testing..

Just logged in and created a dating profile pretending I am up north already.. just testing the waters really..

In ten days I will be 39.
My birthdays always make me feel a little out of control. I guess instead of a nose-ring this year I am getting crazy and posting a picture on my profile..

Jeezus..

How did I get to this age with my immaturity still intact?
It’s a feat.. I tells ya..

moments..

Truly snatching moments on the internet lately..
My office: has been without internet since mid December and will remain web-less for at least another two weeks..
My home: has been web-less since the replacement power cord [I bought on ebay for $40] for the laptop went kafffffut. What happened to the original cord? The dog chewed through it in his first weeks.. Why is my homework late? The dog ate.. through my AC Adaptor.. true..

Sigh..
Boring but true.

I’ll be back soon.. promise..
Just know my life is in turmoil a bit..
But I am happy.
Regardless of access to the internet.

countdown..

The universe has given me an arse kick and made some decisions for me it seems.

A couple of years ago a friend asked me where I was on my path.. I seem to have sat down to have lunch and a bit of a lay down I replied..

It’s really peculiar – but I seem to have cleared my head – stood up – picked up my suitcase – and started tramping on a path that seems right.

While shopping the other day, in my chosen town, I came across a neon sign on the side of a shed..

LOVES BUS SERVICE

I smiled and imagined a big old 1950’s bus pulling up in a dusty small town.. Paul Newman (or a Paul Newman type person) stepping out of it, swag on his shoulder.. summing up his first impressions, in a sweeping glance finding somewhere to get himself a tall cool drink..

I reckon I’ll be hanging around that bus depot.. you know.. just in case..

ninety minutes..

it took just ninety minutes to turn my life upside down. I reckon i had them in 5.. I teared up after about 10 talking about the transformative possibilities of art. But. Truly it was like some interview angel was sitting on my shoulder whispering the most evocative examples in my ear.. From beginning to the ninety minute [near] end of the process i have recieved strong signals. Strong strong signals. Like the dream the night before the interview.. I gave birth to a girl and called her Lila. When i told this to the woman who interviewed me.. She said the last girl who had the position left when she had a baby.. Girl.. She named Lila.. [true i couldn't make this up if i tried..] So. I have a real estate agent [who was in a recent project] and a Community Development worker With the local council [who organised the launch for our recent project] looking for a place for me to live.. God love small communities.. They couldn’t be happier to have me.. And that’s a nice place for me to be.. [i'm writing this on my phone from a motel.. Off to Melb today.. Not home.. Not anymore..]

i’ve been away..

Here is a still taken from a film my father took of my brother and sister back in 1964.
The quality isn’t great – but if you have read the previous post you will realise how important this image might well be.
I wanted to post the whole little short film this image was taken from.. my brother peddaling the trike flat out.. reaching the end of the path.. turning the trike around (you remember how back in those days you turned a trike around – by lifting it up by the handlebars and yanking it around onto it’s two rear wheels .. forgetting momentarily the little baby sister in the back – and nearly tipping her out, crack, on her head.. nearly.. but not quite..)

Anyway. Just wanted to share. Also wanted to say I haven’t been deaded in the terrible bushfires down here – all though the smoke has been thick enough to make our throats sore and our eyes water.. awful.. awful.. The stories of survival and sadness are swirling around us all. It is a terrible and courageful time. Our own tragedy to put into closer perspective lives lost through wars, famine, flood and earthquake, hate and neglect.

I am pretty groovie. My interview is on Thursday. There are only two of us going for it now. I’d have to be a prize fuckwit to muck it up.
I have been known to be a prize fuckwit – often.
For those pray-ers out there.. please spare me some time in your thoughts on Thursday, mid afternoon Australia time.

a nice housewarming [as opposed to the other we have had lately]..

One of the reasons why I can contemplate moving from my cosy niche in the city to take up residence in a country town is family.

Close?

Not so much.

