my first day at school

In Australia the school year in feb to dec. to start kindergarten you have to be 5 by the end of June of the school year. BUT you must also be 4 and 9 months, so technically you have to be 5 by the end of april. OR you could be me and start school when you are 4 and 9 months - mid march!

I started school after everyone else. I remember being taken to visit my teacher and being shown my desk with my name on it. Most of my memories from the first year of school involve sitting on the carpet with my legs wrapped around the leg of a desk.

Trip Down Memory Lane #1

I've decided to go through all my digital photos and tell some stories. these will be things i remember, fun times had, or stories behind how photos came about. the photos i'll be flicking through will be either originally digital, or already scanned - i'm not going to get my photo albums out...

So, number 1.

I'm about 3 years old in this pic, but i remember it. Scary had made the indian outfit at school and i wanted to have a photo with her. Scary only wanted a photo if i could do the arms right, and i really struggled - kept crossing them instead of laying them alongside each other. It took ages to get this pic, or it felt like ages at the time... I still have those little red shoes too.

gender...

so, i am currently researching the story of Chaz Bono for a uni assignment. really interesting, very accessible, lots of meat to analyse.

but it's got me thinking. Cher, particularly, says "i love being a woman. If i woke up tomorrow feeling like i do and had a different body, i would be like 'get me out of here'"...

it's got me to thinking. if i woke up tomorrow and i was male, i don;t think i'd care. if i woke up female, i don't think i'd care... sometimes i go out dressed like a boy, even as far as packing, and i have seriously looked into strapping, and some days i wear a dress. i love all my skirts and dresses... so, am i really somewhere right down the middle. androgynous except for the fact that you can't hide these boobs? i have a friend who is truly androgynous, or possibly even butch, certainly in appearance but not in personality so much. spanky, referred to as male or female by different people, shaved head, always straps, wears men's clothing, doesn't pack, identifies as a lesbian...  i have a friend who identifies as Boi. always men's clothing doesn't strap, occasionally packs dates women...

so where do i fit in the slide rule of gender? some days i'd really love to have a pes, but i dn't necessarily feel the need to be male. i have never felt wrong in my body. but i also don't know that i would feel wrong in a male body either...

maybe one day i'll get some clarity on this, but till then, the word can see me as female, because it's easiest, and i don't mind.

family... huh.

Sitting in the back of the car, looking out the window. Mum and "dad" in the front, book on my lap. I could be 11 again, but the fact that i may be asked to drive belies the 31 i actually am. The farm lands we're driving through are green for a change, but the pine forest and bush land hasn't changed. the road has changed, but not the place it leads to. My grandparents house, our twice yearly holiday destination as far back as i can remember. My grandpa is turning 90. He was the age my mother is now when i first met him. He too, has hardly changed, if you ignore the hearing aids and the fact that he only bush walks now, having been forced to give up the tennis just last year. We're on our way to a big family shindig, something i would have groaned about recently, but am now learning to appreciate, as these are the people who don't leave, the ones i can always drop in on, unannounced, even on christmas day, and be welcomed and fed. Being fed is important ;). I'm almost old enough now to fit in with all the adult conversations, which is good as i am the oldest of the cousins by a good 12 years. And when i don't fit the convo, there is always aunty colleen. Love her. Married into this crazy family late, being the second wife of my oldest uncle. But she fits right in and quickly became my favourite on this side. No fuss, no nonsense. Couldn't give 2 hoots who i sleep with (though if any of my family do care, they hide it well). There will be family i don't know, haven't met yet. Some of my mums cousins. Not sure if the kiwi set are coming. I guess it's possibly a bit much to expect great aunt marjorie to be here, as i think an international flight at around the 90 yrs old mark would be a bit tough. But who knows. Tonight is take out dinner at the house, just family. I'll count how many and post later, but i'm guessing well over 20. Then tomorrow is dinner out - 90 years of friendships, work colleagues, societal peers - again, i'm thinking it'll be a big one!

life is beautiful.

this week work has been pretty hellish. 2 days in a row my staff didn't show up. do you know how much it sucks having to call people at 6am to ask them to come to work? and when that fails having to work alone for 3 hours? not so much fun, really. 

but, there are a few really happy bubbles going on at the moment. i got into uni. i am dating. choir is back and awesome. i am actually going to be able to survive whilst at uni.

so therefore work wasn't hell this week, it just sucked.

that is all

happy family...

there is a family out west. 2 mums, 2 kids. people look at this family and see happy. they see perfect. they see a dream. what they don't see is that the older child has. had. another mother. it isn't the perfect family, there is another person in all of this who isn't part of the dream, the happiness, the perfect. but no-one ever mentions that, do they. no-one ever "needs to know" about the past. lets just keep it all about perfect dreams and happiness.

that is all.

the new year....

ok, lets start with a random. i'm sad. i know what would make me not sad, but i am avoiding it because long term i need to get over it. on a more short term thing, i don't have a no-one i can talk to anymore. no real space to vent. my housemate knows all my posting places online (pretty sure she hasn't found this one yet) and she's too close to home, literally. if i post something that says i'm sad - i don;t want to get questioned on it, i just want to vent, just talk. to no-one in particular.

