I am an expatriate New Zealander living in Australia. I fully intend to get my citizenship this year and Ive been here 20 years so I feel Australian, and like many others this wonderful country opened its arms to me and gave me a new and happier life.
It is apparent however, that there is a certain sector of our society who do not feel happy to be living in Australia. I refer to our Indigenous brothers. Over the last few decades, the righteous Aboriginal cause has seemed to be overtaken and steered by self-declared leaders who appear whiter than me. Millions upon millions of tax payers dollars have evaporated, said leaders driving around in Mercedes Benz while their needy brothers still have the lowest life expectancy in the Western world.
We now face an even more negative situation than ever before in regards to Indigenous Communities. Recently our government staged an intervention in many Aboriginal communities in response to revelations of mass child abuse and general lawlessness. I am talking HORRIFIC levels of abuse, with children being gang-banged repeatedly, often with the parents co-operation and approval. . A 13 year old was raped repeatedly in her parents home, infected with 3 STDs, and impregnated. The baby did not survive.
The perpetrator of this crime received a 6 month sentence, due to the fact that the child was promised to him by her parents and in their eyes, no crime occured. A 10 year old's mother was passed out in another room while she was repeatedly raped by a gang of 7 men and youths. None received jail time, largely because no-one requested it. The White Australian courts simply have no idea how to deal effectively with a group of people who have alcoholism, drug abuse, child rape and violence so deeply sewn through their culture.
We have just had a Sorry Day where the Australian Government officially apologised to the Aboriginal children removed from their families generations ago. Ironically, many of these removed children grew up to be hard working, cultured and educated spokespeople, while the children who remained with their parents are mainly long dead from lifestyle related causes.
Now we have a no-win situation; children being horrifically abused yet remaining with their communities, for fear of a future Stolen Generation backlash. Most right-thinking people would find this absolutely aborrhent. The question remains - how do you reconcile with a race of people who seem so contemptuous of helping themselves or the weakest amongst them? Should we even be remorseful for removing children who are being abused or neglected? The system would remove a white child in a heartbeat and subjected the abusers to the full weight of the law. And most mystifyingly, the Aboriginal Leaders remain mute on this subject, concentrating instead on planning legal action to secure financial reparations for the first Stolen Generation.
Suffer the little children....
Friday, March 21, 2008
I take it back....
Maybe Im not the most boring woman alive.
Ive been surfing through Blogger (still trying to find my dodgy stepfather - is he a figment of my imagination?) and some of those people out there are mindbogglingly dull. It doesnt seem to matter if they have hobbies or not - there are an overdose of scrapbookers on here who have the dullest lives imaginable. Ive got to wonder at the doting new mums who blog through their new babies lives - it makes for a very cute read but seriously girls, one day your baby will be 13 and will turn around and tell you you know nothing and are mental. Where are all the hand embroidered bibs then? And what sort of scrapbook shall we create for their teenage years? How exactly do you scrapbook the joys of pimples, slamming doors and sibling rivalry?
I love my kids to bits, always have. They remain the best thing I have ever done, my proudest and finest achievement. Living with a tween and a teen, however, is not particularly pleasant at times. I have permanently empty cupboards because they believe its their right to simply dirty another glass when you want another drink because hey, mum washes them! Ditto for towels. It seems like I never stop working.
So in between being a servant/cook/taxi driver for these two, and working full time for some moron who doesnt pay me enough, I simply dont have the time to scrapbook or create divine little morsels for my babies. And Im caring less as time goes by - I only have a certain amount of hours left at 42, and Im increasingly reluctant to waste them. I feel at the moment, I am wasting them, loitering online far too often. I need some sort of hobby which will make me a more interesting person, help me lose weight, make me more active and involved, yet still be able to be done in the 15 minutes a week I have to myself.
Ive been surfing through Blogger (still trying to find my dodgy stepfather - is he a figment of my imagination?) and some of those people out there are mindbogglingly dull. It doesnt seem to matter if they have hobbies or not - there are an overdose of scrapbookers on here who have the dullest lives imaginable. Ive got to wonder at the doting new mums who blog through their new babies lives - it makes for a very cute read but seriously girls, one day your baby will be 13 and will turn around and tell you you know nothing and are mental. Where are all the hand embroidered bibs then? And what sort of scrapbook shall we create for their teenage years? How exactly do you scrapbook the joys of pimples, slamming doors and sibling rivalry?
