Here's a compile of my November Twitter thoughts... Enjoy. (Well I hope you do anyway)
Taking a bath is the best way for a person who “spits” to most fully appreciate the unsavoury nature of their habit.
I do most of my thinking in the shower...which is a bit of a worry, as I only shower once a week.
Studies suggest cognitive decline is not inevitable. Your brain may not be a muscle, but it needs exercise. Read! Learn! Above all...THINK!!
Be wary of the person who answers a question before you have finished asking it.
I think it would greatly surprise us to discover some of the things that make God smile.
Don’t you hate Tail-Gaters! I think they should all be arrested and forced to watch 10 consecutive episodes of Home and Away.
A writer is not someone who has a book but rather someone who has something to say.
Do pilots ever get depressed? Wouldn’t they simply fly above their problems? (for Craig)
Learning to take responsibility for our actions is a gateway through which we all must pass.
Don’t try and tell me that Solomon (that wise guy) wouldn’t have been all over Twitter.
You know it’s a new day when you hear my kids serving themselves too much cereal. (estimation skills in development)
Creativity is essential to the human experience.
Show me a person interested in people and I’ll show you an interesting person.
Show me a person with many friends and I’ll show you an interesting person.
What type of environment sparks your creativity? Get there more often.
Your ability to truly "understand" is a function of your ability to see things from the "other" perspective.
What is it about a "beard with no moustache" that looks kinda creepy?
Nothing of any consequence is achieved without effort.
A life lived for others is a life well lived.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
ON THE OCCASION OF MUM’S 70TH BIRTHDAY
You truly don’t realise how selfish, conceited and essentially sub-human you were as a kid until you have children of your own. (My kids aren't sub human, it's just that I was.)
As your tweens become teens and start behaving, how should I put this, “weird” (yeah, that’ll do just fine) you start to see a vague reflection of the person you once were and are glad you are no longer. I think our standard internal dialogue regarding this observation is “Surely I wasn’t like that, was I?” with the equally standard reply being “Oh yes you were, Bucko!”
I look back in horror at just how selfish I used to be and my myopic view of the world. Mum and Dad would lavish me with things; Billiard tables, guitars, games, food, shelter. You name it, Father Christmas would bring it. Was I thankful? Did my heart brim over with gratitude? No! I reckon I simply felt this was “the way it happened.” As many of us do, I simply viewed my parents as a “conduit for stuff” and not as people who actually needed anything in return.
For some reason, (insert irony here) I no longer see it this way.
I would sometimes argue with Dad about things and think to myself “He’s just ignorant.” I would often take the moral high ground, even "quoting scripture” to back up my arguments and generally thinking I was seated “to the right hand, of the right hand of the Father.” This pharisaical approach gave rise to Dad’s favourite label for me at the time “Holy Joe.” A label my younger sister would use and re-use to great advantage.
What a twerp I was. And I have never seen it so clearly until recent years, as my kids held a mirror up to me labelled “Oh yes you were, Bucko.”
I have already begged my parents for mercy numerous times, so don’t need to purge my soul now.
What I want to do is restate my appreciation for all that they have done throughout my life. Dad and Mum, you are great people and have done a wonderful job parenting, and now grandparenting, the whole Anderson clan.
I take all that you have given us, not as right, but as a privilege.
For all the love, band aids, tuck-ins, later night conversations, roast dinners, lifts to work, monetary contributions, bass guitars, billiard tables, sick buckets, panadol, rooves over our heads, vacations, moving countries, mint jelly, chilli crackers, baby sitting and care above and beyond the call of duty… I thank you. Deeply.
Happy Birthday Mum.
As your tweens become teens and start behaving, how should I put this, “weird” (yeah, that’ll do just fine) you start to see a vague reflection of the person you once were and are glad you are no longer. I think our standard internal dialogue regarding this observation is “Surely I wasn’t like that, was I?” with the equally standard reply being “Oh yes you were, Bucko!”
I look back in horror at just how selfish I used to be and my myopic view of the world. Mum and Dad would lavish me with things; Billiard tables, guitars, games, food, shelter. You name it, Father Christmas would bring it. Was I thankful? Did my heart brim over with gratitude? No! I reckon I simply felt this was “the way it happened.” As many of us do, I simply viewed my parents as a “conduit for stuff” and not as people who actually needed anything in return.
For some reason, (insert irony here) I no longer see it this way.
I would sometimes argue with Dad about things and think to myself “He’s just ignorant.” I would often take the moral high ground, even "quoting scripture” to back up my arguments and generally thinking I was seated “to the right hand, of the right hand of the Father.” This pharisaical approach gave rise to Dad’s favourite label for me at the time “Holy Joe.” A label my younger sister would use and re-use to great advantage.
What a twerp I was. And I have never seen it so clearly until recent years, as my kids held a mirror up to me labelled “Oh yes you were, Bucko.”
I have already begged my parents for mercy numerous times, so don’t need to purge my soul now.
What I want to do is restate my appreciation for all that they have done throughout my life. Dad and Mum, you are great people and have done a wonderful job parenting, and now grandparenting, the whole Anderson clan.
I take all that you have given us, not as right, but as a privilege.
