audentes fortuna iuvat

The weekend brought a number of surprises, last weekend was planned to be chock full of goodness and both of those on top of my new job mean that I have been a BAD BLOGGER. I really haven't had anything much that interesting to say for a while.

Trust me, stuffs going on, and not just personally.I

am completely bent out of shape over the new cross media ownership laws, I am just about to slip into insulin shock from being inundated with images of this seasons moppet – Bindy Irwin, I am hawkishly watching the medias feeding frenzy of Jonestown and I am completely enraptured by my new ipod and phone – the last ones having died in a freak accident that did not, in any way, involve a racing car or a sting ray.

But tonight as a quicky I am going to tell you about a gift I was given over the weekend.

My weekends surprise visitor saw my sadly broken snow globe the last time he was here. I have not thrown it out because it still means a great deal to me, both for the memories it carries and because it represent a city I adore, full of people I love.

It's a symbol, and while I dont believe that the universe is planning anything, I do recognise that symbols are important. They give focus to our dreams and aspirations.

So this someone arrived out of the blue on Saturday, completely making my weekend – and in-spite of the fact their presence was absolutely enough, they brought me a gift. Nothing expensive mind, but something very precious none the less.

A San Francisco snow globe from their own collection†, and ts actually even better than the original that broke.

So how do I interpret that. Certainly its a very kind and thoughtful gift, but it feels like it carries a message, that there are good things around the corner. I am going to say thins cautiously, but I feel that I am on the rise.

Meanwhile the writhing black goddess of pop music has sent me some cheering Euro-pop to match my mood and lift my spirits even further.

Anna Sahlene with "This Woman". I have been Evangelisting all day.

250lbs of bearded man in a suit and tie walking like a supermodel, dancing like a 12 year old girl and grinning like an idiot – something to see, let me tell you.

Check it out at the iTunes Music Store if you like the sound of it.

† Yes, he collects snow globes too, which seems an unlikely coincidence.

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I am a deeply spontaneous person, there is often little distance for me between thought and action. Sometimes I feel like a primal set of instincts and drives loosely linked together by an overwhelming curiosity, a slightly dazed sense of humor and flawless fashion sense.

One of the ways this spontaneity shows itself is that I really like surprising people. I like to see people happy and that look of unexpected joy is incredibly satisfying.

If I was going to be brutally honest with myself, one of the reasons I like doing it so much is that I like receiving those sorts of surprises myself. Traditionally though I have dated very reserved types and as a result its been kind of low on the spontaneity/surprise factor. Being fair a certain blond did actually manage a few beauts over the years, which to this day still made me very happy to remember.

I will always treasure the memory of the sight of him standing in the reception of my work, his head nearly completely hidden by one of the biggest bunches of flowers I have ever seen, his radiant smile beaming through the bunch and surrounded by a group of my jealously steaming female co-workers. He knew I had been very busy at work, and under a lot of pressure, so on his day off he just decided to do something nice.

It certainly worked, I was walking on air at work for about a week afterwards.

Then there was the failed surprise birthday party. Failed because San Franciscans generally cant keep their big yaps shut and they kept on telling me how much they were looking forward to the party. I managed to keep my knowledge from him for a couple of weeks before someone finally blew it in front of us both. A valiant effort.

But these acts of spontaneity were few and far between, and almost always awkwardly delivered. But somehow more precious for that.

This sort of awkwardness has been a feature of the men that I have dated. They have tended to the serious, careful and measured. Probably a good balance for my own somewhat fast moving, impulse driven and, dare I say, mercurial nature. 

I must admit that now I look for a larger level of spontaneity in the people I have in my life. And that means the men I date, if its dating that I am doing. I like surprises as much as I like surprising, its makes life interesting and gives it oomph – as my mother would say. Having other peoples views and drives in my life gives it texture I just couldn't provide on my own. I like being taken out of my head to places I would not have thought of going on my own.

I have a vivid memory of a post breakup period, many years ago now, when I went to the video library. Standing there trying to decide what to watch I burst into tears because I knew all of the choices I could make would be mine – there was no longer another person to show me new things, there was no chance of a surprise. In the end I think I watched "How to make an American Quilt" – an appropriately tear jerking choice to match my mood of the time.

This desire for other peoples view points, to hear things I didn't know, to experience things I wouldn't have thought of myself remains a recurring theme in my relationships – lovers and friends. I guess thats why my friends are so eclectic. And why my partners have been very different to me in temperament. 

Some people are spontaneous and some just aren't I suspect, and I wonder how much of that is learn-able. Certainly I would have a bugger of a time if I were to try and stop myself being spontaneous. I tried to do that, to curb my enthusiasm, for the last two years and it drove me nuts. I feel much more relaxed now that I am letting myself engage in a some random acts of kindness, and gratuitously random behaviour.

As much as I would like to date someone who is wild and adventurous, I wonder how much I can have of that and still be with someone who stimulates me with a different view of the world. Certainly it seems futile to expect someone to change how they approach the world, to expect someone measured and careful to be wild and crazy.

Its that perennial question, can you have it all?

What I am sure of is that an occasional bunch of flowers and a radiant, little boy smile won my heart and made me happy in ways that still I have trouble articulating. 

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bur·geon v

1. To put forth new buds, leaves, or greenery; sprout.
2. To begin to grow or blossom.
3.  To grow and flourish.

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So if you want to know something about my country?

This ad should give you a picture.

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My new thing is an afternoon bowl of two minute noodles to get me on my way to the gym. A little carb hit for some energy.

I havent brought my own bowl into my new job yet so I scrounged one from the cupboards.

So what do you think I went with? The nasty plasticy, bad faux chinese pattern picnic bowl, or intesting square service?

