The Little Penguin is the littlest penguin. They grow to about 30cm in height, and are distributed in colonies around the south of Australia and New Zealand. There is a large colony of them on Phillip Island, which is where I was today. Since the 1920s the nightly parade of penguins up the beach has been a tourist attraction. A tourist centre and boardwalk has been constructed so that people can come and watch the penguins while doing as little as possible to disturb their habitat.
So on a cold, wet and windy winter night, I made the drive to see the penguins on parade.
We got there early to make sure that we didn't miss a moment, but we nearly did anyway. The wind whipped cold rain into our faces, and the ranger told us that it was best to look in the direction that the wind was coming from. We almost missed the first brave little penguin make landfall.
It was such a tiny creature, and in the dark it might have been easy to miss. But as the penguin stumbled to shore, it was spotted by several observers. It stood for a moment on the shore, as though taking stock of where it was, then decided it was all too much and raced back for the sea, throwing itself into the waves as if to say "Nope! Too cold! Too windy!"
The action of the waves could not be denied, though, and it stumbled to the shore once more. Once more the wind got the better of it and it dove for the sea again. Finally on the third try the penguin made it across the beach and up into the dunes. I looked around to see how many of the people on the blustery shore had seen it, and almost no-one had. They were too busy hiding their faces from the icy rain and trying to stop their $5 plastic ponchos from blowing away.
It was almost another ten minutes before the next penguins came ashore. This time it was a raft of some fifteen or so little birds, and they were not nearly so hesitant. More penguins came ashore in small groups, all huddling together for warmth. After a while we started to hear them squawking at their fellows from their burrows in the dunes, encouraging the newcomers to join them where it was warm and safe.
After half an hour, many groups had come ashore, and the dunes were ringing with their calls loudly enough to be easily heard over the wind. We watched as two or three came ashore by themselves, without the safety of numbers. They seemed wary of the seagulls. I don't know if seagulls kill little penguins, but the penguins did not want to cross the beach while the gulls were there. Fortunately for the ones we saw, the gulls started arguing with each other, and the penguins crossed while they were distracted.
By this time we were sniffling and though we were wearing waterproof jackets, we were not wearing waterproof pants or shoes, so we were wet from the waist down, and cold. We started to return to the visitor centre along the boardwalk. Many penguins were scattered around in the dunes. Many more were still looking for a place to get out of the wind.
We saw one little guy come right up to the fence, as though to say "Hello, human!" We crouched to observe, but we were careful to remember that this was a wild bird. These penguins were not domesticated, or tame, and would bite our fingers if we stuck them through the fence. I got the distinct impression that it was waiting for us to do so. I suspect that we wouldn't have been the first, but we declined the penguin a taste of human.
It was unfortunate that though there were many signs on display prohibiting photography, and the rangers repeated "no photos or videos" constantly, some humans thought that the rules didn't apply to them and tried to get photos anyway. Photos weren't allowed, even without a flash. Animals that have been spooked by a flash in the past will still be spooked by the sight of a camera, even if there is no flash. And again, these are wild animals, and should be left alone as much as possible given that there was already a huge amount of human activity all around them. But camera flashes aren't something that a wild bird becomes readily accustomed to.
I was very happy that I can add this experience to my collection. I can now say that I have seen the penguins on Phillip Island. Sure, it would have been nicer without the wind and the rain, but the penguins didn't care, so why should I?
Sunday, 31 May 2015
Thursday, 28 May 2015
On Neuroplasticity
I did quite a lot today. It was a full day, and a good day. I went to the Aquarium and the Zoo, and took (according to my app) 19,213 steps. But that's not what I want to talk about.
In the evening I went to a lecture (? seminar?) by Dr Norman Doidge on neuroplasticity. Doidge is the author of two bestselling books - The Brain That Changes Itself and The Brain's Way of Healing.
