flyingblogspot.com (tales from urban dilettantia)

Readers, there are Happenings baking. Happenings of the nature of a social experiment, a home, a community, an idea, a crazywonderful leap into the unknown.

Cary and I have been considering for some time the theoretical problem of introverted polyamorous beings trying to find a way to invent a household that accomodates shared space, creative space, private space and seclusion, sovereignty, sharing of labour, and room for lovers and friends and family. We’re also really interested in concepts of community and family-of-choice, and how to build these things into our lives, and playing with different models of togetherness.

Somehow, after two weeks of looking at houses ‘as if’ and ‘to get an idea what’s possible’ theory tumbled unexpectedly into launching a social experiment of fabulous proportions.

Today our unconditional approval of finance came through from the bank. We have impulsively purchased a townhouse a mere 750m from Flyingblogspot Cottage as joint investors in this madness. We’re about to move into a household that happens to be split into two separate buildings. We’ve bought it as joint investors rather than as partners in a relationship, so if our crazywonderful experiment yields a result of ‘this does not work’, it will be easy and financially sensible to rent it out as an investment.

It’s a great fit for our needs – large for a townhouse in the area, with spaces for bikes and vehicles, a garage for a workshop and outdoor spaces to work in, space for a cat run, a big bright area upstairs with light that will be just perfect for art and sewing and electronics. The cottage appears to be destined to be library and gamerspace, the townhouse (yet to be named) to be artspace and makerspace.

The second time we went to view the house we took Grahame and Nathalie with us – two people who already have keys to Flyingblogspot Cottage and a standing invitation to treat it as home as required. They were excited too, and helpfully tried to balance our judgment by providing a list of pros and cons. Unfortunately, they were not successful in finding any significant cons, and so were forced to invent a claim that they’d heard that ‘this type of carpet causes Face Death’. Bravely, we decided we were willing to risk Face Death.

Then, suddenly and unrelatedly, Sky and Jason mentioned that they were considering moving into a new house near Hyde Park in the near future and we suggested that they might like to be a part of our extended enclave-based household too, should this happen. It turned out that they liked this very much. In spite of the risk of Face Death.

A few weeks later, we had breakfast with the lovely Alexa who lives around the corner, and I quietly told her about her about the plans and how dearly we would welcome her if she were interested. And then I had a moment of ‘argh, too many people!’ until I realised that there were not too many people, but just the right number of people. (Although I am not above trying to lure Nathalie and Grahame down to Highgate, should the opportunity arise. They are special and do not add to the critical mass of people.)

I’ve been trawling the web for some time to find other mad, land-owning-capitalist-pig hippie communists who’ve tried something like this and have had very little luck in finding precedents. And so, shaping the idea of a community of islands is something of a black hole where benefits and problems are not necessarily forseeable. But it’s thrilling too, in the sense that we are inventing something new that we can shape for ourselves. I keep coming up with a multitude of tiny ideas and asking ‘what if…?’

What if my chickens and garden could help feed us all? What if someone slow-cooks a big pot of food and everyone who wants dinner can wander over to eat together? What if, when there are leftovers that we may not eat ourselves, we can send the other houses a message and say to come and pick them up if they will be eaten? What if my garden becomes a our community garden? What if we order those big mixed boxes of fruit and vegetables and share them? What if we put up a pole and share our an internet connection? What if we turn Hyde Park into our weekend breakfast back yard? So many ideas; what if, what if, what if!

However, in my nervous, over-stimulated excitement over this project, I have neglected to mention that there’s a practical (and by ‘practical’ read ‘begging’) side too. Settlement will take place on the 12th of February. In the meantime, Cary is currently living in a big old rental place in Bayswater and has been there for a decade, and is not an enthusiastic declutterer. (An understatement – in fact he is more of a compulsive this-will-be-useful-er.) Somehow, over the weekends and evenings between now and February, we will need to cull, pack and move a house filled with a decade of collected items and I think we will be in desparate need of help. And so, I thought I’d post the list of things we need, in the hope that anyone who is supportive of our experiment might be able to offer some time and love.

