July 5, 2009, 11am. Last day before work. For a lark I've done a google search on my name. Who would've thought there would be so many in the world. There's even a 19 year old artist out there who likes to write, paint and loves cats. Actually it's a bit eerie. I met a woman once who was the same age and born on the same day. As far as I could see we had nothing in common. I wasn't drawn to her at all. Maybe she was like me and I couldn't see it.
Would we like ourselves if we met ourselves in real life? It's an interesting question. I *think* I would. After all, we'd have everything in common. The little reading I've done of doppelgangers seems to suggest they are fleeting occurrences. Not like you're sitting down and sharing a cup of coffee. Perhaps it's the shock of meeting yourself that dissipates the event like, for me at least, realizing I'm starting to have an OBE, getting excited and waking myself up. But it is humbling to realize so many women share my name. There are 23 pages so far and more lurking in the wings. And these women are doing great things too by the looks of it. I am mentioned but only on a submission to parliament. I'm #162 so it's not like I'm out there in the forefront. I have no degrees. I'm not active in business. Oh well. I feel a strange sense of camaraderie with all those people.
Today is a good day. I worked some on the book yesterday and also the current painting. What is even better is that I spent time thinking of them. On Sunday, if I wait long enough, R will often get up before me and start doing the morning chores (birds, etc.). Usually I don't fall asleep again but enjoy that precious extra 30 minutes when I just look into the green gold of the sun-dappled fernery and think.
I'm beginning to realise I don't make enough time to just stop and think, or daydream or whatever. My world is, like most people, just busy. And if it isn't busy I make it so with radio or television or busy-ness. And spider solitaire. I took a positive step this morning and deleted it. I know I can reinstate it but it is an effort to do so, not much of an effort but enough to put me off doing so. I'm quite proud of myself as I am addicted (yes, addicted) to spider solitaire. I have played for hours. So long that upon closing my eyes at night I am still seeing cards and changing their positions. It's like smoking or drinking or drugs. My dirty little secret. I used the excuse of playing a row while waiting for the screen to load. But lying to myself is not wise. Of course I wasn't using it to kill time. I was just using.
I've just written two letters to two different ministers (environment and local gov't) in a last ditch effort to stop this quarry. We've been fighting it since 1993. It keeps rearing its ugly head, we keep fighting, it starts again. The amazing thing is they want to quarry 23ha of declared (by the DERM) endangered habitat. Amazing in this day and age that it is even considered.
I've opened the door to the verandah so that Tachimedes, my darling half wild cockatiel, can come in and scream from atop the CPU. I don't know why he's screaming. When he screams he ducks his head and snakes it from side to side. Snaking it not like in aggressive but in winding it around from one side to the other. When he does that he doesn't want head scratching or even a barley seed (his favourite). I've just scratched his head so long my fingers were tingling from lack of circulation. I got him from the pet shop, something I swore I'd never do in that I wasn't going to support the pet shop trade. I'd gone in to get a friend for Cornelius, the tiny budgie but all the budgies they had were male save for one enormous female. Too big for Cornelius. In another cage was Tachimedes. He was sharing it with 7 or 8 others. The others ignored me but he followed me from one side to another, craning his neck and chattering. Of course I took him home and then preceded to scare the living daylights out of him by dosing him that day and the next for coccidiosis. The second time his wing became caught in a loose thread of the towel I used to wrap him. Naturally he thought I was trying to kill him. It's taken many months to get him to the stage where I can scratch his head. He'll fly to my hand from a distance but not if it's near him, less than a foot away. Strange little creature but I love him. There is so much someone in there when I look in his eye.
He's a native coloured one, grey back and breast, white edges down his shoulder, yellow cheek patches with a bright orange center and a greenish yellow crest. Prettier than the mutations I think. I could've gone for a hand-reared one and perhaps I should have but I like that all the progress we've made is with him fully flighted and able to fly away, which he does frequently.
He's flown down to my shoulder. I balance a barley seed on it to tempt him. The idea is to get him used to sitting there, eventually without the seed motivation. Sit there and feel safe, like it's a nice place to be to get his head scratched. He's back on the CPU now, drumming his beak on the metal.