The Debating Replacement

FutureMed...acceptance

2012-01-02T08:36:00.001+11:00

On the morning of December 19, I woke up to an email that may well turn out to be life changing. I had had very little sleep the night before (sleep has become less easy in the past year) and was contemplating rolling over and burying my head deep into my sheets. I am one of those over-connected people who devotes the 'other half' of their bed to their phone...and therefore check my emails only moments after I turn off my alarm. Judge me as you may, I do recognize that this is generally not the ideal way to sleep.

The email I received blew me away. Instead of wanting to go back to sleep, I was pumped and ready for action. A few emails were sent in the first 10 minutes of waking, followed by a quick breakfast and much more communication. The email was congratulating me on my acceptance to a program called FutureMed, which is run by Singularity University in San Jose, California. I saw this program back in about May and thought it looked fantastic. I was so inspired by the ideas presented by FutureMed executive Daniel Kraft, who spoke at TED not that long ago. As a current medical student, future health professional, volunteer and avid promoter of positive use of technology, I knew it was a program I would enjoy. I knew that the knowledge and connections made at this program would change not only the face of medicine but potentially its foundations too. For those of you in the field, you will most likely recognize that many parts of the health industry need reshaping whether in Australia or another part of the world. To think that, of the 100 people accepted to the program, I was included absolutely blew me away. I feel honored and privileged to have this opportunity.

Despite the frantic trip to the travel agent to change flights, the added stress of organizing such an immense travel change, telling my family and friends and constructing a fundraising model as well as all of the things I already had to do in my last ten days I Australia before heading to Ghana, I was still so thrilled. The most common sentence to come out of my mouth that week was 'I am just so shocked' - shocked because I couldn't quite see how I was special enough to make the cut. Shocked because this is so amazing. Shocked because it is one of those dreams that I never thought would come true.

Somehow, I am headed to the US at the end of January. Somehow, I am going to learn more than I thought possible about the future of health. Ways in which we can reduce costs and increase health levels. Ways to make us all happier and healthier. More effective education methods. Greater use of Internet technologies in promotion of health. And much, much more.

I am still so stunned that I am going. I am so appreciative of this opportunity. And I hope you will benefit from the things that I learn.

If you are interested in coming along for the journey, check out my fundraising page: http://www.pozible.com/index.php/archive/index/4532/description/0/0

Ghana: our arrival

2012-01-02T04:25:00.001+11:00

Ghana. What a beautiful place.

My first impressions after 24+ hours in transit from Sydney to Accra, the capital, were of surprise. I was shocked to see the streets set up in a grid from my sky-high view. It shouldn't be surprising, but I didn't expect properties to be lined up in a perfectly grid-like arrangement with street lamps at each corner. As it turns out, this must be only on properties near the airport as it is not like this in most of the city.

We landed on solid ground with a bit of the jump. I flinched. I didn't expect to bounce onto the runaway. We got off the plane through a sheltered staircase (top notch!) and entered the immigration building with its beautiful red archway. The immigration process is never much fun but we made it through and collected our bags and boxes with no problems. We were both a little overwhelmed by most everything at this point, overwhelmed by a need to sleep in anything that looked vaguely like a bed. A man and his friend found their suitcases had arrived missing their brand new laptops. I wondered why anyone would pack brand new laptops into checked luggage. I guess it made sense to them. Dazed, K and I headed through customs. The officials found great pleasure in searching through our boxes of glasses and decided that they might want a few pairs for themselves. We were upset by their actions but half expected it. I guess what really gets me is that they were stealing from their country men, not from us. That just seems remarkably unkind. Especially in a nation that is so friendly.

On high alert, we got into the wide world of Accra, helped by a lovely group of taxi drivers to figure out where we were going. After much discussion, many phone calls and a lot of confusion, we managed to get ourselves to BaseCamp in Kaneshie First Lights. We were so glad to have made it. There were perfect bunk beds, a flushing toilet and running taps of water waiting for us. This is the life.

It's funny how quickly I become accustomed to a world without all of the products I have at home. It bothered me little that there was no hot water. It bothered me little that I forgot to bring body soap and instead needed to use shampoo. That I had to brush my teeth with the small amount of Sydney water I still had in my bottle. That I was sleeping under a flattened mosquito net because it was too tall to sit upright underneath the fan. I was so impressed by the quality of our accommodation. I think I had set my expectation levels to be somewhere around the accommodation we had in remote NT. Instead, it seemed comparatively high standard.

We slept for all of five hours, thanks to K sleeping for almost all of the flights here. Me, I was still tired but I am used to a lack of sleep! We had our breakfast, a delicious omelette, fresh bread and a milo, before doing some yoga and relaxing for the morning. As it turned out, one of the boys who works at BaseCamp was taking his brother on a tour of Accra on the same day so we tagged along to see the markets, take the tro tro (public transport), sample traditional Ghanaian food and see the beach.

The beach. Wow. To stand on the southern edge of West Africa, knowing that there is little aside from water between you and Antarctica is just mind blowing. I stood in the water, pants rolled up, playing with the sand, sinking my feet j to the ground under me, letter the waves run between my fingers as I stood folded in half. It took a lot of self control to keep myself from jumping in fully clothed, but having my camera, phone and paper money in my pockets was a pretty logical reason to control my limbic system.

We headed back to BaseCamp to relax for the last few hours of 2011. I finished off my year in the longest conversation with one of the staff, J, who wanted to share his world, understand mine and to make friends. What a lovely way to spend the last hours of my year. I learnt so much about Ghana in those hours and a few words of Twi, the local dialect. I feel a kinship with this place.

After all of our adventures, I was exhausted. I struggled into bed and fell asleep instantaneously despite the yelling of the priest at the church next door. Sound restrictions don't work quite as well here as they do in Australia.

Today, the first of 2012, we relaxed. I hope this is a reflection of being a little more relaxed this year. I have a tendency to burn myself out too much. We read, I napped, I wrote. We arrived at the Telecentre, our next accommodation, to be shocked by how fancy it is. I am still overwhelmed my the marble floors, fridge and telephone in the room. It's nicer than my place at home! I don't need this level of fancy! A mattress, running water and electricity are luxuries enough for me. How much does it matter what things look like on the outside?

Giving

2011-12-22T15:55:00.001+11:00

It's the time of year when we all talk about giving - about presents and charity, about what we can buy for our parents who have everything they need and our kids who want things far more expensive than what we can afford. It's become quite popular in recent years to give to charity rather than receive unwanted gifts. The amount of paraphernalia we get in the mail asking us kindly to support the Animal Aociety, a global health charity, the local homeless mission ... It must cost them a fortune to post these our, hence the increasing numbers of emails and online campaigns. Hence the street campaigners who accost us as we walk to work, to catch up with friends or to get our groceries.

With all of these messages all around us, it becomes almost impossible to still feel empathy for these causes. We are charity-fatigued. There are so many things in the world that need fixing. There are so many problems with the world. The whole world seems depressed, starving, stuck in slave trade, homeless and without equal opportunities. It's enough to make us feel guilty for being considerate, vegan, environmentally friendly and global conscious human beings.

I was listening to a presentation by Somaly Mam today, a woman sold into sex slavery in Cambodia. She is campaigning to make people aware of the increasing sex trade - the fact that sex slavery is beginning to rival the drug trade in dollar figures. The fact that girls as young as six or seven are sold into this trade - and in great demand - because it is considered in some communities that being with a virgin will act as a cure for HIV/AIDS. I was shocked, moved and incredibly saddened by these stories. At the same time, I had no idea what I could do to help.

In many ways, my experience in the not-fo-profit arena has taught me that I don't HAVE to donate money to every cause. Money is not always the best way to help. Firstly, that would be financially impossible. Secondly, I don't think that's the point.

It might be controversial to say this. But I think we all think it at some point or another. There's a huge difference between feeling a connection with a cause and donating money to ease our sense of guilt. We can talk about these big problems facing the world. We can discuss solutions. We can give as many opportunities as possible to those who have needlessly suffered. But we don't need to give our money to every single cause.

It is for this reason that I object to the street charity salespeople - the ones that stand in mobs of four or six on major street corners, tracking you down and demanding credit card details. I have a couple of major problems with this. First, I'm not writing down my credit card number on a piece of paper that some person with few credentials will keep in a pile at TownHall train station. Second, I cannot make an informed decision about the charity given the limited knowledge many of these salespeople have. Third, I don't feel particularly charitable when you get in my way while I'm going about my daily business. I am one of those nice people who generally smiles at whoever is coming my direction,which makes it doubly as difficult when I don't want to seem rude. That said, I try to be nice, apologetic and understanding.

I find it quite bizarre that many of these organizations do not have alternatives available should you wish to donate time instead of money. Recently, I was telephoned by a particular charity and I thought their cause of worthy. As it is the festive season, I didn't have spare change to give away but would happily have spent a few hours doing something useful. The person on the other end of the call was shocked by my question and uncertain if there were opportunities. Surely time is an excellent way to harness both skill and community awareness. This is a good way to spread the word of the charity.

I recognize that I keep using the word charity. I also feel like we need to reconsider the word. We need to move away from a model of giving money in order to appease our sense of being unfairly privileged. There is nothing wrong with having a good life, especially if you spend time trying to make things better for other people. We need to appreciate the value of our skills to NGOs and small not-for-profit organisations in increasing equality, wellbeing and environmental sustainability. We need to be conscious of our impact on the world and take steps to reduce this. We need to reconnect with our humanity. Giving $20 a month direct debit to charity won't achieve that - it will just reduce your savings balance. It will be a few less coffees on your account. It doesn't make you a better person, try as you might to believe that.

So how do you give, properly? Well, I don't think it's just about giving. Giving implies that you are better than the receiver. That you have the upper hand. It can be easy to forget the resilience, the struggles and the skills of the people or groups to which you donate.

Think about it as sharing. You are sharing your time, money and commitment with an organisation. You are sharing your passion for increasing equality, or decreasing discrimination, or reducing deforestation or...whatever it is...with those who can take action. You are trying to make the world a better place, however you understand that change occurring. It might not be the same better place that your neighbour would imagine, but then we don't all think the same things either. Make your change. Make your impact. Make the world something that your nieces and nephews, cousins, children or students might enjoy. Share your experiences. Listen to those of others. Be a part of a movement, rather than a side-line supporter.

If you share, you will be a better you each and every day.

In the words of Rocca, nous sommes la lumière du chemin ou nous

The Hippocratic Oath

2011-11-26T22:22:00.000+11:00

I have been thinking, lately, on what makes us enter the Medical profession. Any one person will have their personal reasons but in discussions with my classmates, I've come to see that we all share similar passions for the field.

We all love helping people.

We all love challenges.

We like being able to look at a problem and devise solutions.

We like being around other people.

We like working with like-minded individuals.

We're interested in the life story.

We think health is important.

It just felt right.

Many people, upon telling them that you study Medicine, will immediately respond that we'll have a 'great salary' to which we can look forward. Yes, great, we'll have a guaranteed salary. In many years. Until then, we're all poor university students who are just as interested in cheap groceries as the next university student. And the money is definitely not why you get into this profession. A 4-6 year degree, years of slogging it as a junior doctor, 6-8 years of fellowship (where 'life' is that time between ordering your 10th coffee of the day and receiving it at the other end of the cafe) don't exact make for a quick financial fix. So yes, there will be security. One day. I can promise that's not why (the majority) of us got into Medicine.

Explaining why you want to partake in a career isn't easy. It really just feels right. You might think that's a cop-out excuse. I'm going to use the evidence in Gladwell's Blink as a defence here. Sometimes big decisions need to run with your gut (or your instinct). Something fits with you - with all of the things that you are. When I was thinking, years ago, about where I wanted to go in life, I wrote myself a list. It was very specifically an abstract list. It didn't say anything about what I would be doing in my ultimate profession. It just said how. I wanted to do good things. To be with people. To constantly learn. To thrive on knowledge. To create knowledge. To talk and teach. To mentor and be mentored. To have mobility if I wanted it. To have a community. To always have interesting things on. To have both instant results and long term goals. To never get bored of it.

I left the list. And then, one day, I thought about Medicine. And I thought about the list. Like two perfect last bits of the puzzle, they fit together. Medicine was the enzyme to my substrate.

Now that I'm studying this wonderful course, I think on what qualities I will need into the rest of my career. Everyone talks about the Hippocratic Oath as if it is the answer to the world's innumerable problems. I thought I should share it with those of you who've only used the phrase without reading the words. It is an important historical document, yet contains many sentiments no longer practiced in the medical world. We increasingly discuss euthanasia as a humane way of allowing those suffering terribly to let go of the pain that they are in. We also give deadly drugs to patients in order to give them life back. This is the principle of many cancer drugs. Some drugs stop the heart in order to perform life-saving surgery. Hippocrates suggested that abortions should not be performed and yet the logic suggests that if a doctor were not to perform the procedure safely, a women or her family may attempt to perform one in unadvisable ways. Whether you agree with abortion or not, it has been argued (and won) in many areas that legalisation/decriminalisation is a much safer option. The Hippocratic Oath suggests this shouldn't be allowed - and certainly in his time these were abominable ideas. Times change and the documentation must change with it.

Instead of using this Oath, many Australian Medical Schools now construct their own, based on the thoughts and ethics of the cohorts. This provides adequate reflection on time on how we should behave, rather than handing us these ideas on a plate. The AMA suggests that doctors abide by the Geneva Declaration, something far more modern that Hippocrates.

Whatever you follow...ask yourself, why? Why do you think this is right or wrong. Write it down. Leave it and come back to those thoughts in a few weeks. Discuss with your friends. You never know how you will progress your own field as a result.

The Oath

By Hippocrates

Written 400 B.C.E

Translated by Francis Adams, sourced from MIT

I SWEAR by Apollo the physician, and Aesculapius, and Health, and All-heal, and all the gods and goddesses, that, according to my ability and judgment, I will keep this Oath and this stipulation- to reckon him who taught me this Art equally dear to me as my parents, to share my substance with him, and relieve his necessities if required; to look upon his offspring in the same footing as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if they shall wish to learn it, without fee or stipulation; and that by precept, lecture, and every other mode of instruction, I will impart a knowledge of the Art to my own sons, and those of my teachers, and to disciples bound by a stipulation and oath according to the law of medicine, but to none others. I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous. I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel; and in like manner I will not give to a woman a pessary to produce abortion. With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art. I will not cut persons laboring under the stone, but will leave this to be done by men who are practitioners of this work. Into whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and, further from the seduction of females or males, of freemen and slaves. Whatever, in connection with my professional practice or not, in connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret. While I continue to keep this Oath unviolated, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the art, respected by all men, in all times! But should I trespass and violate this Oath, may the reverse be my lot!