Packing, wrapping and taping

Putting together an ‘everything’s free’ garage sale

Supportive company – bring your study, marking, whatever

Clapping

Lifting things

Supportive nods when Cary is making difficult decluttering decisions

Putting things into other things (hur hur hur)

Hugging

Supportive lunch/coffee delivering to lift spirits

Thing-taking-aparting

Freecycling and finding new homes for things

Slapping whenever we get lost in details or culling angst

Planning logistics and problem solving

Cat reassuring (do not wear kitty ears; Zeus hates and fears that)

Cleaning up

Removing plants we want to keep from the garden

Eleventy million other things I’ve probably forgotten

It’s a big job that we’ll need to tackle incrementally rather than an army-for-a-day job. Beers, food, hugs, eternal devotion and the like will naturally be provided to anyone who turns up at any time; we desparately need our friends and family to help us make our experiment happen!

Two posts in one day!  What is this?   This one is a bit frivolous and retrospective, in line with my lofty ambitions to become more frivolous and retrospective.

Music has, as ever, been my saving grace in an upsy-downsie year, and so I’m sharing a few of the songs that have been stuck in my head throughout. (If everyone could just take a moment to forget that I said I’d compile a playlist for Zoe and haven’t as yet done so, that would be lovely.)   Some of these took quite a bit of finding, being rare/old/live, and the last one I think, is surely one of my theme songs for the year almost gone.

My Friend the Chocolate Cake – More Heart Than Me

Jeff Martin – Love The One You’re With (cover) – I don’t think a good video of this exists, so you’ll just have to go buy the album.  It’s just about my favourite love song of all time.

The Tallest Man on Earth – The Wheel – rare piano version; this just breaks my heart.

The Tallest Man on Earth – The Gardener

Billy Bragg – Greetings to the New Brunette

Machine Gun Fellatio – Unsent Letter

Nick Drake – Time Has Told Me

Pendulum – Propane Nightmares

Manic Street Preachers – You Stole the Sun from My Heart

Radiohead – No Surprises

Tom Waits – The Piano Has Been Drinking

The Triffids – Tender is the Night

Tool – Wings for Marie

Lou Reed – Perfect Day

Warren Zevon – Poor Poor Pitiful Me

Karnivool – Sleeping Satellite (cover)

Kaki King – Pull Me Out Alive

Amanda Palmer – In My Mind

But maybe it isn’t all that funny,
   but I’ve been fighting all my life.
   But maybe I have to think it’s funny,
   if I want to live before I die,
   and maybe it’s funniest of all, to think I’ll die before I actually see
   that I am exactly the person that I want to be.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted one of my maps.  And now there are two!

The first is a picture of something I’ve been working on since January; namely, the idea of sovereignty.  The idea is a work in progress, and the map is one of many spanning that progress.  I am posting it for Nathalie and Jaunita, who are right there with me when I need them.

The second is a picture of change.  Once upon a time I was the girl who could not walk across campus without tensing every muscle for fear people were looking at her.  The girl who would blush and stammer rather than hold a conversation.  The very queen of awkwardness, the non-phone-answerer, the one who declined every invitation.  Twenty years on, I am the woman who will pounce upon a friendly looking stranger with a ‘hi, I’m an enormous introvert; pleased to meet you!’  How did this happen you ask?  Still trying to work that one out, and I am posting this map for a dear friend who is on the journey too.

Pictures make me feel less mopey about the ten half-finished blog posts in my notebook. Let’s all forget about those posts and enjoy the shiny.  Or else.

I have all of these fragments of posts; the river, the garden, the mortgage belts, the city, maps, wanderings, chance meetings, the ends of the earth.

