Giving up

So, whatever genre this blog once was has gone -kaput-. There is no genre. The genre is so oh, I don't know, about a month ago.

First, I meta-blogged.

And then, I felt the need to say something about my Technological Issues.

And now, this post.

I haven't been posting because I want to post about books. And some time ago this was developed as my 'about my family' blog. But that's not really happening, because some of the things I want to write about my family, I am still ambivalent about whether to reveal. This is why I have never been able to write my family story.

There are stories that, to tell, would be to betray. Writing, and writing from life, is always somewhat of a betrayal. Helen Garner, a favourite Australian author of mine whom I have regular disagreements with when I read but whom I nevertheless admire, comes across as a very bitter person. Her writing has betrayed so many of her friends, and occassionally paramours. The theme of Capote is his betrayal of the persons he befriended to write his great American novel. I cannot betray my family to write my great family novel. And yet, if I do not, I cannot write honestly about them. It silences me -outwardly - while inwardly I argue with myself, my mother, my sisters, aunts, cousins. (Yes even in my head, I usually just talk deeply with the female members of my family).

So I disappear into books, even though I have been spending an inordinate amount of time with my family. Somehow, being with them, means I think less about them. I turn up at my sister's house, chat to her for a bit, play with the kids and then settle into her hammock to read whatever novel I've brought with me until dinner time.

It's been a while since I have fallen into a book in the way I have fallen into the last three that I have read over the last few weeks. I guess it was really only a matter of time before I devolved into talking about books. Books are everything to me - the few material items I covet, the world I inhabit, the way I judge people. And yes, I judge people rather a lot. No one in my family reads novels (although my brother, admirably, is trying).

I am a reader. I have been a reader since I discovered reading when I was knee high to a grass-hopper, was kicked out of ESL (English as a Second Language) class for being too proficient too quickly and had no friends. Who needs friends when you have books? Eventually I got friends, but the books took hold. And I've never looked back.

In any event, it's getting a bit late now to tell you about the great books that moved me, amused me and alternately made me angry and want to argue with the author. But be warned, I might start posting about books soon.

The other terrible non-posting thing I've been doing is bouncing around the blog-world. My itinerary included pop culture, gender issues, style and design, Asia, adoption, and just recently I found a hive of Ha Noi blogs. So my thoughts on Asia, Viet Nam, culture, representation of Asian women, representation of women, immigration, immigrants are scattered -like so much fairy dust- throughout the ether.

And as fruitless and pointless as all my blatherings here.

Blue Dragon Children's Foundation

This post is in honour of this worthy site. Work be warned: I have an organisation to donate our next casual Friday coffers to.

I met these gorgeous kids at Thien Mu pagoda in Hue. The rain steadily drizzled and most of the tourists were huddled under the eaves of one of the pagodas. I did not go in. I left my sisters and the tour guide and wandered around the serene grounds of the pagoda where beautiful bonsais were artfully displayed. I was warmly protected from the rain in my bright red raincoat.

These children - the eldest's name was Hieu - fell about laughing whenever I opened my mouth. In English they said:"Where you from?" and in Viet, I responded: "nguoi Viet o Uc" (I am a Vietnamese person living in Australia). Oh, how they laughed. First, a nervous giggle. But then I said: "What are your names?" (in Viet) and they started to double up. The eldest responded, nudging the littlest at the same time who was hopping from foot to foot. When I asked if they lived near the temple, they almost fell into the pond laughing at me. We shared some sugar cane lollies I had in my bag, I took this photograph and they laughed as I and my red raincoat continued to meander about the pagoda grounds. I have never been so funny in my life.

Ashamed to be feminist

I am technologically challenged. And what's more, sadly and ashamedly non-proactive about it.

My partner is the IT geek. IT is his problem (and a rather big problem it is at present - having to write up his PhD.) My partner is not currently with me. He is over the seas, tramping around New Zealand. I am at home, mostly alone for the little time that I am actually at home. I thought that, being on my own so much and without him to distract me, I would post more. But no. It's been almost three weeks and nothing from me.

There is a good reason. sort of.

My internet connection was not working and I've made a new resolution not to go near blogs at work during the day. Yes, not even at lunch time. Basically, each time I tried to log on, my lovely internet host (who cannot be named for legal reasons har har) would tell me I was not allowed to. I read the forbidding message. There was nothing I could do: I was forbad. I fiddled around on my computer and then tried to log in again. The nasty message appeared again. I looked at the message and then turned the computer off. A few days later, I tried again. Same message. I thought, "My partner will be home soon. I'll wait for him to fix it."

I'm terrible. What kind of feminist am I? Damsel in technological distress patiently waits for about two weeks until Knight in Shiny IT Armour rescues her?

Well, let me tell you that I logged onto the internet all by myself. And the evil message thing just let me. I snuck past it - I did not fix anything at all. It did not work last week but it works today.

And don't worry, I am not at all ashamed to be feminist. But I am hanging my head a little because of my victim-like approach to Technological Problems.