Pitched

Those of you who have been regularly keeping up with my various online outpourings may have noticed I've become mildly obsessed with baseball in the last few months.

Having managed to get myself hooked by watching several games in a row while home during the day and in a state of mild delirium, I spent the rest of the regular season and the post season following the fortunes of my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates* and trying to understand what everyone was doing.

I'm still largely confused by most things.  I only recently discovered that, when two teams play each other for four games in a row, those games each count as individual games.  I thought the whole series of consecutive games was tied together somehow, but I could never work out how it worked.

However, I'm currently in a state of mild annoyance.  The MLB has wrapped up for the year, but I've discovered there's an Australian league I can follow.  It's called, funnily enough, the Australian Baseball League.

I've nominally opted to follow the Brisbane Bandits (they're the team for my state, and they have "Bandits" in their name - which is almost like "Pirates")...  but I haven't been able to watch a single second of game time.

The American games were screened live on free-to-air Australian TV, but the Australian league (actually co-owned by the MLB, so I don't know why they haven't finagled some sort of TV coverage) can't even manage a "replay" at 2am.  They have some sort of weird "live" screening happening on the internet - which is about as useful as a cheeseburger to a drowning elephant if you can't (or would rather not) arrange to be sitting at a computer for those exact two hours.

Computer viewing is for snippets of things and things you can pause.  It is for watching a five minute recap (which you stop halfway through for some random thing and then eventually remember to come back to later).  It is not for live sports coverage.

Live sports coverage is for TVs located somewhere in the vicinity of comfy furniture (like your lounge) or replenish-able beverages (like a bar/pub).

Why don't they have clips from the games, so that you can watch them later in a suitably asynchronous manner?  Why don't they convince Ten or SBS or something to screen the games on the TV (so that we could watch the live games in an appropriate manner, or tape them and watch them at a convenient time)?

It's 2013!  Surely they know that we a) don't have an attention span longer than 30 seconds when we sit at a computer and b) have no sense of real time?

Oh, well.  At least they have play-by-play recaps, so I can read the games.

Yes, I read baseball games.

That's not weird, is it?


*I've seen them play at least three times, and they have the word "Pirates" in their name.  That's good enough to make them my team, so I've been reading their games on a semi-regular basis.

The Buzz-cut experiment

It's had mixed results.

I spent about a couple of weeks looking at my hair, thinking: "Oh, sweet Lord, I need a haircut!" and then not doing anything about it - to the point where I started to wish I had a set of clippers at home so I could just hack off my own hair when the whim took me.

But, of course, a buzz-cut is hardly appropriate for a girl who keeps complaining about looking androgynous.

Yet, part of me just wanted to see what would happen if I did simply get shorn.  I've wanted a buzz-cut ever since I was a kid (my mother refused to allow it).  And then, someone at work mentioned that his girlfriend had gone to a barber to get #4 cut, and well...

The original plan was just to get an all-over #8 cut and see what happened, but I ended up having an 8 tapering down to a 5 at the back.

On the one hand - not completely horrible.  When I use wax to style my hair, it doesn't look significantly different to the pixie cuts I've been getting for the past year (a bit shorter, but it will grow).

On the other hand, when I don't use the wax I look like an overweight nine-year-old boy (with a bad haircut).

There's a very good chance I'll do it again before I travel overseas for any length of time, but I probably won't repeat it for my next haircut.

Support your local...

How much of what you need to live a full and happy life can you find in your own neighbourhood?

And, by neighbourhood, I'm referring to whatever is within about 15 minutes by foot or bicycle from where you live.  If you stepped out of your front door, hopped on a bike and rode a comfortable distance (not enough to really even raise a sweat), what could you find?

Neighbourhood is a strange concept, geographically speaking.  It doesn't necessarily overlap with other geographical markers.  For example, I've lived in three houses in Townsville, and in one house my "neighbourhood" takes in parts of four suburbs, while another takes in the entire of one suburb, and the third barely took up a quarter of a suburb (for some reason, they decided to just keep adding to Kirwan instead of making a new suburb - the whole suburb is actually bigger than some towns).

When I lived in Tasmania, my "neighbourhood" took up almost the whole town.

And I tend to think that we all have two neighbourhoods, anyway - the one around the place where we live, and the one around the place where we work.  For some of us, that's the same neighbourhood, but I know of people who live and work in different towns (something I used to do myself).

So, what's in my neighbourhood(s)?  How much of my needs (physical, social and spiritual) can my neighbourhood cater for?

What shops and services do I have close at hand?  What are my local neighbourhood sporting teams?  Schools?  Churches?  Clubs and craft groups?  Doctors' surgeries and dentists?  If I want to take up a new hobby, can I do it close to home?

I've long been fascinated by the fact that the older suburbs in Australian cities have almost everything you need within walking distance, while the newer suburbs don't.  It's like the fact that we have cars has lead to an expected lifestyle in which we no longer need local communities.

Our streets are just places where our houses are.  We sleep there and watch TV.  If we want to do anything else, we just drive to the other side of town...

