#308: Skyfire
Skyfire means two things:
1. Fireworks set to music.
2. Canberra’s annual rush hour – with drunkenness and Canberrans (unnaccustomed to serious traffic) in the mix.
Oh, and jet fighters.
People gather all around Lake Burley Griffin for hours before any kind of show begins. Around six o’clock, stuff starts happening. Jet fighters, helicopters, Jessica Mauboy, radio people (it’s run by 104.7FM), and so on.
The barges above are where all the explosives are. The helicopter is either part of the entertainment or standing by in case of drunken accidents. Beside it is the Carillion, which lights up at night (you can see it in most of the photos below).
It was very cold, and even rained.
And then it began!
Here’s a video to show you what “fireworks set to music” actually means.
The final song was “Firework” by Katy Perry.
The instant it was finished (as captured above) we elbowed children and drunks out of the way willy-nilly in order to get out of the crush before it fully congealed.
As always, totally worth it.
Tomorrow is the FINAL DAY of the Year of Daily Awesomeness.
There’ll be a greatest hits video.
#307: Ebay Fu
In answer to your question, yes I DO intend to put “fu” on the end of absolutely everything.
Ebay, as I suspect you already know, is a wonderful shiny treasure trove of relatively cheap stuff. It is also far and away the best place to sell a lot of things, including jewellery. (CJ and I investigated secondhand jewellers, Gold Buyers, and Cash Converters, and found they tend to buy things at less than 10% of the value.) On the down side, ebay listings can also cost quite a bit.
I’ve now sold most of my grandmother’s $12,000 stash of glittering treasure for between 30 and 50% of the official value. Most recently, I sold these two beauties:
Which is awesome. The second is a black diamond (a substance that apparently comes from space and is found in only two areas of Earth) worth $2400 – which, let’s face it, looks like not-very-pretty glass. So I was heartily glad to see it go. Also, ya know, I got money for it (hence recently getting out of debt).
I still have a few things listed, but if they don’t sell they’ll make some beautiful heirlooms.
A dream
Last night I dreamt that God was going to kill me.
It opened comfortably enough – I was at a hospital chatting to two other people while the doctor took care of us (all at once; he was quite the multitasker). It was a pleasant new-person conversation, and it was nice to have the doctor fussing over us and flattering our minor injuries.
Then the girl went out of the room into the hospital foyer, and the doctor followed her. We heard suspicious noises and the boy and I went to see what was happening. The girl had gone crazy, shot knives from her fingertips, and was killing him. While I dragged the doctor towards the outside door, the boy distracted the girl.
As the doctor and I reached the doorway, I realised that the boy was in the process of transforming into a knife-handed crazy person as well – and they were both heading our way. I abandoned the nice doctor to his horrible fate and flew away.
As I hovered above the hospital, I felt awful for the choice I’d made (despite my lack of practical options for derring-do), and wondered if I could live with myself. At that point, God was flying nearby (no I didn’t see him, but his presence was unmistakeable – somewhat Old Testament-y and scary).
He offered to let me die.
I knew that if I said yes, my life would end immediately. It seemed like a fairly good idea at the time, but I was quite scared and asked if I could say goodbye to CJ first. I also had a feeling CJ had something important to say about my decision.
The sense of God’s immediate presence faded, but I knew I had to hurry to CJ or I’d die before I got there. Also, a lot of other people were starting to fly around me, and they were all extremely dangerous. Some were pure evil already, and others (refugees like me) had the vacant stare that indicated they were beginning to transform.
I flew over the high brick hospital wall and across streets and roads, with more flying refugees and knife-people all around. Fortunately, I was able to fly higher up than most, but I had to keep a careful lookout in all directions.
It transpired that I was in London and CJ was in Canberra. A long and terrifying chase scene ensued.
After flying across the channel to Queensland (yay for subconscious georgraphy – which also gave me a sign in England saying “427km to Australia”) and across long stretches of coastline and desert, I accidentally flew into a tall prison-like school. Several other refugees fluttered frantically against the windows. I wrenched an opaque window from its frame only to stare directly into the balding face of the principal on the other side. I evaded his grasp, but plunged into darkness.
After a moment I realised where I was and reached out one hand. My fingers brushed against CJ’s T-shirt (CJ’s real, physical T-shirt, warm with his body heat), and I knew I was home, and awake, and I didn’t want to die.
How. . . reassuring.
Guest blog on sailing and ballooning
Here it is, as promised – with more pics and writerly descriptions of what the experience is like.
http://ripping-ozzie-reads.com/2011/03/21/tall-ships-and-balloon-travel-what-are-they-really-like/
Ripping Ozzie Reads is a blog I’ve been following for more than a year. It’s run by a group of well-known Aussie writers, and has lots of interviews and writing articles.
