Earthquake Stories

There are 400,000 or so earthquake stories. Add to that friends and family in other parts of the country and world, it's not unreasonable to suspect that the Christchurch earthquake has had a significant impact on a million or more people. I have four family members in Hamilton who are at the very least mildly concerned how I am. They're watching the TV; they're texting most days; they worry whenever there is another report of an aftershock; my mother knows someone who had died.

Christchurch is a relatively small town. We are probably all only one or two degrees of separation from someone who is now dead as a direct cause of the February 22 earthquake. I am one degree away from three people who have died. That's just me.

I was talking to a writer friend the other day. We wondered who will be first to publish a novel set in the Christchurch earthquake. I already have a tag line for a romance novel in my mind. A few years ago I looked into writing for Harlequin; perhaps it's time to revisit that idea.

Somehow, the stories need to be told, and I'm sure they will be. Already the poems are being read on the radio (I hate to be cynical but some are pretty crappy); and Radio NZ was reading people's writing pieces about the earthquake. Some is a bit sentimental for my liking, but I'm sure it appeals to some.

Do we have a poet laureate? If we do they're very quiet. I can't remember hearing anything from them after September 4... surely now is the time for a decent bard to speak up?

I'm gonna write my own earthquake poem, in addition to the Mills & Boon novel. Geez...I'd better get writing. Like I don't have enough to do already.

There will be collections of earthquake stories. Won't there?

Having a Go at God

It's tempting to have a go at God, and easy. But having a go at God is like trying to have a go at Jews or Maoris....there is something deeply entrenched in so many psyches that any criticism at all of these groups is met with such a wall of denial and recrimination that that phenomenon alone is worthy of having a go at.

I have many friends who supposedly believe in God, and I don't wish to offend their sensibilities. But the fact that each of their "Gods" looks quite different seems to escape their powers of reason. It is now perfectly acceptable to believe in pretty much whatever version of god that suits your lifestyle best, and doesn't challenge your actions, feelings, or beliefs. It seems you can be a dope-smoking carousing alcoholic with no intention of repentance whatsoever, and still be a righteous steward, in between your day job as a bookie, and your after hours secondary employment as a drug-dealing pimp.

Hallelujah! God is indeed great!!

Now, volumes and volumes have been written about good v. evil, the existence of god, theodicy, and far be it from me to presume I could begin to deal with the complexities of those arguments in one simple blog post. Which is why I have avoided this topic and others in my blogs in the past. But in the dim light of what will undoubtedly be the worst tragedy in New Zealand's history, surely its poignant to ask some obvious questions about recent events, in relation to some of the religiosity on display. And of course, questions extend beyond the confines of Christchurch. The same questions can be asked of any tragedy in the world, indeed any sinfulness worldwide.

Just where was God on Tuesday? Perhaps this is the most obvious line of questioning. But for the religiously brainwashed it's the easiest to dismiss. But I'll ask anyway. Did he spend the morning in a planning session with the Angels, deciding just which buildings to topple? Which houses to crush? Which sinners to squash? I resisted the urge for years to buy into the logically sound argument that either God is not omnipotent, or he is not omnibenevolent, or he is not omnipresent. He simply cannot be all three.

Does he in fact work in mysterious ways? (I know ...but it is a loose use of Isaiah 55) It seems very mysterious that God saw fit to allow two little children to be crushed in the CTV building, but the staunch gangsta looking dude with the pretty snake tattoo on his neck to walk out unscathed. What sins were the infants so guilty of that God and the Angels saw fit for them to be punished? And their parents?

Apparently there are many many people praying for the people of Christchurch. Jesus has his own Facebook page and is offering comfort to the stricken. (Personally I think he's offering comfort to those doing the praying on his behalf, but that's another story)

God seems to have ignored the prayers of the 103 families whose loved ones have died. And he seems to be oblivious to another 226 sets of prayers being offered. The simple answer that should satisfy even the most enquiring of mind is that "God sometimes says NO!"

You know what? I always found that arrogant, meaningless platitude to be one of the most insensitive, presumptuous, vile statements in the whole of religious excuse. God sometimes says no. Fuck that!

Apparently we cannot understand God's reasons for doing things the way he does. We're too stupid. And if little snippets of doubt do sneak through to the masses, they're quickly reminded that not only are they stupid, they're also arrogant to even question God's ways.

