Yet again it’s that time of year when having over-eaten, over-drunk, over-spent and generally over done it in the last few months you’re supposed to open a fresh Word document and draft up a blueprint for The New You.
After one last hurrah tomorrow night, it’s all going to change.
You’ll exercise more, sleep more, home-cook more and concentrate more on the things that count: seeing family and friends, making time for other people, giving more, really experiencing the moment instead of rushing crazily about (possibly due to the fear of missing out).
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The God Particle is so 2011. This year’s sexy science story is a hole in time. Yes, it’s a sci-fi nerdtopia complete with the opportunity to use the compound adjective “space-time” in ordinary conversation.
According to science journal Nature, scientists have managed to create a ‘time cloak’. Using a time-lens that breaks light up they can make an event temporarily undetectable.
Sure, it’s only on the picosecond scale, but still: Phwoar!
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My friend Nick doesn’t talk like other people. Over the years, I’ve become used to the way he leaves long pauses in conversation – last week, I counted a full 11 seconds – as he thinks about what he’s going to say next. It can be unnerving, yet when he does eventually speak, what he says is sound, wise and invariably a smart solution.
I thought of Nick a couple of weeks ago, when Kevin Rudd went on ABC’s Q&A and confessed he’d been wrong in ditching the emissions trading scheme. In the ensuing hoopla over whether he was out to nix the PM, his most sentient comment was overlooked.
During his leadership, Rudd told the audience, he had neglected sound advice to “leave yourself time to think, to reflect and to plan”.
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THE German or Japanese languages may have one, but there is no word in English which accurately conveys the crushing, overwhelming sense of misery felt at the end of a good holiday.
It doesn’t seem to matter if you’ve had one week off or four, whether you love or hate your job. The first day back at work always feels like a special kind of hell when you wistfully recall where you were and what you were doing a week or so prior.
Talking to a mate yesterday, who like me was on his first day back after a three-week break, it struck us how so much of this dislike of modern work doesn’t stem from some irrational hatred of having a job. Instead, it’s to do with a justifiable sense of frustration at the way we are often compelled to do our jobs.
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