S#28: To the theatre
On Saturday CJ and I went and saw the manic hilarity that is the One Man Lord of the Rings – if you have a low opinion of my discerning theatre tastes, you should know that Ian McKellan loves it too (along with various critics).
Did I mention manic? The guy does the extended trilogy in an hour – with battle scenes, death, pure evil, all the most iconic moments, and nine main characters. It’s seriously intense (and, sidebar, you might want to avoid the first three rows if you don’t like getting spat on – but you also want to sit close enough to see his astonishing range of facial expressions).
Many of you will know the “Unfinished Spelling Errors of Bolkien” – the musical-commentary version of the films, by Martin Pearson (the audio is available from any good geeks in your area), which goes for about three hours. The two shows are equally brilliant, and completely different (not in style or passionate geekdom, but all the jokes are different).
Definitely awesome. He’s playing at the opera house soon, so see it if you can*.
Otherwise, just go to a school play for five bucks and see how it goes.
*Unless you haven’t seen the extended trilogy**. I assure you it makes no sense without the movies.
**He paused partway through to ask a series of questions: How many of you have read the books, and seen all three films? (Pretty much everyone.) How many of you have seen all three extended films? (Pretty much everyone.) How many of you have seen all three extended films. . . on the same day? (90%)
I personally have seen all three extended films on one day – three times. Can any of you outgeek me on this one?
Hey, guess what! This is the VERY LAST official item from the original inspiration for Daily Awesomeness. I’ll be posting the full steffmetal.com list with my comments and photos on Saturday.
S#76: I am an aeronaut
I’ve written a shiny new guest blog (about ballooning and sailing a tall ship, from the perspective of a writer), all the details of which will be revealed very soon.
Today, finally, is the triumphant blog of riding in a hot air balloon. Here’s how it went:
The pilot released a large helium balloon with a light on it – for wind speed – then laid out the nylon envelope (with our help).
CJ and I held the envelope open while it was inflated with a powerful fan (only about half inflated, really). The pilot walked inside, checking the ropes to the vents on the top and side were lined up correctly.
The top vent is mainly useful for descending – possibly very quickly – while the side vent/s change direction by venting air sideways (not actually steering).
Fire! The air grew hotter and hotter until the balloon stood up, soon pulling the basket with it (with a little help from us). We climbed in over the sides. At this early stage, the burner was uncomfortably hot on the top of my head because it was on so much of the time.
And then we flew – so lightly and so high – like a feather blown off the ground that floats up so smoothly. The strangest part was how easy and natural it felt.
The flight part of this article is here, where I get paid for it 🙂
We overshot about four possible landing spots and ended up out of Canberra in a random farm (causing considerable difficulty for our follow vehicles). Turning in a circle, there were literally no man-made buildings in any direction. We were lost!
As we came in to land, it looked like we’d tip over – but we didn’t.
CJ stood on the envelope so it didn’t refill.
We pushed the envelope into a long sausage shape, which we later shoved willy-nilly into a large nylon bag.
The pilot knew the pilot of the Melbourne flight that was on the news in January when it had overshot the beach and descended in the sea. The pilot had kept the balloon hovering just above the waves until a boat reached them. He tied the balloon to the boat, safely unloaded all the passengers, and then towed the balloon in to shore. The envelope was a new one, and cost $80,000.
Our pilot also lent me a fabulous Time/Life book called “The Aeronauts”, some sections of which are reproduced here:
After a long and terrifying flight from St Louis in 1859, four men were brought down by a storm over Lake Ontario.
One final squall hurled the balloon against a high tree, where it expired. The basket lodged in a fork about 20 feet up. Cautiously the men inspected themselves. LaMountain had suffered contusions on one hip; the other three were shaken but unhurt. Lowering themselves by ropes, they were greeted by a dumbfounded delegation of citizens from the nearby town of Henderson, New York. An elderly lady expressed surprise to see “so sensible-looking a party” debarking from “such an outlandish-looking vehicle”. She asked where they had come from. “St Louis,” Wise replied. The lady fixed him with the gimlet gaze of an experienced detector of humbugs. “That will do, now,” she said.
In the 1820s…
Green used all kinds of innovations to keep his performances lively. One of his earliest triumphs was an ascent on a pony attached by ropes to the balloon’s hoop; he calmed the animal by feeding it beans from his hand. A planned flight in the company of a tiger and its trainer was canceled when the authorities intervened.