I love my kids to bits, always have. They remain the best thing I have ever done, my proudest and finest achievement. Living with a tween and a teen, however, is not particularly pleasant at times. I have permanently empty cupboards because they believe its their right to simply dirty another glass when you want another drink because hey, mum washes them! Ditto for towels. It seems like I never stop working.
So in between being a servant/cook/taxi driver for these two, and working full time for some moron who doesnt pay me enough, I simply dont have the time to scrapbook or create divine little morsels for my babies. And Im caring less as time goes by - I only have a certain amount of hours left at 42, and Im increasingly reluctant to waste them. I feel at the moment, I am wasting them, loitering online far too often. I need some sort of hobby which will make me a more interesting person, help me lose weight, make me more active and involved, yet still be able to be done in the 15 minutes a week I have to myself.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Blessings
Im not at all what you would call religious. I was sent to a Catholic girls high school, but that was more in the vain hope that I wouldn't succumb to being a H** Slut like my other schoolmates. Unfortunately my mother didn't realise that I was a complete innocent being thrown into a hoard of experienced harlots, and it was at Catholic school I first learnt the value of a good blow job. Mass was an excuse to sit quietly and nurse your hangover. The older I get, however, the more I realise that perhaps I shouldve paid a little bit more attention to the spirituality around me. Having spent the first half of my life denying HP, I want to spend the second part, discovering it.
Here I sit on this beautiful Good Friday. I am sitting in my lounge room, on a comfortable chair I own. I can hear the peaceful sounds around me of chirping birds (theres always bird noise in Australia), my dishwasher faintly rumbling in the kitchen. I own the dishwasher and the kitchen too. My kids are pottering quietly around the house. The cat is washing herself on the floor. On a very nice rug, that I also own. I have no health problems, money problems (apart from being eternally broke), my kids are happy and I have good friends and a roof over my head which I can afford to pay for. We are going on the holiday of a lifetime to Asia in about 7 weeks, which I can also afford to pay for, alone, with no child support from the donor. Ive got soup bubbling on the stove and clean washing to fold. The house is dusty as can be, but nothing I cant handle. I have pot and some beer and wine in the fridge. I have a friend right next door.
Life doesnt get much better than this.
I would like to thank whoever/whatever Higher Power that has looked after me so well in my perilous journey through life. I often feel your guiding hand. I have always been a lucky person and its got me through many many bad things. It is only as I get older that I realise that luck was a guardian angel, helping me when I couldnt help myself. How blessed I have been in having my peaceful happy life now, with my beautiful children. Thank You.
Here I sit on this beautiful Good Friday. I am sitting in my lounge room, on a comfortable chair I own. I can hear the peaceful sounds around me of chirping birds (theres always bird noise in Australia), my dishwasher faintly rumbling in the kitchen. I own the dishwasher and the kitchen too. My kids are pottering quietly around the house. The cat is washing herself on the floor. On a very nice rug, that I also own. I have no health problems, money problems (apart from being eternally broke), my kids are happy and I have good friends and a roof over my head which I can afford to pay for. We are going on the holiday of a lifetime to Asia in about 7 weeks, which I can also afford to pay for, alone, with no child support from the donor. Ive got soup bubbling on the stove and clean washing to fold. The house is dusty as can be, but nothing I cant handle. I have pot and some beer and wine in the fridge. I have a friend right next door.
Life doesnt get much better than this.
I would like to thank whoever/whatever Higher Power that has looked after me so well in my perilous journey through life. I often feel your guiding hand. I have always been a lucky person and its got me through many many bad things. It is only as I get older that I realise that luck was a guardian angel, helping me when I couldnt help myself. How blessed I have been in having my peaceful happy life now, with my beautiful children. Thank You.
Good Friday
Australians are always being reminded what a multicultural society we are. The ball started rolling way back in the 1700s when the English decided it was a fabulous place to send their problem children and embarrassing relatives.
