Wishing facebook wasn't so damned useful

I'm writing this today after reading a blog posted by a friend on facebook titled "Five Things to Know about the new Facebook". This was after I'd woken up, showered, powered up my computer, read my emails, perused the facebook timeline, checked my progress in my current favourite facebook game, and then eaten breakfast.

Facebook's crept up on me. It's become more significant ... without me noticing how much of my life now revolves around it. I even have one friendship I value highly with a person I've only actually met once - based on our interactions through facebook. I'm not on facebook all hours of the day, but it's certainly become more than just a way of keeping up with friends.

So when I read Sharon Vaknin's blog this morning about the changes to facebook, I felt a distinct disquiet.

Why? Well, the changes to our profiles are what concern me most. I quote from Vaknin's article:

Your profile begins with a large photo at the top. Below that is your general information, a status update box, and then a timeline of your activities. You'll see photos of you, status updates, life events (like a new job), and activity from any apps you're using (like Nike+, FarmVille, or Foodspotting.) Unlike the previous interface, your friends will now be able to look back on your past activity, all the way to the moment you joined Facebook.

I don't like the thought that thoughts I've had in the past - perhaps some years ago, now! - can be found by someone and may be taken as indicative of my current beliefs. I don't like the fact that information from apps I'm using will be displayed. Yes, I understand that I can change the privacy settings of apps so "Only Me" will see my activity; and I understand that, as Viknin says, I can go back and delete any old comments. But should I have to?

I particularly feel for friends who have posted comments, pictures or video while drunk or otherwise, shall we say, "incapacitated". What seems fun and even status-enhancing at 17 or 18 becomes embarrassing and potentially damaging just a few years later.

Am I a Luddite? Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply object to the fact that a medium I assumed had an element of time-boundedness turns out, instead, to have a more eternal quality.

I'm certainly going to be even more cautious about what I post on facebook, going to keep an eagle eye on my privacy settings, and make sure I'm kept up to date with these and other changes.

Turning Forty

I turned forty on the first of September, and was happy to do so.

The celebrations ended up being spread over some days; it was a veritable birthday festival! On the day, I enjoyed a special "high tea" with one of my sisters and my newest niece, and a lovely night out with my husband. We had lunch with my stepsons two days later, and I'd already caught up with my parents when they'd visited some weeks earlier. Oh - and I ran my first half marathon.

"Hold on a minute," regular readers may wonder, "weren't you training for the Melbourne half marathon event on the ninth of October?" Yes, I was; but when I went to register, two days before my birthday, it was completely booked out. So I decided to do the run on my birthday. After all, it's a much better story! "I ran my first half marathon on my fortieth birthday ..."

You can't Google the event, and it didn't appear in any newspapers; it was my own personal half marathon, run in two loops - north and south - with a hydration pit stop at home halfway through. I had such fun doing that run! The day itself hadn't been ideal preparation: a high-calorie, luxury morning tea with my sister, and the obligatory few hours spent in Melbourne traffic. But I was well-rested, well-trained, and despite experiencing the expected challenges of running a half ("I am in so much pain!" "I want to throw up!" "I want to GIVE UP!") I ran with a huge grin on my face. I entered serious "running zen state" during the seventeenth kilometre: I heard my GPS announce I'd completed the sixteenth, started playing Vivaldi in my head, and before I knew it I'd reached the seventeen kilometre mark. It was all pretty easy from there, except for a brief panicked moment when I was about to turn into my street, looked at my GPS and thought I had to find an extra kilometre to run. I was wrong; in my fatigue, I'd mis-read the numbers.

Everyone wants to know how I feel about turning forty. I feel great about it! There's a real sense of my life opening up; I'm fitter than I've ever been, stronger, and more resilient. My professional life is opening up, likewise my academic presence (I'm presenting my first conference paper next weekend). I believe that the next ten years are going to be among the best, most productive and happiest of my life - so far!

It's a Bach Day

Well, actually, it's also an "I'm sick, I'm tired, and I can't wait for this week to be over - but hooray for Friday!" day.

But, after a couple of months of a very limited musical diet - exclusively Vivaldi for some weeks, Nina Simone singing "Feeling Good" for my fortieth birthday, then Boy & Bear's version of "Fall At Your Feet", which ticks all the boxes for a superb cover - I've replenished the pile of burnies in the car, and am treating my ears to old friends.

