Sharing is Caring: The New Version

from here

Over the years I’ve had this blog, I’ve had one giant document into which to paste pictures, articles, quotes, ideas and notes to use in or inspire potential future posts. (That was a terrible sentence, but I’ve rearranged it numerous times and decided it’s the best I can do. Sorry about that.) Then last week I decided to split ‘blog’ (the name of said giant document) into five files (all pictures together, all quotes together, etc.) so that it’s easier to find what I’ve been working on, and oh my goodness, I have quite a collection. I’d like to start posting some of these regularly in an effort to keep the files tidy, and to finally share what I always intended to share with you, and to be forced to process the articles I put aside a while ago for later processing, or laugh again at the posts/pictures/videos I wanted to keep for future laughs.

I know many bloggers who do a weekly link-fest, which I both love and hate – I love them because each link is so interesting or funny, and I’m glad to have someone else do the work of reading and culling before pointing me to the best of what the internet’s offering each week; I hate them because each link is so interesting or funny, and it’s hard not to click on every one and use up a precious hour or more reading the articles and watching the videos and stuffing more words into my head rather than spitting words out of my head by writing, which is often what I originally plan to do when I sit down at my computer.

So. I’m thinking I’ll post a couple of things each week, or maybe more if they’re all on the same topic, and try not to overwhelm you. Maybe a quote plus a link to an article plus something funny. Or something. We’ll work it out as time goes on. It’ll be a less exciting version of a link-fest, with the added bonus of the articles and posts being completely out of date! YOU’RE WELCOME!

For this week:

This talk by Lauren Winner on the book of Esther is full of nuggets of wisdom. The last time I read it, this particular nugget made me stop and think:

We live in a society I think that has very little capacity for joy. We have a lot of capacity for entertainment. The more time I think we spend alone with our iPods being entertained for a few minutes, the less we have a capacity for real joy. And it's worth noting that iPod entertainment is not a fruit of the spirit.  Joy is a fruit of the spirit. 

But rereading it, it was this one:

And if I were to be really honest with these reporters, I would tell them that the question they're asking is the wrong question. They think they want to know why I became a Christian when I was 20, but what they really want to know is why I'm a Christian this week... So what people really want to know is why I'm a Christian today and why I'm a Christian today, this week, this morning is not exactly the same reason I became a Christian when I was 20. This week I am a Christian because of the power of the Church in my life. And this week I am a Christian because this relationship with Jesus Christ has been a long, narrow road, both narrow and long. It has been monasticism to me and it has held me more firmly in its grip than anything has ever held me. And this week, I am a Christian because the book of Esther tells me that sometimes God is hidden.

And here’s a video to make you fall in love with Michael Franti and, if you’re anything like me, shed a tear or two (that part with his MUM! *sniff*). And maybe also foster a child. It goes for around 9 minutes:

 

Radio | Ga Ga

from here

The other night I heard a great song on the radio in the car, and I wished the clock in our car worked so that I could remember the time so that I could look the song up on jplay and find out the name and then add it to my ‘music to buy’ list. I was worrying: What if I couldn’t remember the time? What if I forgot to look it up on jplay? What if I never heard the song again? WHY DOESN‘T THE CLOCK IN OUR CAR WORK?!

Then I realised that my freaking out about whether or not I’d ever get a chance to hear the song in future was distracting me from listening to and appreciating the song right then in that moment. Why couldn’t I just love the song when I heard it, rather than spending that time planning to love it on future listens? Why, when I hear a song I like, do I immediately feel the need to own it?

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions.

///

This is a clever ad. I was completely sucked in, thinking at first, “Hey - I was born in 1983...” and then at the end, “Oh my goodness, I’M 31!!!!!!!!!! I should sign up to nib health insurance post haste!!” It took me a little while to realise that they didn’t know two facts about me (born in 1983, 31 years old), just one, plus MATHS. Well done, nib. You nearly had me.

Phone

Operation Rescue Belle's Phone

So someone has my phone. Obviously they found it in the street and decided not to try to get it back to me, and then, after a week of me not knocking on their door to ask for it, they started texting and calling people with it (I realised soon afterwards and barred the service before they went over my monthly limit). I sent them a message telling them that I’d leave chocolate in my letterbox and would be happy to swap it for my phone. Didn’t work. I then ate the chocolate and called the numbers they’d contacted and asked the people who answered if they could kindly let their friend/relative know I’d report it to the police if they didn’t return my phone to me by Monday. From my detective work I’d deduced it was probably a school-aged person (and also that I should add ‘detective’ to my list of Awesome Careers to Consider Taking Up in Future), and I hoped that the threat of the police would compel him/her to return it, but that didn’t work either. Kids are made of tough stuff these days, turns out.

So today I headed to the police station to tell them about my phone (if parenting books have taught me anything, it’s that you have to follow through). The constable took down my details with a bored expression on her face, and she seemed to be fighting back a sigh when I told her that no, it wasn’t an iPhone, and no, it wasn’t a smart phone, it was just an old Nokia. Oh, and the screen was cracked. Write that down, too. I wondered whether I should ask if she’d seen The Castle by any chance, and explain that my phone maybe didn’t seem like it was worth her important police-y time but it was my phone. Those screen cracks came from repeated drops. That noise during calls is from my baby’s slobber. YOU CAN’T REPLACE STUFF LIKE THAT, Constable Higgins. (Well, I mean, you can, but THAT’S NOT THE POINT. It's about principles.)

She sent me on my way with a little card listing her details and a promise that she’d try re-calling all of the numbers I’d passed on. I don’t think I’m going to see it again. I’m trying not to remember the photos and videos on it that I hadn’t yet transferred to my computer. Meanwhile, I should receive a new SIM card in the mail early this week, and I bought a phone from Gumtree on Sunday. It’s a chunky slide Nokia, and I don’t like it at all which means (according to Murphy, who is rarely wrong) it will never break or be stolen or lost, and I will have this awful thing until the day I die.

OH MY GOODNESS THERE’S AN UPDATE: Alan just went downstairs to check the letterbox one last time and MY PHONE WAS THERE! In your face, Murphy! I may now have to find a new law upon which to base my entire life, but it was so worth it! WOooOOoOooOOOoOOoooOooOoOo!