Over and done with

It's over. And done with. Christmas.

How I miss thee already. :) Or technically, the music, the buying of stuff for others, the food excuses and generally the anticipation and excitement.

I watched "A Grumpy Old Christmas" last night, and while I understood and agreed with a lot of the complaints, I don't feel them. I love Christmas.

I feel a little lost now.

This may change when I have a life, but bring on next year - with a partner please and others' children to live vicariously through!

Christmas Eve

It's started. Finally. I get excited in about October and then wait with bated breath.

Went shopping for food and drinks earlier today. Am eternally grateful that I have an almost-standalone Woolworths so I didn't have to brave the shopping centre crush.

But I'm heading to shopping-centre-land for bon bons. Here's to getting a car park!

I am raising a glass to each and every one of you who have dropped by this blog in the last year. I hope that your Christmas goes great guns and you have an absolute blast. Check back for pics after the day.

Caelum

I know it's totally getting repetitive and showing just how clucky and lonely I am, but I just stared at my nephew for half an hour (or more) today. He is just that gorgeous.

As my sister said, 'woe betide us when you have your own.'

Moving.... again...

for the 6th time this year.

Yes, it hasn't been a whole houseful of stuff most times, but it's still maddeningly frustrasting.

Thank God that next time is for 3 years.

Another day closer to Christmas

3.5 days!
4 sleeps!

I get inordinately excited about Christmas. And I don't think it's about the presents. They're nice and all, but I really think that I get excited because I get to see people open things that I've really spent time on, and thought about how they would like it, or use it.

That, and hanging out with friends and family.

We had some rent-a-grandkids at the pre-Christmas shindig last weekend and you know what? I cannot wait until I have some of my own little munchkins to share the Christmas joy with! It made such a difference.

Anger

I've got all this anger simmering just under the surface. I need to scream. I need to punch something.

Everything is pissing me off.

The heat. My Dad. My Mum. (See? I'm an equal anger person) Money. Rain. Tea. Dinner. Sugar. Me.

And you know what's the worst thing? It's irrational anger.

Why am I mad because my Mother wants the TV she wants and doesn't want to get $1500 in cash out and give it to me? Why am I mad because I have to make dinner*?

Everything is pissing me the hell off.

Everything.

Well, not the snufflemonster or his mumma, but everything else on the planet.

Antidepressants recommenced.

* Deal for living at Dad's is that I cook my own food. I actually don't mind this; I eat what and when I want and am not guilty if I eat a sandwich instead, but the actually making of the food is pissing me off.

The Snuffle Monster

I love him. I kiss him. I tickle him. I hold him.

He snuffles. He beats me with his head. He holds my lip scratching it with his long fingernails. He vomits on me. He screams.... all the time. He lights up the room with his smile.

My nephew is such a brilliant boy.

Next Year

I've been sitting on this information for a couple of days. It's exciting news, tempered a little by fear.

I have a permanent job with EQ. Well, once I get through the eight months probation that is.

I'm not going to tell you were it is: let's just call it 'W'. I wouldn't tell you where it is anyway, but considering that there are only approximately 30 students in the high school, I don't want it known where I'm teaching. If I manage to rant on here at some point, I don't want the school easily recognisable.

I'm not saying of course that I will rant, but just that sometimes I may.

I'm a little worried about teaching in a school with so few students, but am hoping that it really suits me.

We shall find out together.

Whooping Cough

I definitely have it.

The previous doctor sucked.

The new doctor got me to take bloods and chest x-ray and he said that it was very clear that I do have it.

I called everyone, posted on FB and am posting here. Not that any of you hang with me, but I am letting people know.

I do have a disease that the government needs to be notified about you know!

My 7 week old nephew is now on 'just in case' antibiotics and my pregnant friend/s are seeing the doctor to talk about pre-symptom antibiotics.

So pissed that the original doctor just didn't take blood originally. It could have all been sorted out months ago.

I have to be careful about what I say on this blog. That's not really the point of blogs; they are a way (in my mind anyway) to let people anonymously into your thoughts and sometimes get feedback. They aren’t really meant to be read by your family, so that you have to take care of their feelings while you are processing your thoughts and emotions; kinda like a diary, but with people who can read it.