The Declaration of Geneva

From the AMA

At the time of being admitted as a member of the medical profession:

I solemnly pledge to consecrate my life to the service of humanity;

I will give to my teachers the respect and gratitude that is their due;

I will practise my profession with conscience and dignity;

The health of my patient will be my first consideration;

I will respect the secrets that are confided in me, even after the patient has died;

I will maintain, by all the means in my power, the honour and the noble traditions of the medical profession;

My colleagues will be my sisters and brothers;

I will not permit considerations of age, disease or disability, creed, ethnic origin, gender, nationality, political affiliation, race, sexual orientation, social standing or any other factor to intervene between my duty and my patient;

I will maintain the utmost respect for human life;

I will not use my medical knowledge to violate human rights and civil liberties, even under threat;

I make these promises solemnly, freely and upon my honour.

Youth Health 2011 #YH2011

2011-11-21T01:07:00.002+11:00

Youth Health 2011: It's totally important!

The 8th Australian & New Zealand Adolescent Health Conference

3rd IAAH Asia Pacific Congress

9-11 November 2011

What an intense, amazing and productive three days.

A few months ago, I was talking to my housemate about how conferences seem outdated - that with the Internet, it seems more logical to run conferences as webinars. That way, you save on carbon emissions through flights. You save on expensive catering and wasted brochures. In a lot of ways, I still think webinars are a great idea. I am also slowly coming to terms with why conferences are amazing - it's more than the speeches, it's the atmosphere. It's having 500 people who are fascinating by a topic come together to make connections, begin great projects and work together to better their field. THAT is what makes conferences worthwhile.

This year's Youth Health was no exception to that rule. The pre-conference day allowed a number of people to interact with topics as diverse as General Practice, rights, e-health, building resilience and eating disorders. It was also a very special day for me. I was lucky enough to co-facilitate a workshop under the Co-operative Research Centre for Young People, Technology and Wellbeing (soon to receive a much more snappy name) about using relatively simple social media. The workshop that I helped run was with another girl, not much older than me, who I had never met. We'd first spoken over teleconference in the planning stages of the pre-conference day. I'd imagined her to be very tall, strong and with dark hair. Who knows why. She seems like the sort of person who knows who she is. The sort of person who doesn't need to be told that she's awesome, because she's pretty confident in her own skin. A smart woman. Someone much wiser than her 20-something years. I knew she was studying a PhD. That's pretty cool. It's in music, so she must also be exceptionally talented. We spoke some months later on Skype so that we could plan together. It turned out that she wasn't a brunette - instead wearing long blonde locks. No matter. We met for the very first time AT Youth Health. We facilitated a workshop together having only spoken in real life for about 20 minutes. Yet, our presentation ran seamlessly. Somehow, through the Internet, we'd forged a strong relationship. Despite her being quite different in appearance to what I had expected, all of the personality traits I'd picked up prior seemed to shine at the conference. And she's modest to boot! On that first day, I made a friend for life.

That afternoon, my friend and I attended the Youth Delegate orientation. We were both lucky enough to be selected to the 35-member youth representation at the conference. There were, of course, young people there in other capacties. It just goes to prove that you can be under-25 and doing great things. There were health professionals under-25, policy-makers, PhD candidates, students (high school and university) and many other amazing people amongst us. It was humbling to meet so many people making so much out of their lives, many of them despite backgrounds with hardship. We talked, found common ground and eased our way into the conference. It was so strange, however, to be in a group solely on the basis of age. Strange, because for years we were all organised on age in school. And now, in Medical School, we are in "year levels" yet I find it incredibly bizarre to spend time with people solely because they are 'young'. Many of my friends are over 25, some under 20. Age isn't something I worry about too much anymore. Indeed, my freshly-18 friends had to deal with my constantly forgetting that they weren't 'legal' yet. Age is pretty arbitrary, really.

You're probably wondering how I can say age is arbitrary, despite being at a conference focused specifically on Youth Health. Well, yes, it is pretty arbitrary in a lot of ways. Some 14-year olds are more mature than some 28-year olds. We're all very different people. Youth is not homogenous. That is one of the most important things any professional could pick up from this conference.

The conference-proper started that evening. There was the most beautiful Welcome to Country. I love it when Welcome to Country is sincere and about really respecting the true custodians of this land. It's very easy to forget how much they have done for us, and hard to come to terms with how disrespectful modern society is of this land. Every time I listen to a Welcome to Country, I want to bring the 'better days' of innovation, responsibility and sustainability back. We can all learn a lot from Aboriginal Australian traditions.

Following some beautiful speeches, the students of St Peters Christian College (I think!) did a magnificent, astounding rendition of their Rock Eisteddfod School Performance. I was blown away. Here were students who are so often told to 'knuckle down' and 'do [their] homework' performing rock/ballet/jazz/acting in perfect synchrony for fifteen minutes or more. If only we all had such talent. These young people were proving to the world just how great youth can be.

All too soon, it was time to go home to prepare for the next day's early start.

Thursday. The first real day of conference. Speeches galore. Constant wonder, intellectual curiosity, satiated. We heard from the amazing Governor General, Her Excellency Ms Quentin Bryce AC. We were welcomed by Emma Byrne, Chair of the NSW Youth Advisory Council. Some exceptionally talented young people from Beyondblue Indigenous Hip Hop performed...the audience speechless in wonder. Professor Blum from Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health entranced us with his conceptual framework for early adolescence. A number of us tweeted furiously to cover every word of his speech. We broke our accounts several times with tweet-flooding. So we switched accounts. Again. And again.

We heard from Dr Laura Guarenti, the WHO Country representative for Papua New Guinea. She told us a moving story of the low health education levels in PNG, of the young girls who didn't know about reproductive health, the children born to such young women who knew no other option, the nuns who weren't allowed to spread health messages due to their superiors banning it. Despite this tragic tale, Dr Guarenti still managed to make us laugh. She is an inspiration.

Proessor Louise Newman AM spoke of those young people seeking asylum in our 'lucky country' and Associate Professor Ngiare Brown (someone I am lucky enough to have met several time through my University), a medical officer with the Australian Indigenous Doctors' Association, spoke about prioritising Aboriginal adolescent wellbeing. The two speeches contrasted in an odd yet perfect way. We then heard from the wonderful soul, Alicia Veasey, who represented the work of DreamTrack.

We split off for concurrent sessions - decisions on which to attend far more difficult than I would have liked because everything looked amazing. Friends presenting in a number of different rooms. Exciting topics covered in all of them. And only one of me.

I could go on for hours and hours about how wonderful and inspiring this conference was for all of us who attended. I could wax lyrical about the friends I made. More importantly, though, is to digest and then create plans to set into action. To implement many of the frameworks suggested by the speakers. To work together to better adolescent health (and therefore future adult health). Because we can. Because we need to do this.

My plan of action - I'm still working on it. In part, the lessons will go into Avenir Rural Mentoring. In part, these lessons will go into my medical training. The conference got me thinking (again) about specialising in Paediatrics. We'll see how that goes but it is definitely an option. My plan is to remember, to learn, to keep going and to always keep my eyes open. My plan is to never underestimate young people. If you really need proof, you should watch this.

Failing Forward

2011-11-21T00:06:00.000+11:00

Failing forward: it's a term used all too frequently these days. Turning our mistakes into success...or maybe just learning from what we've done in the past. Growing, shaping, moulding. Becoming better. Maturing. Finding wisdom.

I've done a lot of failing forward this year. I've tried a lot of new things...and really not succeeded. And I'm trying again and hoping to do better. I'm hoping the past 'failures' will teach me to be slightly more successful with each new venture. I'll cross-pollinate the learning because my mind doesn't need to be entirely compartmentalised.

During October, I decided I would have a total ban on unhealthy foods. I generally eat reasonably well - lots of fruit and vege, brown rice and all of those other healthy foods. I was, however, a bit concerned by the amount of 'added treats' that had creeped into my weeks so I thought I should just ban them outright. Moderation doesn't work well for me.

What did I learn in October? Well, firstly, it's very hard to avoid cake when you have tutorials where everyone brings delicious (read: unhealthy) snacks. It's very hard to avoid unhealthy foods when you forget your lunch. The number of times I hadn't brought enough food for the day, waltzed down to the cafeteria with my wallet in hand hoping to find something healthy and failed miserably. I didn't fail healthy eating, I failed filling my stomach. Of course, it wasn't like I really needed any more food, I just wished I'd packed some more nuts or carrots or something...and you just can't purchase that sort of food in a cafeteria. Disappointingly, said cafeteria is in a hospital. The healthiest options available are generally Subway (which has disappointingly few options available for a vegetarian), overpriced and unappetising sandwiches (which were almost never vegetarian) or over-sugared bircher muesli. Suffice to say, I generally waited until I got home to make something yummy.

The other thing that really bothers me about eating out is all of the unavoidable packaging. Actually, this also bothers me about grocery shopping. Today, I went to the supermarket with noodles on my mind. After spending a lot of time analysing which packet had the least amount of packaging, I ended up with two 'individual' serves inside another plastic package. None of which were recyclable. I don't understand why this is necessary. And...the older I get, the more I realize my parents 'ahead of the curve' former hippies has influenced my views around waste. I sometimes fail in choosing the most environmentally friendly options available but I do try incredibly hard to be as environmentally conscientious as possible. Cafes pop plastic covers on hot drinks before asking if you really need one. Everything comes with a plastic fork, even though I (almost) always carry my own cutlery. The list is endless and frustrating.

Back to October. So - my month of healthy eating quickly turned into being allowed one day a week where I could eat a treat. And then someone would want to go out for coffee. And I don't drink coffee, so I'd get hot chocolate (without marshmallows, but it's hardly healthy). Someone would want to go out for dinner. Finding a healthy, tasty, vegetarian option can be incredibly difficult. A healthy, tasty, environmentally-friendly vegetarian option at that. Seriously, next time you walk into a cafe, have a look at the display window. How many vegetarian lunches are available? How many of the items available are cake? Cookies? Slices? Some sort of fried thing? It's overwhelming. What disturbs me is that so many among us only eat at cafes and the like and they're not given the option of something healthier at an affordable cost. Paying $8 for a sandwich is ridiculous.

So I'm trying this healthy thing again. Having learnt from past mistakes, here's the plan:

Carry around my keep-cup more often - or better yet, just say no to the beverages
A small treat once a week is okay
Plan meals ahead of time - it makes buying enough food much easier
Tell my friends that I'd prefer the healthy options

There's not a lot on that list. So it shouldn't be that hard, right? Hopefully it will work. It requires a little bit of de-training from the years living with parents who felt that dinner wasn't complete without dessert. I can get there. It will just require effort.

In line with my new, cliche, "body is a temple" philosophy, I am running. I have never been a runner. I feel that every run is failing forward. I'm always exhausted, panting and looking like the world's most unfit human being. The thing is, I don't care. I'm going to be good at this. Humans were made for running. The fact that I suck at it is all the more reason to try harder. I'm trying to do this 'lightfoot' step, though I'm pretty sure that is also failing. Forward. I have a fancy little iPod Nano that tells me how far I ran and how fast. This is my gauge. Hopefully I'll fail a little less each day.

I'm doing resistance training again. A full-body training routine. It makes me less sleepy. It helps with the healthy eating. It makes me happier. I feel like I'm taking care of myself. And it works really well as a study distraction. Feeling bored? Do some sit ups. Struggling to focus? How about some squats? It sure as heck beats the 20th cup of tea for the day. Especially in this heat.

I'm failing forward on my reading. Never reading as much as I want to but trying to do as much as I can. Slowly getting through Economists. Slowly reading links from Twitter. Slowly getting through Harry Potter, en francais. Hoping that I'll be able to get through Le Seigneur des Anneaux some time soon.

Planning for my Ghana volunteering. Failing with fundraising. Trying again, in a new way. Finding lateral ways of making this happen.

There are thousands of other things I've done where it hasn't all gone to plan. My philosophy, though, is that it's not just failing. Every time you try, you're succeeding just a little bit. Maybe you don't make your own bar, maybe you don't make that of your University faculty or your parents, life partner, best friend. But you're getting there. You're trying. And that counts for at least half of it.

What perfect timing for A Quai, by Yann Tiersen to start playing. You're getting somewhere, even if you don't believe it.

I'm going with the words of Einstein - the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same results. You never fail until you stop trying.

Social Connection

2011-11-19T15:26:00.001+11:00

This was originally posted on my Google+ profile, November 5, 2011.

Today I wonder:
We sit inside our homes, groomed to be just the way we like them. The coasters here, the hand towels folded in a particular fashion, the pantry organised in our own special way. We hide away in our homes, venturing out for groceries and planned activities. We ignore the strangers along our journeys, with a greater level of avoidance the closer we get. We sit on the train, packed like sardines at 8:15am or 5:30pm, determined not to converse with those closest to us. Why is it that we ignore their gaze, lack interest in their lives? We might meet one day in a meeting, false smile and hand ready to shake, find a new friend and organise dinner. We might bump into one another at a barbeque or salsa dancing, yet the train is a taboo place for conversation.

When I was about nine, I remember taking the dog for a walk past a group of people sitting in their driveway. The weather was not particularly spectacular. I wondered why anyone would sit there - the place where the car could run into you - practically on the side walk and wait for the afternoon to turn to evening. I turned to Dad and expressed my confusion. He told me that in some cultures it was perfectly normal to converse with passers-by and complete strangers, to join in humanity on driveways or at bus stops. I puzzled over this, wondering how that worked with stranger danger. And so we walked...

Now, many years later, I wonder why OUR culture cannot be like that. We meet new people in the safety of our online world, still ignoring them on trains. We chat on twitter or G+ or Facebook or flickr or youtube or whatever... We share and create and only when that deep connection seems found do we progress to a real-life, organised catch up.

I feel like we're missing out. Every. Single. Day.

Maybe I should go sit on my driveway.

We all need a little help from our friends

2011-11-12T23:06:00.001+11:00

A few days ago, I got an email from a friend asking me to tell her about a whole list of interesting things going on in my life. We're both very busy people and I thought it would be better to share the thoughts with you all ...

A few weeks ago, I had an insanely busy time. I organised two events to run, one for work and one for fundraising, I had a Burns Workshop to learn more about Medicine, a Rural Nealth night and my other work. I had started my week with ATedxMacUni and finished with the Google+ Photo Walk. You might think me insane for being so busy and if you did, I wouldn't disagree. I thought I was pretty nuts that week too.

A few weeks ago, I was more stressed than I had ever been. There was so much to worry about and so much that could go wrong. Through it all, though, I had amazing help from my friends. My beautiful housemates took good care of me. They feed me tea non-stop when I was biting their heads off with stress, they make sure I set balanced meals and they let me rant when I'm frustrated. I am not sure what I would do without my boys.

