganda.

There's something fishy about this

2007-09-17T23:00:00.000+10:00

I was planning to go to the supermarket tonight after work and get a few groceries. However, when I approached the shop, I quickly changed my mind.

The attack of the dangling modifiers

2007-09-13T01:00:00.000+10:00

For those of you who think that my life is one big party, please take a moment to share my pain and get a little insight into some of the less glamorous moments in my humble little life.

It's quarter to one in the morning, my eyes are burning like hell and all I want is to curl up in a corner and sleep. My brain is numb and at this very moment, I think I have just forgotten everything I read over the last few hours. Which is a shame, because it was so entertaining.

I guess you could say it was kind of a romance slash adventure story. It involved compound-complex sentences (a bit raunchy, I know), adjective prepositional phrases (they're the bad guys) and a few reciprocal pronouns (awww, so cute!). They story was flowing along quite nicely with a few twists and turns until the dangling modifiers (obviously pure evil) entered the scene and it all got quite ugly. One reciprocal pronoun got killed (shot in the head) and a compound-complex sentence was kidnapped and injured quite badly (its mother is still being treated for shock). Later on it turned out that before it went to the dark side, one of the dangling modifiers used to hang out with a base-form predicate adjective. Which is quite amazing, considering the base-form predicate adjective (which is very attractive, by the way) later on became a devout Catholic. The sad thing was, it turned up on the scene of the crime, trying to talk some sense into the dangling modifier and ended up getting stabbed too. Definitely not a happy end.

My flat mate is watching a comedy show on TV in the room next door and laughing her ass off. If only she knew how much more fun she could have with English grammar. I can't wait for that exam. Looks like I'm gonna ace that one.

Seven nutcases in New Zealand. A little travel story.

2007-09-09T23:30:00.000+10:00

And they're on the road! First stop for brekkie on the way from Christchurch to Wanaka. All seems to be just wonderful. However, we have already had one girl kicked off the plane (as she was on standby) and catching up with us later, one suitcase left behind by the airline, traces of cocaine found on one girl's handbag (although she has never tried it in her life) and the dramas are not quite over yet.

Next up: Matty cops a speeding fine. We're thinking that's about enough now. And thank God it is. The rest of the holiday is all sweet songs, choclate cakes and fluffy kittens.

And the trip continues... G Lama and Teeny Weeny share a moment.

Our new home for the next week! Stunning, with spa, sauna, fireplace... of course, only the best will do for us.

Our little G Lama is enjoying a port while she tells a story involving two little girls, overdrive and some kind of disease... I think. Fascinating.

Vegging out after a day of snowboarding... good times.

Snowboarding! I didn't realise how much I missed it... We were on the slopes every day from 9am to 4pm without fail. Oh bliss. No broken bones or bad injuries, thank God. But I did bring home a few good bruises.

Beautiful New Zealand.

It's a bit like Switzerland, only different.

My birthday dinner, lovingly cooked by my wonderful holiday crew.

The girls are getting ready for a night on the town.

Take us to where the party is rockin' Mr Taxi Driver!

It's my birthday and we'll dance til the morning comes yeah...

Snowboarding was quite painful the day after my birthday... but that didn't deter us from going out again a couple of days later to bust some more moves on the dance floor.

Group photo with hats.

Time to go home. Another road trip back to Christchurch. I can't believe the holiday is over already.

No, I'm not pregnant, I just ate well this week, ok?

Handing in the car. The holiday is over. But the next one is planned already. We're thinking Canada or Switzerland.

The return of Bettina (with a few bruises)

2007-09-05T14:00:00.000+10:00

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I'm back! Who knows if anyone gives a rat's ass but I quite like being under the illusion that I have been missed terribly, that my return has been awaited eagerly by everyone and that your lives have been empty without me. So go on and tell me some sweet lies, my dear friends. I'll pay you later.

My holiday was absolute gold- we had the time of our lives. The transition from fun filled holiday back to the real world however was a bit rough as reality picked me up straight from the airport and kicked me in the guts. And then topped it off with a little slap in the face just to make sure that I knew I was definitely back. Isn't that thoughtful? I was home Sunday night at about 8pm, unpacked my stuff, did some laundery, had some food and then proceeded to work on two uni presentations which were scheduled for Monday and Tuesday until 1.30am.

Work has also been somewhat insane and I'm still working through the 1.5 million e-mails and messages that have piled up while I was away. But enough of the complaining now. I had a absolutely fantastic holiday so obviously it seems nothing but fair that I need to be punished for it now. So please keep it going, dear reality, don't hold back. I can handle it.

For some of our legendary holiday stories and a little photo display of our craziness, check back here in a couple of days.

It's a dirty job but someone's gotta do it

2007-08-24T23:00:00.000+10:00

Boys and girls. I will be gone for a week. I've got some serious business to take care of... like snowboarding in New Zealand for a week!

I am so excited, you have no idea. I've literally been reduced to the state of a small child at Christmas. And this should give you an idea of what that looks like:

Don't cry, I'll be back soon. To torture you with stories of mesmerizing landscapes, glittery snow, mountains as high as the sky and heavenly slopes. And lots of partying. It will be my birthday on Wednesday too, so feel free to send me lots of presents while I'm away. Later alligators!