Mine isn’t. I set it up to keep people updated on my journey in England and I haven’t changed the address. I could, but ultimately I like knowing that people read it and I'm too scared to lose the followers if I remove the blog and replace it somewhere else. (Ego whore?) I know that my Dad reads it as well as some of my close friends. Other people who have found me a followed me also read it. Now, my friends can know whatever’s going on in my brain, no problem. Strangers? Bring it on. My family? I don’t want to hurt them, but I find the outlet of blogging is beneficial. While I like being alone, I hate being lonely. Massive difference. I don’t talk to people about things like this, and when I do I get people trying to 'fix' it or trying to tell me why I shouldn’t be thinking that way and so I’ve pretty much given up telling people my feelings. I need this. And I need to talk about the things I do. Just writing it in my diary sometimes isn't as cathartic as putting it out into the World.

So, Dad. Here goes. I am going to write this. I know it will most likely annoy you and if your wife reads it, it will definitely hurt her. I apologise for that. Please know that it is not my intention to hurt either of you (or my sisters if you’re reading) but I really need to write this. She wrote her interpretation of traditions on her blog and I know that it wasn't as bald as this,  I need to do this.
If you don't want to read on, that's fine - close the browser. Otherwise, I've warned you and I would appreciate you taking this as me letting my emotions out and I really hope there are no repercussions should you choose to continue.

Without further ado:


Christmas Traditions.

It appears we have none. It really upsets me. I know that we grow and traditions need to change wit us, but I can't see anything other thans P's dinner that resembels anything that I have done in the past.
 
As a kid, we went to my maternal grandmother's for a family dinner. Mostly just us and her and her epically magnificent 'roast' potatoes and half-frozen chocolate bavarian. Ot that might be just when we went for normal dinner. But it was special. No one else I knew did anything on Christmas Eve and I thought it was a really good thing to separate the families. Yes, we saw her mostly on Christmas Day anyway, but we didn't need to, we already had!
 
Then we had Santa on Christmas Day at home, then either everyone came here or we went to our Aunt and Uncles. An actual family event! Lots of people, lots of food - the only time when we had a large family. Ah, the joy. Swimming, lasagne, potato salad, pizza. Italians.
 
As we've gotten older, of course things change.
 
When our parents split up, we kept Christmas Eve as Mum's night and Christmas Day as Dad's day. It allowed Mum to go to friends and kept up the traditions. We changed the location; it became cold chicken and coleslaw on the beach watching the sun set, but it was still Christmas Eve, leaving Christmas Day open for the large family gathering.
 
Then it all changed. Because of melding families. We gained an aunt's thing the week before, wich was great a large family gathering and lots of laughter. My new sisters also had the celebration on Christmas Eve, so we had to swap. We were told we had to swap. And my original sisters couldn't understand why I was upset. I can't even really explain it, except that I still am.
 
But then of course, we lost Christmas Day as well. Yes, they've all grown so aren't large gatherings on Christmas Day, but we don't get it, 'cause we had to change to spending the day with Mum. I love her and I love spending the day with her, but her family are pretty lame and no one ever makes the effort to see each other. I miss having lots of people around.
 
When we got to about 20, my friends and I were SMSing Merry Christmas to each other and worked out that we were all free and got everyone together and went to Southbank and swam. Christmas Dinner always turned into some kind of sausage roll or chicken roll bought at NightOwl. Ewww but excellent! A tradition back in my life. That's changed as well now. There are children and people working on Christmas Night. Ok, I'm down with that - I've just made it clear I still want to see some of them on the day. If my family is going to make it a 2 hour thing 'cause the sisters with partners have to go and spend time there as well, I want to feel included and loved as well.
 
But all in all, it's changed. I hate it. And I feel guilty about it. I kinda added to it, but spending three Christmasses out of the past 5 years away. Why should I have any right to feel that things have changed?
 
I don't know, but I do. And I want some kind of tradition. Some kind of knowing that what the hell I want to do is listened to and considered.
 
'Cause of course we've know got Secret Santa because Christmas is 'too expensive'. From a family where we grew up buying everyone a present to only buying one and getting one is pants. Disgusting. That's the point of Christmas to me. Looking, scouring and really thinking about your family and finding things they'd like. Not the money. Not the getting (but of course, I like getting) but the freaking giving. But I'm not allowed to now. Oh no. But I have to spend $100 on one present when 10 usually cost $100.
 
Why does everything leave me behind? I think the tradition we have now sucks balls and I can't wait until I've got a partner who can organise a new tradition with our family.

