Change the clocks, please!

Queensland does not ~do~ daylight savings. They have had several referendums on the matter, and it is rejected each time, with the overwhelming issues seemingly to do with the fact that people cannot grasp that to change the clocks is not to ADD an hour of daylight, but to adjust when it occurs.

Reasons to reject daylight savings include; kids will get more sunburns, quiet evenings at home will be ruined by people running lawnmowers at night, kids won't go to bed early enough if it is light outside, people won't wake properly if it is dark outside, people will have more accidents because they are tired. There is a joke running around that other reasons included cows will be confused about when to milk and curtains will fade quicker with more sun exposure, but these reasons at least seem to be myths.

But seriously- it is well light bow shortly after 4 am as summer begins here. But it is dark at about 6:30 pm. WTF? My body clock is adjusting an I'm waking far too early to be reasonable.

On the other hand, being awake at that hour has led to me appreciating the spectacular birdlife in my area. In my backyard this morning was a Major Mitchell Cockatoo;



A couple of bellbirds, with the most amazing calls;



And of course, the ever-present but still delightful Kookaburras;



There are some benefits to being alert at this hour- but by 9 pm tonight I'll be yawning and desperate for bed.

Maybe I'm just getting old?

Wanderlust

I love this track. Sean sent it to me when he and I were still an online promise of things to come, and I fell in love with the melancholic beauty of it's lyrics. It captures so much of what I feel as someone who has traveled so much, lived in so many cities, left so many friends behind.

A few weeks ago, I was missing my grandmother's jam. A couple of days ago I got an invite to my friend's upcoming birthday party home in Newfoundland. Last night, I had a chat with Paula.

All things combined, today I'm restless. I miss my people. I want to bring my husband, my girlfriend on a trip around the world and show them all my favourite places, favourite spaces, favourite faces.

Life is tremendously good right now.I feel blessed, lucky, peaceful and content with my lot in life. Summer is just rolling in, my coursework is nearly done, our social life is, if anything a little TOO full at the moment. I'm surrounded by happiness and love.

So why is it that I have the overwhelming urge to leave it all and go somewhere?

Birthday Reflections

I turn 37 this week.

In his 37th year, Michelangelo finally finished painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

In his 37th year, Charles Dickens penned David Copperfield.


I don't know what I will do with my 37th year. But I know I've had a hell of a blast getting this far.

I've been in love.
I've been married. I've been Divorced.
I've been married again, knowing the first was not a mistake. It was what it was.
I've been an alpha and a beta in a poly relationship. I'm still learning about that.
I still fall in love easily, despite being picky about who I let into my life.
I've lived in 5 different countries. 10 Cities. Dozens of homes.
I've danced the night away.
I've a working knowledge of 5 languages. I can only speak one.
I've two university degrees.I no longer work in either field.
I've blown soap bubbles in the Vatican.
I've excavated a 4000 year old arrowhead. And the dogtags of a WWII soldier.
I've ridden the rails coast to coast in Canada. And driven the same route.
I am one degree form Kevin Bacon.
I've spend weeks meandering through New England on a road trip with no destination.
I've visited Stephen King's house. And "Dracula's" castle.
I've snorkeled on the great barrier reef.
I've worked as a telemarketer.
I've visited all the tourist traps of London. And of Rome.
I've thrown snowballs on a Glacier.
I've been in Love.
I've touched a whale in the ocean.
I've dived with Seals. And I've been on safari.
I've stood on the CN Tower,The Empire State,the London eye.And I'm afraid of heights.
I've been homeless.
I've been blessed with friends close enough to become my family.
I've fired a gun.
I've watched a child be born. And I've held a loved one as they died.
I've been arrested and held overnight.
I've made a fan belt out of pantyhose. But I've never put air in a tire.
I've been to Stonehenge at solstice.
I've been an extra in a movie.
I've stood on the easternmost point of North America. And the northernmost of Europe.
I've been to Patpong.
I've been fired. And I've quit without notice.
I've hiked the Fjords of Scandinavia. And looked 1 km, straight down a cliff-face.
I've kayaked the ocean at midnight, during 24 hour sun.
I've appeared on-stage. And forgot my line on opening night.
I've rescued a bat. And a baby seagull. Both were successfully released.
I've had 11 different species of pets. 13 if you count people :)
I've broken bones doing something foolish.
I've been in love.


What a wonderful life!

Compulsions

Everyone's got em. Whether you are on of those people who simply has to straighten up a painting that squish on a wall, have to fold your towels a certain way, must point out incorrect spelling, have to load your dishwasher a specific way. Do you put your socks on first or last?

I wind up being mommy, or a caretaker to just about everyone in my life. I have a compulsion to fix people I love- irregardless if they have asked me for help or if I should keep my fucking nose out of their business.