In 1957, as part of his training for space, Major David G. Simons went aloft in a cylindrical capsule measuring just three by eight feet. He was in it for 43.5 hours in one stretch, wearing a pressurized space suit so snug he said it was like “being loved by an octopus.”
In 1906, a man called Butler took a group of dinner guests from London to Brighton in a balloon, stopping frequently to correct their direction. At one stage, with little idea where they were, they landed in a tree. They awoke a large number of birds, which then awoke the owner of the tree.
“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed the man, raising the window. “Who are you?”
“Balloonists, resting,” replied Butler. “Where are we?”
“Twelve miles from Brighton, going South. Are you stuck?”
“Oh, no, we’re very happy. You don’t mind us sitting on top of your tree, do you?”
“Not at all,” said the man, who then closed the window with a polite “Good night.”
#306: Enlighten light art
I’m posting this as I eat breakfast, so my Canberra peeps can see this for themselves asap. It’s still running tonight the 19th of March, from dark (about 8pm) until early in the morning.
There’s a whole bunch of stuff on – I will be going to Skyfire (a large free fireworks display set to music) tonight (and blogging about it next week), and a lot of it is free.
So what am I so excited about?
Last night CJ and I went and saw the seriously awesome light sculptures that have been engineered for several of Canberra’s best-known buildings – Old and New Parliament House, The National Gallery, and the National Library.
Each location had giant projectors set up with a series of either moving or still images. Gonna stop explaining now – we were particularly taken with the National Library, which usually looks like this:
But last night it was all dressed up:
We knew it was going to be good, and it was gasp-worthy. We also watched Old Parliament House for a while (but from farther away).
Play along at home recommendation? DO IT!
#305: Leftovers
When I was a child, “leftovers” meant the unidentifiable frozen sludge freezer-burnt into the permanent ice shelf. One of the things CJ brought into our marriage was a habit of frequent leftovers, and I love it. Because as an adult, what “leftovers” means is super-fast preparation time and barely any dishes.
So here’s CJ’s lasagna – again.
I’m so happy I’m blurry.
And here’s Indah chilling out on CJ’s lap.
SUNDAY: The hot air balloon ride! Aieeee!
PS I just (moments ago) reached 10,000 words in my steampunk book. Emmeline Miller is on board her convict transport (the next chapter takes place in Australia), and has made a lower-class friend and an equally lower-class convict enemy. Having learnt plenty of new words from the former, she just called the latter a “sour-faced rusty-gutted mongrel” – among other things – and successfully beat him up with her Patent Steel-Ribbed Probability Parasol. It went fabulously – right up until the point he revealed that he knew her Terrible Secret.
OH NOSE!! WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?!?!?!
If you could choose
If you were to choose to be above average in one of these three ways, which would you be?
A good person
A talented person
A happy person
I grew up aiming for the first, and I really really wish I could support the hypothesis that I’m the second. The third just seems impossible.
But probably more pleasant than the other two combined.
Which would you choose, if you could have only one?
I think most people require the first or second (or both) to be happy. On the up side, being good is a choice and being talented is generally a matter of how much effort you put in. So maybe we really do have a choice.
S#94: Pay off debt
When I was nineteen I moved out of home, having borrowed the money to buy a motorcycle so I could get around (I had a couple of tutoring jobs, plus casual bookshop work and some babysitting – altogether, I rarely worked more than three hours at a time, so public transport wasn’t an option).
Within two weeks I’d scratched a stranger’s car ($900 – and I do mean scratched, not dented), discovered the wonder of cavities for the first time in my life ($1000) and of course I needed to pay off the bike ($1000). My income after rent (which my parents paid for me) was $145/week. Then I lost two of my three jobs, and suddenly I was earning $10 per week. Within a month I was going hungry, and saving petrol by walking up to two hours to and from work. I still have faint scars on my feet from walking so far one day that my feet bled.
I kept my poverty a secret from my housemates and my parents, but after six months of independence I was forced to move back home (by which time I’d crashed my motorbike a few times, and had to sell it for parts – while still paying it off).
I crawled out of debt over two careful years, and didn’t get back into debt until I became mentally ill, at which point I lost my independence permanently.
CJ and I managed to get married without starting life in debt. We agree that, barring an immediate crisis (a medical emergency, or the sudden lack of something required for work such as the car), the only thing worth getting into debt for is a house.
We made an exception when we started our savings account in 2009, because if we put in enough money by a certain date we get a money bonus. So since (a) it’s not actually spending the money, and (b) it was matching what we’d already put in, and (c) it was creating more money – we borrowed thousands from my parents.
Today, finally, we finished paying it back. This certainly is awesome.
I may not be independent, but I am independent from my parents. That’s worth a lot.
Felicity Banks 