I also have a very wonderful group of friends. My Med friends, who make fun of me for always being so busy and never having time for the social things, remain loyal and caring despite all of my complaints. My high school friends never forget me despite my moving to a different state. My volunteering friends are all pretty much as busy as I am, doing their own amazing things to change the world. And then I have my mentor-friends. I won't name them individually because I think they know who they are. Those people who have started their own world-changing projects, those who are helping with my grand plans (which are nearly out of the planning stages - more on that further down), those who find solutions to my current quandaries with ease and and at short notice because I've called them up in desperation. My friends are my anchor.

At the end of that crazy, crazy week, I went on the Google+ Photo Walk. Lucky I went, because I got an awesome t-shirt with my own personalised QR code. Yes, I'm a nerd. I know you're probably wondering what that is...and why I didn't just stay home and watch a movie. Well...I like doing things. And I like meeting new people. A photo walk, for the uninitiated, is where a group of people, either friends or completely random, get together to follow a path and take photos of the journey. You may have a focus - such as sunsets or trees - or you may just wander to enjoy the scenery. We were mostly new people from across Sydney who had never met before and who came together with curiosity, excitement and passion for photography. There were experts with their DSLRs and the amateurs among us with point and shoot or phone cameras. The majority of us got distracted with great new conversation rather than focusing on the pictures. We talked for hours - the great thing about new people is that you have so much to learn. What are their passions, what do they do, where did they grow up, what makes them them, how did they find out about the event? The questions continued and the relationships grew. Within a few hours, it felt like we'd known each other for years. It felt like we were this stunning Google community. You don't get that feeling a lot.

The great thing about this Photo Walk was that we met through Google+ so we had an existing network. We had each other online and now had the faces and lives to connect to those identities. We had new people, passionate people to call our friends. We are from all different walks of life but we all live in the same city. And we can meet up and do this all again. We were all just faces on the street and the train, but a social network brought us together. THIS is the beauty of the Internet.

The weekend after, I spent my day meeting inspirational people in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander innovation. While I will write another separate summary of that event, I think it rates a mention in here. It rates a mention because it fits in with the networking that I've been doing. Because it fits with the driving forces in my life. With my passion for improving Indigenous health. I spent my Saturday in the company of people I can only dream of emulating.

That evening, I went to dinner with a wonderful young lady to tell her all about my own project. For those of you who have been living under a rock, I'm busy starting up a not-for-profit called Avenir Rural Mentoring. It will hopefully help young rural people find their path, support them through transitions and give them skills that will be useful, whatever life entails. We will be using technology to achieve these aims. My dinner with this wonderful young lady left us both excited, energised and pumped for the future. The reflection upon this only reminds me how lucky I am to live the life I do.

The next few weeks will probably involve me hiding under a rock. I will be busy studying for my very big exam. Thankfully, though, I have had a lot of experiences in the past month from which I have learnt, been inspired and found more meaning.

Ghana

2011-11-12T07:22:00.002+11:00

This blog was originally posted at my volunteer blog, www.ghanavision.wordpress.com

As many of you would have heard in the past few months, thanks to my spamming you with updates and requests for fundraising assistance, I'm volunteering in Ghana in January. It was been far too easy to get caught up in the planning process of pre-departure preparation, the stress of fundraising and organizing the glasses and trying to find flights and doing all of the learning required (and, and, and). Between studying medicine, working, volunteering and starting up a not for profit, this has been quite the demanding task. It's been stressful and difficult. It has grated on my nerves and made me a difficult person to be around. I've struggled to sleep and struggled to regain 'my compass', as Kate would call it.

So what am I really writing about today?

I have found a little bit of myself again. In amongst all of the things that fill up my calendar, I frequently decide to spend a day or a few at a conference. This, though seemingly stupid two weeks out from an 80% exam for my entire year, centres me. Conferences allow me to immerse myself completely in new knowledge, in meeting people and being amazed by their wonder. They take away my arrogance. They remind me of the intelligence, insight and extraordinary capacity of my peers. They remind me that I am human. That I still have so much to learn and so much to improve upon. Conferences remind me to interact, smile and talk.

It is with this reflection, this mental cleansing, that I have once again been able to recognize why I am volunteering in Ghana this January.

I have always been one to advocate for services at home and volunteering with those who have very little in Australia. I still believe this to the core - having nothing doesn't get better just because you live in a rich country. In fact, the richness of that surrounding you makes your poverty all the more obvious. The people in their Hugo Boss suits, carrying their smart phones and grabbing coffee at a local cafe almost shove in your face the face that you sleep in a hallway at Central station and suffer the embarrassment of begging for your food.

What I have realized, however, is that advocating for local solutions is not mutually exclusive to advocating for those in developing or under-developed nations. This may seem obvious because it is. The problem is that we live in a society where fitting into a box is a frequent demand from new acquaintances. It thus becomes difficult to describe my passion for just about everything.

So let me explain in basics.

I believe in human rights.
I believe in human responsibilities.
I believe in respecting others.
I believe in equity and equality.
I believe in doing MY best to make things better for others.
I believe that we can make improvements, even if world peace and other idealogical concepts are so far away that we cannot see them on the horizon.

I first went searching for what resulted in this placement because I wanted to make real change in the world. I know that I will make change in the future - that my involvement with patients as a medical student on clinical practice and as an intern and doctor, the differences may be small or large but they will exist. I know that if I get into public policy, I will affect change on a state, national or global level. I know that my work with Inspire does something but I can never see it. I don't want to wait to make change, to tread water or run a hamster wheel waiting for opportunity to come my way. I wanted to do something that would make an almost instantaneous difference to someone else's life. And I didn't want to take away from them- yes, I wanted to learn but I didn't want to disadvantage them by being there. I wanted to remember my human responsibilities.

I would have liked to do volunteering in Australia. I love helping out my fellow citizen and spend a fair bit of time doing so. Somehow, I came across this amazing program in my searches, though, and the way in which it provides sustainable solutions to global health problems inspired me. I saw that they were recommended by AMSA and I had a good word put in by a very close friend. I figured there was little to lose.

Why exactly Ghana and Unite for Sight?

I can promise you that this trip is not because I "get to go overseas" or because it's Africa and "everyone there needs saving." I'm sure that people in Africa and Ghana are just like anyone else from any other continent- of a whole range of intelligences and abilities, of different skills and desires. I'm sure there are people in Ghana with great solutions to the social problems that they face, just as there are many people in Australia with those same plans and goals. The reason that I chose to go to Ghana is simple. There is a position to be filled, for as short or as long as you have time, and I have time to fill it. Not only that, but I'm passionate about the method of service delivery. I'm passionate about vision. I can't promise you that I will work in eye health specifically. I am, however, passionate about vision because I am a visual learner. Because I need to see things to understand. Because I can't imagine life without my eyes. I could imagine being deaf. I could imagine not being able to smell. Communicating without sight sounds so devastating that I'm not sure how i would cope.

When I read up on the methods used by Unite for Sight - the fact that they partner with those smart people in their target nations, that they promote local solutions to local problems and develop global understanding and tolerance in the process - inspired me. They saw a problem and a way to be part of the solution. This is not white man fixing another nation. This is not neo-colonial. This is altruistic, empathetic and logical. This is truly sustainable.

Just writing out these thoughts make me feel so passionate (I wish I had another word for this feeling) about what I will be doing in two months. It reminds me of why I signed up for all of the difficulties I am now facing in the fundraising and time management department.

I am excited that in less than two months I will be hoping in a plane to experience possibly the most challenging 20 days of my life. It may not be as stressful as life has been before but I do imagine it will be difficult. I imagine that I will feel the culture shock. I imagine that I will feel sadness at the great inequalities between our countries. I imagine I may miss things I don't now realize that I appreciate about Australia. I just hope that I can learn, be inspired and find happiness.

This is the beginning of my journey in global health. One day, with skill, determination and desire, I may end up working with MSF or a like institution. This will be the beginnings of that future..

This is my reflection.

For those of you who feel strongly about the cause, please donate here:

https://maestropay.com/uniteforsight/volunteers/ref/brookesachs
It costs approximately $50 USD for a sight-saving surgery in Ghana, far less than it would cost here. For that small amount of money, one person gets their livelihood back, their family can be more productive. The social and economical returns to the community are huge. You are giving far more than sight, you are giving life back to these people.

If I reach my fundraising goal of $2000 by midnight November 25, I will go without my own sight on November 26.

Ghana: Volunteering

2011-10-24T22:02:00.000+11:00

Some of you may already know that Kellie and I are heading to Ghana this January for our volunteer placement at the Crystal Eye Clinic. If you would like to follow those adventures, visit our blog at:
www.ghanavision.wordpress.com

TedxMacUni Summary

2011-10-23T17:36:00.001+11:00

Social awareness
Engagement
Change

We arrived at Macquarie University, Building Y3A with little idea of what was instore for us. Would it be an interactive day, a big day, a small room, inspiring or intellectual? There were so many options. All we knew was that it would be about change. And in that day, change we did.

The amazing curators of TedxMacUni welcomed us. Frances Houwing and Liam Darmody did a most fantastic job of organising and running the day. They deserve a standing ovation.

The official part of the day began with a true Welcome to Country. This was not a speech done 'because we have to', rather a meaningful acknowledgement of what we can all learn from the traditional owners of this land. We need to show commitment to each other and to our communities communities. Schools, industry and government are helping to connect those with common goals or values. We need to work together to achieve.

The Aboriginal ancestors showed us the perfect models of sustainability. We did not own land, rather it owned us. The land gave us all that we needed. Now, we are forced to wonder what will be left for the future. The roads are littered with rubbish, there is so much waste across our nation. The education system in Aboriginal culture is incredibly sophisticated and these aspects have evolved yet sustained the buffeting of time. Where Aboriginal culture is hanging on through the torrent of Western influence, our land is weakening under increased stress and a lack of tending. Hopefully the coming together of minds at TedxMacUni will begin more change towards caring for all, rather than just a small proportion of our society, environment and education.

Glen Gerreyn
Director, Oxygen Factory
Www.glengerryn.com

Glen draws much of his inspiration from the infamous words of Nelson Mandela in his "Long Walk to Freedom".

Ulcerative colitis, an inflammatory bowel disease, brought Glen's Olympic dream to an unexpected end when he was still very young. After much time feeling 'sorry' for himself, Glen got his hands on a huge warehouse space that he wanted to turn into a youth centre. With no money and a yet-to-be-formed organisation, he managed to convince the landlord to give him six months of free rent. Big companies were going to be his main source of cash but after 114 knocked back proposals, things weren't looking up. He persisted anyway.

Using credit with all of the companies necessary to run his event, an evening that was meant to attract all of 250 people, 2500 turned up. All of the sudden, things were looking up. Glen found himself on the front page of the local paper, sponsors coming in and money to run his youth centre.

Not so long after, Glen found himself with Young Australian of the Year, QLD on his mantlepiece in 1998. He had a vision for the future that got him out of his sickbed.

You have to have a dream that at least motivates you.

Glen's aim now is to end fatherlessness, addiction and depression. He worries that in a period of 13 years there was a 600% increase in medication for things like ADHD. He wonders when we got too busy or when kids got too hard to raise and so we supplemented with drugs. He says that we have been filling the emptiness with toys and gadgets and relationships. We have been filling ourselves with external things because we don't contain internal things worth having. We need purpose because there is nothing that satisfied the human spirit more.

We all came to planet with Seeds of Greatness. We just need to make these seeds grow.

Five steps to growing our greatness:

Plant it in good soil - we need good coaches, good mentors, good teachers and good role models to foster our growth
Water the seed - success doesn't come easy; we need to practice, train, study and rehearse
Pull out the weeds - all of the doubt, fear and negativity needs to be addressed
Seasons - there will always be ebbs and flows, peaks and valleys so don't give up during the dark seasons. Spring is around the corner
Wait for seed to grow into a tree where you can sit in the shade, eat the fruit of your success and enjoy.

Successful, people see big things in little things.

An oak tree is nothing more than a nut that held it's ground.

Linh Do
National Director, Change&Switch

What I wish i didn't know when I was 20
Linh has done an awful lot with her first 20 years of life and took this point - the way in which people revere her for her achievements at an age rather than for their absolute value - to examine our impacts in this world. Linh wonders if she would receive so much respect should she be 54 and achieving the same things. She doesn't want special treatment solely for her age.

In the academic world, every seven years you take a sabbatical year to research future projects or research. Linh can see how this sort of reflection could be useful for everyone. And when she's asked "what will you do with your life when you graduate?" she wants the world to know she needs some cleansing time to work these things out. 2012 is going to be her sabbatical.

Time is this constant, this thing that keeps going with or without you. It doesn't change all that much about outcomes except that your behaviours alter with the fear of where time is disappearing.

Ehon Chan
Founder and CEO, Spur Projects - Soften the Fck Up
www.ehonchan.com

Why do men spend half of their life chancing money sacrificing health then the other half chancing health and sacrificing money?

The idea of home is a little skewed for Ehon, living in seven citiies in the last few years. There are lots of places that can be considered home for him. Home is where you feel.. a sense of belonging and purpose, trust. You know someone is going to look after you.

In Kutching, where Ehon grew up, they didn't have much. He was raised by a village and everyone shared everything. The kids wore uniforms that belong to someone's cousin's neighbour's daughter's best friend. You never quite knew where the items had originated but you did know that the item was valuable - because someone would have it after you.

Each morning the house, doors and windows would be opened. All of the doors and windows here are closed. Does this make the Malaysian way wrong in Australia? Why are all of the houses kept closed? Will we lose our sense of home through the open windows or will someone else's take ahold of our space?

What does it mean to be giving and sharing? As a youth, Ehon volunteered a lot, an effort made possible by his amazing mother who would wake up at 4am to cook for hundreds of people.

And then the horror came.

On November 13 2002 (not entirely sure I heard the year correctly), Ehon came home from 3 day awesome holiday with good friends. The holiday without parents where sixteen year old boys get to misbehave. He crashed in bed, woke up at 7.30am but went back to bed because he was still tired. It was back in the days when inboxes could only receive 200 messages...and he was at 197. He got three new messages overnight. All of them were asking if he'd heard the 'sad news.' He had a new voicemail - a friend crying on the other end... Ryan....swimming...cramp...hospital...passed away. Ehon was sixteen. He wasn't supposed to be grieving for his best friend, he should have been experimenting. Ryan - the brother and the mentor. Seeing him, gone, Ehon saw himself dead. He wondered, why is this happening to me? He start to reflect inwards and backwards. The sorrys and thank yous and things you didn't day because they weren't cool. Why the hell am I living? He realised that what matters is the change you make in other people's lives.

Three months ago, Ehon started Soften the Fck Up - a space for men to reconstruct experiences. Since its inception, Ehon has received stories that make him cry with empathy almost every single night. These are people who've struggled with depression and suicide since they were much younger.
He reflects, humanity has lost its way, now being filled with greed and selfishness.

We need to reconnect humanity. What does it mean to be alive. The nature of being human is in compassion, empathy, love and kindness.

Everyone wants to be home. To have purpose, a sense of belonging and a sense of trust.