For a start, I think that he does need to be a little bit more careful with his language. There were several aspects in which my skeptic friends would have winced. For example, he talked about using energy to heal the brain. There are certain segments of the population who, if they stopped there, would have come away with entirely the wrong impression. Those on the newage and spiritualist side of the fence would have felt that he was validating their favourite alternative healing modalities, while those on the skeptical side would have felt that he was validating the favourite alternative healing modalities of the other side. But he was in fact doing neither.
As I said, to get that impression you had to stop where he mentioned energy. Those who continued to listen to him speak would have heard him talk about how electrochemical energy in the brain is transformed into sound energy by the speaker's mouth and vocal chords, which is then picked up by the microphone, transformed back into electrical energy, then back into sound energy by the auditorium speakers, and finally transformed back into electrochemical energy in the ears and brain of the listener. None of which is rubbish.
He described one of his case studies in which an autistic boy was helped by listening to a certain kind of music. Again, if you'd stopped there you would have come away with entirely the wrong impression. What he was actually doing was using music that was filtered in certain specific ways to teach the boy to better filter his inputs so that they weren't so overwhelming. This was an example of using energy - sound energy in this case - to "heal" the brain. Or rather, demonstrate sustained improvement in the boy's engagement with others of his family.
His use of the word "healing" has a tendency to raise skeptical red flags, but in fact it is a perfectly cromulent word that has been appropriated by the newage crowd to describe what basically amounts to wishful thinking. But in effect the brain does heal itself. A major part of his lecture consisted of describing how the old outdated way of thinking about the brain - as a static organ that never changes or undergoes repair - is very slowly being replaced in clinical settings with the neuroplastic model.
Unfortunately at the end he went off the rails a little bit, when he answered an audience member's question about the technique of tapping. Regardless, it was a very interesting lecture, and his critique of the traditional view of the brain was pretty much spot on. But it was fairly clear where a large segment of the audience of some 700 people were coming from.
It was a good evening. I'm glad I went.
A large part of his books consists of case studies, which Oliver Sacks demonstrated is a great way of selling books. The danger is in the audience coming to the conclusion that the case studies are the science, rather than being simply data points.
In the evening I went to a lecture (? seminar?) by Dr Norman Doidge on neuroplasticity. Doidge is the author of two bestselling books - The Brain That Changes Itself and The Brain's Way of Healing.
For a start, I think that he does need to be a little bit more careful with his language. There were several aspects in which my skeptic friends would have winced. For example, he talked about using energy to heal the brain. There are certain segments of the population who, if they stopped there, would have come away with entirely the wrong impression. Those on the newage and spiritualist side of the fence would have felt that he was validating their favourite alternative healing modalities, while those on the skeptical side would have felt that he was validating the favourite alternative healing modalities of the other side. But he was in fact doing neither.
As I said, to get that impression you had to stop where he mentioned energy. Those who continued to listen to him speak would have heard him talk about how electrochemical energy in the brain is transformed into sound energy by the speaker's mouth and vocal chords, which is then picked up by the microphone, transformed back into electrical energy, then back into sound energy by the auditorium speakers, and finally transformed back into electrochemical energy in the ears and brain of the listener. None of which is rubbish.
He described one of his case studies in which an autistic boy was helped by listening to a certain kind of music. Again, if you'd stopped there you would have come away with entirely the wrong impression. What he was actually doing was using music that was filtered in certain specific ways to teach the boy to better filter his inputs so that they weren't so overwhelming. This was an example of using energy - sound energy in this case - to "heal" the brain. Or rather, demonstrate sustained improvement in the boy's engagement with others of his family.
His use of the word "healing" has a tendency to raise skeptical red flags, but in fact it is a perfectly cromulent word that has been appropriated by the newage crowd to describe what basically amounts to wishful thinking. But in effect the brain does heal itself. A major part of his lecture consisted of describing how the old outdated way of thinking about the brain - as a static organ that never changes or undergoes repair - is very slowly being replaced in clinical settings with the neuroplastic model.
