[Miscellany]
Sunday, September 08, 2013
Through the Darkness and the Light
Something has awakened in me this Spring, along with the blossoms. It's an emotion, a frustration, an anger, love, a lust for life to take over and a feeling of inevitability that change will happen.
There is a part of me that walks alongside me, behind me, above me, ahead. My higher self I suppose. I can see her silver rope in hand, attached through and inside me, pulling at the chord, she's running ahead, skipping forwards, pirouetting through the air, dancing a wild dervish while the physical me plods behind. Higher self is quite a force, trust me. She is beckoning me forwards through the wasted nights, wasted years, wasted life and showing me a future without despair.
I have waited for the epiphany. I have searched for the synchronicity and explored all connections. I've been misguided and walked down the wrong path many times but I've come to the realisation that sometimes people come into your life for one reason only. You may share a joke. Feel a connection. See a spark. Light a candle. Carry a flame. Are best friends. But maybe that friendship of love or lust isn't why they are important. That connection whatever it is isn't the important one at all. The important bit is the sentence they utter offhandedly one day. The song you hear on their ipod when you borrow it. The t-shirt they wear with that slogan. The tweet you read by accident. Whatever. That little chaotic accident ..or twist of fate pushes you forwards and before you know it you're tumbling off the edge and into your future. They will never know and never need to know that that their inconsequential little nothing turned into something marvelous inside you.
You came into my life to lead me here.
Despair - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Seasons change, emotions change, the government changes, the waves roll in and out.
Good and bad, it's all change.
Everything has its day... and so will I.
There is a part of me that walks alongside me, behind me, above me, ahead. My higher self I suppose. I can see her silver rope in hand, attached through and inside me, pulling at the chord, she's running ahead, skipping forwards, pirouetting through the air, dancing a wild dervish while the physical me plods behind. Higher self is quite a force, trust me. She is beckoning me forwards through the wasted nights, wasted years, wasted life and showing me a future without despair.
I have waited for the epiphany. I have searched for the synchronicity and explored all connections. I've been misguided and walked down the wrong path many times but I've come to the realisation that sometimes people come into your life for one reason only. You may share a joke. Feel a connection. See a spark. Light a candle. Carry a flame. Are best friends. But maybe that friendship of love or lust isn't why they are important. That connection whatever it is isn't the important one at all. The important bit is the sentence they utter offhandedly one day. The song you hear on their ipod when you borrow it. The t-shirt they wear with that slogan. The tweet you read by accident. Whatever. That little chaotic accident ..or twist of fate pushes you forwards and before you know it you're tumbling off the edge and into your future. They will never know and never need to know that that their inconsequential little nothing turned into something marvelous inside you.
You came into my life to lead me here.
Despair - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Seasons change, emotions change, the government changes, the waves roll in and out.
Good and bad, it's all change.
Everything has its day... and so will I.
Labels: about me, brain fuzz, change, change the colour of your day, choices, contemplation, daydreams, divination, endless summer lift the curse, fear, music, musical monday, personal, the circle dance, voice
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
The Ferris Bueller way of Life
This morning, on the first day back at the salt mine I was 45 minutes late.
Yes, 45 minutes. It's very lucky indeed that it wasn't a teaching day, because I would have been, pardon my French: royally fucked (fucked royale?). As it was everyone was giving me that look when I finally wandered in.. you know, the "oops you fucked up BIG time sister" look. I know it well; I was raised on that look. Some even did the slit throat sign. I was expecting the boss to really have a go at me at morning tea break because she had written this email last week explicitly stating (that is bold AND underlined) that it was strictly an 8.15am start for all staff. Well oops.
Dearest reader... I may be reaching my twilight years (team Jasper!) but I still know how to sleep in like a teen who has been going bong hits all night. I haven't seen "morning" for the past 6 weeks. My morning, summer holiday style is 1pm. My bedtime is 5-6am. I'm not sleeping that many hours here. I'm just all topsy turvy like.. I cannot simply go cold turkey back into waking up at a normal adult hour. Hell, I don't want to wake at normal adult hours. Normal adult hours are ridiculous! It was futile from the beginning.
The funny thing is that the Boss, didn't reprimand me. She looked at me and smiled and asked me how I was. There were a few people she DID reprimand (people who were on time but were ALMOST late.. ie 8.14am) - they weren't happy. Go figure. I guess you never know how things will be - sometimes you just get lucky.
