Thursday, April 17, 2008

Who wants to live on the moon?

Just saw this article on the beeb about how plants thrive on moon dust or something...maybe I should have read it properly, but sometimes the impression we get when we read is more important than what we read (don't EVER quote me on that anyone!), and there was crazy scientist talk going on and they seem to be getting their knickers in a twist and are saying, hey, you could in fact, live on the moon!

I don't want to. I think it would be boring and too much responsibility. You would have to be soooo super careful about not messing anything up since messing up the moon means messing up Earth and it would piss off a lot of people. I know we should be careful about the Earth, and I do my bit. A bit. I guess there could be a renegade bunch on the moon, American like, who could be like, well, too bad suckas, we live here now and we will do whatever we want to do and save yourself since it's not our problem, we got to live on and pollute the moon and mess up your ocean flows, light etc and it's too bad for you but you got to do what you got to do.

It can't be nice, can it, living on the moon?

I did this career profiling thing last night with Mick and Hrusi (my colleagues) and there was 50 questions or so, and no results yet since we only put in the answers for Mick and H and I will someday sit down with all the numbers we wrote and stick them into the computer and see what it churns out but they were asking about Nature and how much one would like to work with Nature and if you know the names of plants and animals (tree, monkey, nasty snake 1, nasty snake 2, Ampara birds of paradise numbers 47, 52, and 5, grass that is tall, or green, dried up, poohed on by cows/elephants....I know my Nature), and as much as I would like to like Nature, I don't think I would do so well if I had a job that was about Nature. Or Math, or Science, or Computers. I like computers, but not if I have to sit in front of one for work all day. I can sit in front of one if not obliged to and can just google all day or pimp fight on Facebook (which is even more evil now).

Hrusi, who is awesome, made me sit down and write down what I can do (I kept drawing a blank which was scary but then it was ok, I started remembering who I was and what I had done before which didn't have to do with my current job) and community mobilisation, training/mentoring and coordination are the three things I love and want to continue to do. I would like to be a goat farmer one day and make goat cheese but that is some time away (and I will write books at that time and have a B&B/bookstore cafe where I will serve home made soup with my fab goat cheese) and being a chef would be lovely but I think too stressful (give me conflict zones over a 5 star restaurant to work in, any day), and even though I love music, no way I can make money off of it (I don't think that part of my brain functions properly), so, I think I need to look for a job that combines the first three things I started this rambling paragraph with. Don't know if it exists. I feel like my mom in this situation. She wanted to be a mom but also a physician and when she was at work, she thought about us and when with us, about work (I could never tell, but so she says) and if I am not doing one of the three things I want to do in this sector, I feel like I am missing out on something that I want to be doing.

Woe is me. Boo Hoo. I am sure something will turn up, appropriate for the likes of me.

I want to like the idea of living on the moon, but I don't think it's going to work out for me.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008


Here is a whole slew of appalling things:

I didn't blog the whole month of March

I may be addicted to Facebook but just the Pimp Fight application for which I blame Asad Jaferi.

I didn't quit smoking (I never said I would)

I posted a photo of myself in a bikini on Facebook after I made friends with everyone I knew when I was growing up in a conservative Muslim community and I suspect that they all have me on limited profile since we may all be in our late twenties and early thirties but god forbid we forget the year we hit puberty and hormones flew around under scarves, facial fuzz, between curtains and in the parking lot.

Someone I have never met but I guess knows me has decided that they don't like me. And I was told about it.

My all mighty adopted currency, The Pound, slipped a bit to the dollar. Damn thing always does around payday. Amazing what a difference a four day delay because of a trans-atlantic bank transfer can make.

I was sure I had more appalling things to talk about. Hmmm, seems not. Happy go lucky kinda girl. I need to finish writing reports. This was a fun procrastination which I shall try to indulge in more. Our program finishes in THREE MONTHS so crunch time is on!