Warning: this is just the trailer…but prepare to cry big connecting-with-humanity tears.

Precious: Based on the novel Push by Sapphire (this is actually the full title) hits screens in a month or two. But a water-cooler-ready overview in the mean time:

* Oprah’s backed it

* the plot follows the truly tragic life of Clareece “Precious” Jones, an overweight, illiterate teenager, pregnant by her father for a second time, abused by her mother (Mo’Nique) and saved by a teacher (Paula Patton) who shows her how to find life again

* Mariah Carey plays a convincingly dowdy school counselor (sans makeup) and Lenny Kravitz plays a hot nurse.

I often wonder why I cry in movies like this. As in, what’s the core reason. I reckon it’s because when we watch them we’re accessing the common pain of humanity. When this pain is brought to the surface and displayed in such an overt way, it’s easier to connect to that thread of suffering that runs through us all. It’s harder to feel it when you’re just walking out at lunch to grab a sushi roll.

Which is why the tears are not simply of distress, but are “beautiful tears”, tears of connection. Anyway, that’s what I reckon. You?

Marketing supremo Seth Godin wrote today: “Any sufficiently overheated industry will eventually resemble high school…filled with insecurity, social climbing, backbiting, false friends, faux achievements, high drama and not much content. Much of this insecurity comes from a market that doesn’t make good judgments, that doesn’t understand how to reliably choose between alternatives. So it turns into a popularity contest.”

As Tom Hanks reportedly said, “Hollywood is like high school, but with money.” The internet, Godin says, is like high school but with a modem. And twitter… is high school but only 140 characters at a time.

As with high school, you ultimately win out when you keep your distance from irrelevant people. And do your own thing.

I was bullied mercilessly in high school. The “clique” found me weird (lived in country, big family, quite liked studing). I found them weird.

I found this photo recently. I’ve just finished making my Dad a coffee-table photo book about his life for his 60th birthday (actually it’s mostly about his six kids because that’s what he took pictures of for most of his life) using Blurb.com. Which is another story. For another day.

Anyway, I found this picture in the process and I stared at it for a while. It’s me. But I’m little. And such different things were going through my little head. At least I think there were. I’m not sure if it’s narcissistic, but it’s very comforting to stare into the eyes of the kid you were. The exterior is so different, but somehow you can still see the essence of you in the eyes.

A nice reminder of the impermanence of exterior me, or little “i”, and the constant that is the you underneath, or big “i”.

On another note, what WAS I about to do with that sausage???

This week I contemplate whether it’s all “meant to be”.

Have you noticed everyone is saying this a lot lately?

The sales assistant at Domayne tells me the mattress protector I’m after is the last in stock. “It’s meant to be,” she says, giving me a knowing smile. The only available seats at the Cineplex are for Ugly Truth. Not an ideal conflation of events, but I run into a peer who later sets me up with a sweet speakers gig in the row behind me: “It was meant to be”. Someone’s eaten the last Mint Slice: “It’s not meant to be”, yells Dad from the lounge during a recent visit.

Right now I’m on a hobbies rampage. It started when I declared that I like men with hobbies. I had a cup of tea with a guy the other day who just started painting and I was immediately attracted.

A hobby denotes an ability to shut off from what “you’re meant to be doing” and to suspend for a bit doing something out of curiosity. There’s no pat-on-the-back-able purpose to it. It’s just about being with yourself and seeing what comes up. People who take the time and effort to open themselves up to this exploration are wonderful people to be around.

I realised I haven’t had a hobby for a while. Mountain biking was it for years. My adventures up and down hills were a great space for me to explore what made me “me”. Oh, the places I went (I’ve ridden around NZ, Tasmania, Brisbane to Cairns, California, Spain, Vietnam…all on the same saddle; the most reliable, stable thing I’ve probably ever put between my legs…).

I'm the one in pink. Lap 3 of 24-hour race, Canberra.

But to golf. I had my first lesson today. I think it could be a good hobby.

On Saturday mornings in Ariel bookshop, Oxford St, Sydney, you can buy a little posie of flowers for 3 bucks.  I love this.

They wrap them in brown paper for you. It clearly isn’t a profit-making exercise! But the good-will, well, it got me wanting to spread it. The kooky girl behind the counter who likes wearing brooches said, “we just think flowers are nice things to have with books”. Yes! They also sell little Haigh’s chocolates. Flowers, books and chocolate. So nice.

I just bought two posies of daisies wrapped in brown paper for friends, and a copy of The Adventures of Blinky Bill.

(I should probably have a picture of the posie here…but I haven’t worked out how to do that yet.)

Deus ex Machina in Camperdown, Sydney, is same-same-but-different. Dare Jennings (ex-Mambo) likes beautifully built, artisan bikes, duck ragu and art. So do I. And he’d like to share these three passions with all of us. His bike shop is also a gallery and a great cafe. With back issues of the New Yorker on file to read.

It’s important, I think, to care about how you consume. When it’s mindless, it doesn’t satisfy anyone. When it’s infused with care it’s more than just a commercial transaction. Some shops just sell stuff. Others seem more like an inspiring holding space for things the owner would like to share with you.

I don’t like to consume much. But I like generous experiences that contribute to life.

I’ve been toying with the idea of a blog for three years. You could say I’m someone who likes to review all my options. And who likes to ensure something isn’t a fad. When email first arrived I was convinced it was a passing thing. Ditto MP3 players. And hyper-colour T-shirts.

I was also waiting until I had something to say. The past two years have challenged me out of the dreary comfort zone I’d been in for the previous 33 years. I have a wonderfully vibrant and different perspective now on most things and I’ve found there are more and more people out there who want to engage in this with me.

If you’ve stumbled on this blog, hello! And I hope you find it useful and fresh.

To kick off, one random thought:

“Success is not to be pursued; it is to be attracted by the person you become.”

And one random thing I just like because Feist is almost as naturally awkward as me. Almost. But definitely a worse dancer than me:

This week I declutter my eating

It’s not the most cheery question to pose, but it is an important one: What damages the planet more, walking to the shops or driving?

The answer, if you follow my ominous lead-in, is walking.