I'm a little confused about my life lesson here, but I did get a little taste of what it's like to be Ferris Bueller for a minute and I gotta tell you, it's a pretty sweet existence.
Meanwhile, tonight I set my alarm extra loud because girls like me are not this lucky two days in a row.
Yes, 45 minutes. It's very lucky indeed that it wasn't a teaching day, because I would have been, pardon my French: royally fucked (fucked royale?). As it was everyone was giving me that look when I finally wandered in.. you know, the "oops you fucked up BIG time sister" look. I know it well; I was raised on that look. Some even did the slit throat sign. I was expecting the boss to really have a go at me at morning tea break because she had written this email last week explicitly stating (that is bold AND underlined) that it was strictly an 8.15am start for all staff. Well oops.
Dearest reader... I may be reaching my twilight years (team Jasper!) but I still know how to sleep in like a teen who has been going bong hits all night. I haven't seen "morning" for the past 6 weeks. My morning, summer holiday style is 1pm. My bedtime is 5-6am. I'm not sleeping that many hours here. I'm just all topsy turvy like.. I cannot simply go cold turkey back into waking up at a normal adult hour. Hell, I don't want to wake at normal adult hours. Normal adult hours are ridiculous! It was futile from the beginning.
The funny thing is that the Boss, didn't reprimand me. She looked at me and smiled and asked me how I was. There were a few people she DID reprimand (people who were on time but were ALMOST late.. ie 8.14am) - they weren't happy. Go figure. I guess you never know how things will be - sometimes you just get lucky.
I'm a little confused about my life lesson here, but I did get a little taste of what it's like to be Ferris Bueller for a minute and I gotta tell you, it's a pretty sweet existence.
Meanwhile, tonight I set my alarm extra loud because girls like me are not this lucky two days in a row.
Labels: endless summer lift the curse, ferris bueller method of living, life, stressed teachers, teacher dramas, teaching, work
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Summer saw you wasted, everyday.
The first thing you see is blue on blue. A cloudless sky resting atop a line of deep indigo on the horizon. The sun is already burning a red line across your bare skin; where you couldn't quite reach to put the sunscreen properly. A thin film of sweat collects at the nape of your neck. You breathe in the waves and swat at the flies before making your way down the hill to the sand. Do you want an ice-cream now or later? your companion muses while looking hungrily at the van. Can't we do both? you laugh back.
The bathing boxes are lined up like soldiers at the ready for a gay mardi gras parade. You can hear the delighted squeals of small children no doubt wearing hats that are much too big and being taunted by splashes of water. This makes you smile as you remember countless summers spent by the water. Your mind goes back in time almost 20 years to your dad dripping freezing cold water onto your back while you sunbaked, purposely trying to annoy you. These memories make you smile now. They didn't back then.
You hoist the umbrella up under your arm with effort (everything takes effort on a day already hitting 30 degrees before 10am) and take those first tentative steps across the hot sand. A scratchy towel, under the other arm is already throwing you off balance and you falter a little, tipping dangerously to one side. Walking on sand involves feeling like one is temporarily drunk. Finding the right spot is an art. Private but close to the water, sandy but not shelly, away from the freaks playing with a ball (who ARE these people that do this?) and enough room to have a conversation without being overheard.
With the umbrella erected and tilted, the picnic rug spread and the towels positioned just right you peel back your clothes and sigh backwards onto your towel. "A" pulls back the lid on a container to reveal a bunch of crispy green grapes, nectarines, watermelon and ripe strawberries. You take a strawberry and enjoy its sweet coolness across your lips. A perfect beach breakfast. You smile, engaging in a cheerful conversation that soon dies away as the sun sends you both into drowsy silence.
You close your eyes and hear the sounds of the beach all around you. Cheery laughter, sunscreen bottles clicking closed, a shuffling of feet close by, occasional outbursts of loud laughter and the heavy splashes of people frolicking in the waves. You open one eye and peer at the middle aged Greek ladies proudly displaying their slight ponches and legs complete with a touch of cellulite. They laugh and recount stories in their own language while sunning themselves. You notice they're set up for the whole day. Food, and drinks, books and sunscreen - everything a close knit group of friends will need. You know they won't hit the books, they've got too much to talk about. You grin to yourself. You much prefer these real creatures of life and laughter to the gaggle of silent but deadly young things further down who look like they've had one too many days in the sun and are much too conscious of looking the part of the beach-goer. Give it a rest girls, this ain't LA you think.
The best part of the afternoon ticks by as you doze, and talk and imagine and sigh. The water feels like a silky awakening and you are christened by a new feeling of contentment. Hallelujah! And under you go again.