I've had relationships end because I interfered where I was not wanted, and I've had them end because I could not cope with my own failure when the broken things did not get fixed.

I thought I had successfully overcome this compulsion some years back. I was delusional.

Today I had someone point out that I was being insufferably rude for continuing to push their emotional buttons, and I also had to watch several people I love fall apart a little at the seams while I refrained from demanding they tell me all about it so I could make it all go away for them.

Fact is, I can't fix the world.

And that hurts.

So much sadness, so much self destruction, so much waste of a life that should consist of far more happiness and joy. The world is a place filled with people who suffer more then they need to- and I just feel like if I try just a little harder, try a new tact, find them another option that I can break through their walls and help them through their issues.

Make them happy. They all deserve to be stupendously, amazingly happy.

So why is it I am egotistical enough to think that I can deliver them onto happiness?

A moment in time...

Traveling down the motorway, hemmed in on both sides by concrete barriers due to construction, rush hour traffic just beginning- when we spot a tiny little foxie-cross dog, three lanes out, hugging the barrier, trotting up the highway to no where.

We take the first exit and circle back- the whole time I'm panicked, wondering how to safely get out of the car, and get the dog's attention without frightening him into the lanes of traffic. I almost don't want to go back- I'm sure I'm either going to find a dead dog- or worse yet, be the cause of one. But I just can't leave it to the unknown, either. I have to try.

We get back on the motorway, eyes peeled for the dog or signs of erratic traffic or an accident. But all traffic is simply stopped. It's quite eerie- just a huge narrow parking lot of bumper to bumper cars. We roll up to the column of still traffic, and can see people about 50 cars ahead, up a hill, out of their card and running about- it's obvious they are trying to catch the dog. Then a man 6 cars ahead jumps out and runs back towards us. Ahead of him is the little foxie mutt- hightailing it faster then I'd ever believed possible from such stumpy little legs. About a dozen cars behind me, it crossed the now stopped multiple lanes of traffic and shoots though a tiny gap between two concrete barrier sections- off through a grass field in a blur of legs and fur.

Hundreds of cars, even more people at a standstill during their busy afternoon, each sharing a moment of compassion, trying to save the life of an unknown dog.

And they say cats have 9 lives.

Just a quick update

We'll be moving again. The job here in Toowoomba has dried up, and as Sean's contract states he cannot do other IT work in this small town- and we have no desire to stay here- we just came for the job anyhow, we'll be off again.

I've given notice to the agency that we need to break out lease- they have been super nice about it, but they can afford to be- as we need to keep paying rent till there are new tenants! Have arranged to collect a load of moving boxes from a friend tomorrow, leave our growing collection of potted plants at hers, and store the rest of our belongings in a storage unit not this coming weekend but next so we can get the heck outta dodge. There is simply too much to do before then to get it done any faster.

We've been back and forth to Brissy and the Gold coast every few days as Sean's had a rash of interviews already- but they have been with recruiters so there was no immediate sense of how long it will be before he picks up something. But one of the recruiters from monday gone has not fronted up and forwarded his name for 5 jobs- 2 of which has offered him an interview already. One today and another on monday coming.

So we need to get the house packed and stored away and get our arses down to the city where he can be more immediately available without the hassle of the constant driving back and forth. And somewhere in the next week I'll need to drive the dogs a few hours into the outback where they will be staying with a friend till we have a new place sorted out.

I'd like a clone right about now, thanks!

Waiting games

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part
(Lyrics "Waiting Game", Tom Petty)

It's almost 4 in the afternoon. I've been waiting since 8:3- this morning to see if the boy is about to be made redundant and leave us with three months on a lease in a house we do not want and no steady income.

We'd planned to move to the coast in May anyhow, but doing it sooner means we have no safety net in place yet, so we would need to make arrangements to exit a lease early, find money for the penalty for that and the deposit on a new one right away- or put everything in storage, board the animals out with friends, and crash with friends/mother in law/cheapie motel until we sort things out.

All of this is do-able, and really is not panicking me at all.

But fuck, do I hate waiting for the shoe to drop.

6 pm edit; They have told him he will have to wait until Friday for a formal decision, but told him to use the rest of the week making alternate plans for work.

Sneaking the boy's ritalin in the morning=kitchen bitch?

A quick pop into the shops yesterday for cat food saw me loading up the car boot with a box chick full of mixed vegetables going cheap but needing quick cooking.

And so by noon today as I write this, I've managed to cook the following;

-a large container of eggplant and tomato based cannelloni sauce,
-tonight's Sloppy Joe mix,
-the slow cooker is full to the lid with a hearty beef, pork and vegetable spaghetti sauce for the freezer,
-also, a rare treat for the doggies- a hodge podge of leftover vegetable bits, a mountain of chayote(Aussies call them Chokos) and chicken stock.
-Prawn dumpling soup for lunch today
-the start of a roast veg and chicken dinner for tomorrow night.