For all the love, band aids, tuck-ins, later night conversations, roast dinners, lifts to work, monetary contributions, bass guitars, billiard tables, sick buckets, panadol, rooves over our heads, vacations, moving countries, mint jelly, chilli crackers, baby sitting and care above and beyond the call of duty… I thank you. Deeply.
Happy Birthday Mum.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Shower thinking...
The shower made me think this morning...
Hey that's nothing new. It's a great place to think. (I for one believe that every great human idea that has occurred in the last 50 years likely owes something to the shower.) But to the case in point.
Our shower at the moment has issues. Perhaps she had a bad childhood experience or some other trauma, but over the past month or so the darn thing has just got plain “nasty.”
She used to furnish us all with a wonderful stream of warm water, generously washing away all our filth and morning shivers. Now she only feeds us a pathetic dribble. It comes out so slowly that it clumps together in an unusable hydro-blob. Not only that, she simply will not make up her mind! It’s like an aquatic roller-coaster ride from searing hot to frightful cold. I guess the silver lining here is that the very best treatment for “all over burns” is the immediate application of freezing cold water.
I don’t get it. In nine years she’s never been like this. Perhaps her motivation is revenge. A shower scorned. Sure, I left her to drip for six months when all she needed was a new washer. Yes, I have handled her “a little roughly” when her door was sticky. (Truth be known the door is currently broken off altogether, which I guess in shower terms is the equivalent of standing at a bus stop in your underwear.) But I think overall, I have been appreciative of all she has done for me and feel I don’t really deserve to be in this hot water.
I guess there’s always an upside. Even to a dribbly, vengeful shower.
As I received my daily scalding this morning, I realised that I was far less agitated and uncomfortable than I was a month ago. The skin that I have leftover is now quite used to the extremes. It’s like I have now acquired the skill of putting up with a really useless shower. A skill that I am sure I will be able to put to good use on camping trips and visits to Flag Inns.
I also have a heightened appreciation for what the old girl used to be like. (We have a locum booked in to come and take a look at her, and anticipate she’ll be back to her old self in no time.) When she once again provides us with that warm and generous stream, I know that I’ll be far more appreciative of what I have, because of the experience.
I have been reminded of a few things. That a warm shower is a privilege not a right. And that there are countless people on this planet who can only dream of standing under a continuous stream of fresh water. Moreover, that I can stand in a shower of water for 10 minutes and survive comfortably without letting a single drop of it pass through my lips.
Hey that's nothing new. It's a great place to think. (I for one believe that every great human idea that has occurred in the last 50 years likely owes something to the shower.) But to the case in point.
Our shower at the moment has issues. Perhaps she had a bad childhood experience or some other trauma, but over the past month or so the darn thing has just got plain “nasty.”
She used to furnish us all with a wonderful stream of warm water, generously washing away all our filth and morning shivers. Now she only feeds us a pathetic dribble. It comes out so slowly that it clumps together in an unusable hydro-blob. Not only that, she simply will not make up her mind! It’s like an aquatic roller-coaster ride from searing hot to frightful cold. I guess the silver lining here is that the very best treatment for “all over burns” is the immediate application of freezing cold water.
I don’t get it. In nine years she’s never been like this. Perhaps her motivation is revenge. A shower scorned. Sure, I left her to drip for six months when all she needed was a new washer. Yes, I have handled her “a little roughly” when her door was sticky. (Truth be known the door is currently broken off altogether, which I guess in shower terms is the equivalent of standing at a bus stop in your underwear.) But I think overall, I have been appreciative of all she has done for me and feel I don’t really deserve to be in this hot water.
I guess there’s always an upside. Even to a dribbly, vengeful shower.
As I received my daily scalding this morning, I realised that I was far less agitated and uncomfortable than I was a month ago. The skin that I have leftover is now quite used to the extremes. It’s like I have now acquired the skill of putting up with a really useless shower. A skill that I am sure I will be able to put to good use on camping trips and visits to Flag Inns.
I also have a heightened appreciation for what the old girl used to be like. (We have a locum booked in to come and take a look at her, and anticipate she’ll be back to her old self in no time.) When she once again provides us with that warm and generous stream, I know that I’ll be far more appreciative of what I have, because of the experience.
I have been reminded of a few things. That a warm shower is a privilege not a right. And that there are countless people on this planet who can only dream of standing under a continuous stream of fresh water. Moreover, that I can stand in a shower of water for 10 minutes and survive comfortably without letting a single drop of it pass through my lips.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Coming Soon
Coming soon to Wordfluke ... Greg Norman : "Is anyone surprised" as well as my take on QT's killer WW2 flick Inglorious Barstools... as well as some thoughts on the coming NBA season.
Grand Final Letdown
Further to my previous post, the ghosts of double blue greatness failed to materialise at all as Centrals were all over Sturt to win the 09 Grand Final by 38 points. I am not sure what Jack thought he was doing... Baggie didn't get a kick, the Jumbo failed to get a single tap out, and Michael Graham was just plain slow. On top of all that the current group of lads just couldn't seem to adjust to the pace of the game with Central's forwards really just doing as they pleased. We made a bit of a game of it late on, but as much as I hate to admit it, Centrals were worthy winners. (Did I just say that?) Oh well, as they say, maybe next year.
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