Unfortunately at the end he went off the rails a little bit, when he answered an audience member's question about the technique of tapping. Regardless, it was a very interesting lecture, and his critique of the traditional view of the brain was pretty much spot on. But it was fairly clear where a large segment of the audience of some 700 people were coming from.
It was a good evening. I'm glad I went.
A large part of his books consists of case studies, which Oliver Sacks demonstrated is a great way of selling books. The danger is in the audience coming to the conclusion that the case studies are the science, rather than being simply data points.
A Huge Black and White Mural
So we made it to Melbourne proper. We are in a strange and slightly hipsterish hotel room in South Yarra with a huge black and white mural of what appears to be pop stars from the 1960s on one wall.
We stopped at Benalla on the way, and spent more time there than I expected. There was an interesting museum there. We were talking about how nice it was that we could go to some random museum in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Then I pointed out that in Victoria there is nowhere that is really nowhere. Just like in the UK there is nowhere that is really nowhere. Then we turned a corner and saw this:
Of course we had to stop and have coffee there.
There was a lovely art shop there, too. Lots of great things, but the most amazing things to me where these little collapsable castle-on-a-hill sculptures. I was so very tempted to get one. But then again, there were quite a few things in that particular shop that I was tempted to get.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the street art. Apparently it was a new thing in Benalla. There was a flyer in the museum about all the installations, but the only one we really got to see was this:
The drive from Benalla to Melbourne was long, straight and boring. I like driving, but I like driving in interesting places. I was musing along the way that this was the perfect sort of drive for auto-driving cars - the road was straight and uncomplicated, and every car was going in basically the same direction at the same speed. I just wanted to hand over control of the vehicle and settle back with a good book.
We arrived a little late in South Yarra, but we got as far as the Chapel St Bazaar - quite an amazing place. If you've never been there, I recommend spending more than the 20 minutes we had there.
Dinner was at the Oriental Tea House, which was fantastic. Can thoroughly recommend.
Tomorrow we're planning on going to the Aquarium. I like Aquaria.
We stopped at Benalla on the way, and spent more time there than I expected. There was an interesting museum there. We were talking about how nice it was that we could go to some random museum in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Then I pointed out that in Victoria there is nowhere that is really nowhere. Just like in the UK there is nowhere that is really nowhere. Then we turned a corner and saw this:
Of course we had to stop and have coffee there.
There was a lovely art shop there, too. Lots of great things, but the most amazing things to me where these little collapsable castle-on-a-hill sculptures. I was so very tempted to get one. But then again, there were quite a few things in that particular shop that I was tempted to get.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the street art. Apparently it was a new thing in Benalla. There was a flyer in the museum about all the installations, but the only one we really got to see was this:
The drive from Benalla to Melbourne was long, straight and boring. I like driving, but I like driving in interesting places. I was musing along the way that this was the perfect sort of drive for auto-driving cars - the road was straight and uncomplicated, and every car was going in basically the same direction at the same speed. I just wanted to hand over control of the vehicle and settle back with a good book.
We arrived a little late in South Yarra, but we got as far as the Chapel St Bazaar - quite an amazing place. If you've never been there, I recommend spending more than the 20 minutes we had there.
Dinner was at the Oriental Tea House, which was fantastic. Can thoroughly recommend.
Tomorrow we're planning on going to the Aquarium. I like Aquaria.
Tuesday, 26 May 2015
Antiques
We spent today in regional Victoria - Wangaratta, Beechworth and Chiltern - which is a town that appears to consist almost entirely of antique shops. I don't actually have all that much to say about it. I bought a ring from the Salvos which was intended for my treasure chest (I'll tell you more about that when I get home), but it's quite nice and I might get used to just wearing it.
