Month: November 2009

Deluge of autumn leaves

In London, I see autumn leaves on a scale you don’t get in Australia. In some places, I walk shin deep in red, orange and brown leaves.

London’s neighbourhoods are beautiful right now. However, I do feel sorry for the street sweepers. During the rest of the year, they’re clearing up litter, dog poop, pavement pizzas and cigarette butts. Now, on top of their usual duties, they fight an unwinnable battle with leaf litter.

The sweepers fill their rubbish carts with red, orange and brown, and the next day, the trees have re-layered the roads and footpaths.

The sweepers’ only respite is winter, when the branches of deciduous trees are exhausted and bare.

There is one other thing about the leaves that makes me worry.

You see, when leaves fall and naturally decay, the nutrients go back into the earth. At the same time, carbon dioxide is released. This doesn’t contribute to climate change because when leaves grow back in spring, the tree re-absorbs the carbon dioxide from the atmosphere.

What I worry about is that all those leaves collected by all those street sweepers will go to the rubbish tip. This must happen because the sweepers are still picking up litter. No one is going to separate the leaves from the litter.

In a rubbish tip, the rubbish is stacked in layers and capped every night so that the rats and pigeons don’t make a mess. This means that organic material like leaves have no oxygen. Instead of decaying (aerobically) and releasing carbon dioxide, the leaves will decay (anaerobically) and release methane.

Methane is a more powerful greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide. Over the next two decades, this methane released will trap 72 times more heat than carbon dioxide. Even after a hundred years, methane is still 25 times more potent than the same amount of carbon dioxide.

I wonder if anyone else has been thinking about this.

Middle class crime

‘Should I get six eggs or the full dozen?’ I thought. It was confusing, even more so when I realised that twelve eggs were more expensive than two cartons of six eggs.

As I stood in the supermarket, perplexed, I saw something strange. The woman next to me was holding a carton of dozen ‘basics’ eggs. This is the most inexpensive option — nothing barn laid, free range or organic about those eggs.

Yet, I noticed the woman had her hand in a carton of free range eggs too. I watched as she swapped each basic egg with a free range egg!

I was gobsmacked. I understand that people shoplift but this… this seemed particularly pointless. I can’t taste the difference between eggs from free range chickens and caged chickens. I buy free range and organic eggs for the principle of it, not the taste.

Ethical stealing? ‘I only steal Fair Trade. I want to support the farmers, you know.’

I have seen people swapping ‘Sainsbury’s Basics’ tomatoes for the premium ‘Taste the Difference’ tomatoes. Now, that I understand. I really can taste the difference, the branding does not lie.

Later that evening, I was listening to the radio and there was a discussion about the global financial crisis (again).

The commentator said, ‘As the recession deepens, we’ve seen increasing rates of shoplifting. Interestingly, it’s middle class shoplifting. More iPods are being taken, perfume, books…’

And, as I witnessed, also free range Fair Trade organic groceries!

Best costume award

After collecting nine toilet rolls in a week, I spent a few hours on Hallowe’en Saturday going back to my childhood. With Aoife cheering me on, I painstakingly traced out the classic toilet symbols for ‘male’ and ‘female’ on foamboard. Then I coloured them in with permanent marker.

The result? I won best costume of the party.

Toilet costume

Judge Mandy, explained. ‘The theme of the party was to come dressed as something you’re afraid of. Joan is the winner because, as we women all know, public toilets are terrible frightening places.’

After receiving my award, the Joker (the Heath Ledger incarnation) and a jelly fish came to congratulate me.

‘Great costume,’ they said. ‘But we’ve got to ask. Why are women’s toilets so scary? Are they scarier than men’s toilets?’

‘It’s not that women’s toilets are worse,’ I said. ‘It’s just that for women, public toilets are… well, it’s a more contact sport.’

The keys to my love are on a mountain

When I was at Mount E’mei in my visit to China in September, I was drawn to the locks attached to the railings.

Mount E'mei lovers locks

Lovers come to Mount E’mei, place a lock on the a chain (or another lock, as all chain links are now well and truly colonised).

Mount E'mei lovers locks

They then throw the key off the side of the mountain.

Mount E'mei lovers locks

There really are thousands and thousands of locks. They climbed with us up the steps to the top of the mountain.

Mount E'mei lovers locks

 

Mount E'mei lovers locks

My love is made eternal with extra top security.

Mount E'mei lovers locks

I thought the locks were beautiful.

I dreamt I made it

I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt that I was reading a Wikipedia article about me and it was full of errors.

When you have a Wikipedia entry, you know you’ve made it. Made it to where, well, that’s up to you.

‘We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet… I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things… all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness’.’

(movie quote)

Well, move over, marriage. For the successful and notorious, Wikipedia now offers a viable alternative witness to a life partner.

(This is a strange blog entry. I guess things I think about are like that.)

Bombardment

Today, I sent 54 emails. This is on a day with 3.5 hours of meetings, which means I sent an email once every 5.5 minutes.

I received 52 emails addressed to me. I’m not counting meeting acceptances, forum postings, mass mails or room booking notices.

I think that’s a pretty normal day. Is it the same for you?

Appraisal time

It’s appraisal time again.

In my last job, it was called PDP — professional development something. Appraisal, PDP, performance review — those of us in corporate jobs will all know what these words mean.

Once a year, you sit with your manager to talk about your performance last year. You set objectives for next year. These objectives then become the criteria against which you are appraised the following year. This is also the opportunity to bring up your aspirations for further training, overseas postings, and career path.

I think this is my fifth performance appraisal. I usually enjoy doing it. I am naturally self-reflective and I have been lucky to always have had managers who have trusted me with responsibility. It is then easy to demonstrate my competence when appraisal time comes around.

This weekend, I began preparing my appraisal report. I found that I am not enjoying it like I used to.

I have not completely met last year’s performance objectives. Partly, it’s because my job took a different turn this year. Partly, also, I was in the middle of three initiatives that were disrupted (permanently?) by the redundancies of my collaborators.

It’s also becoming difficult to think of what I want to achieve next year. My role has moved beyond my job description. I suspect that my career will be whatever I decide to make it. There is no longer a defined path and as I look around me, there isn’t an obvious person that I should be modelling.

This freedom (and murkiness) should be exciting and ultimately rewarding.

Well, I believe it will be. However, first I need to get through the brain-hurting exercise of thinking through and spelling out my career development goals for next year.