Way to lock up any personal freedom of thought. Somehow modern religion has clouded the reality that its observants are actually as dim-witted and as under-the-thumb as any of those illiterate peasants in the dark and middle ages.

Is this the best of all possible worlds? So you have UNLIMITED power. UNLIMITED ability!!!! And for whatever reason you decide to create a big ball in the middle of nowhere and inhabit it with these cool little playthings called people.

So lets, just for fun, build into this big ball SO many weaknesses and faults and inefficiencies that just those alone will cause intolerable suffering and death every single rotation of the ball. But lets not stop there. Let's also build into the structure and nature of the inhabitants weaknesses and evils that will undermine every positive human endeavour ever undertaken. Let's make a good percentage of the inhabitants so selfish and evil and reprehensible that, for example, in the midst of the Christchurch tragedy they will use that tragedy as an opportunity to steal the belongings of those affected and displaced by the tragedy.

That's the best possible world I, with UNLIMITED power, would create?

Yeah, right.

In times like this God is utterly defenseless. And Christchurch is only one small drop in the ocean of accusation one can direct at God. There's en entire history of human suffering and evil that NO argument in favour of God can ever resolve.

The simple fact is that God does not exist, so to "have a go at God" is meaningless. It's entirely appropriate, however, to have a go at the weakness of the arguments that supposedly support the continued belief in any such God or sentient higher power. If you feel the need to pray, then by all means do so. But don't pray for me. Don't pray for the safety of the hundred or so people already dead in Christchurch or the two or three hundred people missing. Don't pray for their families. Don't pray for the safety and emotional well-being of the residents of Christchurch. Don't pray for the rescue workers. Don't pray for those displaced. Don't pray for the future of this city.

Clearly prayer is pointless. Events are either predetermined (by what or who you may ask) or completely random. Or there are other operations in play. It's easy to speculate, but in the midst of my most heartfelt and honest speculation I just cannot accept the God delusion (not that Richard Dawkins does a very good job of explaining things either).

I'm not really angry at "God" or the universe, though that will be an easy accusation. I'm not really scared of dying or the world falling down around me. I'm not angry that people have died in the earthquake. I am a bit pissed off that looters are taking advantage of vulnerable people, but that happens all the time. It doesn't require an earthquake for the scum to bubble up from the gutters. They are amongst us all the time. If I'm annoyed at anything, I'm annoyed that as a society we tolerate such scum and give them chance after chance to undermine our society and hurt good people.

And if I thought for a second that God actually existed, I'd definitely be ANGRY that in the midst of such human tragedy and upheaval, such uncertainty and terror, such death and destruction, he would still be demanding respect, allegiance and worship.

Fuck that!

Nightmare on Revelation Drive

What can I say? What I said in September would cover what happened to me on Tuesday. I was inside - although this time it wasn't 4.35 in the morning and it wasn't my place - felt like a truck slammed into the house and for ten seconds all hell broke loose. We didn't fall over, not from any effort of our own, but simply because the earthquake gods decided not to push us over. We were completely powerless and were thrown wherever they wanted us to go.

And then it really got bad. Things started falling,
thankfully not on top of us. Tiles from the roof
showered the patio and a pane of glass blew out
as the kitchen rearranged itself. In the ten
seconds that seemed to last an hour, books fell
off shelves, bottles jars and glasses smashed
on the floor, tvs crashed onto the floor and
angels fell down and broke their legs.


There were a few moments of sheer terror. After the ground had settled down, the water heater had stopped showering water all over the basement (we managed to get the water turned off), the loose tiles had been knocked down, we took a moment to think. Cell phone coverage was sporadic, but I got texts from Jackie and Chris. But I didn't know how Josh was in the previously devastated Halswell School, and I didn't know what our house was like. Apart from losing a loved one, my greatest fear after the September 2010 earthquake was that we would not have a place to live in.

After hearing on the radio that my only route home was impassable, we pulled up our socks and determined to do nothing at all until...well, later. We wandered around the house, stunned at the carnage. From the balcony we could see billows of smoke drifting 9/11ish across the cityscape. We stood out in the street and made small talk with the neighbours. And we needed to pee really badly.