Home is love compassion and hope.

Take a seed of hope home.

We need to build tribes to create better futures.

Chantelle Baxter
Director and co-founder of One Girl

Chantelle started out with a good life. With a good education, good job prospects, friends and anything she needed at her fingertips. It was a concern for her, then to reach her 20s and wonder - Why am I still not happy? A war in Darfur shocked her into action. A little spark ignited inside. She set off to Africa to make a difference. She raised money to build a primary school in Africa. Sierra Leone was the least developed city in the world at that stage. She hated it at first - the world was so different, so lacking compared to what she knew at home. It was only with the self-reflection induced by a friend that she realised why she was really there. And what she could really do. And that was when she fell in love with a meaningful life.

From there, Chantelle ended up starting One Girl - a way to sponsor the education of girls in Sierra Leone. It's the beginning of something great.

David Christian
Professor of Modern History, Macquarie University

What is Big History? It's the nature and trajectory of a species (and those around it). Thinking about this makes you wonder... Are we alone in the universe or are there others in the world like us?

The idea of Big History gives us perspective on our own trajectory and the way that we treat our own land.

How likely is it that there are other humanoid creatures out there?

Being born human is a very rare privilege.

The Drake equation, mostly just a series of questions, helps us consider how many habitable planets may be out there. We know that at least three planets nearby are habitable. The equation suggests that 40 billion habitable planets exist in our gallaxy. On our planet, life appeared almost as soon as it was possible. This means that there are 40 billion planets with possibility of life. The problem is that these life forms are most likely to be bacteria. If we want to have intelligent conversations, we want to meet intelligent individuals with richly developed language in order to build up their own stock of technology. We are the first species on our planet capable of collective learning.

Of course, it doesn't matter what you look like. There were many evolutionary stages between bacteria and looking like us and it is therefore quite likely that other planets would intelligent creatures with a completely different physique. It took almost four billion years to develop the human species. You need a habitable planet that stays habitable for billions of years. How likely is THAT?

The temperature at the surface must remain liquid, must have stable sun, and must have stable orbit. There were 40 billion planets with this possibility. One in every thousand planets may give rise to humanoid species.

The definition of humanoids gives us an idea of a typical humanoid history.

Stage One
We slowly build technologies and numbers of individuals increase with improved skill. Writing empowered synergised learning on Earth. There will eventually be an explosion of new technologies.

Stage Two
This is a dangerous and damaging crisis. The species will stagger. There may be a flame deluge. We are in danger of strangling our biosphere. We are acidifying oceans, carbonating atmosphere, driving the extinction of other creatures. Are we ruining ourselves? Is this common amongst other humanoid species? If other humanoid species follow this trajectory, there may only be one or two around at the same time as so many others would have destroyed themselves.

Stage Three
If we survive Stage Two, we can flourish. The greatest challenge is getting to Stage Three. You need to see the dangers and swerve to avoid them. We need all 7 billion people on this planet to change direction to avoid disaster...and then we might make it to Stage Three.

Think about the words of Vishnu - I am death, the destroyer of worlds.

There are other dangers associated with technological precocity. It is difficult to swerve away from obese and resource-hungry technologies of Stage Two. We need to be less needy of resources. We can slow consumption growth through a decrease in population growth. There are new motors being engineered that are the size of a single molecule. We need to change our ideas of the good life. We privately know that over-consumption is not the answer. The best things about life are not that expensive. We need this perspective on our own fate to go further.

We need to enjoy the unique privilege of own existence.

At any on time there may be two thousand humanoid species alive if it is possible to get to Stage Three. We may not be alone.

Claire Foggart
A Love Story

Claire told us of the harrowing, upsetting and difficult journey she and her family faced as her daughter fought Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia. As her daughter lay desperately sick in hospital, all Claire could do was wait for a donor to come to their aid. She wanted to find someone, but there is a distinct lack of awareness around bone marrow donation. Few people know that they can do this, thinking you must be a relative of the sick individual, and fewer still wish to engage in a procedure perceived as incredibly painful. Claire wants you all to sign up to the Australian Bone Marrow Donation Registry to help save lives of people like her daughter.

Andrew Tyndale
Founder and Director, Grace Mutual

There is currently a need for aged-care beds and affordable housing in Australia. The proposed cost of providing new centres and upgrading current ones to be fit for care is about $100 billion. At the moment about 50% of aged-care beds are not fit for purpose.

If we look at Foundations, while the numbers are a little fuzzy, about $5 billion exists in trust funds in Australia. Individuals claimed tax donations of about $2 billion each year and if you consider the number of donations not claimed, it would be possible to hypothesise a total of $5 billion invested from donations. This would give us $10 billion to foot a $100 billion bill. So where do we get the other $90 billion from?

The Australian super funds management industry is enormous. It is nearly $1.5 trillion and grew by $162 billion last year. It is concentrated in control as there are less than 400 funds with large amounts of cash.
Trustees are required to make acceptable returns for acceptable risks. There is a gulf between need and the pool of supply. Can we bridge the gulf? It will take three groups to achieve this. Organisations and intermediaries are important because they understand goverment priorities and needs. Our government needs to make clear social policy and then not change it as change is risk. This will make it easier for the organisations and intermediaries to make change happen.

By working with the intermediaries to use government money to stimulate and "prime the pump", social infrastructure will get a leg up.

Anders Sorman-Nilsson
Founder and Creative Director, Thinque

The world have changed and the world is changing. The fastest growing economy is communist.

Norway is bankrupt.

Change doesn't care if you like it or not.

Jeff Cook brought data and organization to Apple. The Apple concept store on fifth avenue open 24/7, 365 days per year. Shanghai has as many people as all of Australia. They also foresee far larger growth than we shall over the next thirty or so years.

So how do we get to the future, and what do we want to be there?

The computer market dropped four percent in the last year while other technologies (tablets, smartphones) increased their sales. The McKinsey Institute says we're looking for T-shaped people those with both a breadth of knowledge and appreciation of data while having a focus.

We need to socially analyze data because there is more to the story than ones and zeros.
We need to consider brand karma - where more green and yellow leads to a more positive perception. Just think - VISA and MasterCard make more money each year than the major banks.
We are all high maintenance.

We need to treat people not how we want to be treated outselves but how THEY want to be treated, which requires a whole new level of thought.

We need to learn how to think in reverse to usual in order to understand others better. We need to empower ourselves in these changes.

Just think - the fastest growing Facebook market is currently 50-60 year old women.
We are demanding personalization and corporations must take that on board. Buses in London have LCD screens that shift advertising depending on the geographical area. The buses have it right - the message changes with the direction.

Aaron Tait
Executive Director, Spark*
Aaron dreams of a world with no AIDS or Malaria or poverty, a world where every kid is in school.
As a young man, Aaron serve in the armed forces in Iraq. He was stationed there following the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Centre. He had to enforce sanctions where no food or medicine was allowed into Middle Eastern countries without a UN stamp. As a result, a quarter of a million women and children died. Aaron couldn't let go of these inequities, where supplies didn't get to those who needed them. He knew he had to do something different. He also learnt during some aid work that he couldn't just go gung-ho into a new area and force his Western ideals on the locals. Change needs to be led by the people on the ground, by the people who understand the issues best. Since then, he started Spark*, which focuses on partnering eager Australians with locals in other countries making a difference. Through fundraising in Australia, we can help those with fantastic ideas get projects working in their communities. This is fostering locals making change happen for themselves. This is empowerment.

Sonnie Abdalla
Creator, Sponsor Schooling Project

As a young person, studying and travelling, Sonnie has seen more poverty than most of us. With this backdrop, against the wonderful opportunities he has here in Australia, Sonnie found his purpose. He wants to put an end to the extreme suffering and exploitation of children. He wants children to get education. He can see technology as the solution.

Children need mentoring. Children need assistance. They need to be in school long enough to break the chains of poverty. We need emotional connection to the kids to really make a difference. The social network can bring this change closer.

Stephanie Lorenzo
Founder and CEO, Project Futures

Project Futures - empowering and engaging people, young or old, to combat sex trafficking globally. Stephanie started out her speech by telling us of the great work of Project Futures and how much change they have made. What touch me most, however, was the story of one young lady who was sold into sex slavery at the tender age of ten. Now 16, she is receiving the education she always deserved. Even more, this beautiful soul is making a new life for herself, rather than dwelling on the harsh negatives that have played out in her life.

We are the Generation F - we are planning for the future.

And that was that. A day of amazing speeches, great conversations and new friends. I am never very good at leaving these sorts of things and found myself still dawdling with these curious minds into the evening. Eventually, I needed to go home to ponder all of the wonder in this world.

We can be the change in the world in which we live.

Initial thoughts: #Change11

2011-09-22T14:00:00.000+10:00

A few weeks ago, I saw a link on twitter that advertised a MOOC (massive open online course), #change11. I was intrigued. I didn’t know what it was or what it was meant to be. But it sounded interesting. Fascinating. A way to learn more about education and online technologies.

I clicked that link. Now, I’m finding my way through the murky waters of self-directed, self-assessed online learning. Sifting my way through various blog entries to find the fish in this big lake is an exciting exercise. You never know what you'll come across.

Having so many articles at my disposal, I find myself wondering, ‘what do I really want to know?’

There is a proliferation of information on the Internet. We all know it. We know that finding what we want to know involves a good idea of your question and a way to adequately represent it in a Google search. It involves knowing how to optimize that search. It often requires remembering or saving good websites for future use.

This MOOC is focused on education in the online world. We’re taking an open education course (a whole 35 weeks!) to learn about (and hopefully become somewhat knowledgeable in) spreading understanding through mobile and online media. It’s fascinating to see the people already involved in the course – several University lecturers and staff who are already using this sort of technology, those that want to see it more at their institutions, those who are brand new to the tech world but can see the difference it will make, and those like me who are in it because it seemed fascinating.

Personally, I’m entranced by the ways in which we learn. Sure, there are the three generic subtypes of listening, seeing and doing. Too often we try to categorize people into one of these when we are really a composite of all of these and have a need to use them all daily. Beyond this simple classification, there are myriad ways in which we respond to stimuli in the environment. The complex interaction of our upbringing, previous education, lifestyle, experiences and environment come together to give us an expectation of how education should occur. Anything that deviates from this is often considered inappropriate. Our brains shut off and refuse to learn because it doesn’t ‘fit the bill.’ While each person has a very different concept of the perfect lesson, we also interpret each session differently, depending on the above factors.

Participating in a MOOC will hopefully change that for me. It isn’t a lecture. It isn’t a reading list from a prescribed text or a PowerPoint or a journal article. It’s people. Real, thoughtful people who have opinions showing us what they think. It’s all of us collaborating. It’s interactive yet we’re in different time zones across almost the entire globe. We’re separated by thousands of miles, different industries and cultural backgrounds yet we’re all passionate about learning.

I hope that the MOOC will enable me to make education more exciting for all. I hope that learning can become about more than coursework – not just here but across all areas with which I interact.

I always said I liked cutting edge…I hope we do some of that here.

The Australian vs American Healthcare Systems

2011-09-04T21:46:00.000+10:00

This blog is designed to be updated over time. Suggestions are welcome.

Over the past few months, I have become increasingly disillusioned with the state of healthcare in the United States of America. In part, this disillusion arose because I have been increasingly exposed to the gaping chasms in the US system thanks to my American Twitter friends. In part, the disillusion is from the increasing publicity of Obamacare in the media. In part it is because I am continually impressed with the provisions in healthcare that we see in Australia.

For much of my youth, I was under the impression that Australia’s healthcare was sub-standard. The constant public-hospital-bashing that comes around in the media around election time (and it always seems to be election time) exclaims at the increasing need for hospital beds despite dwindling space in hospitals, the poor performance of hospitals in obscure locations and the poor management of a few select cases. It wasn’t until I started Medical School that I my eyes were opened to the provisions of our system. It’s only this year that I’ve started to see the luck bestowed upon this ‘lucky country’.

Australia’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is just under a trillion dollars, with a population of almost 22 million. Of this, approximately 10% is spent on all forms of health care, 70% of which is funded by government bodies (local, state and federal). The other 30% is covered by private health funds and out of pocket expenses. The burden of these extra costs, however, is reduced through safety nets, whereby a limit is set on how much an individual must pay of their own cash for healthcare in a year. Similar systems are also in place for pharmaceuticals.

The Australian Medicare system has not been around since Federation. It came to life in 1984, some 38 years after a Constitutional change allowed the Federal government (in addition to State governments) to provide health care benefits. This move allowed national rollout of many health services, although many Australians will tell you that dual control of hospitals and services leads to much red tape and passing of the buck.

Medicare provides free or low-cost medical care to all Australian and New Zealand citizens as well as Australian permanent residents. A necessary stay in a public hospital is free (that treatment, food, accommodation) although private health insurance affords patients the ability to choose their doctor while in a public hospital. Even in private hospitals, Medicare will pay a considerable portion of the fees with the remainder being left to private health insurance providers and patient out-of-pocket expenses. Approximately 43% of Australians have private health insurance, which covers extra services, such as dental and optometric visits.

Here, hospitals, disease control programs, maternal, school and dental health are funded by the state while the Federal government provides financial assistance, research funding and aged-care programs. The cross-over can be a source of tension between States who may believe their funding allocation is disproportionate to their need or input into the tax system.

Funding for health services comes from the relatively high level of tax that Australians pay. Our lowest tax rate is 15% for every dollar over $6000 and the highest 45% for every dollar over $18000 p.a. income. In addition to this, there is a 1.5% Medicare levy for those without private health insurance and earning over $19000 p.a. with an additional 1% surcharge should a childless individual earn over $77 000 p.a. or a childless couple earn over $154000 p.a. This levy provides for approximately 27% of the cost of Medicare.

Private health insurance is based on a community-model, which means that an individual cannot be denied coverage by any provider, although there are expensive excesses for pre-existing conditions. Membership to a fund is encouraged through both the above Medicare levy as well as lower premiums to those who invest in insurance prior to age 31.

Sure, public hospitals aren’t always pretty places (unless you go to the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital or similar) but the care provided is of a high standard. The number of patients to whom I’ve spoken at my public hospital who extoll the virtues of the public health system astounds me. I have never gotten the impression that patients suffer as a result of being a public patient. Many of the practitioners at public hospitals also have private rooms – this provides them with an opportunity to make a respectable income as well as to treat patients who may not be able to afford private health insurance.

Comparatively, the GDP of the USA is $14 trillion for a population of 307 million. Of this, health spending approximates 16.5%, with a governmental input through Medicaid, Medicare and CHIP of approximately 49%. Medicaid provides assistance on state-based eligibility for those under 65 while Medicare is reserved for those of retirement age (as well as a special subset of especially sick individuals). Medicare is the nation’s largest health insurer. The combined programs look after approximately 25% of Americans (link).

