Back from a weekend trip to Canberra. My old school friend John Hawkins has finally made the journey to the altar, having married Elo. A simple ceremony at The Knot, an eponymous metal sculture at the the National Gallery, followed by a reception in the Black Mountain tower. Congratulations Hawk and Elo. May your lives together be blessed!

I stayed The Mercure, near the War Memorial, and did quite a bit of walking. Canberra readily lends itself to such pursuits, being flat and systematically planned. One day I'll remember to bring my bicycle. Down Anzac Parade, large installations memorialize every major conflict that the nation has entered, including the Boer War. I may be wrong, but I don't think that Australia has ever entered a war on it's own steam, that is, without being asked or in some way influenced. First the British, now the Americans. Perhaps its time to grow up and let go the hand of the parent state.

A day of mundane, yet still worthwhile achievement. Tom had his penultimate swimming lesson this morning, in which he continued to improve, now swimming underwater and splashing vigorously in what passes for an approximate freestyle.

Called Centrelink and after 30 minutes on hold finally cleared up the lag in my Family Tax A and B application. Took down the Christmas decorations, washed my new sheets, entertained the child and his friend Reilly. Vacuumed and cleaned somewhere in between.

Even got in a little practice on some new songs for the cafe.

Yes, it feels good to be useful.

I find that I am liking, on average, the kid's movies that I see with Tom more than many adult movies. Today we saw Wreck-it Ralph at The Edge and I wasn't actually bursting to see it, though I organised it for Tom.

As it turns out, it's a clever movie that works, as many of these movies do, on multiple levels, allowing savvy adults to reference aspects of popular culture from past and present, and kids to just be entertained.

Not being savvy myself I was just entertained. When we got home, I loaded the Wreck-it Ralph game onto my ipad and Tom is trying it out as I write.

How quickly and almost seamlessly media intersect with each other. This morning's movie seguays into this afternoon's video game which slides effortlessly into this evening's interactive toy.

Easy. Or is it?

Inside this quiet, somewhat silly and eminently different summer holiday period, I find it hard to take a grasp of anything truly solid. Its over a year now since the end of my marriage and despite a few (brave) efforts on my part, I just don't feel like dating anyone. There are a few women I have liked, maybe even had teeny crushes on (or what I thought at the time were crushes) but the truth is, there is just nothing there.

Aha, I hear you say! What if these women had taken a liking to you? Such a question makes we wonder whether I have any substance at all, because it is certainly possible that I could have fallen in love. I do like relationships and I feel like I'm built for them. But I don't just want any relationship and never, ever one just for the sake of it.

So here I am at the very top of the year, wondering how things will be at the bottom of it. Not apprehensive, strangely blithe, and strictly unhurried.

And trying to find the crushed grape in every passing moment.

pride before a fall

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Shelley's poem, Ozymandias, came oddly, into my head, while I was swimming laps this morning. I think it emerged from a conversation I had had minutes before with another swimmer, who was reflecting on the pointlessness of NYE, with it's inevitable anti-climax of fake cheer and plastic optimism. Well, maybe that's my spin on the event and what he said. But it could be a time of genuine reflection, a weighing of where we are and where we might be going. There's no reason why it cant be fun either.

It's just that the huge collision of booze and fireworks gets in the way and becomes the whole thing. I'm pretty optimistic by nature and love seeing people enjoying themselves. I just wonder if there could be more to it.

Happy 2013, however you say it!

good bye to this day forever

While New Years Eve is much hyped in our time as being something of significance, in effect it is merely another day that will never come again. I think that fact makes every day important. Perhaps if we considered the implications of how unique each day was, we would live with greater purpose. We would probably sleep a little less, rise a little earlier, eat and act more thoughtfully, love better and hate less. There would certainly be more purpose-driven activity.

I could be wrong but the best palliative for discontent and boredom is knowing that we are passing through times that can't be repeated, those times being there for the making in new and imaginative ways. This is not an exhortation to live for the moment, which might be the hedonists take on my words. But in the moment, absolutely.

How much time is wasted waiting for something to happen, for life to change, for things to get better? Could we even quantify it? Would we not be frightened to do so, knowing that our hourglass holds less sand, and that the sand already spent has been so egregiously misspent.

I don't know. But during the countdown of countdowns, the waiting for midnight and its forced celebrations, it might be worth thinking about.