RIP Michael Jackson

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I have woken up to the confirmed news that the King of Pop is dead. I spotted a Facebook status update just before bed that read 'RIP Michael Jackson music genius' and quickly clicked on a newspaper website on my toolbar. I felt a couple of seconds of tense hope, the same as when I had heard Heath Ledger and Steve Irwin had died but had not yet read about it. Alas, it had yet to be confirmed, but it wasn't looking good and now it's no good at all. There's something shoddy and disconcerting about hearing of someone's death over the Internet, even compared to say radio or TV news or in the newspaper, as was the case, for me, with the deaths of Freddie Mercury, Princess Diana, Kurt Cobain and Michael Hutchence. I don't like it.

I feel sad for Jacko's family and loved ones - death is banal - and a little regretful that he didn't have his massive come-back. That said, I have to say that I did lose the thread with him somewhat. He was such a huge part of my childhood lounge room dance competitions and adolescent parties and conversations, but as an 'adult', coinciding with his increasingly evident mental and physical sickness, I have felt more vague frustration, confusion and pity towards him, than any active loyalty. Kate found this more recent video, which reminded me once more of MJ's awesome talent and brilliance. I am sure I will get the tunes out this weekend and feel more and more grateful towards him. It's hard for me to feel that while reading online articles. Maybe that's just me.

Anyway (mind quickly moves to other things), it's raining outside. I have to finish off some work today (I am nearly there!), before a weekend of squishing thesis work around a College ball, garden party and pancake breakfast. Obnoxious. Most Oxford students I know get far more work done out of term time than in. Term officially ended last week, but there's always frivolity week after term ends (and another the week before it resumes). Not my fault. Oxford traditions. I hope you have a lovely weekend, including some time to bust out an MJ classic.

Calling on All Academics

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Fellow academics and friends, I need your help.

Late last week, I was out at dinner when someone, who shall only be known as 'businessman', asked me the question I have been asked since the first few months of starting my thesis, 'What are you going to do next?' I tried to explain my academic plans, pointing out that it was hard for me to be as concrete as I would like because I am not entirely sure myself and that, given the nature of the work, the next years may well be spent in different positions and at different universities, but that all depended on whether I wanted to focus on teaching or research. I also tried to make it light-hearted, saying with as warm a smile as I could muster: 'You will definitely be one of the first people who knows all this when I know.'

But the conversation became very tense. Businessman made these sorts of comments (acccompanied by irritated facial expressions): 'If I were you, I would just change careers'; 'Academics have to spend so long applying for jobs when you are already so qualified, and then you have to beg for research grants and write articles for free'; 'I am used to people being paid well for what they do'; and 'I say all this because I am just wondering how you are going to pay for food and a roof over your head.' There were many other little chestnuts, which I am sure you can substitute with your own versions.

Unfortunately, at the time, I was already feeling bothered by the stupidly-generous supply of chilli in my pasta, heavy red wine, and the muggy, overcrowded Italian restaurant. I had also felt my day's takings (or word count) had been pretty lame. In short, I had taken a small amount of emotional baggage to dinner (just carry-on, nothing too fancy). Hot cheeked and troubled, a much as I wanted to, this all meant I simply couldn't articulate a grand defence of the academic enterprise.

Plus, so many themes filled my mind at once: the nature and role of a liberal education; the joys, and, indeed, necessities of intellectual freedom; the connection between thought and action in human history; the teaching and research functions of a university - universities teach doctors and support scientists (if not medieval history, then surely the health argument would work!); academics and businesspeople are driven by different motivations and interests, but both tend to value autonomy and solving problems; the prevalence of scientific, policy-based research at universities etc; universities and the private sector work more and more in partnerships anyway - the distinction was no longer as rigid (not without some negative consequences); universities have had a vocational function longer than a liberal education one.

There was just so much going on at once, including a great need to burp. These were points serve slightly different arguments and use various units of analysis and I didn't know where to begin. Some of the arguments felt hackneyed, others too intensely passionate with a basket of garlic bread in between us. On top of this, I didn't really know whether I should start saying anything to someone who never enjoyed school in the same way I have. Then I was worried I was going to be unfair, to take some of my frustrations and uncertainties about my thesis and future out on him in some twisted adaptation of the Stockholm syndrome. I was also aware that I might say something spectacularly snarky and sound like one of those obnoxious 10 year old whizz kids who shut down adults by pointing out how narrow their vocabularies are compared to theirs. I hate little kids like that. I want to remind them that they are still scared of the dark. I didn't want to leave and realise that rather than have a conversation, I had just been a little snob and, more than likely, somewhat insincere since, as much as I enjoy and appreciate what I do, I don't feel completely starry-eyed about the academic life (almost...but not quite!). I think I blurted (or burped) out something about how terribly stunted and boring the world would be if everyone wanted to be a businessperson. But I still didn't actually say much about academia itself.

