Stories: Joined Up
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Blazing Saddles town meeting reference? Or am I drawing too long a bow?
My mind's ear heard Scooby Doo...
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Are you talking about the six degrees of separation thing, Jason?
Six, gods, it's more like two. I find some new blog by some woman I don't know, compare tastes in gin and politics, and suddenly she says, 'Didn't you used to be married to [redacted]?' And then I get to spend a few hours freaking out trying to work out who she is and what she knows.
My mind's ear heard Scooby Doo...
Good-oh. Verbal jokes, visual format.
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JC:
Are you talking about the six degrees of separation thing, Jason?
Yeah, but amused, not concerned. I don't think many photos were taken.
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Just had a thought - that last comment could be taken the wrong way. I don't mean photos of anyone here! Just that photos and KAOS go together like swandris and guns.
While in my first year at Canterbury Uni I too considered joining the club, but due to a not-quite-yet thrown off religious background, had a vague nervousness that KAOS members might genuinely be the devil's playthings. I also played cards in the LCR (probably on my way to see a lunchtime JPS session in the UCR).
I recall a Canta "expose" on KAOS by AC that included a number of photos involving toe sucking. There were virgins, mock virgin sacrifices and about seven people who'd had sex. There were tangled relationships, drugs, mock drugs and conspiracies within conspiracies. Foucault's Pendulum came out around the time. I lost count of the number of KAOS members individually conspiring to gather photographic evidence to someday (20, 30, 40 years) embarrass others, whenever their victims obtained a respectable public profile. There was just enough of a chance some genuinely interesting photos were being held as cards to be played at the right time.
I don't think I lost consciousness while in the company of KAOS members so I think I'm safe.
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I lost count of the number of KAOS members individually conspiring to gather photographic evidence to someday (20, 30, 40 years) embarrass others, whenever their victims obtained a respectable public profile.
I'm constantly surprised that Chris [redacted] and Shane [redacted] have managed to have successful careers. Not that they were ever on the 'victim' end. The number of ex-KAOS members in the public service is terrifying.
had a vague nervousness that KAOS members might genuinely be the devil's playthings
The first rule of Fight Club...
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Oh, I did want to join Brownies. There was even one day every year that they got to wear their UNIFORMS to SCHOOL and SALUTE while the headmaster raised the FLAG, which my little inner fascist seems to have considered the height of awesome. (Aside: what day would that have even been? Important enough to raise a flag, not important enough to have the day off?)
My mother said no, I was too young (a filthy lie, if ever there was one). As the years passed this was replaced by mutterings about paramilitary organizations (rendered both more and less convincing by the fact that she had been a Guide and my father a Scout). Eventually she confessed that she just hadn't wanted to be roped into being Brown Owl.
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Scouts. Had been a cub but Scouts was the real thing. You got to do tramping and everything.
Quite roughhouse at times. Bullrush had been banned at school but we had it at Scouts. In the hall, in the dark. This went on until one guy got a dislocated hip.
Oh, and go in the Anzac Day parade. I thought that was pretty cool, until I found out - or rather, was informed - just how bad at marching I am. You'd think that it would be easy: you know, just one step in front of the other, keeping in time. But no.
First Anzac Parade I was in I was on the rear right corner. Behind me was the District Commissioner. And we'd go a few bars, I'd manage to stay in step, and then the mind would notice something happening by the side of the road, or just have an Interesting Thought, and out I would go. I got these hissed "keep in step, boy, keep in step" the whole way up the Main Street.
The District Commissioner could, on occasion, be a man of rare and wonderful wit. Ex Army type. We had a group inspection one time for some bloody event, he was going along the line inspecting everyone's woggles, scarfs, hats, etc.
Reached a guy about half way along just as this guy lets fly with a rip- snorter of a fart. Very loud. District Commissioner looks him dead in the eye. Not a flicker of a smile. Barks "take two steps back, boy, and pick up your guts."