My family and I are planets apart, even though the furthest I need to drive to see one of them is around 2 hours. Two sisters, one brother, one parent. In many ways the sister who lives closest is furthest away from me. We grew up sharing a room and competitive. I was almost 8 years younger – so I had the cute and spoiled thing covered. She was quietly murderous from the first time she saw me. She had to be restrained several times from causing me pain [or more pain if she had already started hurting me]. Her excuse always the same.. I was showing her [me] that prickles/barbed wire/rose bushes/cats claws hurt and not to touch them.. I often bled but rarely let out more than a stoic whimper when she was teaching me things..

She is also the sister who, Christmas Lunch 1999, champagne toasted the table with I am clinically depressed, drugged up to stop me thinking of killing myself.. and Mother.. it is all your fault.
She is also lovely and funny and protective and neat.. A social climber [doesn't appear one skerrick depressed] she introduces people by titles, job roles and income earned. True. It’s a bit of a headfuck for me. But apparently people on the social climb do that sort of thing.
[actual example.. This is my sister K, she is in Education and is married to a property owner. The property brings in six figures per annum. Sister K is a Primary School Art Teacher and is married to a Dairy Farmer who tools about on tractors all day.. ]
She blames mum for her depression.. because.. she has no baby photos. She is absolutely sure she was not wanted or loved.. based on the lack of baby photos. True.
There is Super8 film footage of her.. but not one actual photo.

Anyways.

My sister S is divorcing her husband and will be moving out into a place she has bought in a couple of weeks time.

I have found the film footage of her – that my mother has cut into one meter strips – and sent the damaged film off to a restoration type place down south east of Melbourne.
They called me today to tell me they had put all the film footage onto a dvd, had found some lovely still shots and had placed them on a cd and would be sending it back tomorrow in the post.

For my sister’s housewarming gift, at age 46, she will receive a disk of film footage and some still images framed up of her as a baby and as she was taking her first steps.
Even though we are not close.. even though she tried to kill me.. even though I feel like I am a loner disconnected from my blood.. I tear up when I think about what I am doing. I want so badly to have a strong relationship with my family.. but we just have never managed it. It’s so hard.. the thinking about the wanting and not having.

In other news. This week an x-ray revealed I have an extra vertebrae.. does that mean I am highly evolved?

communication.. works only if it is a two way street..

OK. So I am guilty of taking a month to respond to a text.. an email.. a blogpost.
But.. truly. How exasperating is it when someone asks you a question.. you answer.. and then they.. just.. disappear of the communication planet without any explanation as to why they asked you the question in the first place?

For example..

hemail: Were you thinking about me..?
memail: Actually, yes I was!
*silence*

hetext: How’s things with you?
metext: My things are great.. tell me about what’s going on in your thing world..
*silence*

It’s like.. mid send.. he thinks.. Shouldn’t have done that! I’ll just pretend it never happened.

Grrr.

you know how taz is famous..?

Well he is even MORE famous now!

Click here for more Taz captions.

message..

The [brief] return of Mr 8.5 was a curious thing today. We have not spoken for a few months. Shame has kept me away from him and held me hostage to his messages since October. I was lucky to have another chance today – I know this much about him, he is not sentimental and is not one to ‘harp on’ over relationships lost. He must genuinely miss me to try and pick up some parts of the fractured past, still, after all these months.

I need to spit out my shame. It was not me that behaved badly, yet I have owned it for these past few months. Keeping it inside is making a hole in the pit of my gut.

Maybe a catch up with 8.5 is what I need to lose it. I’ll call tomorrow.

Is anyone else holding onto shame and bad feelings in the pit of your gut for something that you didn’t do?
This is the weekend to let it all out. Get rid of whatever is making you feel nasty. Deal with it. Start next week whole and happy.

apologies..

Questioned about whether I would take Taz to the country if I had to relocate.. My answer was this.

I am not sure. I have such a strong support network here, he either goes to work with me, goes to stay with an ‘aunty’ or stays at home with the housemates.. I am not sure I would have that support somewhere else. He might stay here for a little while until I figure it out..

You can’t LEAVE HIM! He is your SOULMATE!!

And with that exclamation I realise how terribly boring my life has become.. A dog.. as my soulmate..
I am sorry. At the moment it is the best I can do.