To be fair to myself, it's also incredibly difficult to find the space to make careful arguments with someone who is scowling at you like you're a wastrel, and it's not always impressive, let alone useful, to rely on academic debates (such as the liberal versus vocational versus overlap debate) to someone who doesn't care for them. When someone tells you, essentially, that what you do is nonsensical, rather than cheerfully helping them understand it, it's actually very hard not to start acting like a childish patriot: all emotion, all defensiveness, all indignation. I think I sounded (or at least felt) a bit like one of those painfully dull people in the queue who you overhear telling someone how their home country is better than another.

When I made it home, I turned to my oracle, the magical interweb, to see what had been written about this and whether I could pull out something to send him. I have already read a lot on 'What is a University?' for a course I did, but this literature is written for an academic audience and will not do. I searched everything from 'What is the value or academics'/'academia', 'In defence of academia', 'Academia's role in society' to 'Why business people hate academics' and various combinations. But I have yet to find anything suitable. The closest thing I have found is a list of advantages and disadvantages of an academic career. Some of the items of this list are useful: rewarding and meaningful work, flexibility, being able to write, working with and meeting interesting people etc., but I am still not sure how to explain these things to someone who may not see these things as inherently true, let alone valuable and, of course, there are a whole lot of other things that have to be accounted for: time delays, increasing managerialism, prevalence of 'nutjobs' (as they are called in the lists above) and the prospect of slaving over an article that then has a mere 24 month shelf life. Morever, some of these are more about being an academic, rather than the broader value of academia.

I imagine because I am from a family where going to university was a taken for granted assumption and where the value of academia is tacit, I haven't ever had to master the answer to the question of why I value academia from someone who regards the endeavour as pointless or at least inefficient, indulgent and possibly a little intimidating. Plus, I am not sure how to account for the fact that I rely on the products of non-academic entrepreneurialism (presuming it can ever be fully separated) all the time. How much integrity do I need to make the arguments for academia? Also, do I need to take the high moral ground? Is academia going the same way as other professions where we simply shoo away tricky questions like these with the answer: 'It's just a job like anything else'? Whoops. I digress. These questions relate to bigger issues. For now, please let me know how you would respond to a routine encounter with businessman or any outsider for that matter being aggressively critical about what academics are and what they do.

The rules are:

1. You have no more than 2 minutes time before outsider will change the subject or wave you off.
2. You can't say something too harsh or arrogant as it will affect other relationships and make you feel bad.
3. You have to see outsider again.
   
4. Internal, esoteric arguments are more or less meaningless to outsider.
5. Outsider's criticisms are not especially well-constructed and may move and remould elsewhere as you proceed. Outsider does not argue in the same way you do.
6. You have tried humour or simply ignoring these comments many times before and would prefer a different approach (but would be willing to try it again if the only option, just need more material or motivation).

Also, if you have any come across or written any pieces of writing on this, please do send me the links.

Thank you and good night.

Eurovision Song Contest 2009

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Final Place, Country (link) & My Live Armchair Comments

01. Norway - Little cutie with a cheeky monkey face singing about how he is in love with a fairytale. Lots of violins and the triangle to create a Mr Sandman, 1950s feel. Will probably win because he is so likeable and the song is fun and cheeseball. Standing ovation.

02. Iceland - Proper early 90s power pop, the singer is wearing a 1970s bridesmaid's dress. Crap lyrics but massive key changes. Will make the top 5.

03. Azerbaijan - A couple in terrible white outfits belting out lines like "Always in my mind, always in my heart", "I believe I am addicted to you. In your eyes, I see dreams coming true." Summer feel - can imagine doing this in a Congo line at a cheap holiday resort. Very catchy. Tad Shakira. Ended with "Always, all the time." Will come in top three.

04. Turkey - Sluzzy bellydance pop. Suspicious use of pretty girl at front and then two oldies helping out with vocals. Heavy reliance on wind machine. Easy tune and effective use of hip drops. Crowd loved it.

