Anaptyxis

Driven to boredom by the big news networks (CNN and BBC), I have lately resorted to watching Sky News.  This is not because Sky News is an improvement, but rather because it was the only one left that didn't annoy me with its either screaming-aint-news-sexy CNN-style delivery or mumbling-half-asleep BBC-style delivery.  And I can't work out what the NZ newsreaders (sorry, "journalists") are trying to say.

But, alas, my patience has been pushed to the point where, as of today, all my news will be from the print media (although this, too, is trying my patience - a blog is likely to follow in time), and fellow bloggers who have a higher tolerance level than me.

My first warning to Sky News came when I stopped watching the sports news on the basis that the accents of the sports news readers was uncultured and grating.  They all come across as brash, cocky, arrogant and, in urgent need of elocution lessons.

My second warning came after I started noticing glaring spelling errors in the pop up info, and in the annoying little news ticker tape thingy at the bottom of the screen that keeps distracting my attention.  Initially, my good nature gave them the benefit of the doubt and I simply assumed it was fast-typing errors (but a spell check doesn't take long).  Sadly, I was misled.  The errors were, in fact, due to a lack of literacy.  Noticeable frequent errors include (correct spelling in parentheses in case anyone from Sky News is reading this): creul (cruel), Indain (Indian), Minster (Minister), alot (a lot), thankyou (thank you), occassion (occasion), liquify (liquefy), wierd (weird), and, the final straw for me, Feburary (February).

Today, I gave up Sky News for good following several versions of anaptyxis.   For those readers now wondering why I have given up on Sky News because of an apparent allergic reaction, anaptyxis is the incorrect insertion of a vowel to break up a troublesome consonant cluster, as in the common mispronunciation "mis-chee-vee-us" (mischievous is correctly pronounced "mis-che-vus").

Anaptyxising has its place, of course.  In French, for example, Parc des Princes (a big stadium in Paris) as is pronounced par-kuh-des-princes.  And the Japanese borrowings of English words often involve anaptyxis, such as "hottu doggu" for hot dog, and "Macadonalado" for McDonald's.

But, and here's the key, French and Japanese are not English.

I have been patient with Sky News, but, to date, I have collected nine examples of anaptyxis.  Enough is enough.  The following words must forevermore be pronounced correctly in my presence:

WORD	RECOMMENDED	CARELESS
athlete	athlete	ath-e-leet
burglar	bergler	berg-a-lar
battling	batling	bat-e-ling
disastrous	dizastrus	disaster-us
film	film	fillim
grievous	greevus	gree-vee-us
lightning	lite-ning	li-ten-ing
remembrance	remembrance	re-member-ance
umbrella	umbrela	um-bere-la

 
And, while I'm on this rant, where did the word "hospitalised" come from?  Am I correct in understanding that a footballer was turned into a hospital after breaking his ankle?

Spam me kangaroo down, sport

Nearly six months ago, I entered a brave new blogging world, through something called "the Internet", that was apparently invented by Al Gore.

I was a bit apprehensive at first.  I knew my otherwise intelligent mind  wasnt being fully utilised as a stay at home mum, and there were so many things I needed to rant about to take my mind off a difficult personal life.

But then I realised that blogs can also be used as a force for good.  One particular blog commenter stands out.  Unfortunately his voice has been somewhat stifled from appearing in my blogs by my obsessiveness with keeping out spammers, but here is a selfless person who deserves some recognition.

Enter Gary Green, a councillor from Rockdale, NSW.  I could tell you more about him, but I think it's better if he tells you himself.

Councillor Gary Green has lived in the City of Rockdale for the past 15 years and is a successful businessman in the field of Self Development.

Councillor Green is a Peak Performance Coach and 5th Dan Taekwondo Master (MAIA) with formal qualifications in Performance Psychology (ACAP), Technical Analysis (ATAA), Clinical Hypnotherapy (NSWSHS), Coaching (ASC), Workplace Training/Assessment (ISA), Retail Management (ISA), Ego State Therapy (Mac.), and a University Masters Degree in Counselling (Psych. UWS). 

He teaches Taekwondo classes at Narwee and was selected to represent Australia in the sport.  Councillor Green is also a Clinical Member/Supervisor with the Australian Counselling Association, Clinical Member of the Counsellors and Psychotherapist Association, Full Member of the NSW Counselling Association, and long term member of the New South Wales Justices' Association.  Councillor Green's hobbies include hang-gliding, playing piano/keyboard, anaerobic/aerobic training and ongoing study.

I'm not going to say anything critical about this because Gary knows taekwondo.

But I will say this: it is clear that, when he's not hang-gliding or playing the keyboards or anaerobic/aerobic training, Gary spends all his time helping others.  Who is there to help Gary?

I am.

I am touched that I can help Gary by letting him spam my blogs.  No need to thank me, Gary.  I care for your wellbeing and am so pleased to be able to help you.