The might be two minute noodles, and it really doesnt matter WHAT they are served in, they still taste the same, but a girl does like a bit of flash if its available.

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One of the ways I used to describe myself was that my friends were very eclectic – gay and straight, young and older, male and female, gym toned and not. Since living in San Francisco I have not been so lucky, or perhaps I should say sensible. San Fran is a very gay male dominated society and it was easy to slip into a demographic groove. I have to thank Gina, Erica, Joel and Sam for providing me with some diversity and sanity.

Since getting back to Australia I have been living very quietly and so my social circle has been pretty limited – something I am currently working on changing although to be fair in 2005 my best friend was a 60 something year old woman. In meeting folks and socializing I am being pretty actively aware of keep my demographics a bit broader than San Fran. God knows I don't want to end up like someone I know* who only associates with muscular gay men over 220lbs.

I conducted a small mental audit this morning, regarding what I am reading and what I am exposing myself to. This was inspired by a couple of articles I read in the newspaper that I really didn't agree with. I found that I enjoyed the experience of disagreeing; it opened my mind and got me out of myself. It broadened my horizons.

I have never really felt the need to agree with everyone around me – not in a disagreeable bastard kind of way, rather because I enjoy the interplay that conversation. I think I get this from my father, Alan, who would argue about two flies crawling up the wall if there was some entertainment to be had from it. And he was a funny man, so there was usually some entertainment to be had.

Disagreement to me is not a sign of lack of respect, or a reason to avoid association. It doesn't mean that you are at odds with the other person, or that there needs to be animosity. And even though I am quite able to get heated about issues, that heat doesn't affect my respect or care for the other person. In fact I am more respecting of someone who has opinions, say what they mean and make a case for it.

I like having my preconceptions challenged and my expectations of the world shaken about a little. And I like having people around me who are up to that challenge.

This morning's experience started me thinking about my blog reading – and embarrassingly they are largely left leaning, technosavy white gay boys, which really means I am kind of eating in my own intellectual dog food.

Tasty as that can be, I really feel I need some diversity of diet, so I put this challenge to the 70 or so (and climbing) daily visitors to Brave Creatures – comment on this post and give me some ideologically disparate blogs to read, expand my horizons.

Lets see what we come up with.

* that's know, not like – definitely not a friend

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Its Sunday night and I was standing in my living room doing my ironing for the week. Yes, I know. Don't faint. All of this talent etc. and he can keep a house as well. Shocking I know. 

I should be clear, my skills are not all encompassing.

• Cooking, very much so
• Dishes, not if I cooked for you. That's not fair 
• Ironing, grudgingly but well
• Laundry, no problem. I even weaned myself of tumbler dryer dependence
• Cleaning. This is my failing. I am NOT a good cleaner I am afraid.
• Domestic coordination, I am a rock star. Give me a project and stand back
• Gardening, disinterested

That little domestic revelation aside, I was watching 60 minutes while I pressed my business shirts and before they aired a shockingly obsequious interview with J'Ho (John Howard, Prime Ministerial side kick to the US President) they showed a segment about You Tube and in particular how it is providing a launch platform for talent that would otherwise not have access to public awareness.

The segment was in the usual self serious, breathless, surprised tone usually reserved for talking to people with little contact with technology about its many wonders BUT it did have some interesting content – which was a bit of a surprise really.

They showed a Sydney Band – Sick Puppies – who by posting a clip on You Tube 3 weeks ago shot themselves from unknown to well on the road to success.

I don't feel the need to jump on 60 Minutes bandwagon for content, heaven forbid, but the track, All the same ,  and the film clip really are BLOODY good. I am not a big one for guitar rock, but there is something ab out this track that is moving for me. And the film clip is simple and really clever, all the more because its showing a real person in Sydney. Watch it an you will see what I mean.

And if you want a copy of the track (I did) you can get it at the iTunes Music store.

Enjoy 

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In a very English and Londonesq fashion, there are some surprisingly non commercial buildings tucked into the CBD in Melbourne.

This old church is a few doors down from where I work and on a hot day like today it was delight to stop in its groups for 15 minutes at lunchtime to enjoy the cool shade the trees provide.

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For an old show pony, its funny that I dont go to see much in the way of Theatre at the moment. But on Saturday night I got an opportunity to remedy that a little. A chance encounter at Sleaze with an old mate, Steph, and I was off to see the world premiere of "Priscilla Queen of the Desert, the stage musical".

Let me clarify something right now, I didnt dress up, but it did occur to me.

I will cut to the chase, the show is clever and funny, its well worth going to see. It very much follows the film, while still managing to inject its own spectacle and humour so even though I know the film back to front I still find myself very absorbed in the show.

The performances are great, all of he leads do a good job, treading a fine line between simply recreating the screen performances and breathing new life into the characters. In some ways I actually felt warmer about Bernadette on stage than on screen.

One of the stand out successes for the show is unsurprsingly the costomes. Tim Chappel and Lizzy Gardneer have been reunited and their respective strengths shine though, both incredibly creative and excellently executed. All of the production numbers come alive a sparkle in ways that even the film didnt manage.

All up its a tremendous show. If your travels take you to Sydney, stop off at the tack-o-rama Star City Casino and get back in touch with your FemNine side with a night with our old friend, Priscilla.

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con‧science n
1. the inner sense of what is right or wrong in one's conduct or motives, impelling one toward right action: to follow the dictates of conscience.
2. the complex of ethical and moral principles that controls or inhibits the actions or thoughts of an individual.
3. an inhibiting sense of what is prudent: I'd eat another piece of pie but my conscience would bother me.
4. conscientiousness.
5. Obsolete. consciousness; self-knowledge.
6. Obsolete. strict and reverential observance.

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