05. United Kingdom - Lord Webber at white piano, pretty Jade in floaty dress. As she came down stairs, she was nearly brained by a violinist (who really didn't need to be as determined with his long stroke given that all instrumentals are mimed). Biggest power ballad of night. Perhaps too polished and not fun or interesting enough. Standing ovation. Top five unless UK still not popular on the continent.

06. Estonia - Very pretty girl with blunt, shiny fringe in long elegant dress. Lots of cellos, pain, classical emo pop. One to watch.

07. Greece - Former gymnast jumping around to early 90s club music. Very Ricky Martin - white jeans, white tight t-shirt, lots of chest pops and crude hip action with legs spread out. Beaucoup de pointing at crowd and acting out the words with hand gestures. Same stylist as the Russian winner from last year. Copped some nipple action for my troubles.

08. France - Classic French megastar with timeless beauty and a striking (deep) throatiness at end of each line. I feel like I am back in the mid-90s. Strange choice to end with some free dancing when in a classic LBD.

09. Bosnia & Herzegovina - Military folk song by a boy band in marching band outfits.

10. Armenia - Twins in traditional gothic get-up rhyming a load of one-syllable words. Mixture of folk, cabaret and green strobe lighting. Truly do not know how to interpret. Makes absolutely no sense to me. [Got to say this song made more sense to me this morning when I heard it again. What does this mean? Do I need to get back to Oz for some festival rock?]


* * *

20. Germany - Another little man. What's it with little men singing pop? Tight black shirt, shiny silver pants. Does not look interested at all in the female back-up dancers. Burlesque, gay (showtime) pop. Dita Von Teese appearance. What was she thinking? She is trying to seem icy and untouchable at Eurovision. Not on, Dita.

21. Sweden - Hulk Hogan's sister singing pop opera that sounds like an airline commercial. Female back-up dancers in black suits holding masks covered in cut glass. Mind-boggling.

22. Malta - Disney ballad from a larger lady with a fabulous voice. Straight from the Lion King or Cinderella. Will be a quiet achiever.

23. Lithuania - Angry emo boy tries a bit of Juzzie Timberlake. Ends with a flame coming out of palm of hand - gratuitous. Could be something the Euros are into. Wouldn't be surprised if it does well, although perhaps disadvantage to be on first?

23. Spain - Ballroom dancing pop with a traditional Spanish twist. The lyrics and feel are completely unoriginal and will be swallowed up by other acts. Good night Spain. Take a bow now.

25. Finland - White rapper with baseball cap joins diva to produce some irrelevant club number. Even the fire stick guys in the back looked bored.

The song that caused me the most discomfort:

12. The Ukraine - Celina Dion and Christina Aguilera in the worst sense - Skinny singer with short, shredded red dress, long black boots, legs spread apart, fake boobs, gladiators carrying her around. She took to drums and smashed it up. Early 90s pole-dancing music. Central line in song: "I'm your anti-crisis girl." Saw on live Twitter feeds that people thought she was singing "anti-Christ girl". Truly disturbing. Apparently she mortgaged her house to fund the props. Poor dear.

The song that I was secretly hoping would win:

15. Portugal - Happy times song straight from Harold and Maude sound track and reworked for contemporary crowd. Chubby-cutie singer with super voice. Pretty flowers, colours, accordians and traditional dress (traditional dress or all white the two uniforms of the competition). Happiest band of the night.

Ugly Woman Comes Good

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Just in case I've been misleading you in any way, I am not the best with cutting edge stuff (hence even being a day or two off the pulse with this attempt). But, I thought I'd dip into the current pop TV-YouTube-media controversy which, if you haven't already heard, is Susan Boyle's appearance on Britain's Got Talent.

Susan, a 47 year old, unemployed, Scottish woman who, as she said, lives alone with her cat and has never been kissed, astonished the sniggering Cowell and co. and the hooting crowd with her performance of I Dreamed a Dream from Les Miserables. She brought them to tears and to their feet. She has now become a YouTube celeb with over 11 million hits, and, with Mr and Mrs Kutcher among her fans, the ugly woman has come good.

And now commentators are offering up reasons for this extreme response. Some say it's simply the surprise factor: a rough, frumpy woman with an enchanting voice. Others go a little further to say it is because, through Boyle, we are afforded a rare glimpse of human dignity and grace in a world obssessed with physical beauty and the right packaging. I was just sent an article from The Guardian that, I think, represents a more compelling take on the British (and worldwide) reponse to Boyle. Yes, it's excessive, but it pegs down the gauntlet completely (and the comments are fairly interesting too). Read it.

