Everything old is new again

It seems to me that a lot of people around my age have particularly fond memories of their childhood & teen years. I don't know if it's more than other generations or if it just seems that way because I can relate.

That being said, I think we can all agree that the current trend of rehashing old movies & songs has really gone too far. There's nothing worse than singing along to a "new" song, only to have your child question how you know the words, then arguing that <insert current pop fad> was the first and only person to sing the song. And don't even get me started on Glee!

Even so, I can kind of deal with that. It's when they start messing with our classic movies that I have a real problem! The latest to get the Hollywood bastardisation is Footloose. I might be lost in nostalgia, but you don't go messing with Kevin Bacon.

And now I've seen that Leo DiCaprio is in talks to remake The NeverEnding Story. What kind of crack would you have to be on to think that would be a good idea?! Some things are sacred, for example no one has tried to remake Casablanca. You just wouldn't go there. But it doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon as this article shows.

I think I need a Bex and a good lie down, this is all too much for me. But first, I'll reminisce a little more...

What do you think of remakes? What do you hope they don't remake? What remake would you like to see? 

Home is where the heart is

Home.

The word can mean different things to different people. What or where is home to you? Is it where your parents live? Is it where you were born, or where you spent most of your childhood? Is it where you've mostly lived as an adult?

I'm a bit unsure. I guess these days for me, home is where my kids are. Before our recent interstate move I'd lived in the same city for most of the previous 30+ years. It's where I grew up, where I have many memories. But I don't think I call it home, it's familiar and comfortable, but not quite home. 

We haven't lived here for long enough yet for it to feel like home, but who knows, in the future it might feel that way. I think part of the reason I don't have that strong feeling of home in any particular place is because my parents moved a bit. There isn't the traditional family home to return to on visits. 

The closest thing I had to the traditional family home was my grandparents' place. They bought their house in Sydney when they were married in the 1930's, and lived there until they no longer could around 2004. The house hadn't changed at all in my memory, although there are photos to show otherwise. It, and my grandparents, were a constant in my life for over 30 years. As kids my brother and I would spend our school holidays there, our grandmother taking us on trips into the city or to the zoo. I think these special memories, and others created there over the years, is what makes Sydney feel like home for me. Even though I haven't lived there since I was 7, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling arriving in the city and I can't help but smile.

 

One thing I have to do every time I visit Sydney is head for Circular Quay. As soon as I catch a glimpse of the Bridge, the ferries, the Opera House I relax. I call it my spiritual place. Despite hundreds of people rushing about I can sit and watch the world go by, oblivious to the noise, and feel an incredible sense of peace. It's not exactly most people's idea of peace, but it definitely works for me.

Do you have somewhere that is truly home for you? Or a more spiritual place? What does home mean to you?

An end... and a beginning.

This week saw the death of Al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden. How you refer to his death is a matter of perspective, and I don't want to get into the political aspects of the event. But I think it's safe to say, that depending on that same perspective, how you feel about it will likely differ from the next person's.

I do understand, however, the feelings of New Yorkers, and many other Americans, that it was not only justified, but necessary. NYC, Washington D.C. and Pennsylvania needed that closure. They need to know, that despite whatever may come, that chapter is closed and they can continue their healing.

My friend Mark from Thoughts from the Dark Side is a native of NYC. His post The Day That Changed Everything documents what he witnessed on September 11, 2001. Please, read it.

I've heard this story so many times from him now that I could easily retell it myself. But I still can't come close to grasping the feelings that would have surrounded Americans on that day.

I never saw the twin towers of the World Trade Centre in person, but I will never forget the feelings that I had the day I visited Ground Zero last year. It was surreal. You can almost feel the pain and fear that will always be a reminder of the tragedy of that day. And you can't help but shed a tear as you think about the people who lost their lives that day, and the families who were left behind.

These families will never fully recover from the loss of their loved ones in this way. But the death of bin Laden will surely help them continue to move forward.

What's in a name?

As I talked about briefly here, I attended the launch of Kerri Sackville's first book in Sydney last week. It was an amazing night, an opportunity to meet so many wonderful tweeps in real life, to get to know properly people you'd been tweeting with for ages. But most of all, to celebrate Kerri's fabulous book!

Amidst the cries of "Wow! You look just like your avatar", "Great to meet you!", and "Look at those shoes!", the question I was asked most is "Where did Macsnorky come from?". After being asked a few times, and being the lazy person that I am, I decided it would be easier to blog it than to repeat it a dozen times in one night.

I hasten to say, it's not a hilarious story, and probably not even particularly interesting to most. But I have been asked, so I will explain.

When Thing 1 was a newborn he used to make a strange snorting sound, like a cross between clearing your throat and Peppa Pig, when he was working up to a cry. This earned him the nickname Snorky which we still torture him with now.

Back in the days of build-your-own-PC (who'd bother now?), a friend rebuilt a PC for us and named it Snorky. Since then there have been several variations on the Snorky theme for PCs including Snorkzilla, MiniSnork and Snorklet. A while after Snorky was built, I got my first Apple machine (a Mac G4 tower), which the same friend then named MacSnorky (of course).

Like everyone, I've use many different nicknames over the years for forums and blogs, but given  my Apple fascination, and lack of creativity, Macsnorky has stuck. And seems it's here to stay.

Lyin' Eyes

Girls, I need you to be honest with me. Have you ever cheated? I think it's safe to say many of you have. Sometimes you don't want to but you're forced into it. Maybe being away from home causes it. Or perhaps the timing of things means you have to look further afield. Sometimes it causes you angst and guilt, other times it might lead to more permanent change if you discover something that's been missing. Regardless, it's not a situation you enter into lightly.

I'm talking about hairdressers, of course. What did you think I meant? I've been unfaithful to hairdressers in the past and it rarely ends well. Instead of a slight trim you end up losing inches and need to wear a hat for weeks until it grows back. Or they do such a bad job of matching your colour that you look like your 4 year old did it at home. But sometimes, seeing someone new is entirely unavoidable.

I'm up against this right now. School holidays and public holidays means I've run out of time. I'm jetting off to Sydney for the launch of Kerri Sackville's first book When My Husband Does The Dishes this week and I need a hair cut. My choices are to go and meet a bunch of fabulous tweeps in stylish venues and attend the launch looking like bedraggled street urchin, or take the risk and have it done in Sydney. Neither is an appealing prospect but I fear I have no choice but to go with the latter.

I'm not comfortable with this scenario. One of the worst things is getting caught. You know what it's like, you stray, and when you next see your regular hairdresser they know you've gone somewhere else. They can spot it straight away. You tell them what happened, but it sounds like a feeble excuse, you feel ashamed and unable to make eye contact. Which is really unfortunate given my current stylist is a 21 year old, straight, footballer with abs of steel. But that's beside the point.

So, Sydney folk, I need your help. Save me by recommending a hairdresser in the CBD who can squeeze in a procrastinating, disorganised prospective street urchin at very short notice. Otherwise, the results may be disastrous!