The health programs in the US have a triple aim, being to improve the experience of care, population health and reduce per-capita costs. However, the most recent MEPS-HC suggests that 21% of the populations are uninsured.

While the investment in healthcare in the US is high, it appears that costs are less regulated, resulting in a higher burden on the government. It also suggests that those who are not covered by any form of healthcare have more severe problems when they do present at hospital. This results in increased cost to them or the system at time of presentation.

Resources:

Australian Health Care System

Australian Medicare Levy

Australian Tax Rates

Congressional Budgetary Office Long Term Outlook

Health and Human Services (USA)

I'mpossible

2011-08-11T14:37:00.001+10:00

Don’t tell me it’s impossible. Don’t tell me it’ll never happen. I know I can do it. I know it’s possible. And I know I can make anything happen if I put my mind to it.

For years, I’ve been trained to think the best of myself. To think that I am amazing. I was told by my Primary School that we were good kids, that we had the world ahead of us. I was told by my High School that we were the leaders of tomorrow; that we were great; that we could succeed just like the 50 years of graduates before us. I was told by my first University that we were a Sandstone and Group of 8 – that we founded education in Australia. No-one has ever put down my ability to achieve.

I wonder how much life would be different if I had grown up in a regional, rural or remote community. I wonder as to the quality of support I would have received if I went to a school 100km or 1000km from a major city, rather than a mere 10km. I wonder what difference the peer networks would have made to my education, for I have heard of schools in the country where only 15% turn up on a daily basis. And I wonder why there is such a disparity.

This afternoon, I had the pleasure of workshopping with some of Australia’s next leaders in Rural Health. There were future Doctors, Nurses, Physiotherapists, Occupational Therapists, Pharmacists and more sitting around a table discussing Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (ATSI) Health in Rural Areas. We started out with a goal. We didn’t want airy-fairy abstract ideas. We wanted actionable ideas with people who could implement them. We were going to think SMART (Specific, Measurable, Achieveable, Realistic and Timely).

By way of background, the native people in Australia have suffered poorer health, education and living outcomes since white settlement (colonisation or invasion, depending on the text you read) over 200 years ago. The widening gap in what should be an equitable, developed, rich and well-serviced country has lead to a number of interventions. In Australia, “intervention” is a dirty word (research NT Intervention if you’re interested). In Australia, the big, white, male-dominated, white-collar bureaucrats in Canberra try to implement top-down solutions to problems in remote ATSI communities. Frequently, the consequences are disastrous. This is not necessarily because of bad intentions but from poor planning and lack of sufficient or effective consultation with communities that do not necessarily have the belief in themselves to adequately negotiate. Recent reports suggest that some $3.5b spent on improving ATSI outcomes each year is funnelled into ineffective programs. While some programs improve living conditions, it will not be until Indigenous communities are empowered that the gap will begin to close.

Many remote communities in which there are high proportions of ATSI residents will have a rotation of well-meaning doctors, nurses and allied health professionals come out to them in an effort to provide care. These well-meaning professionals could sometimes be described as health tourists – they stay for a little bit and then go back to the city feeling very proud that they’ve done their bit. They can tick off another of life’s little boxes. There are, of course, many great professionals who go out there with great intentions and stay. There are those who intend to stay and then can’t cope with a significantly different lifestyle. Regardless of intentions, many remote communities end up with a rotation of unknown professions visiting them. Continuity of care becomes almost non-existent and it is the patient and their community who suffer most.

One very bright mind gave us a solution that could be enacted almost immediately. How about if we enlisted four or five engaged, excited professionals from each field to remain with a community over time. How about if one doctor (for example) stayed for three months, and another for three months after that. How about if each of these Doctors throughout the year had discussions about their patients. If they were an actual team for their community. And how about if the rotation of each specialty didn’t happen at the same time but instead staggered throughout the year so that the locals didn’t feel completely disengaged from their health services each November (for example) when change over happened.

We started talking about what we could do in the long term to improve patient outcomes. We soon realised that health is never, ever isolated from other aspects of life. Education, resources, quality of life and access to support are all very important factors in making for happy, prosperous populations. It is so important that these communities do not feel neglected and a system where financial input is per head works well in the cities, but it fails immensely in these remote communities where an overall greater expenditure may be required in order to provide the same infrastructure. We have to be willing to make that investment.

What can Australia do for its native peoples?

Firstly, an overarching national body for policies and governance in health. We’re not just talking doctors. Or nurses. We mean everyone in the system. We mean the students and the professionals, the city and the remote. We need something to join together the vast number of medical organisations across this country. We need support and action. Improvements are happening in this area. We need to make sure they are not strangled by red tape. We really need to make sure that bureaucracy doesn’t get in the way of action.

We need to get all of Australia excited about the rural environment and we need to do it at a young age. People of reproductive age, that is between 20 and 44, have a greater preponderance for living in the major cities. Nearly two-thirds of our population reside in the capital cities alone (ABS). That is a majority of our nation that grows up and works in the city, often with very little understanding of regional, rural or remote areas. In fact, most young people in the cities have no appreciation for the sunburnt country that Dorothy Mackellar so beautifully described. It can be incredibly difficult for city folk to wrap their heads around the idea of wide stretches of land without wi-fi access. It can be difficult to slow down and inhale the dusty air deeply. Young Australians need to be shown the glory of their magnificent country. There is a lot to see and do in these areas, if you know what you seek.

We need better education of our health professionals. It should not be an entirely didactic, epidemiological approach. Our students need to know what it is like to be in a remote community. It is useless to give them statistics of poor health outcomes. That just makes the trek to a remote area seem all the more daunting and practice seem all the more difficult. What young doctor or nurse will feel capable of coping in that environment? We need to emphasis the positives in Aboriginal culture. We need to teach as much as local culture as traditions will allow. Students need to know that the traditions in each community may differ immensely and that if they do not feel comfortable in one community, there may be another that will gel with them perfectly just down the road. We need to remove the stereotypes in education that paint every young Aboriginal woman as a teen-mum and every young Aboriginal man as a drunkard begging for change. These messages are fundamentally not true. Moreover, these messages disenfranchise Aboriginal people. They suggest that nothing more can amount from these people than the life we have so terribly boxed them into. Aboriginal people can contribute just as much to our community as any other human being.

It was suggested that locals in communities could be trained to do a basic health course externally (say, over the internet if possible or through posted workbooks) to maintain some level of care in communities that may lack professionals. We want to empower communities to take charge of their health without removing locals from important cultural positions. If a certificate of health were to be created, it would have to be designed in a way to engage Aboriginal people. We can’t always take Western systems and hope that a fancy cover and a greater posting distance will provide a solution. We need to have flexible education methods.

We need to say goodbye to the white perspective. Sure, it works for some people. It is also not at all perfect. Western methods don’t always work for people who have grown up surrounded by them, let alone for people who come from an incredibly different culture. Let alone for people who feel so disempowered by their government and by the city way of life that they dare not show their pregnant belly to anyone in their own community.

We need to say goodbye to our egos. We are not better. We are not that fantastic. Our way of life does not meet life’s Gold standard. We’re just here trying to make the most of every day. And we should be giving that opportunity to other people.

There are layers upon layers of problems with the interactions between policy-making and implementation, especially in rural areas. We need to cut through the expletives and get into action. We can do it. Collaboration, communication, mobilisation. Don’t tell me it’s impossible. Every Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander person living in a rural area should be able to add an apostrophe. I’m possible.

Inspiration

2011-08-10T23:37:00.000+10:00

Breathe. Just breathe.

... We're five weeks into respiratory block. We've learnt about lungs that have been so irritated and inflamed that they're fibrotic and those that have slowly worn away to the broken mesh of emphysema. Breathing has become pathological. It's enough to make you short of breath.

I walk around hospital, my young and capable lungs allowing me to run up or down the stairs (albeit slowly as heels and stairs make for a poor combination when in a hurry). I hardly think about my breathing. It's when I walk into "that" ward, the one with the elderly people leaning forward on their elbows, nose prongs delivering oxygen to their hungry bodies that would otherwise be cyanotic, mouth pursed to maintain constant positive pressure that I realise how lucky I am.

Breathing isn't a conscious process. Well, it isn't for the most part. I don't keep myself awake at night thinking about how I must remember to keep breathing. I don't put it on my to-do list. It just happens. We inspire in a 1:2 ratio with expiration.

It seems strange then, that so many people struggle with inspiration. Inspiration in the sense of mental revival. Strange, to me, because our word is filled with the base elements of mental stimulation. Sure, there's as much mental pollution as there is environmental heading into my lungs. It just seems odd that, despite the parklands, inventions and ideas of those surrounding us, many people struggle to remove the constant waste products of their thoughts to be replaced by those newly inspired ones from daily experience. It's as if half of the world is thinking in a brown paper bag.

My friend, B, asked me how I could be inspired to do all the things that fill my life. How could I work and study medicine and volunteer, while maintaining some form of social life and a passable level of sanity? While I could have answered that lack of sleep goes a long way to getting more done in my day, I told him the truth. I don't know.

Perhaps I am just exceptionally good at expiring all of the waste products in my head. Perhaps my mental V/Q ratio is perfect for inspiratory perfusion. Or maybe I've learnt to take inspiration in my stride, rather than seeking it out.

I can't tell you what inspires me. Nor can I tell you who or what I inspire. In many ways, I feel like my process of inspiration is just as natural mentally as it is through that fantastic pleural pressure that keeps me breathing. Perhaps my mind has great elastic recoil. I enjoy being inspired. I enjoy thinking about new and different things that come my way. I love learning. Learning, not out of a text book or in a lecture but in person, with patients who can tell me what it's like, with X-rays showing me the correlation between pathology and presentation. I love learning through seeking, feeling and doing.

There is something fantastic about how much information is literally at my finger tips these days. I can jump onto a computer and find the answer to almost any question, as long as I can ask it. I like asking. I've learnt to demand answers to even the most simple of questions. Sometimes simple questions have complex answers. Sometimes my question will inspire us both to find a better solution.

So what inspires me? Right now, inspiration is inspiring. With each breath comes the capacity to think new, innovative and mind-boggling ideas.

Indulgence

2011-07-31T12:19:00.000+10:00

"In the good old days" and "when I was young" are frequent phrases in my vernacular. I use them all too often because I feel that change has occurred rapidly enough to require reflection on my youth. And I'm not even that old.

When I was little, my parents didn't have a lot of spare cash. They had two young children, a dog and a rabbit, a mortgage and repayments on cars. We never went without food or necessities but there also wasn't a lot left over for Mum and Dad to spend on treats. I grew up "window-licking", in the words of the French. I had this great yearning for stuff. To have more than I did already. I stared into shop windows hoping that my parents would notice my longing for the Sky-Dancing doll or Furby or bicycle or... The list was endless. I'd tell them that my friends were given $5 when they lost a tooth (that stingy tooth fairy only giving me 50c!). It seemed absurd that the Tooth-Fairy Regulation Act (1901) would not have standardised values for teeth. Perhaps it was calculated on some complex algorithm that my six-year-old mind did not understand. I'd beg for a Happy Meal because I wanted the little toys (and because ALL of my friends had the whole collection, and it seemed decidedly unfair that I did not). I wanted new clothes because ...well just because I didn't have what the other girls did. Mum would always tell me I had adequately full drawers. In fact, back in HER day, she only had two dresses. I had five, I should count myself lucky. "But Muuuuummmmmm," I would say.

On Saturdays, though, Dad and I would have a little treat. It didn't always happen but I always hoped it would. After going grocery shopping for the whole family, Dad would take me to the food court. He would always get a coffee (long black, one sugar) and a slice of Capricciosa. I would always get a small lemonade and a Margherita. The owner of the store sometimes gave us an extra slice of pizza to thank us for our custom. Sometimes I would ask Dad if we could have a look at the other outlets for something a little different, so he'd dutifully take me on a tour. I knew most of the options would be too expensive - my pizza and drink were only $1.50 but anything else would be at least $3. We would always end up back at Melina's for our standard order. I cherished each bite of the pizza. I would savour the way the cheese stretched on and on as I tried to bite through it. I loved how warm and fluffy the base was, despite being thin-crust. I loved the rich tomato flavour that was complemented so well by the light dusting of oregano. And then I washed the whole thing down with small sips of my lemonade (the only soft drink I could consume as a child). The whole experience took in excess of a half-hour. Dad and I would chat about school and work. We would have the best conversations. Sometimes I would be lost in wistful desire to play in the indoor playground with the other kids, yet I knew that this time with Dad was more special than that. When the food was all gone, we'd take our trays back to the rubbish point (because we weren't slobs wanting other people to do it for us, Dad told me) and go home to surprise Mum with our grocery purchases.

I may have been upset from time to time that I couldn't get a Happy Meal for our post-shopping treat, but I am so thankful that my parents taught me the value of good things as a child.

I get upset now that catching up with a friend almost invariably involves buying coffee, food, a movie ticket, entrance to an entertainment venue or going shopping. People baulk at my suggestions of "going for a walk" or "sitting in the sunshine". I've taken to inviting people over to my house for home-cooked meals instead of going to some inexpensive, poor quality restaurant that we can both afford. I know that I can cook us both a scrumptious, healthy dinner for the same price as I would spend at a dodgy restaurant. And I know I won't be hurried away from my table. My housemate tells me our cooking is so good that we should start charging our guests. I tell him that's not the point of entertaining. At its core, spending time with friends is about enjoying each other's company, about reminiscing, planning for the future and living in the moment. It's about valuing each other. Last time I checked, I couldn't put a price on their company.

It frustrates me that I can go to five lunch or coffee dates with friends in a week, spending a small fortune on food that I don't really need or want. I could happily make a packed lunch (beans, rice and diced tomatoes are in equal position with pumpkin soup at the moment) for which my body and bank account would thank me. Even more importantly, this process of going out for a quick bite devalues the entire restaurant process for me.

I moved interstate at the start of the year and my parents came up to visit this winter break. They, having saved for the trip, took me to some of the most wonderful restaurants during their visit. I had forgotten what it was like to experience a true eating indulgence. We sat down at Caffe Sicilia, in perfect view of the pastry chef preparing the evening's desserts. We could see the delicacies at the tables of other patrons, beautifully arranged and steaming in their freshness. The wait staff all wore suits. They were incredibly attentive to our thirst, constantly re-filling the water glasses. They never forgot us. We received excellent advice on our menu queries that came with the lilt of an Italian accent. And then, the food arrived. It smelled delicious. It steamed. It looked beautiful, nestled in its bowl. The seafood was plentiful and fresh. It was so delicious that conversation completely halted as we all devoured our meals. We tried to eat slowly to savour the taste. I looked up about halfway through my meal to see two tiny patrons asking the pastry chef what he was doing. They ran back to their parents, giggling at their self-confidence. The restaurant was filled with joy and good food. It shocked me that I could have this amazing food re-awakening for only slightly more than I'd spend on dinner with a friend. And I wondered why so little credence is given to this sort of experience amongst my friends.