And – as so often – I’m not writing any of them, but am sitting around vaguely thinking about life, Rachmaninov, whisky, the universe and kitty.

I imagine it’s something to do with leaving Large Accounting Firm, painting more, raging less, and spending time at the gym and climbing, but I’ve got a peculiar feeling of being on the brink of something. Close to presque vu, but not quite. (If someone can give the correct name for what I’m feeling, I’ll buy them dinner. Fancy dinner. And then maybe we could make out on the couch and…wait, this is not the time nor the place. Ahem.)

I am given to understand that such feelings have much to do with the temporal lobes of one’s brain having a Moment which is quite exciting in itself, and I do feel it’s kinda sweet of my temporal lobes to troll me with a feeling of something, someone or somewhere soon. Pretty, existential vertigo.

For the moment, shiny illusions have not resolved themselves, and I’m currently working on settling into a new job, enjoying finally getting mobility and fitness back after the Stupid Bicycle Accident, and wondering what the next adventure will be. Oh, and propositioning a lot of people, with the goal of being Vegas-married to as many acquaintances as are willing. And so while the bigger posts simmer, find herein a small handful of links of various flavours.

Read them fast so we can run away to Vegas, sugarcube!

The Oatmeal on Tupperware

A tale of hoarding, in which I’m afraid I heard myself.

A nice idea for vertical gardening and pallet re-use.

David Foster Wallace on life and work.

Just about the best coat I’ve ever wanted.

Derek K Miller – The Last Post

20 Creative Public Works of Art

Hey you guys, blogging – what is that? Something I don’t seem to get around to doing at the moment, that’s what. Let’s all enjoy a nice list of random things:

1. I’m thinking about pragmatic internet activism. My current idea is basically that we create or find a non-profit organisation with a legal defence fund, have it run a bunch of Tor exit nodes and work to mainstream the practice of safely running middle nodes for everyone else. Ideally this would be done with the support of a sympathetic ISP.
2. I’ve been watching North Africa and the Middle East closely. I’m convinced that what’s happening there, in its various regional manifestations, is a turning point in history. People all over the region are kicking their dictators to the kerb, and I dearly hope that these events lead ultimately to a better life for many, and not to further violence, fear and oppression. As one Egyptian Twitter said the other day, ‘It’s scary, but it’s certainly not sad.’
3. I’m brewing, gradually, a post about gender, consent, boundaries and geek culture. It’s been simmering for months. These things take time to cook.
4. This year’s theme is ‘sovereignty‘. I drew a mind map for it, which I’ll post at some point soon.
5. I’m (finally) discovering the wonders of snorkelling in Perth; it’s awesome. Penguin Island, Mettam’s Pool, Boyinaboat Reef; wonderful fish everywhere! I’m getting my dive licence shortly, and I’m considering buying an underwater camera.
6. Virtual evolution is fun; check out Boxcar2D.
7. A couple of days ago, I was thrilled to discover people are still using Gopher! Here’s an HTML gateway.  Digital living fossils excite me, as has been previously demonstrated by my passion for Amiga and C64 emulators.
8. The most recent mental health news is that I’ve reached a stage where the SSRIs alone clearly aren’t working as intended, and so I’ve added the mood stabiliser and anti-epileptic Lamotrigine. I’m not sure what we’ll do if this doesn’t work, but I’m hopeful. From years of self-testing, I’m confident that my crazy is closely tied to either my progesterone levels, or the ratio of progesterone to estrogen in my system, and among other things, Lamotrigine has a progesterone lowering effect.

That’s all for now. Sufficient random soup has been posted.

[2007] [2008] [2009]

For the fourth year running, behold my list of retroactive resolutions for 2010!

Refrain from triggering apocalypse.

Sail a mini-catamaran on the river.

Be more honest.

Spread more love, more of the time.