Next door

I just got off the phone with 000. Second time in my life I've called them. That time my Dad had some sort of gastro and was being a little girl (Sorry, Dad, I know it was freaking you out and you made the right call) This time, the next door neighbours were screaming and screaming and screaming.

Normally, I would've ignored it; after the screaming that our family did before the break up, I felt horrible doing it. But I felt I had to because of her screams. She wasn't screaming in anger - I've never heard someone screaming without words so terrified. I went up the front of the house and she was screaming, "Don't Hit Me!" He was screaming, "I love you too much to do that!"

So I called my sister who works in DV and asked whether I should call them. Her words were 'yes'.

So I did.

And the instant I got off the phone, he stalked off so now I look like an idiot.

Santa, please stop here

Now, I am in a quandry. I am irritated and upset that the Christmas I grew up with is no more. It's been changing for the past seven years or so, but I wasn't ready for it this year. I'm even in that place that I can't be annoyed that the game has changed, you know, moving overseas and missing two in row... But it has, and I'm a-struggling with loss of tradition. If a new tradition was springing up, it would be a-ok, but it's just kind of a big hole.

Oh, well. Getting maudlin. I'm sure I'll be posting more about it in the next three weeks or so... but to get you started on my Christmas musings, I will let you know what I want.

(It's a blogthis challenge and Amy posted one similar and I wanted to join in on the materialistic side of Christmas.)

1. A watch. I can't read the one I have. I know, I know. But I just can't. It's a rectangular face with rectangular hands and only 12, 3, 6 and 9 on it. I can't tell where they are in the middle of those numbers. Which in itself isn't that bad, but in the middle of my secondary classes having to rely on 15 year olds to tell the time is kinda embarrassing.

I also really like kids watches. My favourite watch I ever owned had the ABC123 cubes as the numbers and pencils as the hand. (I was 24). So something like this:

Or even the one with the pirates and monkeys on it.

2. Just Dance 2, Epic Mickey or Super Mario Brothers for Wii.

3. A boyfriend. Someone like:

or

or

or even

Me, have a type? What'cha talking about?

Packed

to the rafters... the opposite way. I have nothing in my house. Well, I do, but 90% of my stuff is now in my car. I am moving to Brisbane again tomorrow.

I am trying to be thankful about what I've already got. My health. My car. My savings. A room to live in CENSORED.

My life.

8 days

Until I'm unemployed and need to move again. A new change and fresh start. :)

I'm not buying anymore food. I did this in January on this blog when I was moving from Peterborough, and thought it'd be a good thing to do again.

So. With no further ado, in my cupboard/fridge are:

NOTHING. It's all in my car now!

• 1kg of spaghetti that's been opened since May
500g of macaroni that's been open since July Pasta bake sauce
• 2 x Rigaletto napolitana sauce
1/2 pack of rice cakes
• unopened pack of sakata from August
2 small tubs unopened two fruits from August
• 1 tin of spaghetti
3/4 pack of pistachios, opened in August
• 1 tins of four bean mix
• coconut milk
mushroom soup
• weet bix lite (sorry? normal weet bix aren't good enough for you, you need Weet bix lite?)
• individual packs of nutrigrain, special K, just right, corn flakes and sultana bran li>
  
• 2 long life milk



• 2 Gatorade blues



• Golden Pash cordial



• 1 frozen lemon crumbed fish


1 duet alfredo chicken breasts

• 1/2 pack of pommes ball thingies


2 servings of frozen Steam Fresh vegies

• 1/2 potato salad


Berri breakfast juice, opened in August.
li>Unopened Orange juice from concentrate Turned out I bought this out of date. :(
• Nuttelex
• unopened crushed garlic
• tomato ketchup
• 5 Golden Pash poppers
• Parmesan cheese
• 3 large potatoes

I am not going to buy anything else this week - I can't be bothered carting it all with me. :) And I can start again. Yay! Shopping!

80 hugs

80 hugs feels good. Even if it is from 80 sweaty 16/17 years olds.

Let me explain before you get all weird wrong thoughts in your l2st century fear-fried brains.
 (I understand it; most of you are mothers)

The year 12s finish tomorrow and they had a morning tea this morning. Now, as a teacher, I was expected to go to that. *yummy, Year 11 hospitality food (sarcasm alert!)*

Halfway through this morning tea, all the students disappeared. What? Oh well, more food for us teachers.

Nope. We lined up - I was hell confused.