I want my future eatings-out to be special. I want them to be a true indulgence. The only way that can happen is if I eat out less and make my own stuff more. This is especially true when most food purchased out is less delicious than that which I can make at home. Certainly, there are times when I won't have time to do enough grocery shopping or when I accidently leave my soup in the fridge before 12 hours away from home. There are times when purchasing my lunch becomes almost unavoidable. I can, however, minimize the need for this fast-food consumption. Nights out for beautiful meals are less of a financial burden if they are the only excess. I want to experience true indulgence, which can only happen if there are fewer treats.

Once upon a time, eating out, eating dessert and having smoked salmon (oh my goodness, smoked salmon, how I do love you) were special things. Something I would hopefully request permission to consume from my mother, half-expecting a no. It has now become all to easy to have my cake and eat it too. Literally. Dessert is a norm, rather than an exception.

I want to go back to the good old days of half an hour with one beautiful slice of Margherita.

This is just one of my parents' life lessons.

Wasted

2011-06-19T22:55:00.000+10:00

Wasted: getting really drunk and (probably) making a fool of yourself.

Wasted: something you could have used but didn't.

Wasted: disappearing.

Wasted. Time. Wasted. Money. Wasted. Opportunity. Wasted. Life. Wasted. Food. Wasted. Health.

Have you ever noticed that when you look at a word for long enough, it stops looking like anything. It's hard to be sure you've spelt it correctly. Looking at one word for long enough, you start to realise words are just shapes on paper. Pixels. That convert to something useful in our head.

What have I wasted?

I was listening to TedxSydney 2011 yesterday...listening to amazing speakers shed light on a number of pertinent world issues. Their insight was inspiring and thought-provoking, as it should be. I was taken by the idea of wastage and sustainability. It's a topic that frequently piques my interest, being that I grew up with such environmentally-conscious parents (yes, Dad was a hippie). I started to think about just how much I waste. In terms of resources, in terms of money.

The answer: quite a lot. Each fortnight, money magically floats into my bank account. I'm not really sure how. I do a whole bunch of reasonable boring things for a very long time and some electronic figures on a screen change their shape as a result. I then go use a bit of plastic to pay for some tasty things, or some pretty things, or to get some thinner, longer bits of plastic into my greedy little hands (Australian bills are plastic, for the uninitiated). To buy things. It's very nice that these magical bits of plastic work. When the numbers on the screen increase, I am pleased, and when they decrease, I'm disappointed. Without a tangible concept of money, though, it's very difficult to be conservative with my cash.

Sometimes I go out, intending not to spend a cent. And I come home with a new dress. I was just planning on going to uni and coming home....and somewhere in the middle convinced myself that I needed a new item. Immediately. And there must be something available. And then I feel guilty that I've tried stuff on and don't buy anything when the sales assistant has worked so hard to be helpful. And I REALLY like that blue garment. The one with the little silver stitches and the cute pockets.

Only to get home and realise I already have a blue dress that looks almost identical, except the stitching is also in blue. And that I really didn't need to buy the dress. And I have a bill to pay that costs as much as the dress. And need to buy potatoes. Oh dear. The numbers are going to go down again.

The things that I buy...they get wasted too. It's not just the dresses that look exactly the same and therefore each get worn half as much as they could. It's the piles and piles of clothes I've worn once (or never worn at all) because I didn't like them that much. Or they didn't work in with anything else I owned. Or because it's actually too big, now that I think about it. And why did I try the shirt on OVER my woollen jumper (sweater, for you North Americans), again? It's the food I buy that I didn't need. It's getting that muffin when I'm out because I'm hungry NOW even though I'll be home in an hour to munch on something there. It's the hot drink I buy because I'm cold, only to realise it'll go cold before I get somewhere warmer anyway.

But that's not the worst of it.

What really bothers me, what really, really bothers me, is the enormous amount of material that I send to landfill each year. I don't have a compost bin because I have no garden (our back yard is paved) and there's nothing I could do with my decomposed food scraps. So off they go to the garbage bin. It's the way the soap comes individually wrapped, in a big five pack. It's the way everything comes in plastic. And that those 99c 'enviro' bags are only environmentally more friendly than your average plastic bag if you use them every week for two years (or 104 times, I suppose) or more. That I have to get juice in bottles. That my juice comes thousands and thousands of miles in a truck, after trucks have carted the oranges and apples from all over the country, if not another nation altogether, to a place where the bottles have also been driven for packaging the two together. That the apples I buy are sometimes flown overseas to be waxed and then flown back for freezing before eating. I didn't request that my apple be waxed. I just want to munch on it.

It upsets me that it is difficult to control a lot of the aspects of wastage. I can do little about the trucks being used to cart my food around. I can buy food at local markets and I can buy the least packaged items. But they still have to get from the farm to my door. I can take public transport and walk but I can't stop other people from driving around. I can't plant trees in my concrete garden in order to eat the fruits (literally) of their labour. It's difficult to source Australian-made clothing. As they say, it's not easy being green.

I remember in one of my Med tutorials, we had to use a sterile pack to clean a wound. After that one little exercise, I was overwhelmed by just how much wastage there must be in hospitals. Plastics thrown away by the thousand. And I wonder how the medical profession could tackle this while remaining safe for patients.

And I wonder how many other industries waste away valuable resources.

I was talking to my wonderful housemate yesterday about the value of materials and how we treat them these days. We pondered yesteryear. The good old days. When our grandparents were little and people respected their items. And I thought about just how differently we could live.

I spend a lot of time pondering our predecessors and their possessions. Most of this pondering belongs in another blog post (probably also of mammoth proportions). The relevant part to this blog, however, is that our grandparents only owned a few things. They had one pot and one pan to cook in. They had two pairs of pants - one for church (or Temple or 'for when the Queen comes for tea') and one for everything else. The 'everything else' pair would be more mending than original pant. Our grandparents respected materials.

I wonder why we don't do that anymore. These days (these horrible, comsumeristic, good-for-nothing days) value having things. And not just any thing. It has to be new. Shiny. The latest edition. Call it the Apple theory. The 'your iPhone 3GS has been superceded so you're no longer cool' theory. The 'you have a top-loader not a front-loader washing machine' theory. It's just unacceptable to be using those water-wasting old models. We would rather waste the perfectly good washing machine than waste all of that precious water. Haven't you heard we're in a drought, dear? Our priorities changed somewhere along the way and we forgot how to value all of the work that goes into everything we own. Our values became plastic.

And yet. There's this great theory of mass and energy conservation. Created by some French guy called Lavoisier. That's what I thought in Year 10. Some French guy. He's actually an amazing Alchemist, biologist and qualified lawyer who contributed many discoveries to modern Science. This 'guy' discovered which two elements came together to make water, how metal rusts and began the concepts of unified chemistry that we use today. Anyway, I digress. The theory of Mass Conservation tells us, in a nutshell, that everything that exists has come from something else that existed and will be something that exists in the future. Matter cannot be created or destroyed (well, until you get into a much more complex area of physics that tells us matter can be turned into energy). This theory means that everything we magic up from mines in the ground will not magically replenish itself. Everything that goes into landfill will stay in landfill until it evaporates its decomposing vapours into the air. We cannot go living like this forever.

How do we harvest the resources available to us sustainably? Well, there are a lot of options. Start small - do the things that YOU can do. Buy slow-foods (those that are grown within 100 miles of your home). Failing that, buy foods that are very low in packaging. Buy in bulk. Re-use your plastic bags. Lots. By clothes made in your own nation. Better yet, buy used clothes and support a charity in the process. Give stuff you don't like any more to your friends or to the charities from whom you buy your 'new' things. If you want something new, put off the decision for an hour or a day. Ask yourself how much you need it. If you still really need it, then buy the 'greenest' option you can afford.

What is the most important thing in your world? Mine, it's not my phone. It's not my computer. Or my top-loader washing machine that's actually older than I am. The most important thing in my world is my brain. The fact that I can write this (ranting as I do) and learn new things and speak to my (amazing) friends as a result of my functioning tête. The fact that my brain lets me learn other languages. My pre-frontal cortex is going to have its work cut out controlling that dang reward-seeking limbic system in the future. Hopefully my bank account will thank me. And hopefully I'll feel less wasted.

Culture, Education and a Bunch of Other Things Inspired by French

2010-03-08T22:24:00.000+11:00

In French class last week, we were asked to think about culture, values and their implication on various institutions in society. We were looking at the way culture is taught in schools, and whose responsibility it really is to impart this knowledge on children.

Approximately two years ago, France began a major reform of their primary education system. They reduced the number of hours taught per week (26 to 24), changed the syllabus for maths and French, created a "moral and civic values" subject among other things. They were, of course, hoping to improve the quality of education for all. They were hoping to reduce the rates of student failure and increase students' desire to continue education.

I don't know if this program has thus far been successful. I could look it up, and give you statistics about how well it has gone so far. I don't want to do that - I'd prefer this to be a discussion of education and not an analysis of the French system (which would get rather boring).

What I do know, however, is that Australia is also currently designing a brand new, National Curriculum. Amazing, I say. About time. Something that needs to happen. It'll allow for the thousands of Aussie kids who happen to move interstate to enter their new school with fewer hiccups. They won't have to start a new year or term with absolutely no idea of what's going on. Theoretically, they should be at about the same level as everyone else in their class. Great! We're taking action on something that has been a problem for a long while. Finally.

When designing the National Curriculum, I'm sure a bunch of very smart, knowledgeable people sat around a table (or on a computer at a web-conference) trying to nut out what we need in an education system. What makes students tick? What makes them what to learn? How do we foster education best?

The thing is, education IS culturally based. Sure, you need to cover set skills - language, maths, history and so on. But you also need to do it in a way that functions best with that culture. With the practices and behaviours of that nation...but Australia is diverse. Australia has many cultures. How do you foster all of them at the same time?

The question that perplexed me the most in that French lesson was "What is Australian Culture?" Because to answer how we educate, to answer what must be valued in our English and History and SOSE classes, we must first know who we are and what we're doing here (maybe in a slightly less existential fashion). My first answer was "we don't have a culture." Thinking on that - Australia is a mixing pot of different cultures - we respect all cultures, and yet it seems we're hesitant to engage in any one culture over another. You can be a part of all cultures, but to be Australian, you don't wholly engage in any one culture. So what are we then? A bunch of barbecuing footy fans? A bunch of beach-going coffee drinkers? Do we have a deeper side?

Well, yes. It goes deeper. There's an element of the fair go, an element of thick-skinned-ness, a bit of being laid back (and often we're just a little bit too relaxed), of helping a mate out, of giving what we can. Of caring. But are these things especially different to any other place around the world? What makes us Uniquely Australian? I really, truly don't know. And I'd like it if someone could tell me.

Which, sort of, brings me back to education. See, if I don't know what Australian Culture is, perhaps I missed something in all of those Australian History lessons in primary school. All I remember is having 'fill in the gaps' worksheets, where we wrote which year James Cook came to Australia, and the name of the boat he was on. And stuff about convicts. It really wasn't very interesting - and despite doing it for however many years in a row, I really don't feel like it taught me all that much.

Five months ago, though, I went to a quaint little house atop a hill, a place where a convict was given land to grow food and prove that free men could survive in the new colony. Seeing the land, seeing the river just below, seeing the period furniture and the outdoor kitchen and everything else about that place, I learned more about Australian History and felt more connected to this land than I'd felt before. It was an amazing experience. You don't need to go to the place itself to feel that - you can describe the way of life through pictures and stories and so much more. You can connect children with THAT, rather than dates and names and boring things of that description.

You can teach kids maths in real world situations and they're more likely to enjoy it, because it seems practical. I have never met a practical quadratic function. You can teach kids to love books because it takes them to another world, to write because they get to be creative. And you can integrate grammar into that curriculum. You can bring the real world into the classroom, and take learning into life. We have to treat kids as more than mere vessels for information rather than responsive young people with imagination to boot. Maybe by doing that, culture will become more obvious.

I don't know if the French succeeded. Their program seemed to involve a whole bunch of boring rote learning, I hope our new curriculum involves more than that. I hope the next generation of Aussie kids will know what it means to be Australian - because I'd really like them to teach me a thing or two in ten years time.

Now Playing

2009-08-18T15:26:00.000+10:00

A couple of months ago I wrote a blog titled 'On Hold.' It was about how I'd been so busy that, somehow, all of the important things in life had been pushed to the side on order to complete all of the other necessary tasks. Really, all that happened was that everything was (badly) done and nothing was really achieved.

It's funny to look back and see what's changed since then, because there's really been quite a lot of difference. I pressed play. I focused on seeing my friends and doing things for me just solely because that was what I wanted. In turn, this made me (I hope) a better person to be around, happier and more willing to listen.

Oddly enough, though, I'm really quite incapable of slowing down. I tried, but even slowing down for an hour or so makes me incredibly antsy. Yesterday I was walking to class with Mon, and her comment was that I'm like a child - I can't stop fiddling. I hold a pen in lectures because I'll otherwise tap my feet uncontrollably (very dangerous in Sunderland theatre as you risk kicking the person in front of you), tap my fingers, dance in my chair, or talk to the person sitting next to me. That person is, most frequently, Mon. And normally she's trying to ignore my wiggling around so as to learn whatever is being taught in the lecture. As I should be doing also. I can't stop moving. I can't stop doing things. I'm just a very hyperactive person.

Following on from this, it makes sense that I like to fill up my days with 'doing things.' I'm an avid list-maker (and managed to tick off about five tasks today, yay!), organising my day and all that jazz. But lately, things have seemed just a little too routine.

Yesterday, sick of being bored with doing the same things every day - uni, work, study, debating - I decided I was going to think up new and different things to do. I'd really like to go somewhere, but an impromptu visit interstate seems vaguely impractical as a solution to this boredom. I'm thinking of painting again. I've got several ideas for new canvases. I'm thinking of reading more (I really should read for fun rather than getting through chapters upon chapters of biochemistry), listening to and updating my music collection. I want to get into photography for fun - take a camera with me wherever I go to photograph interesting things. I have a bunch of different projects sitting in my room that need finishing - the organization of twenty years of family photos, the organization of piles and piles of recipes (that one quite possibly hasn't gone very far because of my dislike for cooking), the scrapbooking of my US trip. So I've got things to do. It's just a matter of actually doing them. Of setting aside time to complete things for fun, that aren't study. That aren't things that I have to do. The only problem with that is that I'm not especially inclined to do things that I don't 'have' to do. That takes time and effort out of my already quite full days.

Only, that last line is really just making up excuses. There's always more time. There's always the opportunity to organise oneself just that little bit better. Staying away from distractions tends to make me happier.