Today i sat with friends drinking beer, eating good food, feeling left out and sad. it was nothing any of them did, just a way i felt for a while. one friend noticed and asked me, i didn't want to make a big deal of it though. and after a bit, i was fine again. i don't exactly know what was going on, but it was there, and then it went.
i may just be tired. i've had a few big days. i've felt like crying fairly often, and have been triggered by the smallest things. walking around a ferry this morning with a 15 month old and i had to hold back tears. i love that little girl, she is so sweet. but she reminds me of so much pain that some days it's just hard to be with her without wanting to scoop her up and cry on her shoulder.

maybe i just need a few days of alone time, but i don't want to be alone. it leads to the sad. i don't feel like it's helping me settle emotionally. i dont feel like being alone is doing me any favours. but i also don't really have anyone i can just go and be with without ending up right back at the beginning of this post...

but...

moving on to the new year...

2011. a year when i may get into university. i may become a student. right now this concept makes me want to cry (not much of a surprise there) and excites me too. i have no idea what to expect. i already feel like it will be more than i can handle. everything i have one in the past year proves that this is not the case. not only can i handle it, i can do well at it. i just need to put my head down and my tail up and work.

well, that was that thought... the other day i managed to make myself completely miserable with an entirely hypothetical situation. how would i break the news of me being pregnant to a friend who had been trying to get pregnant for years. now, i'm not pregnant, and right now i'm not even trying. but i can imagine nothing crueler than having to tell a friend who has failed again and again to get pregnant that i have succeeded where she has not.

that is all.

it's christmas time in the city...

As far back as i can remember, christmas has included a trip to the opera house. A mango all for myself. A Darell lea christmas pudding.
more recently, it has included sleeping on my mothers sofa.
for many many years there has been a lunch that starts with smoked salmon and ends with the most decadent desserts!
So many little things make up christmas to me. the smell of pine is a must. Jacaranda trees, gardenias.
finding that perfect little gift, nothing big or flashy, but special to the person receiving it. sometimes even a pair of undies will fit the bill...

I hope you have all the things that mean christmas to you.

that is all.

???

so, when someone tells you they don't want a hug because they have been crying for about 5 hours, and hugging you would just mean more crying, do you feel good or bad? when the same person thanks you for imaginary hugs, because that's all they are brave enough to face, do you feel good or bad? do i feel bad that she cried alone for 5 hours when she could have called me for that hug? do i feel good that my hugs are a safe enough place that she feels she can cry there?

it's hard, and it leaves me feeling neither good or bad. closer to impotent, and un-useful (which is different to to useless).

that is all...

"what have i done so far"

everyone loves a list. or if not everyone, then me. i love a list. today i read a list that i want to replicate.

What have i done so far.

i am not going to write this list right now (it's after 11pm, and i have to be on a train in 5 hours. now is not the time to write a good list). i will come back to this over the next few days, in and out, and make a list of things i have done. the point of this list is to remind myself on the days i am not so confident that i have done some amazing things since leaving high school.

______________________________________________________
\

ok, so it's been a good number of days since i started htis. right now i am exhausted. i've barley been home since 5am tuesday (now 6pm friday) i can't think... i might get back to this one day.
Also, i am apparently merciless, in the best possible way!

you said i don't push for anything, and i'm really glad you said that/hoping you really meant it. and i'm really trying very hard not to push. coz right now i want.

rivetting

best convo ever!!!

me

i wanted to write my story. an ordinary girl living in a small big city. nothing special about me, except maybe that i have a good brain that i don't use. i don't have any amazing hidden skills and talents, i have a cat who likes to sit on my keyboard, but apart from that, i'm just like so many other people in this small big city. i was born in the suburbs, and raised by my mother. i never wanted for anything, and it wasn't until much later in life that i looked back on my childhood and realised that we were - i don't know, maybe not poor, but definitely a low income family. i went to the local public school, joined the local brownie pack, did a selection of all the usual sports growing up, with a liberal helping of dance, but i never really excelled at any of it. i was proficient, and i had fun, but i wasn't ever going to be a super star. i played piano, and i sing, and i played cello. again, i enjoy doing it, but i am never going to be a super star. i went to a public selective high school where i under performed to the best of my abilities, and basically failed high school (remember what i said about not using that brain?). since then i have worked and traveled, enjoyed my life, and not enjoyed some parts of it. i've been a home owner, and i've been a pet owner. i had boyfriends growing up, and girlfriends now i've grown up. i'm like so many other people out there.