Nearly 36 hours later, I'm home, we have power and running water, no damage to the house, nothing broken.

And I'm a bit angry.

We were complacent after the September quake. Sure we stockpiled a bit of water, some food. For the first few weeks we anticipated a big aftershock, mostly because we were told to expect one. But it wasn't long until, even in the midst of 4000+ aftershocks, we decided that there wasn't really going to be a "big" aftershock. Probably because we didn't want to believe it.

We thought it probably couldn't get any worse. If we and the city survived a 7, surely a 6 would be a doddle. Nobody died. A few buildings got a bit damaged. Core services were back up and running within a week, so to speak. Life was back to normal. Even if there was a 6 coming, we just didn't consider the possibility it would/could be worse than September's 7.

More fool us.

It's worse. It's ten times worse. It's 75 times worse.

I'm in a bit of denial. I watch the TV 24/7 and can't believe...don't want to believe its my city. Our city. The destruction is unbelievable. It's surreal and it's way too cliche to describe it as some dystopian nightmare. And to top it all off a guy who used to be a good friend of mine has become the poster boy for the despair family members holding vigil at the CTV building are feeling, and he's been splashed all over the TV all day. Despite our estrangement it simply breaks my heart.

And this less that 48 hours after the quake. Life was back to normal a week after September 4 (relatively speaking). It was good to say it was behind us and surely nothing in the future could shake our resolve (excuse the pun). I said many times, barring another earthquake as bad as the last one, willing it to not be thus, life could only get better.

But I get the feeling it will truly be a long, long time before life gets back to normal. Down town is not damaged, it's destroyed. More houses are unlivable and their inhabitants displaced. Businesses are ruined.

And people are dead.

Drop Dead Drop Dead Diva

Most TV programmes I think are pretty stupid; a few are not bad; a couple are really good.

But I really HATE this Drop Dead Diva programme. Not only is it shallow, poorly written and cast, and typical Hollywood shite, it digs a knife into and then makes fun of every overweight person on the planet.

Skinny "gorgeous" blonde twinkie dies accidentally, and what's the worst possible thing that could happen to her? She could come back as a fat chick! OMG! She'd probably rather spend an eternity in the worst hell than have to live in this society as a fattie. God forbid.

Of course, the premise is probably something faux-noble like "Even fat chicks need love too." But the stereotypes are just too smothering, suggesting that your typical skinny American (and the rest) woman would much rather be as thick as two planks, personality minus and the cruellest bitch in the coven than be a fattie.

And that men in Hollywood - for surely this programme was created by men - find more attractive skinny women with no personality than chubby girls with a bit of soul.

How did society come to this? And even the DDD people don't believe their own tripe.






Now, you tell me the two women in these photos are the same woman. The woman in the advertising poster has been edited down 5 dress sizes from the woman in the screenshot from the show. I guess the producers thought nobody would tune in to the pilot if they put a hideously fat woman in the poster. And what might be even scarier is that the shrunken woman in the poster is still considered curvy, plus size, fluffy, fat.

The show does have one positive benefit. It highlights the discrimination fat people, men and women, face every day, even if it does so by, in a veiled way, making fun at them and their hideousness by reinforcing every negative stereotype about women in general, and specifically overweight women.

It's fascinating that this sort of thinking prevails - that many women are obsessed about their weight and every extra ounce over a stick thin twinky frame - in light of the fact that a vast majority of men prefer, and find attractive, a woman with a few curves and, god forbid, a body shape that is, according to the movie, TV, and beauty industries, completely undesirable.*

*I hate to qualify anything, but I thought I'd better add that I realise many/most women do not obsess about their weight solely because they want to be attractive to men. But I do believe it's a factor.

Shoe of the Week

I'm actually gonna go with a Yes on these.

Age of Aquarius

And while we're on iconic musicals from the 70s, this is another haunting favourite. I generally have a whole thing about the 70s. Some of it's bitter sweet, but generally I don'y like anything from the 70s...well, thats not true. I tend to have a aversion to anything hippy. But this I love.

Prepare ye the way...

I remember hearing this haunting intro and feeling a chill run up my spine. I don't remember when (70s tho), but it's burned into my memory...in a good way.