Appeasing Hindu Guilt

These last few days have been one of the most enlightening I have ever experienced.  

One month ago, my father was negotiating working for longer (he's almost 70), and I was selling stuff so that we could pay the first lot of legal fees, on top of standard living expenses.  The next lot of legal fees (hopefully the last of it) is due soon - at the same time as school fees, stationery fees, kindy donations, the need to buy work clothes for me, and ongoing living expenses.  But the pressure of money is definitely relieved enormously with your show of kindness, whether financial or emotional.  There does reach a point where I wonder if I have thanked people enough already, but then I lapse into old habits of feeling so grateful, that nothing I say or do is enough to satisfy me.

One of the emotions I have been battling with is the curse of Hindu Guilt, which I have referred to in the past, and which is, I believe, superior to Catholic Guilt (yes, it is a competition).  This is particularly problematic and puzzling for me because I am not actually Hindu.  My parents are, but not me.  I don't know why I am feeling so guilty through all this.  Perhaps it's the thought that, even though I have no issue with the provision of welfare for short term emergencies, I never expected I would need to be a recipient of the hard earned tax money of others.  Or perhaps it's the knowledge that there is probably someone out there worse off than me who hasn't benefited from the kindness of others because they didn't happen to have a blog that happened to be read by generous people.  Regardless of the reasons, I've spent a large amount of my time trying to work out how I can appease this peculiar sensation of guilt.

Guilt is as inescapable as death and taxes. If you have a conscience, you have guilt. The feeling of guilt or remorse is exclusive to humans. No other animal has this. Dogs may look guilty, but that’s just dread when they’ve done something they know will upset you. The dog has no trouble sleeping at night.

Perhaps my term “Hindu guilt” is code for mocking the workings of a healthy conscience.    As close friends and family reminded me when I was bemoaning this to them, I have helped people out enormously when their luck has deserted them (I even moved my life to the USA on one particular occasion), or when they just needed a friend.  I volunteer most of my spare time to various charities (mainly the kindy).  And I have realised that I am as embarrassed at receiving gratitude as I am at giving it!

I am getting a lot of comfort knowing that what goes around comes around.

Seeing life from a new perspective

One day I will eventually stop gushing my effusive gratitude to you. Thanks to Lindsay, I'm starting to see things through a new perspective. I'm loving these lightbulb moments. Thank you AGAIN!

The kindness of bloggers

I wasn't going to look at the computer tonight, having spent much of the day shifting far too many cubic meters of rocks in the hot sun.  Exacerbated by the stress of having to reverse a trailer.

I did actually draft, in my head, a blog that ranted on the impossibility of reversing a trailer.

But, when I decided to type out the frustrated, trailer-reversing diatribe, I stumbled across an email, then a blog by Lindsay Mitchell, and all trailer-reversing thoughts detached from the proverbial tow bar.

My last blog was a form of stress release, where I detailed the humiliation of finding myself in a position where I need short term financial help.  I know I will get a job soon, and that job will be well over the minimum wage - well over.  But this doesn't help me in the short term.

I never intended that blog to be a cry for donations.  It was only intended to be a rant about the unfairness of the welfare system.

So, imagine my utter surprise when I read that other bloggers have followed Lindsay's call to financially help humble little (well, kind of little) me, and have so generously offered to help me cover my shortfall.  It's hard to know what to say, or how to articulate the depth of my astonishment and, more importantly, my gratitude.

I suspect part of my problem at not being able to just take the money and be gracious at the same time is Hindu guilt.  Catholic guilt seems feeble in comparison.  Not that it's a competition.  Or perhaps it is.

I've always been taught that there is always (probably) someone worse off than me.  This is undoubtedly true.  And I hope that I too can help them in the same way that people - in my case, complete strangers, only united by blogs - have been so kind to me.

I know today's blogging event provides an important lesson to me, but I am ashamed that this lesson hasn't yet broken through the shock of the kind gestures.  When it does, I will definitely be blogging the revelation.

In the meantime, I must remember that while I may feel utterly lost, depressed and alone after a number of humiliating experiences, the reality is far different.  I have my good health, my loving family, my beautiful children, my non-judgmental friends, and a community of the kindest bloggers anyone could wish for.

For the first time in a long long long time, I have a feeling I will be sleeping a little better tonight.  And smiling a little more for my children tomorrow.

Thank you.  I love you all, and I will wait for the day when I can either repay your kindness, or shout you a drink (which is also a kind gesture, I suppose!).

What more can I sell?

It's now just over three months since my marriage/family breakup.  In that time, the kids' father and I have worked out a so-far successful 50/50 arrangement, the kids seem happier, the old house has sold (for a crap price, but sold is sold), I'm settled into my childhood home again, one child has started school, one is now at a new kindy, and one is now sleeping happily in two houses.