The next wave of new Australians were The Wogs - poor Italian and Greek families looking to make a new start in a new country. They were abused and ill-treated until the residents found that pizza was actually one of the main food groups, and have now assimilated to the point that a Wog Deli is a rare treasure in Adelaide. Then there has been the boat people, the steady flow of asian and New Zealand arrivals (as I was, 20 years ago). Now as I walk through the city I see tall, beautiful black people, from some war-torn place in Africa.
So I ponder - why can I not buy a bottle of beer or supermarket shop on Good Friday? Why are we ALL obliged to observe a Christian holiday, to the point that it is the ONLY day of the year the pubs are shut? Shutting a pub is in itself unaustralian! Why does our government persist in allowing this one Christian holiday dominate to the point the entire city grinds to a halt? Im sure small business owners are annoyed at losing this days trading, as well as someone like me who would like to actually go out for the evening for once.
The next wave of new Australians were The Wogs - poor Italian and Greek families looking to make a new start in a new country. They were abused and ill-treated until the residents found that pizza was actually one of the main food groups, and have now assimilated to the point that a Wog Deli is a rare treasure in Adelaide. Then there has been the boat people, the steady flow of asian and New Zealand arrivals (as I was, 20 years ago). Now as I walk through the city I see tall, beautiful black people, from some war-torn place in Africa.
So I ponder - why can I not buy a bottle of beer or supermarket shop on Good Friday? Why are we ALL obliged to observe a Christian holiday, to the point that it is the ONLY day of the year the pubs are shut? Shutting a pub is in itself unaustralian! Why does our government persist in allowing this one Christian holiday dominate to the point the entire city grinds to a halt? Im sure small business owners are annoyed at losing this days trading, as well as someone like me who would like to actually go out for the evening for once.
Dullest woman alive?
As I scroll through other peoples blogs, it occurs to me that I am apparently the dullest woman alive.
I have no baby to gush about, no husband to praise, no scrapbooking projects to display.
How is it possible that I have got through 42 years of life without any sort of hobby at all? I read prolifically and surf the net but apart from that, I cant think of a single interesting thing about me.
For example, heres what I did yesterday;
1. took day off work, paid bills, surfed the net
2. Daughter came home, demanded I cook her lunch (she is 15). I said, cook it yourself, Im not your slave.
3. Called in to neighbours house, had to get her to witness our passport applications. Spent a fair bit of time checking to make sure I had filled them out right.
4. Had to go back to neighbours, to get her to re-do.
5. Son got home from school, received a grilling re. that evenings dinner plans (whats for tea)
6.got phone call from trish who wanted to call in for half an hour.
7.Had to grab kids (under extreme protest) and drag them down to the post office to lodge their passport forms (Easter the next day, no post offices open). Found out they are incorrect. I cannot get my children passports as I am not officially an Australian Citizen.
8. phone call from trish wondering where we were.
9. rushed into bottle shop, stood behind 2 alcoholics panic buying, briefly thanked HP that particular addiction never stuck.
10. arrived home, poured champagne, half hour visit with trish. rest of champagne down the sink.
11. whats for tea? gave them money to walk down to fish and chip shop to give me half an hours peace.
12. ate fish and chips with kids
13.sat on couch and surfed the net till eyelids turned to sand.
14. went to bed.
thats it! exciting isnt it?
I have no baby to gush about, no husband to praise, no scrapbooking projects to display.
How is it possible that I have got through 42 years of life without any sort of hobby at all? I read prolifically and surf the net but apart from that, I cant think of a single interesting thing about me.
For example, heres what I did yesterday;
1. took day off work, paid bills, surfed the net
2. Daughter came home, demanded I cook her lunch (she is 15). I said, cook it yourself, Im not your slave.
3. Called in to neighbours house, had to get her to witness our passport applications. Spent a fair bit of time checking to make sure I had filled them out right.
4. Had to go back to neighbours, to get her to re-do.
5. Son got home from school, received a grilling re. that evenings dinner plans (whats for tea)
6.got phone call from trish who wanted to call in for half an hour.
7.Had to grab kids (under extreme protest) and drag them down to the post office to lodge their passport forms (Easter the next day, no post offices open). Found out they are incorrect. I cannot get my children passports as I am not officially an Australian Citizen.