Bach's violin concertos have taught me so much about life. Sometimes a piece of music will grab my attention and yell at me until it's taught me what I need to know. (Yes, I am speaking metaphorically; no need to consult a psychiatrist about possible diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia just yet.) It can be an entire piece, or movement - for example, the first movement of Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D (Op. 35), or just a few bars. Those few bars in the third movement of Bach's Double Concerto (BWV 1043) where the music changes from being, if you like, "horizontal" to "vertical" (melodic to chordal) helped me understand that our personalities are not set in stone, but have the capacity to change over time.

Another Bach violin concerto perfectly illustrated an intense moment in my life. It was a few days before I left Adelaide, and I was driving away from my last conversation with my therapist. We had done some excellent work together, so I was rejoicing in the happiness of time spent talking, and the satisfaction of things achieved, but also felt a deep sadness that my professional relationship with him was over. I got into the car and turned on the CD. It was halfway through the second movement of Bach's Concerto for Two Violins in C minor (BWV 1060): the falling cadences and sustained notes matched my melancholy mood. Then, the third movement started; energetic, upbeat, relisient, persistent - all qualities my therapist had identified and fostered within me! If only I were still able to believe in a god, I would have considered this as something "meant to be", or perhaps some sort of cosmic joke - but there is no joke without a joker, and sadly, I can't. Still, it was one of those times when an apparently random musical moment melds perfectly with one's life experience.

Bach also reveals me to myself. The third movement of the Violin Concerto in A Minor (BWV 1041), with that beautifully persistent repeated solo note which holds its own against the pressure of the changing keys and cadences beneath it, reflect my capacity to live a successful life alongside my depression and anxiety. I do bounce back, I do press on, and at the very least - even on days like today when I am weakened by fatigue and infection - I do endure.

So: today is a Bach day. It is a day of reflection; of assessing where I'm at; of recognising my strengths, and acknowledging my capacity to survive - and even thrive!

Finally, I heard Pekka Kuusisto (with Iiro Rantala) perform some superb Finnish jazz trios earlier this year (you can read about the concert here). Pekka remarked, almost in passing, that Bach was the master of improvisation. This gave me a whole new way of being able to listen to his music. Try it! Listen to a piece you know really, really well - I'd suggest BWV 1043 or 1041 as excellent examples  - and imagine hearing them in terms of improvisation. This has given me a lot of joy, and I hope it will bring you joy today, too.

... and she's back!

Finally! Back to feeling something like normal after almost a fortnight of being laid low by a pesky virus. About time!

So, now that I've re-entered life happily virus-free, what's been happening?

Naturally, the first consideration was getting back into running. Yesterday I managed a 20 minute jog (just). To put this in context, this is the workout I do the day after a long run, to warm up my muscles before a really good stretch - certainly not anything taxing! And nothing like the long run I generally do on a Sunday. But my legs felt like jelly and my heart rate was high ... nothing dangerous, though. I hadn't rushed back too early, which was good. Today I managed a 25 minute run at faster pace; tonight I have tired muscles, but again, all manageable.

Going on the old "3 time rule", seeing as I missed 12 days of training, it may take about a month to return to previous form. Ah well: that's what a bad virus will do to you.

It feels good to be planning my days around running again! Said it once, will say it again: about time.

Haven't blogged for a while, so have some catching up to do.

Here's a pic taken while stopped at traffic lights recently:

If it's necessary to label your indicators, you've got too much text on your truck!

And another, taken today:



Hyacinths and daffodils seen in Kew - beautiful!

I've finally achieved the post-viral burst of energy I've been hanging out for. Plans for the next few days include sewing, writing, catching up with friends near and far - and catching up with reading, which I was unable to concentrate on lately.

Yippee!

Anatomy of my Illness

It's official. I feel like the toenail scrapings of a particularly filthy troll, am convinced that this hell-virus will be the end of me, and have abandoned all hope of ever enjoying the blissful benefits of simply feeling well again. Had I any energy, I'd be preparing a running sheet for my funeral. But I cannot summon even that paltry effort ... I am doomed.

Melodrama? Moi?!

However, having sunk right down into the depths of viral illness these, I've had a chance to reflect on the stages I went through in reaching this point.