Peak District Bliss

The boyfriend and I escaped to the Peak District for the weekend. We stayed at Cotesfield Farm, Parlsey Hay, a working farm managed by Andy, a welcoming bloke from Scotland. From our window, we could peek at the dairy cows in the barn. Andy's only advice before we set out to explore the farm was to avoid the bulls who would "not mind if you were dead, like."

On Sunday, we cycled over 20 miles (or just over 32 km) from Parlsey Hay Cycle Hire, where we picked up our fancy mountain bikes (and stood out because we were not wearing any lycra) to Tissington and back again.

How magnificent are the dry stone walls? I cycled for the most part with my face at right-angles; the views were dreamy. This meant riding through many limestone potholes and happily copping mud spray all over my back.

I said to my boyfriend that this is surely England at its most beautiful. He agreed. I asked him where he thought Mr Darcy might have proposed to Elizabeth Bennett, even though I knew in my heart that our bearings were a little off. This kind of romantic absorption reminded me of my mother who is deeply attached to English landscapes (her father having been English) and I recalled how, in my early teens, my dad said, in relation to a converstion about our (Australian) home renovations, something to the effect that my mum still thinks she is "in some English novel where she can go and sit on a large swing set up in a rose garden."


By the time we reached Tissington, we had transformed. We felt as though the wind had blown blocks of stress off our bodies. Everything around us seemed perfectly lovely and I started to think about poetry and vowed to read more of it.

Tissington itself is a very proud, untouched village that has been managed by the FitzHerbert family for over 400 years.



Can you see the sweet little cats in the window? They've been there for 150 years.

Our half-time reward was cream tea in the Old Coach House across from St Mary's Church (built in the early 12th century, heavily restored in the 19th century). There was a bunch of very senior ramblers also enjoying the spot. Good on them, I say.



(We were far too famished to take a pre-scoffing pic.)

The scones gave us enough of a boost to make it back (uphill!) to Parsley Hay, although my boyfriend commented that perhaps I could have done with a low-GI lunch as I became a bit scrappy two-thirds of the way. Of course, once the end was in sight, I began doing mental wheelies and in fact did a skid-style brake outside the hire shop. Happy times.

An Evening in the Big Smoke

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Last night I trundled down to London for the official launch of a report I co-authored. There were many PIPs (pretty important people) and a few VIPs there, both academic and professional. Besides interacting with real people who are gainfully employed, interesting and fairly sociable, the highlight of the evening was after the event when I was given a back stage pass to the oldest and most ornate and theatrical court in the Royal Courts of Justice, the Lord Chief Justice's Court from the perspective of the bench.

Do I sound smug? Not a good start as far as the blog tone goes, particularly for a woman, but I will make sure that you think I am a hapless, harmless little creature by the end so that you still feel like you could have a drink with me so please keep reading.

Being in London dramatised the plain fact that I have clearly been in the Oxford bubble and in the write-up spiral for too long. As I boarded the train, I felt like Maria leaving the convent for the bustle of the Von Trapp household and I sensed that I was utterly provincial asking for directions at the Tube station.

Before I arrived at the launch, I made someone want to cry. That's not really what I set out to achieve each morning (as I brush my teeth) so let me explain. Having crawled out of my student comfort gear, and having made it on the train to the big smoke (which carried people I didn't know. Let's really paint the scene. There were wider factors.), I decided that I would get my hair cut with the hour I had spare. These things can be neglected. I was really looking forward to the hair wash and I don't think that was particularly unreasonable given I was coughing up £50 ("London prices", I said to myself using an old lady's voice and shaking my head).

So I was led to the basin by this young girl with diamond-textured black stockings under cute shorts, who I had tacitly assumed was (a) about 18 and (b) experienced. As soon as I lay back, ready to allow the thesis outline I had been working on that morning to leave my body, she took to my hair in a way that was no less than beastly. She carelessly pulled my hair, especially around the facial line, and grinded her knuckles into my scalp. She banged the shower head into my ear (that had been clanging the whole time as the coily bit had detached - not her fault granted, but it did not help) just as the water turned hot. I turned around and said (with very few barbs in my tone, maybe only a little one), "I am sorry, this is really just not enjoyable for me. I am not enjoying this." She asked her colleague to finish off - a little too quick to give up looking back on it.