I've got to the point where I should be taking notes throughout he day on things that I want to blog about, because I keep honking of things, then forgetting them when it comes time to actually sit down and write them. For example, here's someone that I intended to say yesterday, but forgot:
It is really nice that there is actually a town in Australa called Tumbarumba. It's such a delightful name - it just tumbarumbles off the tongue.
On the drive down, we also learned of the name of the Road to Eldorado, but I forgot what it was.
Photo: Tree With Doors
On Shower Curtains
I hate shower curtains.
I hate the way they attack you when you're in the shower. Like a creepy dude at the bar, they seem to just want to be close to you.
I believe it's because the warm air in the shower cubicle rises, which means colder air must move into the space in order to equalise the pressure. Since the shower curtain is flexible, it comes in with the air.
In Dungeons and Dragons, there is a monster called a Trapper. It lurks in dungeons, camouflaging itself as a bit of floor like some sort of subterranean stingray. Then when some Intrepid Adventurer comes along and walks over it, it rises up to engulf them.
That's how I feel when I have a shower in a cubicle with a curtain. The smaller the cubicle, the more I feel like the curtain is trying to wrap itself around me.
I've found that it's possible to alleviate this a little bit by leaving a gap so air can get in around the curtain. That way the curtain isn't drawn in to the cubicle as much. It still is, but not as much. The problem here is that the incoming air is cold! What's the point of having a nice hot shower when there's a stream of cold air coming in around the shower curtain?
I hate shower curtains. In my house, I want a bathroom with a proper cubicle, with a proper screen.
Monday, 25 May 2015
In Which I Complain About Yawning
First day of holiday. It was a pretty boring drive, really. Unfortunately we didn't have time to take a really scenic route, so it was basically straight down the Hume Highway from Canberra to Wangaratta. Except that we detoured to stop for lunch in Cootamundra.
I don't see any reason to go back to Cootamundra. It's not a very interesting place. Wheat belt, small town, no real tourist attractions to speak of. We stopped to have lunch, but because it was just before 3pm, the first cafe we stopped for lunch at had closed its kitchen. We managed to eat at a different place across the street. I had fish and chips, which in retrospect was an odd choice for a town so far inland. The fish wasn't very good.
We were hoping to find some kind of back route to Wangaratta, but it turned out to be easier in the time we had just to go back to the highway at Gundagai and zoom straight on down.
So we're in the hotel at Wangaratta now. I don't really have much else to say. I took no photos - what was I going to take photos of anyway, the highway? We're planning on doing more things tomorrow and for the rest of the week, and I promise I'll take photos of those things.
While I did remember to get my good camera out before I left, I did not remember to grab the battery charger and spare battery. As I haven't used it in quite some time I do not expect that the battery in it has any charge, so it's going to be iPhone photos only for the whole trip. Which isn't bad, really. The iPhone has quite a good camera, though its lack of zoom is vexing.
I did notice on the way down here that there seems to be a campaign going at the moment about driver fatigue. There were signs up all over the highway saying things like "ARE YOU YAWNING?" Why yes, now that you mention it. I wish you hadn't.
I don't see any reason to go back to Cootamundra. It's not a very interesting place. Wheat belt, small town, no real tourist attractions to speak of. We stopped to have lunch, but because it was just before 3pm, the first cafe we stopped for lunch at had closed its kitchen. We managed to eat at a different place across the street. I had fish and chips, which in retrospect was an odd choice for a town so far inland. The fish wasn't very good.
We were hoping to find some kind of back route to Wangaratta, but it turned out to be easier in the time we had just to go back to the highway at Gundagai and zoom straight on down.
So we're in the hotel at Wangaratta now. I don't really have much else to say. I took no photos - what was I going to take photos of anyway, the highway? We're planning on doing more things tomorrow and for the rest of the week, and I promise I'll take photos of those things.
