Saturday night's...

...already old.

I still have some more photos to put up, but even with internet on at home, the spacebar on my keyboard has mysteriously stopped working, along with all the number keys. Odd.

ItdoesmakeanythingIwritefromhomealittlehardtoread.

So I’ll do this at work.

The first time I voted in a federal election it was between the Vampire and the Duck – or at least that’s the way I saw it. Keating was tough and acerbic, and reminded me of my grandpa for some reason; Howard was a mean little twerp surrounded by snotty aristocrats. I was sorely disappointed in 1996 – and it only got worse, a lot worse, over the next decade or so.

Now, I’ve just realised what a difference not having Howard in will make to this place. Sure, I was bloody excited on Saturday night (even more so when I found out the new PM and treasurer will have their HQ in the Riverside Centre – I walk past there everyday and the downcast faces of the innumerable private school bullies was wonderful – I bet they’re stoked to have commies in the building), but it didn’t really sink in until my uni contacted me on Wednesday.

They sent me a letter to let me know that the amount of courses on offer had been reduced again. Since I enrolled in economics there in 2001 the number of courses has halved, and those left are geared towards business, engineering, law – basically vocational higher education. It seems that in Howard’s Australia learning how to think, rather than just to do, was a bad thing.

So, as angry as I am about the letter, I dare to hope that it may now change. Maybe too late for a lot of people – we’ll just have a glut of people than can fix stuff with nobody that can make a new one for a while – but eventually.

This election has also finally proved to me that the narrow left-right spectrum truly is dead, or at least only a small part of the story. Sure, economically it helps people work out what’s happening, but it’s glaringly obvious that it completely fails to adequately model social and environmental issues. Disturbingly, I can conceive of a Labor party that assumes the socially conservative mantle, while a Turnbull led New Liberal party openly courts the Greens and the gay vote. While I don’t really think it’s likely it’s fairly clear that the unnatural marriage of the small l economic liberals and the religious right is dying an overdue death.

Another thing I’ve noticed is the reaction from the international media. Of course the Guardian crowed about it, but that’s hardly surprising.

What is more refreshing is the reaction from some other news outlets around the place. Even the New York Times keeps its usual neo-conservative bias to a minimum.

The Howardistas may see Rudd as a me-too man, but it’s not the way it plays around the world. The Kyoto ratification alone completely changes how we might be viewed in a world that mainly dislikes the Bush administration, if not the US as such.

In short, I am beginning to be happy about the way the world sees our country again. It is becoming ok to get angry about overtly racist acts again, ok to be nice to people, ok to put reconciliation back on the table.

Is it because of Rudd? Not entirely – he’s like the rebound guy. A bit like the old one, but without the nastiness and the arsehole friends. The one you have a fling with while you get over your destructive relationship. The one just before you meet the true love – the real inspiration. Maybe her name’s Julia. Dunno yet, but I’m hopeful.

It all means that my life, pretty awesome before, has an extra bit of soy sauce on it*.
Got a place to live, a decent job, a good family
and, top of the list, a hot lawyer.

Yep, k has finished her degree, passed quite well, and graduates next week. Happily (although the money would be nice...) she’s not a sellout and won’t be prosecuting asylum seekers or trying to help big corporation avoid their obligations anytime soon.

This new political climate means k and I can wander about the world, proud to be from a tolerant, forward thinking, and compassionate country. I know the problems won’t be fixed overnight – the damage the divisive little prick did to this place will take a long time to fix.

To the man who declared his “victory over political correctness” his biggest achievement – I hope you die a bitter, twisted old man, forever bewildered by your loss, watching as a little country took a prime spot on the world stage as soon as you left, and rejected your insular, sycophantic, and all around gutless world view.

To k – let’s go places and see places together and talk about stuff and do good things for nice people.
And meet me at the station this arvo, then can we go to the hardware store because I need a wheelbarrow.


____________________________________
*because soy sauce is good on EVERYTHING.

Come as you were...

I catch the train to work, now, a grand 12 minutes of relaxing against the second door of the first car of the second half of the train.

Yesterday morning, as always, I was leaning back, headphones in, the sounds of Mana (I have a theory this will help me learn Spanish) drowning out all and sundry. Most of the old folk were sitting down. Incredibly enough, the private school kids had given up their seats this time, and four of them were clustered around the middle part between the doors – two boys, two girls.

On of the boys was doing much the same as me – leaning back against the wall as he watched his friend with thinly disguised disgust. Said friend was busily chatting up an All Hallows girl (whose friend was looking similarly unimpressed on the other side of the carriage).

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I was sure it was inane and annoying, so I just glanced from time to time.

A strange look from a fellow commuter, about my age, caused me to turn my music off for a second.

“....so, yeah, I found it last night,” the boy was saying, “It’s sort of laid back, maybe like Jack Johnson a bit? And he sort of looks like that guy from Idol? The surfer?” Everything was a question.

“Yeah, right, cool. What was that song? Teen something? Is there a version of that?” comes the reply.

“Smells Like Teen Spirit, no, it’s other stuff, but it’s not bad – called Unplugged.”

Right, so that’s what the other guy was laughing at. Well, not me. More power to the younguns I say – took me a lot longer to recognise the value of Led Zeppelin.

Then the kicker:

“So, what other cool cds does your dad have?”

Was it really necessary, that comment, just to spite me? I turned my Rock en Español back on.

Which is probably dad rock in Mexico.