By the time you both pack away the makeshift picnic the beach dwellers have tripled. The sand is a patchwork of gaudy tends and Pisa tilted umbrellas. Making your way back to the car is always a challenge with your head weighted with daydreams as it is today. You smell a little bit like cocoa butter and sunscreen, ice-cream and sand all mixed together with a pinch of salt. It's a nice smell. You smell like summer.
The bathing boxes are lined up like soldiers at the ready for a gay mardi gras parade. You can hear the delighted squeals of small children no doubt wearing hats that are much too big and being taunted by splashes of water. This makes you smile as you remember countless summers spent by the water. Your mind goes back in time almost 20 years to your dad dripping freezing cold water onto your back while you sunbaked, purposely trying to annoy you. These memories make you smile now. They didn't back then.
You hoist the umbrella up under your arm with effort (everything takes effort on a day already hitting 30 degrees before 10am) and take those first tentative steps across the hot sand. A scratchy towel, under the other arm is already throwing you off balance and you falter a little, tipping dangerously to one side. Walking on sand involves feeling like one is temporarily drunk. Finding the right spot is an art. Private but close to the water, sandy but not shelly, away from the freaks playing with a ball (who ARE these people that do this?) and enough room to have a conversation without being overheard.
With the umbrella erected and tilted, the picnic rug spread and the towels positioned just right you peel back your clothes and sigh backwards onto your towel. "A" pulls back the lid on a container to reveal a bunch of crispy green grapes, nectarines, watermelon and ripe strawberries. You take a strawberry and enjoy its sweet coolness across your lips. A perfect beach breakfast. You smile, engaging in a cheerful conversation that soon dies away as the sun sends you both into drowsy silence.
You close your eyes and hear the sounds of the beach all around you. Cheery laughter, sunscreen bottles clicking closed, a shuffling of feet close by, occasional outbursts of loud laughter and the heavy splashes of people frolicking in the waves. You open one eye and peer at the middle aged Greek ladies proudly displaying their slight ponches and legs complete with a touch of cellulite. They laugh and recount stories in their own language while sunning themselves. You notice they're set up for the whole day. Food, and drinks, books and sunscreen - everything a close knit group of friends will need. You know they won't hit the books, they've got too much to talk about. You grin to yourself. You much prefer these real creatures of life and laughter to the gaggle of silent but deadly young things further down who look like they've had one too many days in the sun and are much too conscious of looking the part of the beach-goer. Give it a rest girls, this ain't LA you think.
The best part of the afternoon ticks by as you doze, and talk and imagine and sigh. The water feels like a silky awakening and you are christened by a new feeling of contentment. Hallelujah! And under you go again.
By the time you both pack away the makeshift picnic the beach dwellers have tripled. The sand is a patchwork of gaudy tends and Pisa tilted umbrellas. Making your way back to the car is always a challenge with your head weighted with daydreams as it is today. You smell a little bit like cocoa butter and sunscreen, ice-cream and sand all mixed together with a pinch of salt. It's a nice smell. You smell like summer.
Labels: breakfast, endless summer lift the curse, friends, holiday, lazy holiday, peaceful, real women
Monday, November 12, 2007
Time is on the table and the dinner's cold
Earlier this year when #1 and I heard that Crowded House were reforming for a concert tour we decided that we'd risk the dreaded 'old band getting back together and they might not be as good' syndrome that seems to be taking over the world and go see them anyway. I'm glad we did - yes it was a throwback to better times but it was also sincerely a magical night. Back in 1996 when CH had their farewell concert in Sydney, #1 and I conspired to go but since I had no car (or license for that matter) and there was no way in hell her beat up car would make it up the Hume Hwy - we had to miss out. Flying up was a no go, with both of us struggling with weekend jobs and a poor uni lifestyle. I sat on my living room couch and cried while watching it televised on the tele instead.
Years later when drummer Paul Hester tragically took his own life I had the same reaction. He was my favourite member - purely for the quirky humour he carried with him, in a public sense if not anywhere else. I remember being very young (about 9 or 10) and just adoring him. It's always the funny guys that get me where it counts. It broke my heart when he died. It still breaks my heart. I suspect that there may be a few differing opinions on this - and maybe some stories to the contrary (I don't want to know if there are) but all the good ones seem to go early.