Yes, I can drive my car to any sporting club in the city.  So what relevance do such clubs have for local communities any more?

Yes, I can drive to any supermarket in town.  So who goes to the shop that's just down the road from me?  And, if I don't, and my neighbour doesn't... then how long can it survive?

I want to be more locally engaged.  To know what exists in my neighbourhood and make use of it.  Unfortunately, I'm very bad at paying attention to things like this.  The best I can do is usually (but not always) getting my haircut somewhere near wear I live or work and only buying newspapers from shops within walking distance.  Which actually just means I rarely buy the paper (not a big problem, my local paper is pretty crappy)...

Even though I live in one of the older suburbs, and I can actually fulfill quite a number of my needs close at hand, I don't.  I drive all over town to find what I want (or buy it online) - making me firmly part of the problem.

Oh, well.  Eventually it won't matter.  There won't be anything "local" to support.

Why are journalists so bad at their jobs?

I'm just curious.

I keep finding articles in newspapers (mostly News Ltd, it must be said) in which the journalist in question clearly doesn't know how to use Google, as they failed to mention some really basic information (which would take any two-bit researcher two minutes to unearth).

Or, alternatively, they'll  write an article about something "amusing" (like, say, TV or sport) and get some of the facts flat-out wrong.  It's as though the fact that it isn't a hard-hitting news story means little things like research and fact-checking become irrelevant.

Call me crazy and old-fashioned (go on, I'll wait), but I thought journalists were supposed to find out stuff and report on what they have learnt.

So, why do they a) not bother finding out stuff, and b) report on things they clearly know nothing about?

Scarier than the bear

I've read in a few places that an "appropriate" method to fend off bear attacks is to run at the bear.

Apparently, generally speaking, bears do not regard humans as proper food and will avoid them if they make enough noise ("Hey, Bear!"), but sometimes they are particularly hungry and will actually run towards the noisy humans for the express purpose of eating them.

Climbing a tree really only works if the bear in question is not a tree climber itself, and running away is really only a good option if you happen to be travelling with someone who is a slower runner than you are.

Running *at* the bear is, supposedly, more effective than running *away* from the bear.

I think this works on the principle of appearing to be scarier than the bear.

Surely, anyone running towards the bear must be dangerous and scary, and perhaps the bear will think "Oh, dear, I am frightened by this attacker!" and run away from you.

Of course, the best way to appear to be scarier than the bear is actually *be* scarier than the bear.  Wielding a bat'leth, or something, might help with that (especially if you could actually use a bat'leth).

I've been thinking a bit about being scarier than the bear, lately.  Not in the woods, though - in the car parks.  And not actual bears; I'm being metaphorical here.

I don't know why I've been thinking about this lately.  I've always blithely walked through situations girls aren't supposed to blithely walk through without really giving a thought to what danger I might be in.

I've never felt threatened - and, I guess, part of me has always assumed this is because I don't look much like a girl.  I have previously commented about how useful a bit of androgyny can be when it comes to travelling the world alone.  The fact that I still get mistaken for a man (depending on what I'm wearing and how short my hair is) has lead me to be a bit careless about things like this.  I instinctively assume people look at me and think "some random guy", which renders me invisible and unlikely to be a target.

But at some point this year, while walking through a car park late at night, the thought occurred to me that being ugly is not a suitable defense.  Should someone with a mind to attack solitary women actually register "hey, it's a girl!" rather than glance over "some random guy", what could I do about it?

Sure, I can project an image of being scarier than the bear, but unless I can back that up, what happens if someone calls me out on it?

A recent trip to Brisbane involved more hanging around train stations after dark than is normally part of my week and, even though I was never threatened, I still felt as though it was a slightly dangerous place to be.

I've come to the conclusion that I need to make an effort to actually *be* scarier than the bear.

I've been fencing for the better part of two years, but really - what good is that in a dark alley?  Especially since I don't walk around armed with a sword?  I did a bit of judo when I was a kid, but I don't particularly want to go back to that well.  It's too gentle.  I don't want to taunt an attacker by continually throwing him using his own momentum.  I want to incapacitate him and run away very fast.

So I've decided to take up something more violent.  I'm trying out kung fu and ju jitsu this week.  Later, I might give krav maga and karate a go.  I suspect there will be bruises involved but, heck, I've spent the last couple of years coming to work with bruises down my side from being attacked with a sword - so, nothing new there.

Hopefully I'll be able to find something that's both a fun sport to play and also equips me to be the scariest person in the car park.

Rahr.

Pray for Grace

There's an old joke that has been stuck in my head for years:

Sunday School Teacher:  "Now, Johnny, why do we pray for Grace at the start of every meal?"
Little Johnny:  "Um, is it because she's been a very naughty girl?"

I've been thinking a lot about grace, lately.

"Saying grace" is something my family used to do by rote back when I was a kid, but we let it lapse years ago.  It was a formulaic chant that was more habitual than sincere.  I think we stopped saying it because we had long stopped listening to it.