Then, the Year 12 Coordinator says, "When you're ready" and I notice the straight line of year 12s lined up, out into the rain.

They then passed eacch of us teachers, either hugging or shaking hands with us thanking us for getting them through.

Very sweet. But kinda wierd; I know 4 of them.

"Thanks. You deserve a hug for your work Goodwin."

Um, thanks, but who are you?

Caelum

I'm in love. Totally, irrecovably in love. His name is Caelum. That's as much as you're getting.

He's 4 weeks old.

He screams when he's tired, he screams when he's hungry, he looks past you at the birds and the wall, he holds his neck and upper body off your body 'cause the world's so interesting and he's just the ittiest bit of gorgeousness this world has ever seen.

My nephew.

Welcome to the world Mr Man.

Drive

I like to drive. I like pumping the music up LOUD and singing along (most often it's a broadway musical, hell yeah, I'm totally cool!) I like knowing that I have independance and I can do what I want. The freedom that driving has given me is great.

It has even given me a year's full of memories from when I was 19. I have no idea how we didn't die, and my children aren't driving 'til they're 21 because of it. (OK, that's an exaggeration, but I will never allow them to borrow my car with their friends at 9pm and return the car 400 kms later at 7am the next morning.

One night we drove to Surfer's to Dalby to Caloundra.

Great memories, scary memories.

Tonight I drove from my house to my Dad's where I'm staying for the weekend. I'm going to meet my nephew tomorrow and I can't wait! Last time I drove down, it took 4 hours and 5 minutes. This time it took 3 hours and 58 mins.

Braindead and suffering from white line fever. But happy and nourished.

Forgot the criteria sheets

I was supposed to go to Brisbane this weekend and would have help the little cutie who is my new nephew for the first time... but my panic kicked in and I went to the doctor about my cough. Turns out, it's most likely whooping cough. :(

So, my arms are again without a little child in them this weekend. I'm going to Brisbane next weekend, so if it is WP and I get antibiotics on Monday, I should be able to meet him finally. 2 days under a month. I ache to meet him.

I ache for him to meet my children. Who, of course, aren't in existence as their father and I have not as yet met.

It's okay though, I'll get some marking done. I've already done one entire class set, and have two more. But of course, not every kid gave a marksheet in with their assignment, and I ran out of school on Friday as I needed to make a dessert for the social evening. I didn't pick any up either. It looks like I might be going in on a Sunday (!) 'cause I want to get them done this week so they're done and not hanging over my head.

For when I leave.

Whooping Cough

I've been saying for weeks I don't have whooping cough. Just because I'm coughing and two months ago it spread through my little town like wildfire and when I'm finished coughing I have to inhale frantically to get breath. No.

I have a packed weekend - I have my BIL's 30th with people from NZ who cannot get sick 'cause they need to be healthy on their holiday, I am having lunch with 2 ladies who are immuno-compromised by the aliens in their stomachs, and my nephew will be 3 weeks old and I haven't met him yet (I live 4 hours away and I've been too scared 'cause he was on oxygen for the first 1/2 hour - I think, that's what his dad garbled to me in the 'we have a son' call.)

But tonight, I called 13 HEALTH and that nice lady said two things: I'm not describing whooping cough coughs - I'm not vomiting at the end of coughing fits, I had no flu-like symptoms at the beginning of the coughing time and I'm not whooping. Inhaling heavily and noisily, yes, but not whooping. How she could tell the difference I don't know.

Anyway, I told her about the 3 weeks old, the pregnant women and frail octogenarians at the birthday party and she said, "Go ahead."

I've got in touch with everyone and told them that this was what was said and to let me know if they wanted me to stay away. My sister said, Just don't pick the toddler up at the party, my friend (who's the mumma to my gorgeous nephew) said, if it's not Whooping Cough, it's fine, he's getting my immunity. And the immuno-compromised ladies haven't got back to me. But one of them has a one year old so logically has had the jab anyways.

But, once I'm better I'm gonna pay for all the immunisations I haven't had since I was 11 when I said at school no more. Better that than having to remove myself everytime there's an infectious disease around.

UPDATE ON THE PORN BABY!

Totally was a fake. Had to be.

But it made me laugh, so it did its job.

But I feel sorry for the innocent woman who posted her family pic and has been reported as this dumb lady to the entire world.

I guess it's another reason not to participate in non-private photo posting.

Tears

Tears welled today. They welled and welled and welled until the spilled over.