After much furious thought, this morning, I declined the offer of a year in Moscow The decision wasn’t the product of any single large factor, but rather of the aggregate of a number of medium-sized things. Here are some of the things:

1. HR fail: Our HR division is understaffed, under-resourced and, in my opinion, unlikely to ever be a great source of drama-free support. Organsing a teleconference was an ordeal. Clarifying the terms of the secondment and costs to be paid back was a pain. Pro-forma contracts were not available for to be viewed before I gave a verbal decision. These things, and the stories of every other person who has been seconded by Large Accounting Firm, gave me little confidence in the process. Also, in contrast to firms in the Oil & Gas sector, Large Accounting Firm treats secondments as a personal favour to the secondee and does not pay a living allowance.

2. Opportunity: I work for people who keep telling me this is a Great Opportunity. And it is. Thing is, I’m at a point in my life where taking this opportunity means giving up other opportunities here. Launching secret map project software. Making a film. Breaking into the local art scene. My life is not my job at Large Accounting Firm, and the more I look at what I’m building here, the more I realise that.

3. Travel: I have UK citizenship. I can work in the EU any time I want. On my terms, at a time I choose.

4. My support network: It’s been a tough couple of years. A really tough couple of years. And out of it, I’ve grown an amazing network of people I love around me. And, as one of my workmates said yesterday, ‘in your place, I’d want my friends and family around me’.

5. Career: Even if my life were all about my job at Large Accounting Firm, my interests run very much towards energy policy & sustainability. Russia lags Australia significantly in this area, and a year there would be a year removed from what I really want to be doing.

6. Proving Things: I have decided that I can be the sort of person who Has Adventures and Does Interesting Things without saying ‘yes’ indiscriminately to every single thing that scares me. I know I could do the year in Moscow if I wanted to; I don’t need to say yes and go do it just to prove I’m big, resilient and brave. I am big, resilient and brave anyway!

7. I have decided I am too old for ‘because Mum doesn’t want me to’ to be a good reason for doing something.

There are all kinds of smaller reasons too, but I these are some of the weightier ones. I am building a life I love; renovating a house and garden I adore and throwing everything I have at growing my tiny, ridiculous, parochial, sunshiney, isolated little city into somewhere better to be. And I am going to spend 2011 doing more of just that.

Oh, today is one of those days when I can’t write a coherent paragraph, and yet that will not stop me from filling the internet with things. (To be entirely honest, I am a little touchy about this, as I once decided to have hurt feelings upon being told that keeping a blog was narcissistic. For someone who says ‘fuck you’ so often, it’s surprising how easily I decide to have hurt feelings.)

Playing with Google Analytics, and I see that most people who find this blog through a search engine are specifically Googlestalking me, or want to know about demand resistance. Although one person wanted to know about ‘awesome Zazzlers’, which was flattering.  (Hi there, flattering person.  Apologies, people who were looking for information about demand resistance.)

The great medical experiment rolls onward. I was pulled off fluoxetine last week, because I appear to be one of the minority of the population who are hypersensitive to it – it makes me vomit, shake and become incredibly anxious. Sunday, coming off it, was pretty much the worst ever. I don’t have the energy or even the desire to write about it, with all the broken communication, misery and generally implosive overreactions that it entailed, not to mention the numb, dizzying, drooling 50km bike ride, from which I’d been too much of a stubborn jerk to withdraw. However, new week, new experiment: I’m trying a very gradual build up to taking sertraline, going from a quarter of a tablet to a full one over a fortnight. So far, two relatively stable days, no vomit. Perceived improvement. Trying to fix the things I’ve broken and let slide in the interim. Drinking a lot of water. Hibernating. If I say ‘shhh’ to you, it’s not you, it’s me.

Slowly negotiating the possibility of working in Russia next year. Envious of everyone around me travelling for non-work, in the wake of a realisation I haven’t taken more than a handful of days’ leave at a time since I was in Iceland & Scotland in 2008, nor down even been down to Margaret River since last Christmas, largely due to the year of study-separation-housemoving being a major money and time limiter. Want to roam, to not think, to sleep and to read and to play.