8. phone call from trish wondering where we were.
9. rushed into bottle shop, stood behind 2 alcoholics panic buying, briefly thanked HP that particular addiction never stuck.
10. arrived home, poured champagne, half hour visit with trish. rest of champagne down the sink.
11. whats for tea? gave them money to walk down to fish and chip shop to give me half an hours peace.
12. ate fish and chips with kids
13.sat on couch and surfed the net till eyelids turned to sand.
14. went to bed.
thats it! exciting isnt it?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Stepfather
I found a blog on here that was so readable.
It concerned the life of an average 30-something man with a new wife and baby, and a teenage step-daughter.
On first reading, it is such an innocent blog, all family get-togethers and pictures of happy holidays (obviously not short a bob or two). However, there was also an inordinate amount of seductive pictures of his 15 year old stepdaughter, and a preoccupation with her virginity to the point he was giving her advice and discussing it all in his blog.
Surely this man isnt so naive that he thinks this is OK? Or is it OK, and Im overreacting? The mother is barely mentioned at all, certainly not in the graphic detail his daughters life and feelings are, so Im assuming she finds no harm.
Then again, is the world full of lecherous middle aged men trying to mask an obsession with the teenagers around them? How many girls live in this situation? I recall a school friend (30 years ago) being completely freaked by her stepfather, even though he never laid a hand on her. The way he watched her however, spoke volumes. She endured, until she was old enough to leave home, but always felt abused with no resolution or solid reasons why.
My own brother tried to sexually abuse me when he was 13 and I was 8. Fortunately I have always had a strong sense of right and wrong, so I threw a tantrum and made him take me home. I have never forgotten, and I never told anyone else because I knew I would be called a liar. That however, is the family I grew up in - a story best saved for another time.
I still recall the feelings of guilt and dirtiness I felt that day. Somehow it had happened because of me. The horror I felt when a previously trusted and loved figure in my life tried to molest me, was devastating. I still dont like talking about it. If there is any man reading this, or any woman who harbours a question, please do not underestimate the horrible consequences of this sort of crime. Even a near miss is still traumatising, 40 years later.
Now, my brother is now a headmaster with 6 kids of his own. Another happy family?
It concerned the life of an average 30-something man with a new wife and baby, and a teenage step-daughter.
On first reading, it is such an innocent blog, all family get-togethers and pictures of happy holidays (obviously not short a bob or two). However, there was also an inordinate amount of seductive pictures of his 15 year old stepdaughter, and a preoccupation with her virginity to the point he was giving her advice and discussing it all in his blog.
Surely this man isnt so naive that he thinks this is OK? Or is it OK, and Im overreacting? The mother is barely mentioned at all, certainly not in the graphic detail his daughters life and feelings are, so Im assuming she finds no harm.
Then again, is the world full of lecherous middle aged men trying to mask an obsession with the teenagers around them? How many girls live in this situation? I recall a school friend (30 years ago) being completely freaked by her stepfather, even though he never laid a hand on her. The way he watched her however, spoke volumes. She endured, until she was old enough to leave home, but always felt abused with no resolution or solid reasons why.
My own brother tried to sexually abuse me when he was 13 and I was 8. Fortunately I have always had a strong sense of right and wrong, so I threw a tantrum and made him take me home. I have never forgotten, and I never told anyone else because I knew I would be called a liar. That however, is the family I grew up in - a story best saved for another time.
I still recall the feelings of guilt and dirtiness I felt that day. Somehow it had happened because of me. The horror I felt when a previously trusted and loved figure in my life tried to molest me, was devastating. I still dont like talking about it. If there is any man reading this, or any woman who harbours a question, please do not underestimate the horrible consequences of this sort of crime. Even a near miss is still traumatising, 40 years later.
Now, my brother is now a headmaster with 6 kids of his own. Another happy family?
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Madeline McCann
From day one, I have been convinced that these people accidentally killed their little girl and disposed of her. I believe the so-called Tapas Seven are also in on the cover-up, to some degree.
These people have shown the emotion of a jelly fish from day one. I have never, ever been able to contemplate how they swanned off for drinks and dinner while leaving their BABIES defenseless and alone. By all accounts the children were as a result of IVF, surely even more wanted and nutured than a naturally conceived child, if thats possible. Yet off they went, leaving their babies alone in a foreign country, out of earshot, in an unlocked room.