Whenever I hear other people "saying grace" or "asking for grace", I'm always struck by how often it seems like a formula, rather than a prayer.  It's like we, as a society, "say grace" (if we do) because that's what our parents made us do, and what their parents made them do, and so forth.

But...

Why should we pray for grace at the start of every meal?

Well, I guess that depends on what praying for grace actually means.

I mean, what it *means*.  To us, as people.  Forget doctrine and tradition, where does saying grace at the start of every meal touch on something we need for our souls to be nourished and our lives to be better?

Once upon a time, when food preparation was a bit hit-and-miss, we probably asked God to make sure our food kept us alive and didn't kill us.  And, when it was not certain that there *would* be a next meal, perhaps we were a bit more grateful for every plateful...

But in this day and age?  In our overstuffed, oversupplied and (let's face it) oversafe society?  When we can afford to eat badly not because we have to but because we want to?

If we don't need to care about whether our food will kill us, or where our next meal is coming from, do we still need to pray for grace?

Yes.

More than ever.

Because it's too easy to stop thinking about what we are putting into our bodies.

We need to take a moment, just before we stuff food into our mouths, to reflect on what it is that we're eating.  To think about where it came from and what's in it.

We need to take a moment to reflect on what the ingredients are in our food and ask ourselves if we can be grateful for what they will do to us.  Will eating this bring life to my body, or will it bring me joy in savouring the flavour?  If this is good for me, I should be grateful, and I should take the time to be grateful.  If this cannot bring me health or joy, then why am I eating it?

More importantly, though, we need to take a moment to reflect on what has gone into putting this food on our plates.

Am I eating something that was once alive?  What kind of life did it live?  What role did I play in the quality of its life (was it miserable because people just like me are more interested in convenience than kindness - could I be making a positive change in the lives of my fellow creatures by choosing different kinds of food)?

Where did it come from?  Am I happy with the journey this food has taken, and do I know what the consequences are?  Does it make a difference if my kiwi fruit comes from Italy or my mangoes travelled the length of the state twice?

Regardless of whether or not I can do anything about how my food was produced and transported, I should "hold it in the light".  The more I care about the food I eat, the more likely it is that I'm going to make better choices - to eat food I can be happier about - and be grateful for my ability to choose, as well as my food.

And, speaking of gratitude, whole chain of people have worked to bring me this food.  From the farmers who grew it to the packers, transporters and shopkeepers who brought it into my life.  A lot of my food is pre-packaged, which means a large team of people has also prepared it and cooked it for me.  I should take the time to be grateful for these strangers who are touching my life in this way.

When I eat with my family, usually someone I love has prepared the food for me, or someone I love has shouted us out to dinner.  I should take the time to stop and be grateful for these people who are so dear to me, and with whom I am sharing this meal.  And, if I have made this meal myself, for my family or friends, I should take the time to be grateful that I can do this for the people I love.

I've long stopped "saying grace", but lately I've been thinking it.  As I sit down to eat, I take a moment to think about what it is that I'm eating, and be grateful.  I forget to do it more often than I'd like - but on the other hand I worry that, once it becomes a habit, it will become habitual and I'll forget to mean it.

Is this food good for my body, my soul and my world?  If it is, I should be grateful.  If it isn't, what shall I do about that?

That was unexpected

Okay, I'll admit my attendance at church has been a bit sporadic over the last couple of years.  It's been awkward, and I'm lazy.

You see, I found a church I particularly liked, and started semi-regularly attending a particular meeting time... which they then "rationalised" away.  They decided they couldn't have evening services at both the main church and the daughter church, so they dropped the Sunday evening service (the one I could make it to semi-regularly) at the main church in order to keep the Saturday afternoon service going at the daughter church.

I switched to attending the daughter church, which I came to regard as "my church", but Saturday afternoons have always been awkward for me, so I haven't exactly attended regularly.  In fact, since Christmas, I think I can safely say I've visited other churches more often than I've attended my own.

Still, about a month and a half ago, I checked to make sure we still had the Saturday afternoon services at "my church" so I could come the next time I managed to have a free Saturday.

Yesterday (a Saturday), I had managed to block off the afternoon specifically for going to church.  I scooted over (literally - for some reason I thought taking the kick scooter would be the most convenient way to travel there) only to find...

You guessed it - they no longer have Saturday afternoon services at the daughter church.

But you probably didn't guess that the church wasn't there.

And, yet, *a* church is still standing exactly where my church used to be.  In the month or two since I last walked past "my church" and checked the times on the sign outside the building, the building has been taken over by a different church.

I came to the building from the wrong side (most convenient for scooting) and assumed they'd just changed the times.  When I walked around to check the sign, I discovered it was now a completely different church.  And I mean completely different.

It was St Oswalds Anglican Church.  It's now St Mary's and St George's Coptic Orthodox Church.

It's been so long since I attended "my church", I didn't even know they were getting rid of the thing.  I feel both amused and chastened.