I've been studying more lately. It's incredibly satisfying. I started studying more because I finally found direction with what I wanted to do. It came to me a few weeks ago, watching (of all things) the finale of Grey's Anatomy. I know, it's a little lame. But I think I would like to do Medicine. It fits. I have this list that sits on my desk of all of the things I would want out of a career, without specifying any actual job. Med fits most of those things. Everyone I've spoken to so far has agreed that it is a reasonable goal. That it'd be hard but worthwhile. That I'd be capable. It's something that I'd been wondering about just a little for a while, but was never really sure. At first, I was definitely going to study in the US. Now I'm not so sure. I haven't picked a school yet. I'm thinking of applying to institutions in Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne, to the Ivys in the US and maybe even to some institutions in France. We'll see. I don't have to decide just yet. And even though studying in the US will take a bit longer, if it's what I want to do then it's what I want to do. A year or two extra shouldn't make that much difference. Or, I could do what Nikki so intelligently suggested, and do exchange there.

It's nice to have study as something that I actually enjoy doing, whereas for so long it was an escape from everything else. If I didn't want to think about something, I'd study. Now, I'm studying because it will GET me somewhere, because I enjoy the content, because I like what it encompasses. I have to remember that there's a good reason that I like to be at uni. I've always enjoyed learning. I have to thrive on that. I wilt without learning. I get frustrated and start yearning for grammar books and maths textbooks when I don't study for long enough. And that's just a little bit weird.

There's something satisfying about learning. I've often wondered what other creatures think about with their day. Humans fill up their days with any number of tasks and plans and walks down memory lane. Do dogs and horses and goldfish do the same thing? Or are they thinking 'I'm hungry' or do they not really think like that at all. I wish I could read their minds, sometimes, just to know. Should we be trying to intellectually stimulate our furry friends in order to make their lives more interesting? I can't imagine it being particularly exciting just sitting in your dog basket all day, waiting for Master to come home. I wonder if dogs have longer life spans if they are intellectually and emotionally stimulated. If the Police K-9 force have longer and more fulfilled lives than your average house dog.

There was this customer that came into my work not so long ago. We ended up having this really long chat because his wife was taking forever trying on shirts. He was telling me about how they lived on a huge property in the country, they'd paid off their loans and didn't have any debts left. Instead of worrying about mortgages, they travel all over the world. When they were in New York, he bought his wife an $800 dress. Yet, this couple seemed extremely grounded. They were wearing normal clothes. Nothing fancy. He spoke about how travel enriches the mind. He even suggested that no-one should be allowed to get married until they've travelled. I laughed, it may be true to him, but I doubt the government will pay for every person to go travelling when they finish high school. He spoke about how he appreciates expensive items, but doesn't hide them away where they won't be damaged. Why own expensive things and never use them? It's true...but I think 'why buy expensive things when you can get the same thing for cheaper?'. Why would I want a BMW when I can get a Holden Astra? It drives just as well for normal city driving, it uses less fuel and seems to work pretty well as a car. Then again, I can't drive. Why would I buy a $300 pair of shoes when they'll wear out just as quickly as a $100 pair? Will a $300 pair be that much more comfortable? Instead, I like to buy responsibly. Do my best to buy Aussie-made. Try to think about the long term environmental effects of my purchases. Buy what's within my means and only what I need (which really means, what I really want :P). I try not to be excessive. But talking to this guy at work, it made me think about what's important. And he's right - the cultural experiences of travel are far more worthwhile than those $800 dresses. But an expensive dress doesn't go astray either (well, maybe for him, but I'm sure his wife liked it). You can't do anything with your money once you're gone. So enjoy every moment now :)

I did press play. It was totally worth it. It was just a different type of pressing play to what I thought it would be. I thought to go would mean being insanely busy with no time for thought. But pressing play means having fun and, for me, that means sectioning off portions of the day for contemplation. And sections of the day for fun and study and all of the other tasks. I'm still working out the fine balance, but I'm figuring it's pretty close.

On Hold

2009-05-27T16:24:00.000+10:00

So...for the first time in a long time I've had a bunch of spare time. As always happens when there's freedom to do what I want, I begin to reflect on life. It's a natural progression...

I was sitting here, reading my Anatomy text book (as you do) and not taking a word in. I was thinking how life goes on hold for so many things. Life goes on hold for exams. Life goes on hold for work. It seems like the most important thing - enjoying each and every moment - goes on hold the most frequently. It's never that 'things' go on hold for life.

What would it be like to put the things on hold in favour of living life? How do you do that? Travelling over the summer (and flying straight into snow storms :P) showed me just how fun it can be to have no responsibilities. To just have the freedom to explore. One MetroCard opened up an entire city. The only rule to not be out by myself after 9.30pm (that and not breaking the law). Don't freeze to death in the snow. A few thousand dollars gave me a few months of of bliss. Strangely, though, I missed the routine - the trips to work and uni. I came back, went in to uni and realised how amazing of a place it is - architecturally and otherwise. How much I love learning there. Yet, study becomes a burden when it begins to hinder freedom.

So I began to think a little more. What are my priorities in life? What do I value the most and what have I been valuing the most? It seems that, somehow, the past six weeks have had absolutely no direction. My focus has certainly not been study. It's obviously not work. Nor has it been my friends, although I am trying (unsuccessfully) to keep up with you all. Debating hasn't been getting my full attention. The gym? Not really. The best word to describe my focus over these few weeks is: fail! It just hasn't existed.

The question then becomes - what should I be focusing on? Me? Well, that's a little self-centred. My friends? Family? School? Work? Hobbies? Health? I just don't know.

My mind wandered onto the topic of the oh-so-dramatic 'where is my life headed?' I don't know the answer to that either. Am I putting things on hold on purpose? Am I just so unsure of what I want to do that I'd waste six weeks doing nothing? Or is it something else? Well, maybe it's just a bit of both. When these exams are finished, I will be halfway through my degree. The plan is to study post-grad in the US. So it's 1.5 years until I fly far, far away to begin a brand new life. That's just a little scary. Oh, I want to go! I want to go very, very much. I want to explore the streets of New York City. I want to visit my family in Utah every single holiday period. I want to go to my cousin's birthday parties, see my cousin's baby-to-be grow up. But that is not now.

I grabbed out my 2009 goals that I wrote only five months ago. They sit on my desk and I look over them every once in a while. Some things have been an utter failure: get enough sleep, blog once a week (so I've not blogged since...February), explore Melbourne/the World, study smart (I think the first word has been lacking), time manage well. Some things have been marginally successful: learn about interesting topics (uni has that covered but not every topic on this list has been covered), go out and about (I've been out in the past three months about triple as many times as I went out all of last year), look into possible career paths. And then there are things that have, and continue to be achieved: read news and current affairs (I love NY Times and my daily Age fix), debate (c'mon Easters!), exercise (<3 gym), be happy (woo!), share and challenge.

The one thing on my list that has been achieved more than it was last year, but is still not as good as I had hoped is 'Keep up with friends.' So, I've been making more of an effort to keep up with you all, but at the same time I feel like we've not caught up enough. My folks from high school - when was the last time I saw you? Mon's? In Appprrriiillll? Even people at Uni have reduced seeing-ness due to class clashings etc. It's not like I'm adverse to seeing people, in fact I love the random txts, visits between classes, dinners, clubbing adventures etc, it's just that I'm so distracted by absolutely nothing that I manage to forget to send YOU those messages.

Which brings me back to why things put life on hold? Looking at life - in general - you go to primary school...high school....uni/tafe/work. You work forever. And then you retire. Only to realise that you're seventy and haven't done half of the things that you wanted to, and now you're old and can't do half of the things you want to do. How do you live life and still do all of the normal things so that you can keep yourself afloat financially? Can you have it all? What's most important? And when does it stop being on hold?

I'm ready to press play.

Flying to the Moon and Back

2009-02-24T20:18:00.000+11:00

Two weeks since I last wrote. I seem to be making a habit of that.

Two weeks since...my birthday.

Two weeks since...dancing along to MTV's top hits.

Two weeks since I watched Million Dollar Baby and Schindler's List with Sarah, my awesome cousin.

Two weeks in which I've been in four states and two countries, left family and returned to those left behind.

And now I'm home.

So...what's been happening? Nothing at all and everything that could. It's been back to basics and yet so different. And so similar in being back. Yet... the world seems different. The world needs changing and I can see that so much better now.

Two weeks ago I was living the Utahn life. I was watching movies with my cousins and going shopping and doing what my family does. I was hanging with Jed as he made breakfast and I was playing Uno with the twins (who are five, so that's perfectly normal).

A week ago I flew home. A week ago I came down from the mountains. It feels like I flew to the moon and back. A week ago I was...I don't even know what. I was with 20 people whom I love more than anything and yet...far away from everything that I know or ever knew. It was a weird sensation and it still puzzles me.

When I was watching Million Dollar Baby (MDB) and Schindler's List (SL) I was struck by the sheer fragility of life. You can sit back and enjoy it and never realise just how breakable we all are. Or, you can be reminded every so often and then forget again. Whatever the case, it's easy to pass through life unaware of just how lucky we are to have the bodies that we do. I don't often reflect on that - I more appreciate the opportunities I've been given in terms of living in such a prosperous land and having the chance to attend schooling, learn to read and write. But, as I sit here I'm typing with my ten fingers and having my left foot tucked under my right leg, I don't just appreciate being free and living in a liberal society but the fact that my body works. So many people have neither. So many people have had one or the other taken away from them. Maggie of MDB fought for the one thing that pulled her through a traumatic childhood. She fought and fought. She had spirit. She had courage. And those three things caused her eventual demise. She lost. Dirty tricks meant she spent the rest of her life in high-care. She lived her dream but it broke her. In SL, we saw people's spirits broken; their future's demolished. We saw the effects of the Holocaust on approximately six million jewish people. We saw their bodies broken, emaciated and their lives destroyed by people who had become so desensitized to human suffering that it ceased to bother them. And through it all, we saw the efforts of one man who gave every cent of his fortunes to saving those he could.

Perserverance of the human spirit is an amazing thing.

"Love is like a barren place/And reaching out for human faith is like a journey/I just don't have a map for" - Savage Garden

Watching those two films managed to echo through my past two weeks. They reminded me not only of just how lucky I am but also of how much the world changes. How much it changes daily, weekly, by the very second. That change always comes. That change can be good or bad or indifferent. But it comes, whether we like it or not. In the end, you have to reach out. You have to find a path or make your own because there is no map for life. There are no directions besides the bearings you choose.

There's something about going away for two months that changes the way you see the old world. First off, I don't think I realised how busy I used to be. I'm looking at my life at the moment and wondering how it's all going to work. It is going to work, I know that, it's just how. I've realised that I have to stop planning everything. I need a planner, yes, but I don't need to be thinking about the future every second of now. Right now is the present and I'm going to use it for what it is. If I do that, I'll appreciate as the past and not play...some sort of waiting game.

I hadn't realised how out of the Aussie loop I'd become. As my brother said when we arrived at Sydney airport, 'we've been away a REALLY long time.' I was just about to say the same thing. We were away and our lives kept going. Just as we were on our own journey, so too were all of the people we know back home.

Home.

There's a word that's impossible to define. Home - it could be anything. It could be everything. For some people, it's nothing. For me... home is here. Home is Manhattan. Home is Utah. Home is me. Home is my friends. Home is my family.

Home is that place that you crave when you don't know where you are. Home is the people that you ask for help when you don't know what to do. Home is ... that person you keep your head to talk to when you're lonely. Home is that feeling when you don't want to leave. Home. It's so much and so little and so easily lost yet so difficult to really find. And I have several.

It's funny to think of the moments that I could really pinpoint as being ones of feeling home. On the bus from DC to New York...late at night seeing the signs along the highway saying 'New York City' and watching the skyline rise up before me. Getting out of the bus and breathing in the weird concoction of Manhattan air. Feeling the hustle and bustle, knowing the streets. The click. I'm back. Thank god I'm back.

Going to Uni yesterday. Knowing where I was. Remembering the buildings. Seeing the preparations for a bunch of newbies (!). Going to Union House. Knowing I should go back to that place I live but walking around campus because I didn't want to go just yet. I just wanted to be there a little bit longer. Just a few more minutes. Just as long as I can come back. Soon.

Weirdly, home-the-place-I-live didn't click as home for a little bit longer. It felt so odd for the first little while. Cookie looked a funny colour. Mum and Dad had changed (they're so skinny now!). There were trees missing at the place next door. The house across the street was missing. My room felt...boring. Yet after being home for a week I like it here. I'm just not sure it's forever. I realised, walking home from work, that there's a natural and instinctive urge to 'leave the nest' and maybe that instinct is wishing me to wander to bigger and perhaps better things. To take chances. To get out there and experience the world. Or even just something a little bit different.

So I'm trying. I'm doing things a little bit different, I promise. Even now. Even today. And tomorrow, for certain.

I've flown from the Moon and Back. And now I've got a ticket for a world where I belong. Finally.

Flight of the Eagle from the Big Apple to the Apple Orchard

2009-01-28T18:25:00.001+11:00

Two weeks ago, I made it home from Washington DC, the heart of this most wondrous nation known as the United States of America. I made it back from that place that was built around the history and pride of a nation a week before a great man allowed the people to rejoice again. I made it to New York City in time to realize so many things about this place; and so many things about myself.

That last week in New York was full of sentiment. Everywhere I walked, I realized how much I would miss that city. I’ll miss the subway, no matter how grimy it can be, even if the metrocards sometimes eat your money, even if there are people who pretend to be homeless but really aren’t. I’ll miss the kindness of the New Yorkers who help me up the nine flights of stairs in the subway station. I’ll miss the way that there’s something to do and see and marvel at on every single street corner. I’ll miss my hood – Bloomingdales and Grand Central Station and the New York City Public Library and the Levi store and Central Park and Times Square all within an easy walk. I’ll miss the traffic and the way there are always so many people around. Most of all, though, I am missing the conversations that my Aunt and I had until two o’clock in the morning when she had to be up for work at seven. I am missing Rosie, our most fabulous and friendly doorperson who kept me company when I was waiting for my aunt to get home from work so we could go find some dinner. I am missing the cosy little apartment that we lived in, and the way that my air mattress would decide to keel over if it was running out of air. That whole last week, every detail of my New York life was mulled over. I came to see just how much the City of Apples meant to me.

One night, talking to my aunt, I said to her that I was thinking of coming back to New York within the year if I could afford it. I’d been trying to work out how to tell her that for a few weeks, but I just wasn’t sure how. I want to go back because it is a city that beats to the rhythm of my world. It is a city in which one can always be busy, and yet you can still sit back and bake if that’s what you want to do. I expected her to say that it was a silly idea to come back but she seemed to think it was an excellent idea and so we continued on with our conversation as if nothing had changed.

