Advice Part 79- Only children

My childhood was what you could best describe as "pretty average." My family lived in suburbia, and the highlight of excitement in my pre-teen life was when I graduated to the status of Official Trolley Pusher when my parents did their Saturday afternoon shop (variation from the Saturday afternoon routine was NOT permitted- that would have been too radical).

Ho hum.

But my family differed from the "domestic idyll" in one important way.

I am an only child.

My advice to young players is that, contrary to popular belief, only children ARE NOT a different species. They may in fact be perfectly normal human beings, who don't appreciate having ridiculous questions asked of them.

How do I know this? Read on......

It was only when I started primary school that I became aware that I was a bit unusual, in that I didn't have any siblings. I was that dreaded being..... the only child. And, to make matters worse, I was the only only child in my grade. Consequently, whenever the teachers or parents wanted to trumpet stereotypes of only children, I was always on the receiving end.

Here are just a few of the select comments which have been directed my way.....

• "Oh, you must have been so sad and lonely because you had no one to play with. That's why you're so quiet!" (Well, no. I wasn't actually sad or lonely. And I think my genetics may also partially explain why I'm quiet....)
• "Wouldn't you like brothers and sisters?" (Short answer-no)
• "You always want to get your own way. Typical only child." (I think I would want to get my own way REGARDLESS of whether I have siblings or not!!!!)
• "You must have been so spoilt!" (Err, no.)
• "Your parents must have put so much pressure on you to achieve" (Well, thank you for that analysis of my parents' psychology. But to be honest, they really don't care what I do)
• and my personal favourites: "Why didn't your parents have more kids?" (You know what? I really haven't asked my parents about their sex life. If you want to know more, why don't YOU go and inquire?)
• "Do you only want one child?" (Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I don't want children at all- (shock, horror!). But whatever I choose, that's MY BUSINESS, not yours!)

Usually, I just smiled and made some banal comment. But what on earth is the deal here? I don't have any brothers and sisters so GET OVER IT! And don't try and analyse my character on the basis of my lack of siblings.

And yes, that was spoken like a true selfish, spoilt, opinionated only child!

Advice Part 78- Peanut butter trouble

Through long and arduous years of careful and well-thought out research, I have reached the following conclusion- I have what could best be described as "a bit of a problem" with peanut butter.

Or, more precisely, I have an addiction so bad that even writing this post is causing the craving centre of my brain to go into peanut butter hunting overdrive.

My advice to young players is that if you have an addiction similar to mine, it is of UTMOST importance to ensure that anyone who you are sharing a house with is aware of your issue. Otherwise, domestic disharmony is bound to ensue.

How do I know this? Read on....

A few years ago, at the ripe old age of 26, I finally took wing from the parental nest, and moved into a house in Annandale. I was sharing with a lady who I'll refer to as Scarlett, who worked part-time in a record store.

In the interests of appearing sane, I decided to withhold from Scarlett that whilst I can resist chocolate, cheese, potato chips, and other guilty pleasure foods, I am POWERLESS when faced with the lure of a nice fresh jar of peanut butter, just waiting to be devoured with a spoon.

MMMMMM!!!!!!

Scarlett also liked peanut butter. But not as much as me. She kept a little jar in the fridge (mad, I know), and would sporadically enjoy a spread on toast.

This almost killed me.

So, one day (and I'm not proud of this, might I just add), I decided to "have a little taste" of the contents of the jar. And, needless to say, the ENTIRE JAR soon disappeared down the proverbial plughole.

Oh. Dear.

Realising that I'd stuffed up big time, I made a dash to the shop, where I hastily purchased a replacement jar for the fridge. But as the original jar was half empty, I had to eat half of the replacement jar, too, in order to ensure that my bad food stealing behaviour went unnoticed.

I thought I had done pretty well with the job.

But obviously not well enough, as Scarlett IMMEDIATELY spotted the ruse. Apparently, the surface of the peanut butter was really smooth, showing it had been eaten with a spoon, rather than roughly stirred up, as it would have been if the consumer (I use the word intentionally) had used a knife.

Caught.

I was absolutely mortified, and resolved NEVER to touch her peanut butter again. Which was easier said than done, let me assure you.

But I think that if I ever have to share a house again, I am going to stipulate that any potential co-tenants be allergic to peanuts.....

