Recent Posts...
Page 74 of 93
Archive
Imagined Community | Mar 08, 2006 19:30
I'll have to agree with Tze Ming on this one. The purpose of putting 'New Zealand European' on the census form is to indicate what your racial background is. It's supposed to be a generalisation, and not goo long ago read'what's your race' (as far as I can remember). I can understand the desire to put your race down as 'New Zealander', and there is an argument that 'New Zealander' is a different category to 'European', but really it smacks of a particular narrowness you only get in petty nationalists.
But hey, if it makes you feel like you're the shizzle to try and get a new category added, then have at. Like I give a hoot.
I'm not caring because New Zealander is a nationality and an ethnicity all kind of bundled into one, and one that's gradually finding its feet over time. And the interesting thing about nationality is that you can't really conclusively define it except via rubber-stamping.
What I mean by that is that the essence of what it is to be a New Zealander is beyond definition. I'm sure you're all bored with me telling you about how if you try to define a nationality you'll always get a few people who are obviously nationals, but still just don't fit the mould. Not all New Zealanders like rugby for example. That probably makes them horses hoofs, but that's just the way it is, aeh maaaaaate?
The main marker of a nation is a kind of mutual recognition of belonging, although this mutual recognition has to be backed up with something tangible. All liking a particular sport usually doesn't cut it as a stand-alone marker, but the culture that surrounds that sport and its supporters do contribute to nationality. People who follow the sport will all be able to communicate in and around the game, and that makes them a community.
Nations are much the same. So when you say, "I'm a New Zealander" you're probably saying it with something cultural and something tangible to back it up, and a community of like-minded individuals who think themselves the same. But more importantly, you'll also have the rubber-stamping to accompany it. A passport is a good example.
What we can glean from this is that the people writing 'New Zealander' on their census forms are likely to be both ethnically and formally 'New Zealanders'. The ethnic dimension is probably shallow relative to older cultures like those of Western Europe, the Far East, Africa etc., but it's not because it's a new nation. There's a fair bit of argument in the academic literature that all nations are less than 150 or 200 years old.
I'll save you the boring details. In a nutshell it's because our ethnicity just hasn't worked itself out properly yet.
New Zealander is an ethnicity then. But writing it on your census is a bit stupid because it's not what they're asking for, they want your racial background.
Ah well. It's not as stupid as writing 'Jedi' as your religion.
But I can't help it.
The truth of the matter is that I received more wisdom from the first three films than I did from any visits to Sunday School. I think the second three films are a bit like the New Testament though, an unnecessary sequel to a perfectly good set of stories.
But here are a few things I learned so you get the idea:
Whiney bastards don't get the girl.
Sometimes great heroes look like frogs with Spock ears.
Believe in yourself.
Never trust 'the man', he'll call in favours you don't owe.
Money will sometimes turn Wookie into Ewok.
Being closeted causes social disfunction and dependency, even in robots.
Do anything for your friends, one day they'll save your arse.
Inside every black man is a white man waiting to get out, seemingly.
The universe is populated by muppets.
How can a man go wrong with a set of moral markers like that?
Soul Food | Mar 06, 2006 19:41
I should start by saying thanks to well-wishers who have gotten in touch over the past week. While my intention wasn't entirely to draw a spotlight to my health, it's always good to know there are people out there who think well of you.
The latest news is that after a few more trips to the hospital seeking attention I did finally get someone to prescribe a little medication, and it's making all the difference in the world to my piece of mind. There's something slightly frightening being told that you're at risk of a stroke at 34, and a drug that soothes the heart is all good.
Worse still, I'm told that I can't really consume alcohol for the duration of the prescription. But I guess one beer while you're blogging can't be all bad, aeh?
The heart issue is this erratic and speedy heartbeat that had every doctor asking me, "do you take recreational drugs?" I can only assume they mean BZP. One registrar went as far as to ask for a full drug history, and then looked a little shocked at the end of my sorry list. Hopefully it's because she's done even crazier things than I have.
Those of you who've experienced the feeling of helplessness that accompanies this type of trouble will understand what a relief getting on the drugs really is. To use an analogy, it's a bit like having a tiny ADHD kid strapped to the inside of your ribcage. The jumpy bugger won't stay still till you feed him something that's probably not doing him all that much good.
Then it's a bit like having a stoned ADHD kid strapped in there. He kind of wants to go, "AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!" but only gets to "AAA... craaap... I'm stoned again aren't I?"
I'm listening to a little Nick Drake to calm him down.
He main thing that people seem to wonder about is the issue of "CONFRONTING DEATH". You kind of have to capitalise it, BECAUSE IT'S A TRULY FRIGHTENING AND ENLIGHTENING EXPERIENCE.
The truth of the matter is that the whole DEATH-CONFRONTING thing was done the first time this heart trouble popped up about ten years ago. An over-enthusiastic GP jumped to the very wrong conclusion that I had a particular, and possibly very nasty hereditary disease. I say nasty because one probable cause of DEATH was your aorta separating from your heart.
That one freaked me out a little.
A man takes stock of his life in that situation, and wonders, "what in the hell have I been doing all this time?" When the answer is, "nothing to make this threat to me any less", it's very enlightening. Not as 'enlightening' as "whhhooooooa... all the stars look like light glowing through pores in the skin of the sky", but one has to make sacrifices.
On the upside, none of this has anything to do with poor diet or lifestyle. Which means I can eat all the BBQ Duck I want to. I'm doing my best to prevent bird flu in New Zealand by eating as many of the little bastards as possible.
The plan at present is to perhaps to a tour of Wellington noodle houses, much the same as Well Urban is doing to Wellington bars. I figure that I can probably stay with three common dishes, BBQ duck on noodle soup, curry laksa or wonton noodles, and pretty much cover every noodle shop in town. I've already got Basin Noodles and Tans BBQ duck lined up for the next week.
We shall see. Although, even as I type this I can feel Tze Ming sending me an email demanding that I try eating something a big cracker like me probably wouldn't be comfortable with.
Tze Ming love, it'll be honky-dory. Be nice to me, bad heart, remember?
Page 74 of 93
Archive