Wanna come to our birthday party?

2007-08-23T18:30:00.000+10:00

Click on the image for a bigger size version.

Not smoking kills me tonight

2007-08-19T21:00:00.000+10:00

I haven't smoked a single cigarette in the last three weeks. Could I please have a little round of applause? That would do my poor suffering soul a world of good, because I am in pain tonight.

The thing is, I was never a heavy smoker. I was an occasional social smoker for years and even at the worst of times I would usually only smoke a few cigarettes a day. Apart from the occasional big night out where I would go a bit over the top. But I've been thinking. I'm turning thirty next year and apparently that makes people think. I figured it might be a good idea to stop smoking before I'm thirty. To be honest, I don't know how the hell smoking and turning thirty are related, but my little brain somehow made the connection and I went along with it.

Actually, more than the turning thirty thing, it was probably the fact that I woke up about three weeks ago and felt like I had eaten an ashtray the night before, which is not a good feeling. And I wouldn't usually get that. I thought to myself, enough is enough. So I didn't smoke that day. And then I got sick and didn't smoke for another week. And then I thought, what the hell, I might go along with this for a bit.

Apparently people are over the physical addiction in a few days. But the head is the problem. I notice how much I miss all the little rituals I had. Sitting with Michelle before we go to bed and having a little debrief of the day with a glass of red wine and a cigarette. Rewarding myself after two hours of studying with a cigarette break. Sitting on a table in the sun, reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Sigh.

I haven't been saying to people or even to myself "I quit". I'm kind of just going along with this, saying that I'm having a break and see what happens. Maybe this is a bit like my current commitment phobia, where I get into a relationship but refuse to call it that. I'm not smoking at the moment but I don't call it quitting in order to leave myself the backdoor open so I could smoke again without feeling like I'm a failure. Which, I admit, is terrible, and please feel free to tell me what a low kind of person I am. But at least I'm not smoking at the moment, which I figure is better than nothing. And I have been so strong, you would be proud of me. Sitting around with a bunch of smoking friends without batting an eye lid. While inside, I was crying.

But I tell you what. I would kill for a cigarette tonight. I'm trying to study and I'm so desperate for a cigarette break that I'm considering smoking my pencil. God help me.

Help me, doc

2007-08-15T21:30:00.000+10:00

Excuse me, is there a doctor in here by any chance? Because I've got a question. The thing is, I think I might have developed some form of physical reaction to studying. Is that possible? Please don't say no, because I can clearly see it's happening. The symptoms are overwhelmingly obvious. As soon as I think about studying, I start to feel tired and sick and get the most excrutiating headaches. Sometimes I even get aggressive and feel like screaming and hitting people over the head with a book. Now it's clear to me that under those circumstances I cannot study without endangering my health. But the question is, is it an allergy to study or a violent reaction to stupid assignments? And are there any tablets I can take or anything? And meanwhile, can I get a doctor's certificate for this? Because this is serious.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, call me arrogant

2007-08-12T23:30:00.000+10:00

I'm back at uni for my very last semester. And I'm feeling more out of place than ever. Three days a week I go to uni straight after work in my suit and then find myself in tutorial groups full of kids with braces and too much gel in their hair. Yeah, I kid you not, they actually wear gel again, I didn't realise that either. Many of them are ten years younger than me. Not that I have anything against kids, in fact, I want to have some of my own at some stage, but doing group work with children who have Christina Aguilera stickers on their text books kind of kills the academic mood. I feel strangely snobbish, but I just don't know what to talk to them about and frankly, I would rather hang out with their parents. I keep on thinking that maybe I have accidentally been put into a high school class. It's like a weird dream where everyone else is 12 and I'm 28 and I'm looking around trying to get people's attention so they can say "Oh, you don't belong here, you should go to the group with the adults." But nobody seems to notice.

I complained to a friend of mine and he said, "don't be rude, they're not really that young, you're just very old." Oh, ok. That makes it much better.

The key to happiness

2007-08-09T16:30:00.000+10:00

It's really very simple like that. But why aren't men happy all the time then?

The piano has been drinking (not me)

2007-08-06T21:30:00.000+10:00

I've been listening to a lot of Tom Waits lately. I'm completely addicted to his CD "The heart of Saturday night". The other day, I listened to "San Diego Serenade" about seven times in a row. Ok, ok, so I get a bit obessive, so what? Anyway, one of my other favourite songs is "The piano has been drinking (not me)." I think it's hilarious. And not only that, it is smart. What a fantastic idea- the man blames the piano for the drinking. I should do things like that more often.

And in fact, that's exactely what I have decided to do. I need to get more creative when blaming others. I'm much too nice, always taking the blame myself when I should. But that's over now. If I don't have a piano at hand, why not blame something else for my drinking, say, my boots? "Man, those boots have been drinking again tonight! They can barely walk straight! Bad, bad boots!" Or: "Look at those stairs, they must have been drinking all night. They are all over the shop." You can of course use this strategy for other situations as well, such as: "Sorry boss, my pillow slept in again this morning." "The bus was hangover and grumpy and refused to stop for me." "My coffee cup was sick this morning."

This opens a whole new world of possibilities. And it's much more fun than "the dog ate my homework."