Two Birds with one Post

I rarely brag. And I hardly ever get excited about electronic gadgets. However, I might break out of that mould just this once and kill two birds with one post

Before Christmas I sent this photo to D-Photo magazine for one of their little competitions. I was pretty stoked when I picked the Feb issue off the shelf to see that I had won. But the printed version of the photo was a bit dark and I didn't like the crop (ever the perfectionist). O well.

I hadn't heard from the D-Photo people, but the other day my prize turned up at the door. It's a really cool printer. And when I say it's really cool, I mean it's...well, it's a printer. But it's really cool. It's wireless; it's really quick and quiet; it's got some cool functions for printing cards and colouring pages for Josh; and it will print photos onto cds, as in like printing a logo onto the disk. Yay.

And unlike most electronic gadgets, especially for someone like me (total not-tech-geek - generally gadgets hate me!), it was relatively easy to install and use. Yay Yay.

So all in all it's looking up. Such a machine will help, I think, in my quest to add photography to the writing. Or is it more the other way round? It seems to be at the moment.

Sorrowful Songs

I've always found this piece fascinating, the back story as much as the music. This from that fount of knowledge, Wikipedia.

Later that year Górecki learned of an inscription scrawled on the wall of a cell of a Gestapo prison in the town of Zakopane, which lies at the foot of the Tatra mountains in southern Poland. The words were those of 18-year-old Helena Wanda Błażusiakówna, a highland woman incarcerated on 25 September 1944. It read "O Mamo nie płacz nie—Niebios Przeczysta Królowo Ty zawsze wspieraj mnie" (Oh Mamma do not cry—Immaculate Queen of Heaven support me always). The composer recalled, "I have to admit that I have always been irritated by grand words, by calls for revenge. Perhaps in the face of death I would shout out in this way. But the sentence I found is different, almost an apology or explanation for having got herself into such trouble; she is seeking comfort and support in simple, short but meaningful words". He later explained, "In prison, the whole wall was covered with inscriptions screaming out loud: 'I'm innocent', 'Murderers', 'Executioners', 'Free me', 'You have to save me'—it was all so loud, so banal. Adults were writing this, while here it is an eighteen-year-old girl, almost a child. And she is so different. She does not despair, does not cry, does not scream for revenge. She does not think about herself; whether she deserves her fate or not. Instead, she only thinks about her mother: because it is her mother who will experience true despair. This inscription was something extraordinary. And it really fascinated me.

I have the cd with all three movements, but this is my favourite. It's where I go when I'm sad.

How Sad is this Blog?

It's been reduced to a weekly report on garish, overpriced shoes!

I do like these ones tho.


Yes

I don't feel too guilty tho because I've actually been writing quite a bit!

Next to you, Next to me

Just a quickie entry for now, but I just had this posted on my Facebook Wall. I love these guys.

Onions Make Me Cry

Whether it’s the Internet specifically or the evolution of the English language in general, I’m hearing a lot of new words lately.

Remember when “email” was an odd word to use? When "Google" wasn’t even a word (except maybe for math nerds)? Well, now there are armies of clever people coming up with new words to describe/explain the human condition. Urban dictionaries have proliferated online, and as much as they’re everywhere (apparently), it takes a while to filter down to me, and now and then I’ll hear a new word and chuckle.


The latest is “adorkable”. I saw it used in a comment on this photo, and, of course, she is completely adorkable.

Adorkable, if it’s not already very self explanatory, is, according to Urban Dictionary, “Both dorky and adorable. A higher state of being all dorks strive towards.” “Dorky, yet strangely adorable.”

Now… I’m thinking I know some adorkable people. I could name names, but I’m not entirely sure it’s a desirable epithet. So I won’t. (But yes, I was thinking of you! You know who I’m talking about!!)

Tizzy… the onion girl… graciously agreed to let me use her photo, even tho I am holding her up as the poster girl for adorkable. In Tosh.0 style I could break down the photo to really cement the concept of adorkable… but I really just think the goggles speak for themselves.

And of course, to prove how behind the times I really am, there’s a whole Flickr group dedicated to adorkables, and it was a “growing group” 43 months ago! That’s like, 5 years or something. Okay, my maths suck… I only worked in a bank for 30 years! Call me adorkable!

Actually… it may not be such a bad epithet after all. Who do you know that's adorkable?