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Musing on Sydney's news
23 September 2003
Modern life
Every now and then columnists (even amateur columnists) need to step back from the big picture and muse on more personal things. Sadly, for you, this is one such time.
I had the idea for this piece tonight while walking back from the local corner store after buying the packet of cigarettes I was certainly/definitely/absolutely not going to buy. The shopkeeper tried to put my change down my cleavage. I wasn't as pissed off as I'd normally be in the face of such repulsive chaivinism because I'm too distraught about the fact that my two week hiatus from the 9 to 5 treadmill will be over after tomorrow. *sob!*
Earlier in the afternoon I got my car back from the local garage after a routine service, only to find that my brakes were on the way out. The bill was $695, adding to my misery (cue to bring out the violins).
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Last week I shelled out $350 on a digital camera, thinking I'd finally put my finances in order. However, I'd neglected to buy a power pack with rechargeable batteries to go with it. I went back into the city today, since on the weekend I'd taken just 6 shots before the "battery low" signal came up. Another $30. I also bought a USB hub ($22) so I could download the pictures, since my computer has only one port and I don't want to fiddle around the back of my computer playing with cables every time I download pictures. And I'll have to download often because the camera's card is only 8MB. Still I have the option to upgrade (over $100) so I don't have to download every time I've taken 8 shots. I took some photos of my family's geriatric dachshund cross, who suffers from a heart murmur; I'd like some decent shots of her before she passes away. The poor thing keeps keeling over. Three times in the last two weeks I've had to deliver CPR and mouth-to-snout resuscitation to bring her back. Hopefully, I'm doing her a favour. |
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Given all these costs, I felt it was time to fill in the endless Medicare and private health fund forms to claim back the medical expenses I've incurred over the last few months. I sent out a bill to my private fund 6 months ago ($350) from which I'd hoped to claim some money. It's disappeared into the ether. I didn't keep a copy so them's the breaks.
I still haven't done my tax. My eyes glazed over as I grappled with the 128-page Tax Pack, which is what spurred me to buy cigarettes.
President Bush is now telling the European countries that they must spend millions of dollars and send their troops to thie possible doom in Iraq to help fix up the mess he made. Imagine if I went and messed up my neighbour's yard even though everyone told me not to, and then later told those same people that they had to help me clean up.
It was reported on the news that Johnny Never Ever and Alexander the Downer agree with Dubbya. Apparently that's news. I noticed that the sun came up again this morning. Maybe they should report that too.
I hear that cane toads are just a season away from invading Darwin. Just as well the Federal Government has devoted an inspiring $250,000 a year into containing them (which would pay for one research scientist, one technical officer and lab space with a microscope and tea-making facilities). I'm sure the toads will be quaking in their webbed boots.
Whatever, none of it matters 'cos the semi-finals are on when our modern gladiators take turns to give their mums heart palpitations. I'm sure it's all very exciting and will help us ignore all the nasty, serious stuff for a while. Give them beer and circuses ...
It's stiflingly hot at the moment as I type - quaffing the remains of some red wine left behind two weeks ago by some amoral creep who was only capable of thinking with his little head - and it's just early spring. Hopefully this summer will be the first in three years that hasn't brought us bushfire mayhem. Yesterday's temperature broke some record or another, which doesn't auger well. Co-incidentally, yesterday a massive Arctic ice shelf just broke up. It's happened in recent years in the Antarctic too. Of course it's inconclusive as to whether it's global warming or not. I guess the pollution layer over the planet is just there for show.
I bought some Acidophilus tabs today to counter all the antibiotics I have had of late for recurring UTIs (yes, I know, too much information). I just cut the tags from lots of my clothing that have been driving me mad (apparently this is a typical ADHD thing).
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Now I'm sitting amongst a squalid mess otherwise known as my rented flat, typing this self-indulgent whinge to delay the inevitable Moment of Truth where I have to extract my finger from a dark, unknown place and actually do something about it. No wonder I keep losing everything. Just before going on holidays I even lost some certificate I'd been awarded from the Law Society (try being stuck in Parliament House for 4 hours with a bunch of lawyers and tell me you'd come away sober and with faculties intact). Dad's disappointed because he wanted to show it off to his tennis mates, perhaps to let them know I'm good for something. |
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I need a secretary. I need wife. I should have been a dyke! Or maybe I should have become a Jehovah's Witness like my sister. She seems to lead an orderly life, even if she now believes the universe is 10,000 years old. I think of all the Supermums out there, who tend their swollen broods whilst holding down high-powered jobs and still manage to keep their houses immaculate. I feel utterly inadequate.
