There has been quite a bit of reframing in my life lately. It’s overdue. For a few months things were hanging in the balance a bit: now, finally, I’m sensing a coming together of disparate pieces of my life.

One thing I’ve noticed, though, is that the temporary measures I put in place as a holding pattern eventually lulled me into a false sense of structure. There was no commitment, nothing was at stake. I settled quite happily into this lifestyle-of-the-present. Things were calm, tidy. It suited me.

My future came and got me. It’s here. And it’s full to bursting with commitment, and stuff at stake, and meaning. It’s full of chaos and laughter and worries and extended unanticipated searches for Mister Froggy. More cuddles than I’ve had for a pretty long time. A profound sense of privilege.

It’s been three weeks since my future arrived. I think I’m beginning to get the hang of it.

In this process of renovation I’ve had to take a wrecking ball to the frame of the life I’d thrown together. And good riddance: it was a flimsy thing and totally unsustainable. It would have blown over in a stiff wind anyway.

But tearing things down is always hard, even when it’s to build something better.

ρ

]]> http://www.rowanmangan.com/2010/reframing/feed/ 0 http://www.rowanmangan.com/2010/before-battery-dies/#utm_source=feed&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=feed http://www.rowanmangan.com/2010/before-battery-dies/#comments Sun, 10 Jan 2010 04:42:58 +0000 Rowan http://www.rowanmangan.com/?p=324

Nothing sharpens the mind like a little blue battery icon slowly draining on the bottom right-hand side of the screen.

It’s a hot day in Melbourne and Sarah, Nicole and I have been expeditioning in Prestonland, stocking our little cottage with supplies for the week.I am planning to cook a bog standard curry; the girls have a Secret Salad up their collective sleeve.

The problem with expeditions too early in the day, of course, is that once they’re over, one feels free of any further obligation to be effective. I’m so lazy that a trip down the (literal) garden path to the hammock seems too much effort.

Today I am grateful for caffeine, ceiling fans, conversations about clairvoyance, and the couch.

Here is a photo of a little guy I miss very much at the moment.

2 mins remaining on battery. Score!

I am going to be making some big changes in my life soon.

The here is going to stay the same, at least for the moment. I’m still in love with Melbourne and the people who inhabit it. The who (me me me me) isn’t going to change in any fundamental way. The how is definitely up for grabs, but the how is never the real point, is it?* Why, that familiar refrain, is way outside the philosophical limits of this blog.

It’s the what, really, that is occupying me at the moment.

What I do immediately after waking up in the morning.

What I think about during the day.

What I do with my hands and my brain.

What fulfills me and what makes me happy in my life.

It just occurred to me that the series of ch-ch-changes to come are well summarised, like most things in life, I find, by some Ani Difranco lyrics:

what what what what what do you want from this lifetime?
how how how how how does your story line flow?
when when when when when you finally get to the punch line
where where where where where will the applause sign go?

And maybe that, right there, is the why.

I don’t think I understood what she was getting at in those lines until right now when the lyrics popped into my head. But this is exactly where it’s at for me at the moment.

It’s all about 2010 here at The Periphery, folks. Let me tell you.

* OK, the how is a bit of a bamboozler. In truth, the how is probably the biggest stumbling block. But it’s not productive to focus on those right now, is it?

Here I am, sillies! I didn’t go anywhere, not really.

What’s been going on? Oh, you know. Life, living and… ok, laziness, if I am to complete the alliteration with some honesty. (I was going to say liposuction, but that would’ve been straying from the truth.)

It’s high time to be writing again, and by golly there are things to say. But I believe in easing oneself back into these things, so for today I’m going to reassure all my loyal, beloved readers that I am indeed alive and in fact in rude health. The universe has been kind to me of late, plots are a-hatching, plans are a-building, it’s Friday night in Preston and the bogans are a-hooning.

Big kiss and a big floppy camp wave to you all. I’m baaa-aaaack!

