Monday, July 21, 2014

Not a dog

Yesterday, while climbing Flinders Peak in the You Yangs at the end of a 33 kilometre run, I saw a family hanging out on a grassy picnic area next to the trail. The mum was repeatedly and angrily instructing her ~6 year old son, Fynn, that he was not a dog, while the dad occasionally angrily chimed in "Listen to your mother". Actually, it went more like this (Remember it's all in an angry strident tone. The 6 year old never verbally said anything. He also never once looked at his mum or anyone else, in fact he studiously avoided doing so):
Come over here Fynn! Come here right now. Look at me. Look at me. You're not a dog, you hear me? You don't lap water from a bowl like a dog. You drink from a bottle like a person. Look at me. Look at me. You're not a dog, Fynn. You drink properly like a person. etc. etc.
Part of me wanted to be super useful to this mum by going into my speech pathologist mode. I realised that this probably wouldn't work, and she probably wouldn't find it useful, and also I was very very sore after 32 kilometres and decided to let it go. But it did get me thinking. Possible smart ass responses from Fynn:
  • Yep, and you're not a bitch.
  • Well, actually genetically I'm like 97% identical with a dog.
  • [Panting loudly like a dog]
Possible slightly more useful responses from Fynn
  • Why do you want me to look at you?
  • Why do you feel upset that I lapped water from a bowl like a dog?
  • I wish you'd love me and feel comfortable around me even when I'm silly and slightly out of control.
I actually thought about becoming a dog myself, and crawling over to the family with a big happy dog grin on my face saying "ruf ruf ruf!".  One wonders what would have happened if the dad in the family had teamed up with his son to do just that?

I wish I could have this much perspective at similar times when I'm speaking angrily and stridently to my own children about things that are probably of similar ultimate significance. In fact, I'm going to to make a note of it, and next time I notice myself speaking angrily to my children, I'm going to say to them "You're not a dog, _______ (fill in name here)". Then I'm going to crack up laughing, with happy dog panting in between.  Maybe I'll use this more generally for when I speak angrily.  If you notice me doing this, you'll know now what it's about.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

10 Reason to not choose University of Melbourne to do a Master of Speech Pathology Degree (AKA 10 Forks)

1. Lecture slides/notes written by your overpriced professors with entire sections of Wikipedia articles cut and pasted in.
2. A professor miming eating the dead bodies during anatomy and physiology wet labs
3. Being treated like a child by professors who are significantly younger than you.
4. Being told to stop asking questions so the lecturer can get through their 90 slides in 60 minutes.
5. Corporate/Big-Money stomp-on-the-little-students attitudes vis-a-vis Cochlear.
6. Being treated like shit by hospital based clinical supervisors (who themselves are being treated like shit by hospital administration and policies)
7. Being cooped up for hundreds of hours of lectures in tiny, airless, windowless lecture rooms at 550 Swanston Street.
8. Having little to no say about your choice of thesis topic.
9. Having to re-do subjects you already did in much more depth with exceedingly high marks as an undergrad, despite providing mountains of evidence to that effect.
10. Observed, Structured, Clinical  Examinations (the hated OSCEs), for which the faculty utterly refuse to assist you in any way to prepare, despite the entire student body's ongoing desperate pleas for information/assistance.

Friday, July 26, 2013

Running a marathon for families with autism

 I'm super excited to announce that I'm in training for my first ever marathon.  I'll be running the Melbourne Marathon on October 13 2013, and I'm using the event to raise money for an amazing organization that financially helps parents of children with autism--Loving Autism.

I'm blogging about running and autism at my shiny new blog, RunningandAutism.blogspot.com.  Check it out!

If you want to donate to my marathon fundraiser, you can click here.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

FSMparent

Conceptualized in a conversation with Ahona today: FSMparent. It's like a Godparent, only twice as awesome. A person who is to take an interest in the skeptical, wonder-filled raising of a child. Hurrah!