Stage One: Might I be coming down with something?
Feeling a little blue ... body temperature fluctuating ... is that a tickle in my throat? Quick, grab a megadose of Vitamin C, down plenty of water, and make sure you don't have a late night. Don't worry, you'll fight this off, you always do! An early evening, plenty of sleep, and you'll be just fine.

Stage Two: I'm not feeling too flash
No need to panic; I had an early night, but my throat is really sore and my head hurts. Um ... I know, aspirin. Aspirin always does the trick. Aspirin, orange juice with breakfast, more Vitamin C, and I'd better check that my first student's immune system is OK, don't want to pass on this little bug. Oh, and I'll cancel today's run - no need to stress this poor little body any further right now.

Stage Three: Time to start taking this seriously
I have no energy, I can't swallow, I'm having aural hallucinations and my temperature's a degree higher than usual. Perhaps I'd better stay home today. Still no reason not to attend that concert tomorrow night.

Stage Four: Oh dear
Fever. The cancellation of long-anticipated events. I've missed a concert, writer's group and haven't even been able to kiss my husband on his birthday. Misery. Will I ever recover? No. I can't imagine feeling any different to this ghastliness ... perhaps I'd better get my affairs in order. Damn, I haven't even got the energy to do that. They'll just have to sort it all out when I'm gone. How many times have I read this sentence? I can't remember. I'll just try to sleep again ... but my throat hurts so much ... how many hours until my next dose of Codis?

And now, let's switch to anticipatory mode ...

I believe that I will eventually reach:

Stage Five: Post-Viral
Yippee!  The world is wonderful again! I have so much energy! I can do anything. Put the brakes on, sweetheart, don't go wild - you're in recovery mode! But doesn't this feel WONDERFUL?

Yep, I'll get there. Maybe even tomorrow morning! Now, where'd I put that Codis ... wonderful stuff ... if you can find it ...

If I do survive this, I'm going to Beaumaris again:

I'm Sick, and sick of it

Sick.

Miserable.

Yesterday was "sick enough to enjoy the benefits without feeling debilitated" but today am feeling, as the children's book says, "Just Awful".

For the next hour, I will exist as a dormant sphere of misery, shrouded in doona and replenishing my strength.

Then I will get up and do something positive!

Finding Beauty in Melbourne

It's been 19 weeks and 2 days since I moved to Melbourne, and while I still miss Adelaide very much, I continue to focus on finding beauty and good things in my new home.

Here are my Top Four Joyful Discoveries of the last few weeks:

4. Wilson Botanic Gardens
OK, I know I've mentioned this beautiful open space numerous times in previous postings, but these gardens really are worth a trip out to Berwick. Some of the trees are a little confused at present with the apparent change of season - who isn't? - but the variety of plantings, walks and sculptures make this a "must see" in the south eastern suburbs. Enjoy a cup of tea down Berwick's main street afterwards, with its convenient centre parking - a space always seems to open up, just when you need one!

3. South Melbourne Markets
Wow! Great food, yummy cakes, and the shop where I found the purple dress I've been sporting with joy the last couple of weeks. Might almost qualify as "a smaller version of Adelaide Central Markets". (Almost.)

2. Driving East along the Monash at Sunset
My husband and I did this on Saturday afternoon. I was driving and first noted the quality of the light reflected off the bridges, sound barriers and roadside vegetation; then Peter looked back and saw the stratified sunset behind us. I think the urban planners did a great job planting along the Monash, and seeing the various gardens bathed in rose-gold light was a real treat.

1. The Beach at Beaumaris
Admittedly, I saw this during lunchtime last Friday when the sun was shining strong and the temperature was warm - so I've probably seen it in its best possible light, for this time of year. However, new to this city as I am, I never realized there were beaches like this within Melbourne. I'd been to South Melbourne and St Kilda, where footpaths are separated from sand by cement pathways, but here there are strips of trees ... and sandstone cliffs to the south! I went home in rapture.

This picture is looking south; I only had the camera on my mobile phone with me, which was unable to do justice to the cliffs from afar.

Being in a new city isn't just about making new friends, it's about finding or creating a sense of 'home' in the midst of a new geography. For me, finding places or things I can connect with emotionally is a big part of this process. The search continues!