While I did remember to get my good camera out before I left, I did not remember to grab the battery charger and spare battery. As I haven't used it in quite some time I do not expect that the battery in it has any charge, so it's going to be iPhone photos only for the whole trip. Which isn't bad, really. The iPhone has quite a good camera, though its lack of zoom is vexing.
I did notice on the way down here that there seems to be a campaign going at the moment about driver fatigue. There were signs up all over the highway saying things like "ARE YOU YAWNING?" Why yes, now that you mention it. I wish you hadn't.
Sunday, 24 May 2015
Buying a house is hard
Buying a house, as they say, is hard.
I've been trying to buy a house for several months now. I haven't succeeded.
First, there was the fact that I already actually own a house. In fact, I own a quarter share of the 200-acre property in Michelago that I've been living in for the last ten years. That has become a bit of a problem. When I moved out of that house, I did so with the intention of moving into a place that I owned, with my girlfriend Terri and our dog Badger (aka. beloved overlord).
Getting the forms sorted out to submit to a bank to apply for a loan was in itself a nightmare, mostly because of that 200-acre property and the fact that over the years I've racked up quite a startling amount of credit card debt.
So I put a large amount of money down to clear that, and cancelled three cards completely. That made the bank happy. But as we didn't want to put a second mortgage down on the property, we had to find some other form of security for the loan. Fortunately my parents were awesome, and offered to pony up some security. So that was sorted out. However.
Turns out that the Michelago property was a sticking point. The bank had to account for that asset, and as I found out this week, they were unable to provide us with a loan such that the payments were affordable at my current salary.
We did have another broker lined up who had previously told us that they would be able to loan to us without this being a problem. But that's when something else went wrong.
I lost my job.
The fantastic, awesome employer that I'd been working with for the last five years made a decision that having an ICT person on staff was not going to be a part of their next five-year strategic plan. They have offered me a generous redundancy - a very generous redundancy - but a lender is never going to give me a home loan while I don't have a job.
So this means that we aren't going to get the townhouse that I'd very nearly bought. We'd got as far as signing the contract, and exchange was pending the bank giving us money. It was a quite nice townhouse too, in a very good location literally a few minutes from my parents' place. But that's not going to happen now.
My girlfriend and I have been living in my parents' spare bedroom since Easter, with the intention of moving into the new place when we could. My parents, as I said, are awesome, but we cannot trade on their goodwill forever. So it's time for Plan B.
Plan B is the "we need more time" plan. The process of buying a house has so far been plagued with bad timing - the worst example of which was finding out about the job just as we were putting the loan application form in with the bank.
Plan B consists of renting for 12 months while we get everything sorted out. First, it gives me time to find another job. I have savings that would last me six months if necessary - more if we stretched it. Those savings were going to go towards asset improvement on the house, but it is money that I have in the bank and can draw on if necessary.
Second, it gives me more time to become financially independent. For some time, I have voluntarily delegated my finances to another person and as a result I am now quite firmly entangled in the collective accounts of the people I've shared a house with for the last ten years. Separating myself from that is going to take some time. The plan ultimately is that I would sell back my quarter share of the property, but that's not a thing that is doable immediately.
So Terri and I have been looking at the rental market - which is in quite good shape right now. There are appropriate dog-friendly houses available for affordable rents, so that's good.
She and I are about to go away for a week to Melbourne and environs. Partly because she's registered for a neuroplasticity conference and partly because right now we need to simply throw everything, say fuck it, and have a holiday and a break from everything.
Once we return, I'm going to throw myself full-time into the job hunting, and she is going to look for a rental place. In practice, I'm probably going to go back to a help desk job while doing some PD in network admin or security so I can quickly move to a new and higher-paid position.
Times have been interesting, but I have Terri and Badger to help me see it through, and once I'm stable again I can return to the idea of actually buying a house.
Wish us luck.
I've been trying to buy a house for several months now. I haven't succeeded.