I've done three loads of laundry, and I am seriously considering making cookies this afternoon. I think I'm channeling Martha Stewart, but I'm not particularly bothered. Perhaps I should be.

As an aside, I almost did not get this entry written- damned blogger would not let me in claiming I was using the wrong name and password.

I had been trying to log in as "sloppywench"

Give up the Funk

A number of years ago, when things with my first husband were on the outs, I went through a deep funk. I won't call it depression for reasons too involved to get into here, it was a funk, ok?

It culminated for me one day when I spent some half hour or more standing on the end of a platform in the London Tube network. Trying to work up the energy to fall over. The next train. Ok, so the very next one I'll do it. I still remember the sound echoing in my ears, the wind whipping my hair about my face, and the smell of fuel, damp and stale urine. Each time I froze at a train, I was sure the next one would be the right one.

I'm sure there must have been literally hundreds of people on that platform with me in all that time, but I was alone in my head and did not notice till someone spoke very very softly to me- and still scared the bejesus outta me. Just a normal looking guy, business suit and breifcase, standing about ten feet away and speaking so softly I had to strain to hear him.

"Please don't do it. But if you are going to do it anyhow, please sit down and give me just five minutes of your time".

I assumed he was a jesus freak and wanted to pray for me or some such. So I sat down. I had five minutes, and while I'm an athiest, my Dad's a minister- so I felt I really should listen a while. And so I listened. He was not a religious nutter. He was just a guy who's brother used to be a tube driver. Until he collected a jumper and was out on permanent disability for the shock and trauma of watching some guy splattered over his screen.

The guy never got close enough to touch me. But he managed to haul me away from the edge that day.

The next day, I happened to met Paula, and coincidentally I started to live again.



The past couple of years the funkiness has been building again. I'd feel it coming, push it back and go one. But yesterday I caught myself reading the fine print in the life insurance policy that goes along with my superannuation (Australia's forced retirement savings plan thingamajigger). I was trying to figure out if Sean would get a payout if I topped myself- how much it would be, and if the policy was still valid as I have not worked for a while, but have still paid the fees for this year.

And so I have realized that I'm back on that edge again.

Time to back away and haul myself out of this funk.

Who's with me?

In which I come over all emo-like.

I've spent half the morning crying, giving myself panda eyes from eye makeup, and generally just being emo- all because of a well-timed email from one of my closest friends on the planet. "Friends" does not even suffice, really. I hope each and every one of you knows what I mean by this. It is my sincere wish that you all knows what it means to have acquaintances, friends, and then there are those select few confidantes that are something more then mere friend. Spiritually connected , maybe. They are the people in your life, that no matter what, know when you need them and manage to somehow reach out at the right time.

Geoff's letter started with him saying he simply HAD to write me, was driven to do so, but what not sure why.

I know why. I needed a connection to something real. I open my email, and there it was.

We live on opposite sides of the planet. We've not seen each other since 2007. But reading his email resulted in an experience much richer then words on a screen. I could hear his voice saying the words, sometimes choking up a little, sometimes with an edge of laughter. And better then that, I could smell him. Right there with me.

Bugger. Now I've gone all emo again.

If you have not guessed it, I've been having a rough few weeks.There's nothing in particular wrong. I just feel overwhelmed by Sean's depression. Guilty if I am happy, but unable to do anything to help him out of his funk.I grow more and more convinced with the passing months that anti depressants were not the answer, and in fact, I question whether he was missdiagnosed from the start and does not have depression at all. He's also been diagnosed with Anxiety and ADHD. Both of which I agree with. But the combination of a strong antidepressant, vallium and now ritalin is doing him no favours. 2 years on antidepressants with no noticeable change- except increasing anxiety attacks and chest pains severe enough to have twice landed him in emergency as we thought he was having a heart attack.

And so, this has been my life. It's only the last couple of days that I have recognized why that is getting to me so much- I'm living his life for him, doing things he needs doe to make him function- I'm not doing anything for me anymore.

I'm just feeling disconnected from life- like things are on hold till he gets better. But they have been that way for a while.

I need to start living for me again. I need to do things just for me, and I need to reconnect with my friends, my family- everything I have is a life shared with Sean.

So it is serendipitous to have words from a better-then-friend in my inbox. To remind me where I come from, what I am, and what I miss. I miss home, I miss the boys. But mostly I miss me.

Think it is time to find me again. And then, when I do, I'm going to go beat the boy with my newly- reclaimed happiness stick till it fixes what ails him.