Procrastination Pt 1

Spent all day procrastinating.
I have multiple submissions due but they all ask questions along the lines of “What do you want to achieve from this opportunity?”

Fucking money. That’s why you offer cash incentives. Sure, the experience provided by some of the grants/awards/scholarships would be a bonus but don’t ask me to justify why I’m applying when you’re volunteering to pay me for the work I already do.

They’d be better served asking me why I deserve the opportunity. The achievement bit is easy – published and paid. Everyone that applies for these sorts of things have the same objectives.

To top it off they give you 300 words to do it in. I’m at 117 and I should be done.
I won’t be submitting this rant as any part of my application, but I have advised them of this web address, so they might end up reading it anyway.

I awoke at 2am, fully dressed and the lights on.

Smoking a joint and finishing the beer left on the side table before passing out assist in resuming slumber. Single degree temperatures overnight have allowed the beer to remain palatable. Roadside beers in South-East Asia have allowed me to consume luke warm lager without much difficulty.

It was four hours later when I stirred again. I don’t know what’s going on but I’m getting better at this sleeping game, it doesn’t prevent me from spending the next hour in bed with the cat walking all over me until ABC Weekend Breakfast starts.

I went through the motions as I usually do, wishing it was Sunday so I could have a break from the repetitive news cycle with Insiders and Offsiders, ignore The World This Week and hope Compass might offer up something interesting before throwing on a playlist (as I’ve discussed before) in time for Songs of Praise.

But today is Saturday and upon rising for the second time, I become aware that Belgium will beat France in the Soccer Football World Cup Semi Final. I don’t really care but I’m calling a Belgium-Croatia Final. Eat that with your Weet-Bix and tell me about it later.

The thing that really threw me, however was that the Indigenous Round of Super Netball got plugged (and rightly so). But it was an English woman from The GWS Giants that fronted up for the interview. I had a cursory attempt to find her name but decided it was a moot point as no one bothered to learn the names of the ancestors of Krystal Dallinger who designed the dress the players will wear and figuring out the identity of someone from the country that has, over time, caused more hurt to ours than any other would be irrelevant.

A simple Google search throws up numerous results for Indigenous Netball players but there is only one player in Super Netball who identifies as First Nations. Jemma Mi Mi could have done a cross from Queensland instead of The ABC dragging a Pom into the Sydney studios to have a chat about how significant the round would be in terms of ‘recognising Women in Sport’ but mentioning nothing about reconciliation, redress, treaty or anything else that (as far as I’m aware) Indigenous people give a shit about. Because she couldn’t. To her credit she said she hadn’t had much experience in her life with people of different races. Which again raises the question as to why The ABC and Netball Australia thought this was a good idea.

I’m not Indigenous as far as anyone has been able to determine and to bastardise the best quote ever uttered by Muhammad Ali – ‘no one ever called me “Nigger”’. But I was morally offended that the promotion offered by the national broadcaster prior to the inaugural Indigenous Round couldn’t even find an Australian of European descent but didn’t even bother to get themselves the only Indigenous player in the competition to rock up at the Maroochydore Studios for a live cross.

Don’t take this as a black armband view of Australian history, take it as a failure of marketing. I cannot think of a worse ambassador for The Indigenous Round than a citizen of the nation that subjugated the people who are supposed to be acknowledged by the gesture of a week of matches dedicated to them. Abbott might’ve worked but he was probably otherwise engaged. Every other sporting code manages to get themselves some Indigenous Ambassadors. You only need to look at Adam Goodes or the Riolis’ in Aussie Rules as well as Thurston and Thaiday over recent years in League to name barely a few of the greatest players the sports have produced. I can list Inglis, Tallis, Daley, and a raft of others, but we’ll run out of space. The same is probably more prevalent in Aussie Rules but I don’t watch it too often. Even Union can roll out the Ellas’ every time they need to demonstrate diversity, throw Kurtley Beale into the mix, a bit of Andrew Walker and some Jim Williams for a bit of heft and you’ve almost got yourself a decent sevens team.

Fuck, even Cricket is doing a better job than netball. We just sent a pair of teams to The Old Dart to replicate the fine showing that our first ever touring sports team managed to deliver to our colonial overlords – 14 wins, 14 losses, 19 draws. Not bad for a bunch of “conquered natives of a convict colony” (According to The Daily Telegraph).

Harry Williams represented the country in our first Soccer Football World Cup and I shouldn’t need to mention the surnames of Rose and Mundine when it comes to pugilism.

All I’m getting at here at that both Aunty and Netball Australia could’ve done a better job in advertising the concept.

I am well aware that The ABC can’t “advertise” but they dwell in murky waters when it comes to what they will and won’t report on. At least the commercial networks are shameless in their bias and bigotry. Poor Aunty just seems to get caught up in the middle.

But this is not supposed to be a story about Australian sporting teams. It’s supposed to be about procrastination and I have clearly achieved my purpose for the day. Now I just have to buy some weed.

Go Home.

Get Stoned.

Work.

Sleep.

Wake up in time for Insiders.