Cooked omelettes on the weekend as Boomer and Six have started laying (‘bok bok bok ba-gawk!’ goes the Egg Song each morning) and Sarah (who is new and lovely and very good at telling stories that make me laugh) helped eat them. The possibility of bunnies with earth moving machinery was raised, and so, tiny art was of course required:

Feeling inarticulate.  I think that is all.

This morning, I went for my first run in weeks. It wasn’t a long run, or a fast run, but it felt remarkable nonetheless after weeks of Valium and medication-induced sedentary dizziness and vomiting – so good to be strong and springy and back in my body. The running deserves a post of its own, because it’s been such an important part of my life this year, but this one isn’t about the running.

When I came bouncing back through my gate, I checked the post and there was a letter there, addressed to me in my handwriting, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. I’d forgotten that I spent last year helping conduct a mentoring program with some super awesome teenagers, and on the last day we all – mentors and kids – wrote ourselves a letter to be delivered in one year’s time.

I feel a little shy sharing it here, because at the time I never shared it with anyone.  But I want to, and so this is my letter:

My dear,

I want 2010 to be a better year for you, and I promise to do my best to achieve that.

I want to see food growing in your garden, friends dining at your table, and love and forgiveness in your heart.

I want – no, I need – to know that you have actively worked on your mental health and made progress in conquering your anxiety.

I need you to live a year that you will look back upon with respect and peace in the years to come.

Take care, be strong, learn (and re-learn) to ask for help from those who love you, and never, ever stop dreaming, loving, learning and creating.

All my love.

I am surprised (in all my deadly perfectionist glory!) by just how much I have lived up to hopes and expectations of Last Year’s Me; I trust she’d be proud.

I want to backtrack a little to the All This Stuff’s Just Ordinary post I wrote last month, because the response awed and humbled me more than a little.

Ju submitted it to the most recent Down Under Feminists Carnival in the Health & Disability section, and wrote openly about Her Ordinary. And you brilliant people over at the LiveJournal mirror of my blog commented and commented and commented with your support and your stories. And there were emails, and private conversations, and…well, I will attempt to stop gushing, but you all helped me remember that telling my story creates windows for other people to talk too.

And so, I think it’s a good story to keep telling. To talk about how venlafaxine withdrawal made me vomit and shake uncontrollably for over a week and to curl up in an awful, horrible ball of quivering pain, and that it was every bit as nasty as people had assured me it would be.

To talk about how I was somewhat silly, and somewhat frightened, and felt I had taken so much time off work sick this year that I didn’t want to get a medical certificate. That I went into the office day after day, and sat there shaking and goodness knows what everyone thought. That being a woman in a blokey corporate finance team feels so damn hard sometimes that I ducked out on talking to my boss about being a crazy woman in a blokey corporate finance team. That I spent a great deal of time hiding in the toilets instead. That I walked out of the office randomly to shake and walk and cry in the sunshine. That this was not a wise choice, nor a brave one.

To talk about how Nathalie and Cary saw me on the bad, bad days when I didn’t want anyone to see me, and held me tight until I could breathe again. Because that is the ordinary of venlafaxine withdrawal, and it is not a good ordinary.

And now, mostly past that withdrawal, I’m working with my new psychiatrist (who I am starting to like a great deal) and trying something new. It’s giving me a somewhat brutal anxiety spike right now and we’re not sure if that’s going to stop, but it’s also kicking the depression and it feels like it has opened up my brain and flicked on the lights again. I can think and reason again, communicate about life and love and fear again, focus again, and it’s been so sudden and bright that it’s almost painfully overwhelming.

And in the aftermath (and indeed continuation) of all this, I’m quite preoccupied by terror of the possibility of Moscow and of more than likely making this jump alone into the unknown.

But, as ever – audentis fortuna iuvat – fortune favours the brave.