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As I lay back into the hands of a spotty boy, I thought "I am not leaving here with any hair. That's it, I've done it." And, you know, I didn't get off too lightly. The hairdresser, as she pulled my hair straight with a brush and hairdryer, told me that I had made the 14 YEAR OLD, WORK EXPERIENCE GIRL want to cry. Once coiffed, I went over and apologised to the young girl for making her feel unfairly criticised. "I am just an uptight student," I said. The hairdresser started talking about how everyone in Oxford must be intense and serious, and so then I tried to prove that I wasn't always so intense and serious, but in my black suit, and with my acute jumpiness, and lack of middle ground small talk, it wasn't an easy sell. In fact, there's pretty much no way you can prove to someone that you're a mellow person. By engaging in the debate, you're already finished. The only way to prove it is to giggle like a child or stare at them with slow-blinking eyes and a fixed half-smile until they look away. I tried to make jokes. No, I should have just given up or better yet demanded that they hurry up and clean my feet in the manner to which I am accustomed in Oxford. My exit was not particularly regal: the classic pull the door, then go to the other (locked) one to push and then go to original to push.

I have heard from many PhD students that towards the end of the slog, your capability for medium-level, respectable chat is lost; that anything irrelevant to your thesis or not complete slosh (like Lily Allen's underwear or an episode in The Wire) is too challenging. It did take me a few conversations at the event to untie my tongue and to sensibly engage. I gradually got it together, had an enjoyable time, and was asked to contribute some of my thesis work, and offered the prospect of a small research job.

Nevertheless, unless there's a very, very good reason, I have decided that I am not going to heavily populated places until I have submitted. It's simply too spooky for everyone involved.


I wrote this post this morning. I have just come back from an academic practice symposium. It was re-energising to share ideas with other students about our academic careers and communities. I have also been left with some good practical guidance for the "next step" (which I may write up as a more generic blog post soon). So maybe I don't actually need to hide away with Mother Superior until I am finished as planned. Perhaps I just need to connect with like-minded people who have had similar experiences until I am ready for that middle ground again.

Six things

photo by niznoz

Was just transmitted a meme by Inktopia. Am now compelled to create a list of six things that make me happy. If you're reading, you're now a host too.

1. Lady parties - the ones where the group hormones are aligned, and there's intellectual, sincere and (at its best) playful conversation between women
   
   
2. Witty, affectionate banter with just about anyone, strangers will do
   
   
3. Middle Eastern (Belly) Dance classes with the zany menopausal lot
   
   
4. "Cracking the Code" or finally working out how to structure academic material that had up til then been right hooking me in the jaw
   
   
5. Reading, walking or picnicking in the park, with my man, friends, the birds, flower and grass smells, distant chatter and squeals, the breeze - the classic combo deal
   
   
6. Come to think of it, I'd trade in 5 to explore somewhere vast, dramatic and preferably watery any day
   

And the Response is?

Chicago Right Now by Anthea Behm

I've just been reading 'The Next President', an editorial in The New York Times (at the expense of the little bastard, sigh...).

Clearly exhilarated, the writer accounts for Obama's victory in the following way:

Showing extraordinary focus and quiet certainty, Mr. Obama swept away one political presumption after another to defeat first Hillary Clinton, who wanted to be president so badly that she lost her bearings, and then John McCain, who forsook his principles for a campaign built on anger and fear.

His triumph was decisive and sweeping, because he saw what is wrong with this country: the utter failure of government to protect its citizens. He offered a government that does not try to solve every problem but will do those things beyond the power of individual citizens: to regulate the economy fairly, keep the air clean and the food safe, ensure that the sick have access to health care, and educate children to compete in a globalized world.

I then read through a few pages of comments, to get a feel for how the people (not on FB, and not from Oxford) are responding to the news. Here is a range of comments:

I must say that this is truly exquisite. The great majority of this country has gathered in shared belief and we have united in our want to progress and look forward to our shared future. This is beautiful.

— Brooklyn Confidential, Brooklyn, NY

It hit me a couple of hours ago that my 7-year old son will grow up thinking that it isn't unusual for a black person to be President. He's aware that this is important and we've talked about why, but he will grow up thinking it's pretty normal. And when the first woman, first Asian, first Jew, first Muslim, or Buddhist, etc. is elected, it will be that much more less amazing for him.