First, there was the fact that I already actually own a house. In fact, I own a quarter share of the 200-acre property in Michelago that I've been living in for the last ten years. That has become a bit of a problem. When I moved out of that house, I did so with the intention of moving into a place that I owned, with my girlfriend Terri and our dog Badger (aka. beloved overlord).
Getting the forms sorted out to submit to a bank to apply for a loan was in itself a nightmare, mostly because of that 200-acre property and the fact that over the years I've racked up quite a startling amount of credit card debt.
So I put a large amount of money down to clear that, and cancelled three cards completely. That made the bank happy. But as we didn't want to put a second mortgage down on the property, we had to find some other form of security for the loan. Fortunately my parents were awesome, and offered to pony up some security. So that was sorted out. However.
Turns out that the Michelago property was a sticking point. The bank had to account for that asset, and as I found out this week, they were unable to provide us with a loan such that the payments were affordable at my current salary.
We did have another broker lined up who had previously told us that they would be able to loan to us without this being a problem. But that's when something else went wrong.
I lost my job.
The fantastic, awesome employer that I'd been working with for the last five years made a decision that having an ICT person on staff was not going to be a part of their next five-year strategic plan. They have offered me a generous redundancy - a very generous redundancy - but a lender is never going to give me a home loan while I don't have a job.
So this means that we aren't going to get the townhouse that I'd very nearly bought. We'd got as far as signing the contract, and exchange was pending the bank giving us money. It was a quite nice townhouse too, in a very good location literally a few minutes from my parents' place. But that's not going to happen now.
My girlfriend and I have been living in my parents' spare bedroom since Easter, with the intention of moving into the new place when we could. My parents, as I said, are awesome, but we cannot trade on their goodwill forever. So it's time for Plan B.
Plan B is the "we need more time" plan. The process of buying a house has so far been plagued with bad timing - the worst example of which was finding out about the job just as we were putting the loan application form in with the bank.
Plan B consists of renting for 12 months while we get everything sorted out. First, it gives me time to find another job. I have savings that would last me six months if necessary - more if we stretched it. Those savings were going to go towards asset improvement on the house, but it is money that I have in the bank and can draw on if necessary.
Second, it gives me more time to become financially independent. For some time, I have voluntarily delegated my finances to another person and as a result I am now quite firmly entangled in the collective accounts of the people I've shared a house with for the last ten years. Separating myself from that is going to take some time. The plan ultimately is that I would sell back my quarter share of the property, but that's not a thing that is doable immediately.
So Terri and I have been looking at the rental market - which is in quite good shape right now. There are appropriate dog-friendly houses available for affordable rents, so that's good.
She and I are about to go away for a week to Melbourne and environs. Partly because she's registered for a neuroplasticity conference and partly because right now we need to simply throw everything, say fuck it, and have a holiday and a break from everything.
Once we return, I'm going to throw myself full-time into the job hunting, and she is going to look for a rental place. In practice, I'm probably going to go back to a help desk job while doing some PD in network admin or security so I can quickly move to a new and higher-paid position.
Times have been interesting, but I have Terri and Badger to help me see it through, and once I'm stable again I can return to the idea of actually buying a house.
Wish us luck.
Welcome
Hello world. I'm going to try blogging again. This will mostly be a personal blog, of interest mainly to those who know me. But we'll see what happens. My plan is to actually come and write regularly. But we'll see what happens.
I want to write. I think writing is fun. But I'm not very good at it. The more I write, the better at writing I will get. That's something that I want to do. So I'm going to try and do it.
I've had quite a few attempts at making regular blog posts. Most of those are still available on the internets if you know where to look for them, so I might end up reposting some of them if I like them enough.
Enough of that.
I want to write. I think writing is fun. But I'm not very good at it. The more I write, the better at writing I will get. That's something that I want to do. So I'm going to try and do it.
I've had quite a few attempts at making regular blog posts. Most of those are still available on the internets if you know where to look for them, so I might end up reposting some of them if I like them enough.
Enough of that.
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