So last week, leaving the bub behind #1 and I made our way through a perfect spring evening, no clouds hanging over the domain; yes only one season to contend with - and had a few emotional heart strings tugged by an otherwise forgotten favourite band. Who knew they could still do that? We were also serenaded by a drunk guy sitting in front of us but that's another story (I love freaks).
I think Crowded House will always hit an emotional chord with me. I remember feeling so excited by the song Sister Madly, which caused me to bounce around joyously from lounge chair pillow to pillow as a little one. I thought they were singing about me; after all I was a sister and sometimes I did step on bro's head, just like the lyrics mentioned. Not long after, I remember watching the video clip for one of their better known songs Better be Home Soon one morning on Video Hits and feeling the tears fall down my face. I still don't know why that happened but I remember it clearly, as if it was yesterday. One second I was watching the television and feeling normal and the next I was ambushed by a state of desperate sadness - the song was so true of things I didn't even know about yet - which sounds weird I know, but I understood the song on an emotional level even though I hadn't experienced that kind of longing Finn sang about yet. I remember arguing over the correct lyrics to Don't Dream it's Over on the phone with #1 (obviously this was before the internet and thus all the information we could ever want at our fingertips was in every household) and laughing like a maniac at the song Chocolate Cake - which I can't stand now but loved the ridiculousness of back then.
Nowadays it's these two songs that do not fail to give me goosebumps.
Four Seasons in One Day, for its sublime Melbourne references that you only understand if you live here and now forever Paul Hester's tribute (the Melbourne boy). For the little lump that catches in my throat every time I hear it and the gorgeous imagery in my head.
Four Seasons in One Day - Crowded House
Private Universe, which always starts with a tingle at the back of my neck, floating down my shoulders and finally settling in the pit of my stomach. This one, is really my song. I just get it.
Private Universe - Crowded House
It's funny how that works - when songs mean something to one person only and no matter how hard you try to make someone else feel the significance as deeply as you do, they can't because they simply aren't you.
(don't worry, I haven't forgotten Split Enz)
Years later when drummer Paul Hester tragically took his own life I had the same reaction. He was my favourite member - purely for the quirky humour he carried with him, in a public sense if not anywhere else. I remember being very young (about 9 or 10) and just adoring him. It's always the funny guys that get me where it counts. It broke my heart when he died. It still breaks my heart. I suspect that there may be a few differing opinions on this - and maybe some stories to the contrary (I don't want to know if there are) but all the good ones seem to go early.
So last week, leaving the bub behind #1 and I made our way through a perfect spring evening, no clouds hanging over the domain; yes only one season to contend with - and had a few emotional heart strings tugged by an otherwise forgotten favourite band. Who knew they could still do that? We were also serenaded by a drunk guy sitting in front of us but that's another story (I love freaks).
I think Crowded House will always hit an emotional chord with me. I remember feeling so excited by the song Sister Madly, which caused me to bounce around joyously from lounge chair pillow to pillow as a little one. I thought they were singing about me; after all I was a sister and sometimes I did step on bro's head, just like the lyrics mentioned. Not long after, I remember watching the video clip for one of their better known songs Better be Home Soon one morning on Video Hits and feeling the tears fall down my face. I still don't know why that happened but I remember it clearly, as if it was yesterday. One second I was watching the television and feeling normal and the next I was ambushed by a state of desperate sadness - the song was so true of things I didn't even know about yet - which sounds weird I know, but I understood the song on an emotional level even though I hadn't experienced that kind of longing Finn sang about yet. I remember arguing over the correct lyrics to Don't Dream it's Over on the phone with #1 (obviously this was before the internet and thus all the information we could ever want at our fingertips was in every household) and laughing like a maniac at the song Chocolate Cake - which I can't stand now but loved the ridiculousness of back then.
Nowadays it's these two songs that do not fail to give me goosebumps.
Four Seasons in One Day, for its sublime Melbourne references that you only understand if you live here and now forever Paul Hester's tribute (the Melbourne boy). For the little lump that catches in my throat every time I hear it and the gorgeous imagery in my head.
Four Seasons in One Day - Crowded House
Private Universe, which always starts with a tingle at the back of my neck, floating down my shoulders and finally settling in the pit of my stomach. This one, is really my song. I just get it.
Private Universe - Crowded House
It's funny how that works - when songs mean something to one person only and no matter how hard you try to make someone else feel the significance as deeply as you do, they can't because they simply aren't you.
(don't worry, I haven't forgotten Split Enz)
Labels: endless summer lift the curse, feelings, finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain, memories, musical monday, nostalgia
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