What a great legacy to grow up with. I didn't think I would see this until I was an old woman.

Congratulations Mr. President-Elect--you've given me my faith back.

— RAM, Scottsdale, AZ

Congratulations to all Americans for electing Obama. Like you, Australians also sought change and hope when we elected a new government last year, overwhelmingly throwing out of office John Howard - George W Bush's best mate. Our country is going forward despite these tough times and I'm sure that with the renewed vision of your new government, America will regain it's rightful position of honour and trust throughout the rest of the world. Well Done!

— Sharyn, Western Australia

A big BRAVO for America..you have risen to the level of your pretensions.

Neither being black nor having Hussein for a middle name dettered you from doing the right thing.

OBAMA will be good to the USA; hopefully he will also be good to the rest of the world by leading a non arrogant and non aggressive USA.

BRAVO

— Omar I Nashashibi, Amman/Jordan

“Interconnectedness” and Media Support for the Obama Candidacy

The liberal media served the Obama campaign. The real losers in this election are the American people - not because Obama was elected - but because the media cast aside the once respected profession of journalism to elect Obama. While journalism has leaned to the left for sometime, this election was especially one-sided.

Why was the liberal media so invested in an Obama candidacy?

1. To the family of liberal journalist, America is the rogue state, not Iran, North Korea or Syria. America is the problem. The elite media believes that during the Bush years, our foreign policy was run by a gang of neocons who concocted a lie about WMDs, and abused the concept of preemptive war, to unilaterally attack Iraq. Bush applied “cowboy diplomacy” to bully other nations while the “war on terror” inflamed Islamic and western relations. It is the US that provoked Russia by supporting democracy in Georgia, advancing NATO to Russia’s doorstep and recognizing Kosovo. In addition, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq demonstrated a limit to American power and imperialism. In the brave new world of “interconnectedness”, European diplomacy now leads the community of nations. The elite media fully believes that we have entered the post-American world.

2. The media invested in the election of the first African American in our country‘s history, but Obama’s African heritage was much less important than his liberal agenda (remember Clarence Thomas?). Obama’s policies will transform American capitalism toward European socialism.

The media realized that Obama was a flawed candidate - inexperienced with few accomplishments, and the owner of a rich history of cronyism, bad judgments and questionable associations. Even with an economy headed for recession, financial turmoil, two unpopular wars and a Bush approval rating hovering around 30%, the Obama Presidency was still not assured in conservative America. Too much was at stake in this election to rely on balanced journalism, so our media acted on behalf of Obama - much like a 527 - and relentlessly attacked the Republican nominees (especially Palin). Lower standards of investigative journalism were applied to Obama. When McCain questioned Obama’s Chicago connections, the Obama campaign - backed by the media - shouted racism to protect him.

The liberal media has lost credibility and abused their power. Consider the media’s role as a government watchdog. Will liberal journalist report government abuses as enthusiastically (or at all) for an Obama administration and a democratically controlled Congress as they did during the Bush years?

I sincerely doubt it. The world’s “interconnectedness” is at stake.

— Tom Wonacott, Boise

For The Republicans who feel the loss- don't be afraid- the world is with the USA now.

— J Madison, Sydney Australia

DEAR EDITOR

Congratulations Mr.Barack Obama ! for YOUR LAND SLIDE VICTORY.World has got riddance of the spectre of fear sychosis. A good Samaritan has arrived like a fresh breez to address the global problems like Terrorism and USA centric massive economic recession that is engulfing all nations .May peace and progress dawn and shine!

— jalaramaiah, ONGOLE-(INDIA)

nobama won this election because Americans don't have the stomach to fight islamic terrorism until it is defeated AND because of economic issues traceable to democratic policies around putting people in homes they can't afford.

Irony infinity.

— Adoptive Father, Los Angeles

Our long national nightmare is finally over. Godspeed Mr. Obama.

— Peter B, Massachusetts

I think about President-Elect Obama's work to do in this incredible period of humanity and remember Danny Glover's line in the first 'Lethal Weapon' movie:'This is a tough crowd. Baby, you best not stink!!

— stone1262, Missouri

Woken Up to a New World Leader-Elect

Chicago Right Now by Anthea Behm

It was ambitious of me to go to bed early last night. I was like a kid waiting for my Chrissy stash. For the sake of any future memory loss ('hi old me!'): it was the US presidential elections last night (UK time). Obama was declared victorious at around 11pm his time, 4am mine. I could hear lots of chat and laughter from the College bar throughout the night while I tossed and turned in bed. I was very tempted to throw on my dressing gown and walk on over, but I decided yesterday (of all days) to break my habit of late night bursts of energy, groggy mornings and jumpy, adrenaliny days.