but i have had some amazing experiences, and i know some truly amazing people. and i'm a good person. mostly.

being an ordinary person, and having an ordinary life, isn't a bad thing and doesn;t have to be boring. i love it. and i wouldn't change my life for the world.

that is all.

omg

knowing the truth.

so worth it.

that is all.

language and perception...

read this. if you wanna. if not, let me paraphrase. (but really it's an interesting read....)

the language we speak apparently effects our perception of events. in english, if i was to knock a mug off a table, whether accidentally or not you'd say "trip broke the mug" and you would remember that it was me. if you are a native spanish speaker you would say "the cup broke" and probably not remember that i had any input at all. Indonesian speakers would look at three sequential pictures of a man kicking a soccer ball and say for all of them "the man kick the ball", and not really notice that the three pics are different...

now, with that as back ground knowledge. we have attitude patches at work. lots of them. i tend to wear the one that says single. we are meant to wear two, sometimes i wear two that say single... the store owner came in today and gave me "flirtatious" to wear with my single... hours later a guy came in and noted the "flirtatious" and made a comment. the other manager told me he was totally flirting with me. i hadn't even noticed. i'm gay, i don't notice if guys flirt with me. if he'd been a girl i might have.... quite probably.
made me think though. is language the only thing that impacts what we perceive.

that is all.

the world is unfair in my favour

and yet i still think it's unfair. i got a really good mark in my final assignment. really. SOOOO much better than i thought i would. it was apparently my best work.

now here is my problem. i don't think i earned the mark i got. i did some work, but i'm sure there were people in the class who worked WAY harder than me. i have a brain, it obviously works well. i went to a selective high school and we were all marked at a very high standard, as you would expect when you are in a school that is apparently made up of the top 2% of the state brain wise... to do well in that environment you really had to work hard.
now i am being marked in, what i will term, a very comprehensive fashion. against a class that fits the societal average brain wise.

and it's freaking me out because i don't feel like i have earned the mark i got. seriously, i was almost not going to hand anything in because i felt i had really flunked it. it was a bad week, my heart wasn't in it. i considered putting in a request for compassionate consideration.

but i handed it in, and got a high distinction which i will not be complaining about.

but it still feels unfair, even if it is in my favour...

that is all.

24 hours with trip...

11:30pm wednesday. get off the phone.
get distracted by youtube videos of Megan Washington
sleep for about 3 and a half hours.
wake to the alarm at 4:45am.
start work at 6am.
have a perfectly lovely, if a little weird, day at work.
be tired enough to read "it's just me. hold on." as "just hold me."
head home and strip the bed. be aware the cat is doing his usual psychotic reaction to the sheets being changed.
stop making the bed between stripping and re-sheeting.
take a phone call.
get attacked by the cat. 2 major scratches, three lesser scratches, half an arm of small scratches and punctures.
yes the cat is still nuttz, even when medicated..
run out of time for a nap...
grab a slice of garlic bread and a choc croissant for dinner... at 6pm.
choir rehearsal. again good, but odd.
almost fall asleep at choir whilst scratching the back of the guy next to me.
go to work for a hot choc after choir with the gang.
end up working for a few mins coz we are a big group and it's really helpful to have an extra set of hands.
when leaving the cafe, miss he last step and fall to your knees, skinning the heels of both hands whilst ur at it...
drive home, listening to more Washington.

i am exhausted, it's now 12:20.
i will wake up sore tomorrow...

that is all.

mornings...