Advice Part 77- Public speaking, and how to survive it

Well. Someone has been decidedly lazy of late with updating their blog. What is the cause of this, you may ask? Is it because I have been gallivanting around exciting lands, without a care in the world? Have I been swept up in exhilarating romance, such that my brain has lost its ability to construct a coherent sentence?

Unfortunately not. I haven't been on holidays for over a year (unless you count four days in Blackheath over Christmas-and I don't). And my exhilarating romance is significantly less exhilarating after the "broken washing machine door incident".

But let's not dwell on that (much as I'd like to.....)

So, at the request of my greatest and most loyal reader (and, most probably, my ONLY reader- Hello Mum!), I have decided to return once more unto the breach, dear friends.......

                                                                                                                                 

As those of you who know me would attest, I am not exactly the most outgoing individual on earth. That's putting it mildly. Whilst I have improved my social skills somewhat in recent years (such that people no longer tend to flee when I approach- aah, the fun of high school!), I am still not what you would deem "the life of the party."

Ho. Ho.

However, my advice to young players is that no matter how reluctant you are, there is a pretty good chance that someday, you are going to be asked to do some public speaking. In such a situation, it is best to take some preliminary steps to ensure that any damage to your self-esteem (and audience) is minimised.

How do I know this? Read on......

A few weeks ago, I was asked if I would give a lecture on research ethics. As my CV is looking a bit bereft in the teaching section, I figured this would be a good idea. I assumed that there'd be 20 or so first year students present, and they wouldn't know a lot about the subject.

Oh, my naivete! There were OVER 150 people in the subject and they were all MASTERS students. Plus, most disturbingly, they were described by a colleague as "very engaged and knowledgeable."

What the HELL had I let myself in for? Stupid, STUPID me.

Somehow, I miraculously survived the lecture (and its attendant horrors). Though I still don't know how. And in the spirit of magnanimity, I have the following advice to offer any potential public speakers:

• Tempting as it may be, bailing at the last minute IS NOT an appropriate technique. Neither is going to the pub for a shot of "Dutch courage". This can ONLY end badly;

• If you've using a computer for your presentation, and are taking your file on a USB stick, make sure you've removed ALL embarrassing files/folders from the stick, as, in your pre-lecture panic, you may open the USB in "display and project" mode, and reveal the ENTIRE contents of your drive to the audience. This can be quite embarrassing if your drive is full of Peter Gabriel sound files. Clearly labelled as such.
• Put in lots and lots and lots of pictures. And videos. And anything which will distract the audience from looking at you;

• If you're like me, and sweat profusely, make sure you wear clothes which don't show sweat stains. THIS IS SO IMPORTANT! Black is good; white is good. Grey is REALLY, REALLY bad, and grey marle is the absolute worst;

• If people get up and leave halfway through the lecture, don't take it as a personal affront. It's only when they start to leave IN DROVES that you should start to worry. 
• And if they fall asleep, that's never an encouraging sign;
• Don't let them see that you're petrified. Students can smell your fear. They'll feed on it. And devour you alive;

• Question time is a risky endeavour, as you are leaving yourself open to looking VERY, VERY SILLY. Only to be attempted by those at the "expert" level.

And if all this fails, comfort yourself with the fact that I am probably much, MUCH worse at this than you!

Advice Part 76- Defacing library books

Being something of a (quasi-) intellectual, I have had frequent recourse over the years to take advantage of the services offered by the local book lending repository (i.e. the library).

However, my advice to young players is that whilst borrowing books is all well and good, it is prudent to avoid scribbling missives over said tomes unless you can be assured that you won't be caught.

How do I know this? Read on.

A few years ago, when I had ALMOST finished writing my PhD, my supervisor suggested that I might like to include a discussion of The Moral Problem by Michael Smith. I had been studiously avoiding this book because, let's be honest, it's not exactly scintillating stuff (and with that sentence, I have probably bid farewell to ANY future philosophy career). But off I trotted to the university library, only to discover that the sole copy had been borrowed.

Bugger.

Still, no biggie. I put in a "return request", whereby the "other borrower" was asked to bring the book back in a week, and waited.

But no sooner had I borrowed it, than I received a return request, asking me to return it.

So I took it back. And immediately lodged another return request.

A week later, the book arrived. But (you guessed it), the mysterious "other borrower" asked for it back immediately.