My fridge is full of spilt Hoi Sin Sauce that's glued my crisper drawer in place. The freezer has an ice shelf that could just about resurrect the melting glaciers problem. The cockroaches are out of control. Hardly any of my shoes fit because of my weird phantom 6th toe and I'm getting bunions. I should book to see a podiatrist. And the endochrinologist. I should get hypnotherapy for my smoking. And see dematologist to cut that cyst out of my back. And at my age I should be having biennial mammograms.
Oh, and I just remembered that I need to go back to the doctor's for another script for my medication. No, not antidepressants, they'll probably all be sold to the 3,000 plus Commonwealth bank workers who've just been sacked while the CEO receives a $174,000 rise, taking his annual salary to over 2.5 million. Doncha just love the way they lead from the front?
I can't find any decent places from whom I can buy framing kits. It doesn't matter how sophisticated my search terms are, more and more often I can't seem to isolate what I want from the 3 billion plus pages indexed by Google, and when I do find something that could be useful it's usually some site that wants you to pay subscription fees or register your email address so they can sell it to spammers.
You see, no-one's going to bother with my digital art until I have it framed properly (and unlikely even then). I can't afford the small fortune it costs to have them framed by a pro, and then I'll price my artwork beyond its market. It doesn't matter, it's probably not good enough anyway.
Never mind, I have a neat book idea, but I'm afraid to get into it for fear of creating a godforsaken mess that I'll later have to fight through to extract the pearls from the swine.
I need more space on my computer. Eight gigs of hard drive space is sooo 20th century, and my processor is too slow to handle my Photshop files.
I should get broadband so people can ring me.
I should get a better mobile phone with all the new tricks.
I should get a palmtop to organise myself.
I should get a fridge that's younger than I am.
And a mattress that isn't shaped like a "U".
I should live in a right wing area that doesn't have planes roar overhead so close you can see every detail of their undercarriages because the conservatives changed the flight route to save their own contituencies.
And I should leave the &^%$#!! public service and find a job that requires ideas and inspiration rather than regularity and consistency. But once you're over 40 no-one wants you, even if you know 100 times more about computer use than people half your age. Maybe I should get a hair colour and a facelift.
I'd love to retire and have more time to pursue my creative passions but the way the political landscape is shifting, with the ageing population and impending changes to retirement age, I probably won't be eligible for that till I'm 80. Not to mention the small fact that I haven't any money, bugger all super (who can trust the funds to survive long-term?) and no property (who can afford anything more than a dog kennel in Bourke?).
Maybe I should go back to uni and do psych or something that doesn't discriminate against deemed geriatrics? Trouble is, I couldn't afford the HECS.
Still, the fact is that I am incredibly lucky.
I'm not one of the thousands of sheep trapped in oven-like temperatures, floating from Middle East port to Middle East port, stuck in faeces 30cm deep.
Nor am I a monkey strapped in under a restaurant table in China, having the top of my head chopped off and my brains scooped out and eaten while I breathe my last.
Or an Iraqi with no working utilities and a swathe of dead or maimed relatives.
Or an African woman who's had her clitoris chopped out and forced to put dust into my vagina because the men they hope to marry are disgusted by normal vaginal fluids.
Nor do I have AIDS, cancer, heart disease or Altzeimers (touch wood). I may be a whinger but I know how lucky I am.
At least I own a car to give me grief with repair bills.
I'm blessed to have a home to mess up and be assaulted by low flying jets.
I'm one of the 1% of people in the world who owns a computer, even if it needs upgrading.
I'm lucky to have a family that doesn't give me grief and who have a dog who's at least enjoyed 14 years of being adored.
Unlike many in this vale of tears I earn enough money to actually be in a position to struggle with the War & Peace Tax Pack. And I can afford my doctor's appointments and medications, even though bulk billing's gone the way of the dodo. I even have a convenient corner shop, and the small fact that its proprietor is a pervert is neither here nor there.
I'm even lucky enough not to have a husband who beats me up or keeps me awake with snoring or gambles away the family finances or pushes me into being even vaguely domestic or tells me to "get off that bloody computer" - or begs for "relief" when I have a headache or would rather be doing something else (like sleeping).
Make no mistake, modern life is confusing, frustrating, intrusive, and riddled with hypocrisy, injustice, cruelty, ignorance, short-sightedness and spam.
Just like it was back in the good old days, I expect ...
This site and all material on it is copyright © Grea Korting 2003