A tiny photo of my beautiful stepsister Elke and her most precious Pippa Rin Weeks for you to adore:

Elks and Pips

A few days ago, somewhere in Turkey, someone sat down at a computer and, for reasons best known only to them, Googled the phrase “contorted acronym”.

Why?

That data is not available at this time.

To what end?

This one! They ended up here. I don’t know why, and I don’t care. It’s a glowing little experience-nugget and it’s all mine. (You can have a bit if you like, though.)

Postscript. Anyone who can see the relationship between that Google search and this blog gets a gold star.

Here’s my excuse for not honouring NaBloPoMo:

I’m moving to delightful Preston! It’s the new Thornbury, which is, I have it on good authority, the new Northcote! That’s two degrees of separation from the inner city, my friends.

It’s not just me doing the moving, though.

These charming characters will be joining me:

As well as this notorious ne’er-do-well:

Little did we know that we were taking our first family photo way back in April:

Hurray! Flower me with contratulatory comments and offers to lend us your panel van below.

The vibe

I like being aware of the busy tinkle of cups and the emphysemic coffee machine. The staff have that kind of busy high that I remember from working in cafes. It’s a fun energy, a buzz that gives you the ability to remember lots of bits of information while being distracted and chatty and happy. Girl at coffee machine like a many-armed Hindu deity, reaching here, lining up cups, frothing milk there, flirting with the dreadlocky waiter. She’s performing. Makes me feel old.

The view

Sensation

Aftertaste of Hollandaise sauce; uncomfortable contrast with minty nicotine lozenge.

Gospelly R&B playing low enough to hear but not have to listen. Conducive-to-thinking music

Thought feed

Am relieved that my embarrassing text message alert can’t be heard over the buzz of the cafe. Must change that. Always distracted from changing it by the text message it heralds. And so the cycle continues.

Guy at next table reading Herald-Sun. Front page headline ‘CHOPPED UP IN BATH’ disgusts me. Why do I read so many crime novels then?

Rim of table a little uncomfortable on the undersides of my forearms as I type.

Very at ease sitting in the corner. Nothing happening behind me. I learned this technique from spy novels, now part of my personal tradecraft repertoire.

Traffic slow outside – public holiday. Traffic is the name of the cafe I’m in. Also slow. When a tram goes by the whole street shakes a bit, it’s quite an event.

Haven’t had a shower this morning. Slightly scungy skin. Dirty air.

I want to sit here every day like this. Right now.

I’ll tell you one thing about blogging. It might just look like a person sitting calmly in front of a computer, but in actuality it’s a crazy adrenalin wave of death! LITERALLY.

(Oh, ok. Figuratively.)

For the past 12 hours, this blog has consisted of a blank screen with this riddle stretched across it:

Parse error: syntax error, unexpected T_ELSE in… /custom_functions.php on line 39

We were like Bilbo Baggins and Gollum, my computer and I, squatting together in the dark for untold hours, trying to solve each other’s riddles so as not to die.

The good news is that I now know how to fix a problem! Now that it’s fixed, of course, it will never again need fixing. Oh well, I’ve learned how to figure out how to solve a problem, and that skill will almost certainly come in handy. (Here’s a hint: ask someone smarter than you.)

I’ve had a number of these crises of late, and they do tend to be helpful in the long run. I broke the site because I was trying to fix something. Having unbroken the site, the thing has also come out fixed. And I became a blog tinker!

Other plans have been swept away by these events, and I’ve already bungled NaBloPoMo by virtue of having no blog on which daily to post.

Anyway, there was definitely a good learning curve built into last night’s crazy adrenalin wave of death. And with that confusing metaphor comes, I guess, the moral of the story.

Just read a spectacular open letter to the ‘old people who run the world’ by Umair Haque. I bloomin loved it. Do yourselves a favour, people. Will write more about it later.

~ R

‘You always admire what you really don’t understand.’

- Blaise Pascal