This continued a few more times, until I started to get annoyed. SERIOUSLY annoyed. I mean, WHO was wanting the book? And who needed it more than ME?! Didn't EVERYONE know I was handing in my PhD in 2 MONTHS?! I mean....

• It was uni holidays, so no undergrad students needed it for their essays;
• No other post-grad students were writing on meta-ethics;
• Any staff members would likely already own a copy;
• It was over 10 years old, so it was not exactly a "new release";
• And it was hardly the sort of stuff someone would borrow for "light reading"

So, I decided to take matters into my own hand, and leave the "other borrower" a little message....

On the title page, IN PENCIL (Note! Easily erased!), I wrote....

"To whoever keeps repeatedly recalling this book, I'm beginning to find it a little tiresome. I NEED TO READ IT FOR MY PHD! Which is due in 2 MONTHS! Why do YOU need it? I'm sick of running back and forward to the library because you keep recalling the book. STOP IT!"

I deposited the book in the return chute, feeling very pleased with myself.

But two days later, I received an email from the library, saying that "another library user" (the confounded "other borrower", I bet!) had discovered that I had written "rude and offensive messages" in The Moral Problem, and had "taken great personal affront" to the nature of my missive.

Despite self-righteously complaining that it was all the library's fault for not having enough copies of the book, I was asked to go in and erase all the markings in the loathed tome (which was TOTALLY USELESS anyway), or buy them a new copy.

So in I went, and sat there rubbing out my "filthy message" under the watchful eye of the library staff. Life had REALLY hit a new low.

To this day, I still haven't discovered who the supergrass "other borrower" was. But I certainly have my suspicions! If anyone has any further information, I can assure you, it will be treated with the utmost confidentiality.....

Advice Part 75- Skateboarding for the uninitiated

One of the good things about being in a relationship is that often the other person will introduce you to new things that you would NEVER have known about otherwise (and just to preempt the obligatory remark, that IS NOT meant to be a sexual reference!!!)

However, my advice to young players is that it is all very well taking an interest in your partner's hobbies, but that there is a limit to how far this should go....

How do I know this? Read on......

My boyfriend, Ricardo, is, err, "somewhat different" to me, and we tend to attract some rather bemused glances when we venture down the street together, because I look ridiculously conservative, and he is the TOTAL opposite. And, not surprisingly, we have pretty diverse interests.....Whilst I enjoy reading, yoga and going for walks, Ricardo likes punk music, horror films, and skateboarding.

Good-o. Nothing wrong with that.

But in the first flush of "new relationship-dom", I decided that I should try and be "supportive" of Ricardo's hobbies. And so I resolved to learn a bit more about skateboarding.....

• I began by watching clips of skaters Ricardo recommended, such as Richie Jackson (check out the hair! And the clothes!)

• I then progressed to sussing out some skating "mags" at the shop.

• I also began reading about the different brands of skate gear, and the best teams 

• Then I started looking at skating internet forums to try and learn some more about the "culture" (interesting fact- there's a guy who's writing his PhD on skating!) and the "lingo" (who's for an ollie or kick flip?)

All was going well. And then Ricardo suggested that perhaps I'd "like a go" at riding his board.

With my two weeks of knowledge under my belt, I thought that I was qualified for the task. After all, I'd watched LOTS of videos. And I'd seen Ricardo coasting along with significant ease and panache. OK, so I knew I wasn't going to be Dean Palmer on my first attempt (note flagrant name dropping....). But how hard could it be?

Answer- VERY hard. It pains me to say it, but I couldn't even stand on the board.

I had erroneously assumed that like a bike, the skateboard would stay still whilst I got on. But given the fact that the wheels were smooth and shiny, it kept sliding away from me as I tried harder and harder to get my feet onto the confounded contraption. The more I tried, the worse it got, and eventually, Ricardo suggested that perhaps I should give the skating "a rest" for a while.

I needed little convincing, I can assure you.

But I do have almost two weeks holidays over Christmas, which will perhaps give me sufficient time to master the act of standing on the board.....

But I'm not holding my breath for a professional deal anytime soon.....

Advice Part 74- Exercise "fashion"

My favourite form of exercise (ho ho, what a joke- that implies that I actually like more than one) is walking. Some of the many advantages of perambulating as a means of fitness are that it's free, easy, doesn't require expensive equipment, and can be done whenever YOU wish.

Perfect.

But my advice to young players is that if you are thinking about partaking in a spot of walking, you should be aware that some individuals in the exercise fraternity take their sartorial choices VERY seriously.....