Friday, January 11, 2013

Water into wine


My friend Steve Bell has not given me permission to publish this perfect thing he wrote:

I don't know if you're a talker by nature. I'm not particularly. Sure, I can do it, but the truth is, I can do it better once I've had a drink or two. On this day, I'd had a few. Enough to settle the nerves, and not enough to say anything regrettable on such an important occasion: my youngest brother's only daughter's wedding, where I was most honoured to be the Master of Ceremonies for young Lilah, and her groom.

Her new husband, Andrew, is a good man. I'm most pleased for them both, though not a little worried about their security, as Andrew has left his trade to follow this emerging Rabbi, Jesus. Of course, Andrew and Lil invited them all. But the numbers were as expected, and no-one quite knows how the unthinkable happened: We were, quite literally, wringing the wineskins. Thankfully, I was one of the first to know, and I'd done my utmost to steer the guests' attentions to activities other than drinking. But soon enough, the inevitable was unavoidable: Andrew and Lil, still blissfully unaware, were soon to begin their ever-after ashamed: they were to fail at providing for their guests. All custom and tradition called for them to be shamed, ostracized, and held low as an example to ensure such poor hosting would not happen again, and I, as the Master of Ceremonies, was to announce this news.

What happened next happened out of my sight; not difficult to achieve in my 73rd year. But I've pieced together in the last few days what took place: Mary, the mother of the Rabbi, who was helping with kitchen duties, called her son quietly to the entryway, and together they discussed Andrew's predicament, the news of which was slowly spreading amongst those present. In the entry stood several wash-jars, now empty, and it was these that were quickly filled from the spring. To be honest, I'd hoped beyond hope that more wine would materialize from someone's home nearby, and when I was presented at the head table with a mug of water drawn directly from one of these jars, heads began to turn to see how I would approach what needed to be done.

Murmur descended to silence, and I drew that deep breath that one draws when one needs to think very deeply, very quickly. As slowly as I could manage, I turned to look for Jesus, for some hint or clue as to where he was going with this. I found him standing with crossed feet beside a pale Lil, his left arm around her shoulder, and his right holding a mug. With the tiniest of flourishes, Mary leaned over and filled the mug with wash-jar spring water.

He blinked slowly. The corner of his mouth crept up. He raised his own mug towards me with that across-the-room 'cheers' - took a gulp, and nodded to me to follow.

I understood the choice was mine. I drank. I stared into my cup. Raising my eyes, I started to scan the room of guests, regarding every pair of eyes. The choice was all of ours.

"This wine", I declared emphatically, "Is the best wine you will ever taste. Whether you can enjoy it now is for you to decide".

Slowly then, a true miracle took place. Almost all of the guests felt it, as we sat together enjoying that cool spring water. Together we chose humanity, we chose grace, and we put people before our traditions.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

hyper young earth creationism

 I noticed today that google returns zero results for the exact phrase of the title of this post, which is unacceptable.  So I'm posting about it to fix this.

  First off, to put it in context, a word about normal young earth creationism.  Young earth creationism, as I understand it, is the belief that the earth and more generally the whole universe were created by God approximately 6000 years ago in its present form.  This view, promoted by groups like the Institute for Creation Research, sometimes (often) posits that God created the earth with the *appearance* of age, so that for instance, light from stars that are billions of light years away has already reached us.  Etc. For further details see the wiki article

  As you may know, I am a Pastafarian--that is, an adherent of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM). As such, I believe that the FSM created the universe. However, a few years ago I departed from FSM orthodoxy (if there is such a thing) and decided to embrace a hyperbolic version of young earth creationism which posits that the FSM created the universe sometimes in the last 3 seconds.  All the back story which we have as memories, and so forth, were all placed there by the FSM to give the appearance of an age greater than 3 seconds.

  I find this belief enormously empowering. I should point out that I believe that this belief, like all beliefs, is entirely make believe.  It's arbitrarily chosen. I've chosen it and have been quite easily able to accumulate evidence for it since that choice. I believe that this is how all believes are in actual fact chosen--first the choice, then the accumulation of evidence, never vice versa.  This latter belief is also of course entirely arbitrary/make-believe. =).

Hope that explains it.