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We had a group inspection one time for some bloody event, he was going along the line inspecting everyone's woggles, scarfs, hats, etc.
OMG woggles. More men should wear woggles.
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Eventually she confessed that she just hadn't wanted to be roped into being Brown Owl.
Now there's an organisational philosophy I could get behind.
"Be prepared... with an excuse not to help out..." -
Oh, I did want to join Brownies. There was even one day every year that they got to wear their UNIFORMS to SCHOOL and SALUTE while the headmaster raised the FLAG, which my little inner fascist seems to have considered the height of awesome. (Aside: what day would that have even been? Important enough to raise a flag, not important enough to have the day off?)
My mother said no, I was too young (a filthy lie, if ever there was one). As the years passed this was replaced by mutterings about paramilitary organizations (rendered both more and less convincing by the fact that she had been a Guide and my father a Scout). Eventually she confessed that she just hadn't wanted to be roped into being Brown Owl.
Heh, it was my Mum's aversion to fascist trappings that she claimed to object to. For a time I wanted to join Brownies when I was six or seven and several of my schoolfriends had joined and led me to believe that we'd be making Rice Crispy squares and batches of fudge. My Mum's response, which did put me off enough to keep me from joining was "well personally I've never been comfortable with organisations where all the children wear brown shirts and say the same thing, but I won't stand in your way if you want to join..." which was really her style. When my sister Shirley had expressed a desire to change her name to Roxanne (she was seven) my Mum said "Well, we'll go the whole hog and have it legally changed by deed poll, but only on the condition that your father and I can call you Foxy Roxy". Shirl changed her mind too.
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OMG woggles. More men should wear woggles.
Woggles sort of go with the whole short trousers and knobbly knees thing, aesthetically.
If 'aesthetically' is quite the right word here....
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I've been trying desperately to think of things I'd joined. I was a Brownie, but that didn't last long. I couldn't ever do any of the arty crafty things you had to do - and I never got many of those little badges that you had to sew on blankets. I think my Mum felt a bit guilty about my failed attempt at all that, because when my brothers became cubs , she did the cub leader thing wholeheartedly. I've been on a few committees - Old Girls (as in alumni type thing) and the like - but never put my heart and soul into them. I was part of the Auckland Volunteer Centre for a while, but that went by the board when my volunteer co-ordinator person hit a bit of personal strife that meant he was persona non grata in his place of work. I'm good at organising people, I guess, which is why the most successful organisation I never belonged to was the executive committee of the AUSA. I helped organise orientation one year - I think it was 1984? - and was so good at it, that I had the title of Honorary Engineer bestowed upon me. (According to the then AUSA president, Graham Watson). I could never figure out why, but assumed it was because I had organised that year's Beer Flow (a disgusting Engineer event that comprised of much interesting placement of bodily fluids).It's all so long ago. Ah, the glory days...........
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>OMG woggles. More men should wear woggles.
Woggles sort of go with the whole short trousers and knobbly knees thing, aesthetically.
If 'aesthetically' is quite the right word here....
Logical conclusion: public servants should wear woggles.
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I'm reinventing the walkshort & sandles as we speak. Topped off with poloshirt and a panama hat.
Inevitable this look is derided as too casual by a womyn in a tee shirt.
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After being disqualified from Nationals and having to give my medal back for 'cheating' I decided rowing wasn't my favourite sport.
On leaving school and moving towns and joined up at the surf club and their Surf Boat crew.
It was with total distrust and disbelief I found out that my speedos were not only worn in the style of a G-string but I had to slap 'easy ass' (aqueous cream) on my cheeks for a smooth ride.
Had a ball & we never won unless our bowman was sick on the beach from the excesses of the night before.
I think we have the last recorded surf boat rescue back in the early 90s.
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Well I joined Brownies because my best friend at the time was in it, and she was in it because her older sister was. I went on to become a Girl Guide just through inertia mainly.