In those final days in a place that feels so much like home, my brother came down from Boston to see a few more of the sights. Even though we did a whole bunch of touristy things – we climbed the Statue of Liberty and went to the Immigration Museum at Ellis Island on the day of the plane crash into the Hudson River, we went through East Village to Chinatown and Little Italy for souvenirs, we visited Soho and Noho and Bleeker St, we went back to Times Square, to museums and to Central Park – it didn’t really feel like I was a tourist. I felt like I was showing my brother around my city. He’d follow my lead as we walked and trained around. We’d wander and I’d point out interesting things. He took photos while I tried to imprint all fives senses of the city into my memory banks.

All too soon we had to pack up and head to the airport to fly to Salt Lake City. And no, we weren’t going for the skiing. My luggage was mildly overweight, so there was a quick switching of excess stuff from my suitcase to Rob’s as we tried to get everything back under the weight limits. Once sorted, we realized that we were about two and a half hours early for the flight as check-in and security took about half the time that I expected. Better early than a missed flight, I’d say. So we waited. And read. And looked at overpriced airport merchandise. And ate. And waited. Until we finally boarded the aeroplane and set off for a much smaller city but one with a lot of hearts waiting for us.

When we arrived at Salt Lake, my aunt (yes, a different one) was waiting for us. We packed into her car amazed at the balmy Utah weather, which was at all of 31 F. So…a little less than zero Celsius and we were overheating. That says a lot for the 9F New York weather that we’d just left behind.

The past week has been filled with so many activities, and yet it would be difficult to describe them all in any relative detail. Rob and I went to back-to-back days of wrestling matches as two of our cousins are in their high school wrestling team. We went on tours of the Rocky Mountains, up to Park City and Sundance, to Salt Lake City, to all of our cousins’ homes, to several malls and plenty of places in between. We were doing normal people things. We were meeting our family – for me, only the ones who weren’t yet born the last time that I was here, for Rob, out of about 20 family members here he had previously met only two. It’s been a week more of being exposed to the crazy inner workings of such a large family than of touristing. Rob and I come from a family of four and four only. It is the two children and their parents. The only additions are in the form of four-legged friends. Despite coming from so far away to such a well functioning family, we were accepted with open arms and open cupboards (for food, not for storing these odd Australians).

It had been an odd couple of weeks, especially since the homesickness set in when I got back from DC. I miss all of my friends more than anything. I miss being around people who actually know me. I miss eating home cooked foods instead of having to go on Rob’s crazy junk food bonanza. At the same time, there is so much going on. There is so much to learn and see and do before I head back to the land of Oz. One thing on that list – hop on a snow mobile in the Apple Orchard across the street from my cousin’s farm.

My Trip to the New York Public Library

2008-12-24T10:54:00.000+11:00

I know I wrote only a few hours ago, but today’s adventures are deserving of an update so soon.

This morning, after catching up on a few tasks at home, I decided to venture out into the city to look at some buildings. I had planned on visiting the UN and the Empire State buildings as well as going past Chrysler, the library, Bryant Park and taking photos of whatever I came upon in my travels. But, as fortune would have it, I got distracted by the library and my camera decided to run out of battery.

I left the apartment to find the weather a brisk, but not too cold, 32F. Thank goodness! After the blustering cold of yesterday, it was really nice to see some sunshine. Whoever knew I’d be glad to have 0C as the temperature! I walked onto 57th, past the expensive toy store with an impossible-to-spell name, and hung a left at Lexington. As I walked, I took in the strange nature of immensely beautiful buildings cosied up next to the generic 21st century glasshouse. Snuggled at the bottom of all of these buildings were banks and pharmacies, Starbucks (oh how many Starbucks there are here!) and Dunkin Donuts. The contrast of old and new, architectural beauty and mass-produced skyscrapers, places of worship and business, fast food and expensive designer shops reminds me of how diverse this city is. Just like Melbourne, there are so many different cultures. There are so many different areas, so many different things to explore and discover, and yet there is this overwhelming sense that you could look and look and still be seeing the same things. At every corner there’s a Duane and Reades (the drug store of choice, it seems), a Bank of America, a Starbucks and a really, really tall building. Walk five blocks in any direction, and you’ll see a repeat of all of the same chain stores. At the same time, each area has it’s own character. I suppose every city would be like that, but it amazes me to walk around with ‘fresh eyes’ and to notice the repetition. I wonder… at how the branding seems so strong. At how there is just so much and yet…if it’s all repeated then where is the originality? Hmm.

Anyhow, as I walked along Lexington, I took a fair bit of time to appreciate the pretty buildings. The direction I walked meant that I encountered the ‘Hotel District,’ a few places of worship and a whole bunch else. The Chrysler Building and Grand Central Station marked my turning point, and I swung a right along 42nd, heading towards Park (and beyond). Eventually, I made it to the NY Public Library. It’s an awe-striking building. So far, it has been my favourite place to visit.

If you’ve ever been to the Victorian State Library, you’ll know just how amazing the domed room is. The first time I went there, I was dumbstruck by its beauty. I stood just to the side of the entry, and soaked in just how wonderful those wooden desks with their green lamps were. How there were so many books lined up against all of the walls. How there were so many people, and yet so much silence, except for the scratching of pencils against paper. The taping of laptop keys. And, that subtle smell of books that have slowly aged. It’s a huge contrast of the old and the new, but it still seems to fit.

That feeling can be multiplied by about a hundred to describe how it felt to first look up at the interior of Astor Hall in the NY Library. After you make it through the entrance and security check, you’re in this huge hall, named after one of the founding libraries belonging to John Jacob Astor. The hall must be 20 metres high, entirely furnished in marble columns, carvings and tiles. It’s so grand, spacious and impressive. You know that you’re somewhere expensive. In fact, after reading the plaques on the interior, it turns out that the library is on land that was worth $20mil in the late 19th Century, and cost what was then $9mil to build. In today’s terms, that is somewhere in the vicinity of $500mil for the entire library and its grounds.

As one of the top five libraries in the Western world – the British Library, the Bibliothèque Nationale, The Russian National Library and the Washington DC library making up the other four – it certainly is extensive. There are four levels, 52 million resources and plenty of things to take your breath away. Ok, so I know it sounds odd to be so amazed by a library, but it’s no ordinary library. It is an architectural masterpiece. It is a piece of history. It epitomizes grandeur. Knowledge is power, and this library only serves to exemplify this statement.

I spent an hour and a bit on the library’s tour. There, I learnt the history of many of the rooms and the library as an entity. I found myself inspired by both it’s history and the extent of information (and hence culture, life, dedication) contained within the walls of the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. There’s something special about these spaces.

I don’t know if many other people find libraries amazing, but I’ve always been stupefied by just how much information is out there. Even if I sat down today and just read for the rest of my life, I’d never get through even a small percentage of the books that have been published, or are contained in that library. There are over 128 miles of shelf space in the NY Public Library alone. Fifty-two million items, and I’m sure there are many more the world-over. It makes me realize just how small I am in this big wide world, and yet, just like each individual book goes to making those shelves full, so too does each person go to serving an important function in society. Even in those immense halls, even in the quiet of the reading room there is purpose. There is structure and there is beauty, there are tiny books with even smaller words in this room with the biggest windows, the most expensive marble and the most intricate sculpturing.

After the tour, I went on a wander back around all of the rooms that we’d looked at. I took time to absorb the pictures in the upstairs dancing hall. I ran my fingers along the smooth marble in the second floor halls. It’s wasn’t as cold as I expected. I stood at the great window and looked out, half expecting to see 19th Century New York City to look back at me, but it was the same bustling city outdoors. I wandered around, and reflected on just how pure this place seemed. Outside, there was today, inside there was 150 years of history. One hundred and fifty years that seemed almost untouched by the changes occurring only ten metres outside its walls. It wasn’t like stepping back in time, it was like being enveloped by timelessness.

As time ticked by outside, I thought it a good idea to begin the walk home. I got a few more photos taken, despite my camera’s complaints of low battery. Even in the hustle and bustle of such a populated city, I felt the calm of the library. I felt centred. I felt inspired. I felt an urge for knowledge. And I could see the future stretching out in front of my hurrying feet.

9-11

2008-09-11T10:47:00.000+10:00

Today marks seven years since those fateful events that seemed to have changed so much in this world. They changed the way the West and the East considered each other, they changed how accepting we are of other cultures and how much we perceive fear.

I don't really want to go into a long winded analysis of cultural implications of 9-11 but I did want to talk about how it affected my little world all those years ago.

Because of the time difference between the US and Australia, the attacks on World Trade didn't actually happen until the late night news on 9-11. I remember waking up on the 10th and the TV was on, which was not at all a normal occurence in our household. My breakfast was all ready for me on the table but I slumped into a couch chair in shock and horror at what I was seeing. I couldn't quite understand what had happened or why or how. It didn't make any sense. In fact, in the ensuing seven years I'm still shocked and horrified by what happened and I really just don't understand how there can be so much hate that something like that would happen.

As I sat in my chair and stared at the TV, I remember trying to ask my dad what was going on, but that he told me to shush. I was scared. I remember thinking that my cousin and my aunty lived in NYC and I didn't know where they worked and what if something had happened to them. My dad spent the entire day trying to call his family, but the phone lines were so busy that I didn't know if they were okay until I got home from school.

Even though I still don't really know my cousin all that well, because we have the privledge of living in completely different countries, I spent the entire day reliving all of the moments that we'd had together when I was five (but nearly six, I told myself) and wondering if I'd ever see her again. I spent the day wondering how anyone would want to hurt my other country and wondering how the things that we've always understood about life could be turned upside down in an instant. I thought about the fact that my best friend was flying to Hong Kong not even a month later for a family holiday and how I didn't want her to go because I was scared something bad would happen to her. But most of all, I was struck by this sense of complete naivety and youth and the fact that my little world wasn't going to be so little anymore.

In my class at schoool there was a guy who had spent his childhood living in the US. My teacher had wanted him to come to school to be with the support of his classmates, and so at around lunch time he turned up with his mum and sister. The three of them were a ball of tears. I saw so much hurt and pain in their eyes, and it seemed to represent what was going on inside of me. I thought again of my cousin and my aunt and how someone out there had hated home so much that it got hurt. And how that just didn't seem fair at all.

My mum picked me up after school, and we went to pick up my brother. I have this distinct memory of leaving our old house (which we still owned and used solely as a pick up point after school) and my brother packing into the car. Mum made some sort of complaint about him not using enough deodorant. I was just happy that my brother was safe. That song 'Dream on White Boy' or whatever - that I think is by INXS - was on the radio. I think. Or maybe that's a different memory. It was sunny and there were pretty little flowers growing in the green grass. I saw the streetpole outside our neighbour's house and remembered the car that drunkenly crashed into it so many years before. And I wondered if Naomi was okay.

It turned out that no one in my family was hurt themselves, although they were all rather shaken by the day's events. My aunt worked only a few blocks down the street from WTC, and had been evacuated after the crash. My cousin worked on the other side of town.

A year later, I was in NYC from August 28 until September 1. We went to see the site of WTC and it was just this huge empty hole in the ground. I could see where the subway used to be. There were flowers and memorials across the fencing keeping us from falling into the 10 storey hole in the ground. Most of all, there was this incredible silence. If you were on the street looking at Macy's and all of the buildings, it was almost normal. But as soon as you walked towards those fences it was so silent. There were 1000s of people paying their respects, but nothing more than a whisper of human presence. We could hear the drilling and the sawing and all of the construction going on down below, we were all there and yet we were so isolated in our grief. Grief for people we didn't know but could understand. Grief for the everyday citizens who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Grief for how anything like that could ever happen and grief for the way the world could never go back to being sweet and innocent.

As time went on, it was easy enough to forget how powerful those moments were. But sometimes I leaf through my bookshelf and find the issue of Time Magazine that was the first anniversary edition. I read through its now thoroughly wrinkled pages and am again struck by how huge 9-11 was. How massively it affectly the US and the world. And how, no matter how much we move on, it's important to remember the tragedy. If we forget how powerful that day was, we'll forget why it happened and forget that we need to improve our humanity.

National Body Image and Eating Disorder Awareness Week

2008-09-01T20:08:00.001+10:00

Sitting snugly underneath my blue sleeve, there's four little letters. They spell Hope. They are printed on a little silver circular pendant hanging off a bracelet of silver cubes. Despite the fact that this bracelet is beautiful, it's hidden beneath my shirt. It's hidden away, just like so many of us hide away from how beautiful we truly are.

This week, as my very, very long title suggests, it's National Body Image and Eating Disorder Awareness Week. It's one week among the 52 we have each year. It's another week to be important, another event to take part in. This week, as with every week, challenge yourself to question the things that create your sense of self. Last week you were asked to question your hearing because it was National Hearing Awareness Week. This week, question how you feel, how you perceive beauty and how you perceive yourself.

I can tell you, all of you, are absolutely beautiful. It's something I say quite a fair bit so I hope it hasn't lost it's pertinence just yet. I mean it every time I say it. My compliments might be a bit abstract at times but that doesn't mean that they're somehow less worthy. Every ounce (yes, yes, imperial system, I know) of my being goes into wanting the best for all of you because you are all amazing. Awesome. Fantastic. Inspiring. Wonderful.

There is this concept in modern society that 'beauty' is somehow a quantitative calculation of your physical appearance. I beg to differ. I don't know how magazines can ascribe a certain personna, a certain visage, as perfect. However they manage to infiltrate these concepts into our society, I don't believe them. All of you guys and gals who are my friends are beautiful to me because of your giant smiles, the concern when I say 'my knee hurts' and the way you remember to ask if it's getting better, the awesome conversations that we have, the emails/texts/fb messages/msn conversations that we have between sometimes infrequent catch ups (yes, I know I work too much!) and everything else that makes each of you individuals. As far as I'm concerned, you're all the hottest people on the planet, every single one of you, because you are all amazing in your own special way and I wouldn't want that to be different at all.

I think beauty is fluid. It's not defineable. It's different. It can 'lie in the eye of the beholder' but more than that, it can change. That doesn't mean you can suddenly become 'unbeautiful' - in fact, I think it means that with every passing moment you become more and more beautiful because we change with every moment that we are alive.

That said, it can be incredibly difficult to remember these things when we see the 'perfect image' portrayed to us as 'beautiful' every moment of every day. It's a pervading image. It overtakes. It convinces us that we're not perfect, because that way we'll want to conform. We'll want to change. We'll buy some expensive product in the name of betterment. But it never works. You just want more and more and more and that's unattainable.

I won't bore you with statistics. Statistics are not very exciting. But I want so much that all of my lovely lovely friends feel that they are beautiful. Inside and out. But mostly inside. Your insides are much, much, much more important to me than anything on the outside. All your outsides do is keep your insides intact :)

I hope that you are all happy and healthy and safe and well. And if you want me to describe why YOU are amazing to me, give me a shout and I'll do so. I'm more than happy to oblige.

Don't be a little bit of silver hidden beneath a sleeve. Stand out and don't be afraid to be you. You are all bright and shiny and beautiful.

Don't ever forget that.