Play the Game

Image courtesy of Rush PR

The motto at my leafy, suburban primary school was 'play the game', a good strong, thought-provoking slogan (although the double entendre was lost on me and I developed an unhealthy obsession with sport).

Whoever selected it, back in 1891, no doubt did so with an innocent mind, wanting his students to relish in opportunities presented and have a well-rounded education and life. These days, to successfully 'play the game' one usually resorts to trickery and dirty tactics. From Australia's Next Top Model to Federal politics, the players are ruthless in their pursuit for the top. It's become less about camaraderie and more about ambition. And nowhere is this more relevant than in politics where yesterday Kevin Rudd, once again played the game. By amending their carbon emissions scheme, Rudd and his ministers have politically compromised by trying to appease two sides. Delaying the scheme by 12 months and thereby mollifying the Coalition, while increasing the target to a more environmentally acceptable 25 per cent by 2020, is some shifty politics. Surely, an amendment the opposition leader can't pass up on, and cleverly designed to refocus attention on a cornered Turnbull. Of course he will pass and the environment and climate change will become the marinated vegies in this bitter, political sandwich. If only the contestants on Australia's Next Top Model were this clever.

A luddite no more

Image courtesy of Amanda Woodward

As I feverishly await the return of my husband (he's been overseas for five weeks) I am reminded at what I have achieved in his absence. In between caring for my seven month old baby, general housekeeping and walking the dog, I've turned to technology for company. I've registered on facebook; legally and illegally downloaded music; updated my itunes; linked my two electronic calendars (in fact synchronised my entire iphone with my laptop); downloaded images from my camera, onto said laptop; and started this very blog. Needless to say, I am technologically spent. Perhaps it's my current exclusion from the workforce that has me craving communication. Perhaps it's me proving I can cope without my partner (who has always controlled the uploads). Either way it's been rather liberating. Let's hope the federal government's national broadband proposal gets the green light, as if I can feel excommunicated in the inner city, god knows how the country folk are feeling...

Oxford St Anzacs

Walking through Taylor Square early on Sunday morning can be an eye-opening experience. With my baby and dog in tow, it's not the most pleasant of morning walks. Drunks are still drinking, loonies still shouting and clubbers still clubbing. Still I'll take Darlinghurst over suburbia any day. Sometimes maternal junkies yell at me for not putting socks on my baby. I want to yell back, something about the stupidity of taking drugs but I never do. The Oxford St brigade are celebrating ANZAC Day the only way they know how - popping something and dancing the night away. Bless em.