But when I was newly 9 my parents saw an ad for a kind-of "sea scouts for girls" which was starting up in our area for a young age group, called Young Mariners. My family was quite into the sailing, so we went along to that cold church hall in Northcote, and over 20 years later my Dad still helps them out on a regular basis. When I was about 13 I had to make a choice between guides and mariners and it was a total no brainer. I stayed actively involved until I was elected to the AUSA exec, which met the same night that Mariners was on, and still keep in touch with many of the young women (now not so young!) that I met then. We had a casual reunion last year and it was amazing how many people turned up and what an impact Mariners had had on their lives - parents as well as girls. It's quite a small organisation - only about 8 units in the upper North Island, and none anywhere else. There are four in Auckland - Awataha (my unit, based in Milford now), Akarana (Orakei Basin), Ohui-A-Rangi (Pigeon Mountain) and Pakuranga. I reckon Whangaparaoa would be a great place for a new unit and if I ever get the time I'm hoping to help set it up there.
The other group I joined that had a big impact on me was the Education Action Group at UOA. On the first day of semester in my second year of uni this guy I'd had a crush on for several years insisted I go along to a meeting, so I did and within a month I was running the phone tree with two other people who I am still good friends with. From there I became immersed in the quagmire of AUSA politics, and I have ended up far from my original occupational intentions (digging up Ancient Rome) as a result.
It's all good.
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From there I became immersed in the quagmire of AUSA politics, and I have ended up far from my original occupational intentions (digging up Ancient Rome) as a result.
I wonder how far some of us have really strayed from our original occupational intentions. In my case, I've gone from shouting at people from the dais in the quad at Auckland University to teaching kindergarten children. I just don't shout to get people to do what I want, now........
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I wonder how far some of us have really strayed from our original occupational intentions.
I never managed to have any occupational intentions - I don't even recall the traditional "I'ma gonna be a fireman" as a primary kid. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up...
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Talking about unfortunate social networking on campus, back in the dark depths of the last millennium I joined the throngs of first years at Clubs Day as that most despised creature -- the adult student.
After spending a few moments catching up with a friend at the UniQ table, I wandered over to the Young Nats table, introduced myself and signed up.
Years later, I was told that there was some suspiscion that I was a Labour Yoof mole. Not so much because I was observed consorting with Sodomites and Sapphists, but because nobody quite believed anyone could really be quite that right-wing.
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Craig, dear, you're not right wing, you're just a very naughty boy...
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I wonder how far some of us have really strayed from our original occupational intentions.
I never managed to have any occupational intentionsDitto.
I think I've fried my daughter's tiny brain (she's only 6) with all my stories that begin with "Did you know that I used to be a ... [insert job here]" whenever she mentions something vaguely relevant to a position I once held (even briefly).
I've had about 20 jobs in 20 years -- not sure what message I'm giving her ... -
Craig, dear, you're not right wing, you're just a very naughty boy...
Hah... you try telling a law student that they should pursue a course of study where the demand actually exceeds supply. :)
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Craig, dear, you're not right wing, you're just a very naughty boy...
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I think I may have specifically picked digging up Ancient Rome as an occupational intention because I subconsciously knew it was wildly unlikely to come true. When I found out how stultifyingly dull I find archaeology it went from "wildly" to "utterly".
When I was little I wanted to be an All Black. Or a spy. Briefly I remember hating Helen Clark because she was going to get to be first woman Prime Minister, not me (I was 8 I think). I stopped really having occupational intentions from age 9 (after the World Cup when I think I finally twigged that a girl couldn't be an All Black), until I had to pretend to have them towards the end of secondary school. You have to have something to say to people who ask you what you are going to do when you leave school.
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i joined a marching team,called the papatoetoe highlanders.we were midget class(take it how you will),and spent a lot of time polishing our white boots and selling raffle tickets.There is something awesome about marching to a good tune,with a uniform on,and everyone looking at you.(we thought they were looking at us with envy and wonderment).I don't think I was very good at it.Memories!
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