.
realistically by 2050 we would expect to be able to download your mind into a machine, so when you die it's not a major career problem

unless, of course, you're Paris Hilton.

how quickly they forget dept:

went into work today to meet an editor. she wasn't there when I arrived. I checked with a passing reporter, whom I'll call K, that I had the right office, mentioning that the editor was expecting me. K and I don't really know each other, but we have spoken and introduced ourselves long ago while at a press conference. after that she pretty much ignored me.

so I'm sitting there, checking out the books on the editor's table, wondering if she's forgotten my appointment, when through the door comes the sound of K whispering on the phone. she's calling security!. of course I couldn't hear every word, but the gist was that she wanted to know if the editor had allowed anyone in to see her (no, because I used my pass because I'm still on staff), and that there was someone in said editor's office, just sitting there.

K, as far as I can tell, doesn't share my sense of humour. so I couldn't lean over the divider and say "are you dobbing me in to security?". I pulled out my pass, put it on the table and waited to be nabbed. sadly, the editor turned up before I could enjoy the wonders of my workplace's security system. but really! why didn't K just ask me who I was? (of course I used to have long hair and now look like a slightly scary lesbian with my chemo regrowth. but is that any reason to call the dogs in? glad I don't look, like, Muslim or something...)

the most amazing apartment: part of a competition for the coolest, smallest apartment.

now I really want an apartment in New York...

"I'm makin' a list, I'm checkin' it twice..."

as you would, if you were about to have a midlife crisis. my best friend turns 40 next month. I turn 39 this week. so I've decided that the best plan is to work out what will really, really bug me when I turn 40, and do something about it now. kind of to soften the blow.

enjoying: a baby who sleeps for at least two hours a day.

blog angst: I have a number of blogs now. one I'm using for work. it's probably incomprehensible to outsiders, but it does nicely for storing links and allowing me to work from anywhere. another is related to the pub, which is getting the odd weekend tenant and a new fridge and stove. one or two are quite dead, having outlived their usefulness for studies and inquiries into internet life that I don't have time for right now. and maybe a coupla others I don't like to talk about here, as they're special spaces for special purposes. it's a pity in a way, as some of the names are cool and deserve use - I particularly like flaneur.blogspot.com

and there's this one here, which has faded in the face of all this specialised blogging, and my addiction to other outlets for expression, ie discussion groups, emails to actual friends. but I really am quite fond of it, and willing to give it another go. there might be a little cross-posting involved, but we'll see.

so in the great tradition of public diaries, I'll start with explaining what the hell has been going on with me lately.

Kylie and I now have two things in common: a birthdate and breast cancer. and like her, I'd like to say:

"I was so looking forward to bringing the Showgirl Jenny tour to Australian audiences, and am sorry to have to disappoint my fans. Nevertheless hopefully all will work out fine and Ill be back with you all again soon."

back from two weeks in Hong Kong and Thailand, and a week of jet lag and upset tummy (as you do after travelling in Asia). what do you say about a week on the beach in a gorgeous resort? boring to the outsider yet deeply satisfying to the participants.

in HK we went to Felix, where the duck ruined me for any future duck dishes I might eat anywhere else, not excluding Flower Drum's Peking Duck and the Peking duck I once ate in Seattle at Microsoft's expense. Felix reminded me of the restaurant - what was it called? Hades? in The Matrix. the most dramatic, and beautiful-person (aka Eurotrash)-filled eatery I've ever been to, as well.

back home in lovely autumnal Melbourne, a movie was being shot in our street, at possibly the only grungy student house left in North Fitzroy. I kept meaning to take my cute baby down there to chat up the makeup/catering types and find out if it was the Nic Cage movie, but I got too busy being ill and missed out my one chance at celebrity stalking.

a sniff of work has arisen, but may yet be snatched away. it's not often that fully home-based, internet-researchable, well-paid freelance gigs fall into the lap of the convalescent mother of a toddler. wish me luck with that.

and a memo to the drivers and pedestrians of Melbourne, who resemble the moped riders of Koh Samui (Thailands highest road fatality province) in their apparent death-wish: you are not immortal. it will not hurt you to walk 25 metres to the crossing and back. and the indicators on your brand-new Audi probably work, I imagine. you won't wear them out, I promise.