How do I know this? Read on.....

When I head out for a stroll, I like to wear clothes which are COMFY and easy to wash (given that I have an unhappy propensity to sweat more than the proverbial pig). Consequently, my walking "outfit" consists of....

• An old T-shirt I was given for free when volunteering at the Sydney Writers' Festival in 2011. Said T-shirt is BRIGHT ORANGE, with Volunteer emblazoned across the back, and a picture of a typewriter on the front

• A pair of saggy, baggy black shorts which are now a rather disturbing shade of grey (pun intended)
• An ancient bra which has lost most of its elasticity
• Some runners which smell so bad that I can't keep them in the house
• A brown straw hat, with a huge sweat stain across the brim
• Some sunglasses that I bought on sale five years ago. Amusingly, said sunnies are now favoured by hipsters for their "ironic cool." But they were decidedly NOT cool when I bought them.

Needless to say, thus attired, I usually exercise early in the morning or at night when people can't really see me.

Everything was fine and dandy (another pun! I'm ON FIRE today!) until recently, when I became aware of a bit of movement in the exercise world, and an increased focus on "looking good" whilst working out. Now I see people walking past in....

• MATCHING T-shirts and shorts, generally from some exclusive boutique
• Expensive "compression tights". Sure, these might be helpful if you're competing in the Olympics or a professional sportsperson, but I'm seriously doubtful that they're going to improve the performance of somebody strolling along the footpath
• Shoes designed by Stella McCartney or similar
• Impeccably coiffed hair 
• Ridiculously pricey designer brand sunnies
• Full face make up (ladies only so far, but I'd be quite interested to see a similarly painted gentleman)

Sure, it's great to be proud of your appearance, but I honestly don't understand why someone would bother getting all dressed up for a bit of a dander around the park. I actually find it quite liberating to KNOW that I look shocking, but not care. But I think I'm probably in the minority here.

Still, if anyone has any old T-shirts they are too embarrassed to wear any more, and want to give them to me, I might be tempted to expand my walking (NOT walk-in) wardrobe......

Advice Part 73- Fickle affections

For the past few years (let's not go into exactly how long, suffice to say, it's been a LONG time), I have been single. This has meant that I have spent many a dismal Saturday night staying at home, watching rubbish on TV, and eating ice-cream straight out of the carton.

Good times.

But recently, a miracle transpired. I met a gentleman (who actually LIKES ME!), and this heralded a welcome change in my relationship status.

Whoo hoo!

However, my advice to young players is that whilst it's all well and good to meet someone, it is best to exercise considerable caution lest they become the target of another woman's affections.

Particularly if the other woman is fickle, furry and feline.

How do I know this? Read on.....

Having departed the realm of Eternal Singledom, and managed to sustain a relationship for a few weeks (!!!!), I decided to invite my boyfriend (let's call him Ricardo) over to my house for dinner (and please, no comments about "dessert"- nudge, nudge, wink, wink....).

I was somewhat nervous about introducing Ricardo to my cat, Polly, who tends to be a bit of a relationship barometer. When she met one of my exes, she took one look and ran straight under my bed, where she stayed for the rest of the afternoon. She had the opposite reaction to another ex, refusing to let him out of her sight, and hissing threateningly whenever he approached.

Whilst loath to get all "new agey", I think Polly must have picked up some weird vibes from my exes. Both of them turned out to be BIG mistakes.

Consequently, this time, I resolved to pay more attention to my cat's reaction.

At the appointed hour, Ricardo arrived at my house, and I nervously presented him to Polly. Would she run? Attack? Hiss? Snarl?

Answer- none of the above. Because Polly promptly decided that she liked Ricardo.

This was all well and good, but in the subsequent weeks, I've started to realise that she seems to like HIM more than she likes ME. 

• She RUNS to the door when she hears him knocking (and let me attest, Polly NEVER runs!)
• She meows constantly at him, wanting to be patted. 
• She follows him around, to the extent of parking herself outside the toilet door when he goes in. 
• And when he leaves, she sits where he's been sitting so she can pick up his scent.

Whilst I was glad Polly "approved", I seem to have been usurped in my cat's affections.

And this is something I DON'T like. At the risk of sounding petty and petulant- I was there first!

All I can say is, I really hope Ricardo and I don't break up anytime soon, as I don't know how to cope with a heartbroken cat.