I doubt they wouldve left their wallets lying around so carelessly.
I have followed this case as closely as I could from the early days. My opinion was formed very early on and has not changed, nor have I witnessed a thing to indicate I am wrong. I was gob-smacked when these people went on a publicity jaunt to the Pope while theoretically, their baby couldve been found at any tick of the clock, in God knows what state, begging for her mummy. Gerry's blog has also been a study in self-absorption. Who on earth, can calmly go for a run, and write about it in such a chatty manner afterwards, while their baby is missing and potentially being tortured at that very minute? And who else in their situation, calmly goes about hiring a publicity team and setting up a bank account to receive donations? Of course we know about Clarence etc, aren't they the ones who knew where Madeline was and that they'd get her home by Christmas? Have they changed their minds? So far they've managed to locate her in Morocco, Spain, Belgium...need I go on? They will not find her because she hasn't been abducted, she has been hidden, right under everybodys noses.
When I had my little baby girl (who has since morphed into a 15 year old princess), I couldnt even sit in the next door neighbours front yard with a baby monitor, to listen to a concert nearby by ROCK GOD Jimmy Barnes. I kept having to run to and fro checking the monitor. I drove my neighbour mad...."Im just going to run next door and whisper something, you listen for it ok?". After an hour of this I gave up and went home, to be with my baby, where I belonged.
I still suffer from this anxiety - my "babies" are now 11 and 15 and I STILL cannot leave them alone at home at night while I go out. Call me over-protective, but these children are the most precious things to me, and the thought of them coming to any harm while I was out partying with my mates, is my (and most parents) greatest fear.
Death Dogs, Pink Cats, Blue bags, Eggmen, Blobmen, whatever mystery surrounds this little girl's disappearance - the McCanns are as guilty as sin. Guilty of being selfish, careless liars who are guilty of criminal neglect.
These people have shown the emotion of a jelly fish from day one. I have never, ever been able to contemplate how they swanned off for drinks and dinner while leaving their BABIES defenseless and alone. By all accounts the children were as a result of IVF, surely even more wanted and nutured than a naturally conceived child, if thats possible. Yet off they went, leaving their babies alone in a foreign country, out of earshot, in an unlocked room.
I doubt they wouldve left their wallets lying around so carelessly.
I have followed this case as closely as I could from the early days. My opinion was formed very early on and has not changed, nor have I witnessed a thing to indicate I am wrong. I was gob-smacked when these people went on a publicity jaunt to the Pope while theoretically, their baby couldve been found at any tick of the clock, in God knows what state, begging for her mummy. Gerry's blog has also been a study in self-absorption. Who on earth, can calmly go for a run, and write about it in such a chatty manner afterwards, while their baby is missing and potentially being tortured at that very minute? And who else in their situation, calmly goes about hiring a publicity team and setting up a bank account to receive donations? Of course we know about Clarence etc, aren't they the ones who knew where Madeline was and that they'd get her home by Christmas? Have they changed their minds? So far they've managed to locate her in Morocco, Spain, Belgium...need I go on? They will not find her because she hasn't been abducted, she has been hidden, right under everybodys noses.
When I had my little baby girl (who has since morphed into a 15 year old princess), I couldnt even sit in the next door neighbours front yard with a baby monitor, to listen to a concert nearby by ROCK GOD Jimmy Barnes. I kept having to run to and fro checking the monitor. I drove my neighbour mad...."Im just going to run next door and whisper something, you listen for it ok?". After an hour of this I gave up and went home, to be with my baby, where I belonged.
I still suffer from this anxiety - my "babies" are now 11 and 15 and I STILL cannot leave them alone at home at night while I go out. Call me over-protective, but these children are the most precious things to me, and the thought of them coming to any harm while I was out partying with my mates, is my (and most parents) greatest fear.
Death Dogs, Pink Cats, Blue bags, Eggmen, Blobmen, whatever mystery surrounds this little girl's disappearance - the McCanns are as guilty as sin. Guilty of being selfish, careless liars who are guilty of criminal neglect.
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