The sounds of the morning are few, and all hidden under the wind, and the sound of my own breathing after a half walk/half run to the station because my hot shower was just too good to get out of. There is a rooster crowing, though how he knows the sun is coming is beyond me, as my eyes see not even the slightest hint of colour in the east. There is a dog barking, probably in response to the crowing, but i'm sure the neighbours would prefer that canine alarm clock went off a little later.
I listen to the rustle of leaves between the time markings of the animals, and think i hear my train in the distance. I'm not sure if i believe my ears, and start to tie my shoe laces, but the noise swells and my eyes confirm that i need to work a little faster on those laces, which are so easy to control when there is no cat attached to one end.
The train arrives, and it smells like morning. A sickly sweet soapy smell that reminds me this is one of the first trains of the day, and as such, it has come directly from the yards, and still smells of the cleaning products of large institutions, and that the few small puddles are left over from a rushed mopping job, rather than a spilt drink or the too many wet feet and umbrellas of the past days.
As i sit down it's time to change my soundtrack (what did that announcement just say? Surely it must have been 'dulwich hill'). Head phones in, and the squeak of carriage coupling is muffled already. Expert thumbs on a touch screen and Anya Marina starts singing to me. The next announcement is clearly marrickville (clearly?) but it is only half heard over the subversive lyrics of a singer whose age is apparently a state secret (maybe 29 at the time of recording this song, an educated guess).
The doors open and it must be redfern. I didn't hear (or understand) the guard, and i can see no sign, but there are more platforms but less ceilings than other stations on this line. The train (still sickly sweet, how much longer till i can breath stale air?) pulls away, and the sign that says redfern glides past (2 more stations, just breath shallow for 2 more stations).
Platforms as far as i can see means we're now at Central, my fellow morning life forms and i, half awake, barely functioning as humans, heads bowed, eyes open, but blank stares at nothing show the time more clearly than any clock can. The sun is not up as the train enters the tunnel that indicates i'll soon be able to breath more easily.
Ah, the fresh? air of an underground station, cleaner than a new york subway station, but not as fresh as what i am walking towards. Not as cold either.
Through the ticket gate with experienced fingers in charge of my ticket, my exit, working on a subconscious level, because cognitive function hasn't made it that far yet.
23 mins to make a 10 min walk uphill. Slower now than my early morning trot as i have the luxury of excess minutes on my side, and still no hint of sunrise.
One hand employed to tuck in my singlet, the other to pull up my hood. I'm glad of the memories wrapped around me, keeping me warm against that wind pushing me towards work (caffeine calling me). The memory of italy in a north face jacket, bought by my sister to ward off an italian winter more bitter and biting than this winter morning could ever hope to be. The scarf made of a fine black knit material, as soft and lovely as your favourite t-shirt, now holding the memory of being wrapped around my neck by a beautiful woman, whose name is all i know, yet.
Still standing still, waiting for the lights to change in my favour (surely i'm not so focused (half asleep) as to have missed the tell tale beep of the crossing letting me know it's my turn?). The van pulling off before the lights have changed, knowing the pattern so well that his light is green before he enters the intersection.
And i am sick of standing still with this cold hand tapping my back, looking for little ways to get in and give me a chill, so i cross against the lights, asking my brain to engage long enough to get me to the other side without mishap.
Up the hill, past the bakery (open for hours already), the pubs(just closing) and the coffee shops (just opening - i still have 10 mins).
Still no hint of the sun (where is it hiding today?) as i face the last two blocks, the blocks that encourage me to keep my head down and keep walking as harmless drunk homeless people ask me for change that i can't afford to spare today. Past the newsagent that i have to come back to soon, and to the final set of lights. The last open pub at my back, and the first, faintest, lightening of the sky.

My working day begins.

cigarettes and arrogant french girls

are things i shouldn't have - but for some reason they are both things that i kinda want...


I've had so much to write recently that i've written nothing. about the girl who nobody likes at first, but once you get to know her she's fine. about being single when you're sad and the poetry that comes with it - incomplete, forever. about the really sad book i am reading - that i have to read - that is so beautifully written that i want to read it. and also about the fact that the time that these things have chosen to be written about is the middle of my work day - day 4/8 and one of 11 shifts in 12 days.

So, here i sit, scribbling on paper far too small to contain all these big things, wanting a cigarette, and wondering what it was about that slightly arrogant french girl that got me wound up...

The boss here, has a reputation... I knew her when we were both in our early teens, she is a yr or two older than me. Not much now, but enough then. She was just generally superior to me in the way she acted, but never outright mean, and i didn't hate her. Now, people who meet her think she is not nice, but everyone who has worked with her or known her for a few months always says, you just have to get used to her. And it is so true. But it got me to thinking, would i really want to be the girl that you "just have to get to know" to like???

as i drove to work last weekend, watching the road through tears, i was thinking it was times like these that i miss having a partner. someone to hold me while i cry. and these four lines of poetry came. i will post them here, rather than over with the rest of my poetry as it is very short, and will never be more than these 4 lines...

Dry your eyes baby girl,

no-one's coming for to help you

wipe your tears on your own sleeve

there's no-one to hold you now.

Beloved, by Toni Morrison. read it. but maybe read it when the sun is shining in your life, coz it's a tough read. and if you know nothing about the history of slavery in America i believe it would be even tougher... I have to read it for class, but i'm glad to have discovered  it, because it is brilliant - but its affecting me... it's not helping me be happy...


and now it seems


that is all...

meh

i hate meh. it sucks. then after the meh creeps in the paranoia. which sucks even more.

That is all.