It's all very exciting though. These elections have been squarely in the background of my life and everyone else's (my friends, family, fellow bloggers, international journalists etc) for at least a few months now.

On Monday night a few of us sat around after College dinner discussing a range of things from whether Australians, by nature, slightly distrust charisma in politicians (in this case Obama*), whether a black man is a more respectable form of authority than a white woman (offered up by a Hillary fan) to what reached almost complete consenus: just how deflating and stifling it would be if McCain and Palin won, and Obama and Biden lost. It would pretty much mean (or have meant!) that articulacy, intelligence, compassion and newness are just too scary. (I say 'almost' because we had a devoted Republican and huge McCain fan among us.)

*The Boy says that the Brits were similarly suspicious when Blair was first on the scene, but now expect a bit of the dazzle.

Chicago Right Now by Anthea Behm

Going off Facebook data, nearly all of my friends, especially my Merican ones, are jubilant. One Oxford pal said she will now be able to return home, her faith in her country renewed. I spotted one student say in a 'comment' that she was sad as a McCain fan but did not feel comfortable expressing her disappointment 'in these parts'. Some - mostly non-Americans - are curious, wary or even cynical about the nature of this promised 'Change' and are waiting to see how it all plays out once the god-like posters are put away. I feel positive, and definitely more curious than cautious, which is good.

Blue Day 2008

October 10 is World Mental Health or Blue Day! A day when the tech and social media community in Australia can work together to raise the awareness of anxiety and depression. Register your support today.

One of my family members has depression and one thing we spoke about last night on the phone was their frustration that depression was often perceived by others as an all encompassing trait, unlike say Diabetes or a lost limb. But she also acknowledged how hard (and I would add tiring) it is for people to know what the symptoms of depression are versus what would count for any one else as 'normal' neurotic (negative, obsessive, sentimental) behaviour or critical thinking.

Fortunately, she is feeling far more balanced these days, and probably the most positive she has felt in a decade, which is wonderful. Although, I have got to say after such a sustained period of intense lows, the sudden change has left me with some vague (and not admirable) feelings of 'Hang on a minute, I have yet to catch up! No one warned me!' Overall, of course, I am feeling excited and smiley too.

Keep going! We're all here to share in it!

Cowley Road Carnival

On Sunday Cowley Road hosted their annual Carnival to celebrate cultural diversity. What a relief! There are times (long periods) where you feel, as an Oxford student (or perhaps it has more to do with being a PhD student?), that you're the only type of person on the planet. You meet so many people from different countries here, sure, but several common traits dominate: high achiever, cashing in on their silver spoon or cultural capital (in whatever form it came in) while seeking to save or change the world, happy to enjoy parties with olives and elderflower water in the meantime. (I am just waiting for someone to bring out some homemade olive or elderflower ice-cream at one of these Oxford dinner parties!)

The town versus gown phenomenon (where there are two distinct communities in a University town) is joked about only because it's true and discomforting. One of my friends lamented that Oxford is becoming more 'Cornmarket' (a paved, pedestrian street lined with franchised food and retail shops, where groups of young locals gather and play music from their mobile phones, put dummies in their babies' mouths and shriek and push each other) than 'Turl street' (the quieter, parallel street for students to ride down, past a few old-fashioned tailors, barbers, wine bars and the flank of a pretty, sandstone church where a rose vine grows).

During the Carnival, you're no longer an Oxford student, you're just someone who happens to live in Oxford, along with a bunch of other people - from India, Pakistan, Poland, the Caribbean and Africa, and even white folk who are (brace yourselves) NOT Oxford students! There are many reasons to be there: to march in the midday procession either for a specific cause or to simply express diversity and creativity (with rainbow butterfly wings or kangaroo spring-legs), to bop in front of the reggae tent whilst enjoying the sweet smells of roasting corn from the bbqs, to enjoy the rustic, folky rock bands (including my friends' band, Stornoway), to join the groups of unofficial bhangra dancers outside the 'Asian' restaurants, to watch the local break dancing, belly dancing, ballet or Alabanian folk dancing talent, to have a beer with friends.

It's nice to get outside yourself for a while.