But I need money to make ends meet.  Although my parents aren't complaining about having to support me again, I feel enormous guilt that I am being a financial burden to people who have worked so hard for so many years and are having to spend their hard-earned retirement money in this way.  I am actively looking for work, and have a few promising options looming, but it doesn't resolve my short term financial crisis.  The ex is being belligerent, and to fight for any support from him, no matter how short term, ironically involves spending money on legal fees to obtain.  A rock and hard place sandwich.

So, on the urging on well-meaning friends, I took a deep breath, swallowed my already damaged pride, and went to a WINZ office.

"What have I got to lose," I tried to justify to myself.  "I've already sold my confidence, self esteem, security, stability, family cohesiveness.  Might as well sell my dignity while I'm at it.  Wonder how long it will be before I'm in a position to buy some depression?"

Up until my recent, life-changing events, I was critical of the welfare state.  I refused to accept most arguments for its existence, beyond a degree of assistance to help those in short term strife.

But, for me, it was not to be.  Having completely surrendered my dignity by walking into a bloody WINZ office, I was then humiliated.  Forgot that was free.

It seems I should have no trouble finding a job (yes, I know that, but it doesn't solve my problems until I GET that job), and that maybe I should rethink my decision to break up the marriage.  Is there, by any change, I can try and resolve the issues with my ex?  Because there are apparently people out there who need financial assistance more than me.

Perhaps being open about my situation was my very downfall.  Perhaps I should have lied about my background and my education and my past career.  Perhaps I should have stayed in an abusive marriage.  Perhaps I should have said that I intend to not look for a job, that I intend to reproduce wantonly, and that I intend to stay on a benefit forever.

Would that have made me a more worthy recipient?

Do they honestly think I actually wanted to walk into their office in the first place?

Hell, I was even prepared to consider paying it back once I got a job.

Instead, I am now essentially begging, and relying on the goodness of friends and family to help me pay the shortfall through interest free loans.  The new lifestyle is hardly hedonistic.  I no longer use the car, there are no luxury items on the grocery list, and the biggest treat for the kids last week was a $1 DVD borrowed from the library.  I am baking most things for the lunchboxes, and the kids haven't had new clothes since Christmas.  Any clothing and shoes for the kids is coming from friends, The Warehouse sales, and op shops.  This is life on the cheap.

The reality is what I am seeking to make ends meet is only around $75-100 per week.  This is considerably less than what I have contributed to the NZ government coffers in my working life so far.  As a crude calculation, I estimate that I have contributed the government has stolen from me about $346,500 in taxes alone.

But I don't get any short term help, even though my intentions are good.  And yet I am expected to continue my contributions.

Where is the incentive to work?

Shark Unionists and the food chain

My teeth gnash when Shark Unionists try to challenge something that is patently true.  These are the people who will tell you that sharks don't mean to kill people. That sharks are misunderstood because they were abused as kids (no doubt because their parents were bloody sharks).  Or they are just curious.  Or they are just defending themselves from deadly boogie boards.  Or that sharks actually use their teeth as hands.

A state government in Australia even got in on the pro-shark PR, relaunching the grey nurse sharks as the "labradors of the ocean".  Awwwww.  Let's scratch the tummy of the cute grey nurse shark, now.

Let's take a closer look at these assertions.

1.  The shark's intentions
We all know that the best intentions can go astray.  The problem with a well-meaning white pointer is that one of your limbs is likely to go astray as well.  I am making an assumption here that you are unlikely to care whether it was an accident or not when you're one leg short or a biped in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.



2.  The somewhat mystical contention that "sharks use their teeth as hands".
Clearly, in this instance, the sharks have hired their lawyer through Legal Aid.  What sadistic, murderous animal uses its teeth as hands?

3.  The shark is just curious.
There is the often raised argument that sharks do not seek to eat humans, because they don't really like how we taste.  This only adds insult to injury.  And, if it is true, bearing in mind that everything a shark eats is washed down with pints of salty sea water, surely anything would just taste like spam anyway?

4.  "Labradors of the Ocean"
The worst risk I have ever faced with my past labradors has been chewed slippers.  My limbs generally remained resolutely unchewed.


Sharks have happily, uncomplainingly, binged on surfboards, old boots, and helicopters (see the documentary Jaws 4: The Revenge).  We are not referring to fussy eaters.  You won't find a great white popping into The Fat Duck to ask Hester Blumenthal for a touch more wild thyme jus.


The shark is evilness itself.  There is no love in the shark's eyes.  Why is it necessary to excuse the violent behaviour of the shark?  Perhaps the pain and shock of losing a beloved limb results in delusional statements from the recent amputee.  Having never fed myself to a shark, I cannot relate.  But this does not distract from the fact that their statements are irresponsible and not very helpful.  The solution is to send the Shark Unionists into the sea first, thus ensuring the sharks are not hungry when we have to go for a swim later.