Blackout, intellectual snobbery, reunions, domestic deities, names

[Tabouli]

Huh!  Why do blackouts always happen when you've nearly finished something long and involved on your computer?  Gzzzz.  No power today in central Melbourne for an hour or two (I think a truck brought down some crucial power lines or something), and my but it brings home how much we cushy modern people depend on electricity.  *Nothing* was working, no traffic lights (havoc), no EFTPOS or credit card machines (back to the cash only era!), lights, computers, stoves, electric hot water - couldn't do any of the things I was planning this afternoon, from posting my (sadly lost) email to going to the bank, to photocopying and posting something paid for by card... even my telephone is electric!

Grrrnghgrr...

Jen:
> By this time, I feel that in my small town of about 12,000, my 
"reputation" as a bright girl had preceded me (especially at school 
and at the library), and they thought I should be reading Dickens or 
Austen by then.<

*Yes*, this is the very problem I meant!  The old "You're too smart to read that rubbish" factor!  The "I thought you had intellectual credibility until you told me you hadn't read Tolstoy!" factor!!  The "Anyone who reads/puts on their walls/listens to such lowbrow crap is obviously an inconsequential pleb who probably watches Melrose Place and reads about movie stars' sex lives and eating disorders" factor!!!  (for the record, I don't watch Melrose Place, but hey, I've been known to read about movie stars' sex lives and eating disorders.  Only in the queue in the supermarket, of course)

The answer, of course, is to be proud and unashamed in one's tastes, whatever they are.  I've never succeeded, but I've seen it done, and been incredibly impressed.  I once had a snooty highbrow friend who would regularly make me squirm about my lowbrow ways.  Then he acquired himself a gloriously unashamed boyfriend called Jimmy, who would not only listen to Oasis and Madonna in his presence, but unashamedly turn on sitcoms and Hey Hey it's Saturday (great show, eh storm?) in his house!  When my friend began his usual contemptuous drawl about programs for the braindead masses, Jimmy would say "Good, aren't they?" and Turn Up The Volume!!  And, to my amazement, my friend would eventually mutter himself into a corner and sit there docilely and watch it with him with nary a sneer!  I nearly applauded!  Now if I only I could follow Jimmy's example...

Jen:
> Isn't it awful how something that seems 
fairly insignificant in your childhood can affect you to the point 
of not wanting to go to your 10yr reunion because you're not 
"successful" in a career/monetary way?<

The same goes for the ol' high school reunion.  I chickened out of mine too (1999).  At the time I was studying, unmarried, impoverished, and miserable with where my life was.  Couldn't face the thought of all the smug sheltered rich girls I went to school with milling about comparing scores in bitchy one-upping fashion.  The big point earners being:

(a) employed as a doctor or lawyer at a prestigious firm, or at least in something with a 6 figure income
(b) married, with an expensive ring and bonus points for a husband who is a doctor or lawyer (or 6 figure income earner, but only if he's under 35)
(c) having bought a house in a Good Suburb with one's swanky husband (bonus points if one paid cash for it)
(d) how one looks, with minus points for gaining weight since school, or looking over 30, but bonus points for looking under 25 and wearing expensive clothes
(e) driving a Mercedes or similar
(f) having collected a range of Impressive Achievements and Diverse, Off-Beat, International Experiences.

Ick.  Though of course, if I were happy with myself and strong in my life choices such people wouldn't be able to make me feel threatened and defensive.  That's the theory, anyway.  O well, maybe inner peace will be mine by the 15 year reunion.

Mary Ann:
> Domestic goddesses unite!! :) Hmm, we need a groovy acronym... 
Tabouli, any ideas?

Parents who stay home to raise their kids?  More power and acronyms to you, I say!  Should I ever sprout any offspring (which rather depends on me finding someone I want to procreate with, a very tricky business), I plan to the do the same.  After all, I *like* being self-employed and working from home, and I even have visions of writing great masterpieces with one weary foot on the cradle (though my friends with children laugh bitterly at this idea - you think you'll have any time and energy left for writing?  Ha!).  Here, have some acronyms!

A.P.H.R.O.D.I.T.E.: Association Proudly Honouring Rearing Offspring - Definitely Involves Time and Effort!

M.I.N.E.R.V.A.: Motherhood Is Not Easy - Reject Vacuity Accusations! (for the McGonagall fan)

V.I.S.I.G.O.T.H.: Vanquish Iniquitous Slander Implicating Goddesses Of The Home!

C.A.T.F.A.M.I.L.I.A.R.: Children Are The Future, And Motherhood Involves Labour, Imagination And Responsibility.

Rosmerta:
> Penny Linsenmayer" <pennylin at s...> 
wrote:
> --- <snip> (and now we know your real name).  :)
>
>oh that's just my muggle name; underneath, Rosmerta and I are one: 
great shoes, devastating effect on men of all ages (think of Ron 
blushing and stuttering), soon-to-be girlfriend of Sirius, or 
Lupin....or both!<<

In closing, from acronyms to pseudonyms.  Those who use 'em, how did you choose 'em??

For me, "Tabouli" was the result of one of my whims (like so many other features of my life).  When I still had a job, I used to use my work email, where the balance of messages reflected my general attitude to full-time work: 60% mailing lists, 20% social, 10% work, 10% messages on the business I was setting up so I could leave work in June.  In those dark days, subterfuge was useless, as everything I sent automatically got stamped with my real name, job title, business address, phone number and fax.  Eventually it dawned on me that I was tempting fate, and decided to get my own ISP/private email address. To my delight, the one I chose provided three separate identities with every email account!  I cheerfully set about dividing myself into a trinity.  As the name of my business starts with Ta- and ends in a vowel, I decided to pick matching names for my social/personal identity and my mailing list identity.

Grinning whimsically to myself, I took up the dictionary and made a list.  I toyed briefly with Tahini, but eventually decided on my favorite spelling of a Middle Eastern salad dominated by parsley and burghur (?) wheat, widely available in Lebanese and Turkish restaurants (and, these days, supermarket salad bars).  A much fuller, more playful sound, I decided.  Hence...

Tabouli.

P.S. Ironically enough, I don't much like the taste of tabouli.  Too much parsley for its own good.  It sounds good, though...


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