I hate crying, especially when I am at work. But I had to.

I am lonely. I am paralysed by a feeling of incompetence. I am being bullied (by the kids, it's the 'testing' period). I have to move in four weeks and I really don't want to.

I need a hug. But no one in this stupid town wants to speak to me let alone give me a hug. There are three friendly faces, all with young kids and full lives and I can't fit into the time they have. That's OK, I get it. I understand it, and you know? They are at least kind and will actually start a conversation with me.

It's the single people my age who I am angry at. None of them were raised here. None of them felt welcome when they came. But not ONE of them has attempted to make me feel welcome.

Oh, yeah, they did on the first day. I guess they scoped me out and decided, "Nope, we're not going to welcome this girl."

So, while I spend my entire day working out whether there are child protection issues going on, I want someone to notice my scars. Notice that I am drowning. I am the one who is struggling.

LOTE Proficiency

Randomly got a phone call at 10:10 this morning from the department. I get you only work 9-5, but seriously, call during normal lunchtimes.

And anyways, long story short ('cause I am sitting in my kitchen with sweat dripping everywhere and I want to go sleep) I have to do a LOTE proficiency exam. Oh dear! I don't want to... but hey, if the department wants me to, I will.

But it means another day off without pay.

Ooops!

I fell in love with this post on failblog.org today.

I generally have a chuckle, but tonight... well, my 67 year old housemate (we're living in education housing... and we don't get a choice, but it's company...) can attest to the fact that had I the ability to fall off a chair, or, like a friend I have, out from under his then-friend-now-wife (and who recently had a little cutie together, ZOMG, he's just devine, I could eat him) off a couch and roll across the floor, I would have, this ticked my bones so much.

It's like, oops, I tripped and fell on his... you know the rest.

I want to see the divorce papers!

Assignment

I've written 1/4 of my assignment more than a week before it's due. I am an assignment God!

Well, not really.

I feel like a hypocrite standing in front of my classes telling them to plan, plan, plan and get their assignment done before the due date. It's something I've NEVER done before. I don't know that it will be done this time either - I just got into a 'writing vogue' and didn't let myself get out of it.

I also got into a searching for references to fit what I've already written vogue. Right. Yep. Write it and then find references. Not really what the masters lecturers want, I so don't think. But it makes me smile.

Google scholar is the BEST invention in the history of the world. Yes, even above fire, the wheel and the engine.

Researching from your armchair? Can't get better than that!

Contract work

I hate doing contract work. Don't get me wrong; I love that I am able to get work. I'm just irritated and frustrated that I get to not have any income for at least 8 weeks and that I have to wait until someone leaves for me to get a job..

There's a saying. New teachers wait for old teachers to die.

And I hate being morbid.

Wiiiiiiiiiii!

I bought one. Haven't opened it yet. My Master's assignment (and of course, blogging ;)) comes first. There will be much wii-ige once that's handed in.

Sitting randomness

I was thinking of what to post to dip my toe back into regular blogging. I know that we all go through stages of 'yes!' blogging is the bomb and 'blergh' I just can't be bothered. But it was cathartic and I liked doing it. So, I was thinking what should I write about?

My friends having babies and me still being single? I love them and am happy for them, but a wee bit sad for me. Nah, too negative. It's not a gripe blog. Well, all the time.

My holidays and how I've not done anything I wanted to get done? Or that I missed my own space so much? Nah, that's complaining. Not for my first one back.

Then, I moved to be able to pull the keyboard tray out from under the desk at my Dad and Step-mothers' place. Ouch! I never learn!

I sit with one of my legs crossed and tucked up by the desk. And it hurts to remove it. I have to inch out and wait for my ankle bones to snap back into place. Ouchiewawa. I giggle every time I do it. And, I KNOW it's gonna hurt before I put my leg/s into that position. Why do it then?

'Cause it's damn comfy.

Rat Race

I apologise to those of you who still follow me. I am still in a funk. Working in the rat race and find myself too zonked at the end of a day. I will get refreshed on the holidays next week and update two months' worth.

Quiet

New job. No internet access. 4 hour drive to non-work blocked internet. I'll start blogging again once I get a mobile internet thinga.

Oh baby, come on now baby

Listening to a song, Pretty Young Thing, by Tina Cousins. This happens when you just burn all your old CDs from before you went overseas and were a different person. Or, in fact, a CD which was unlabelled in my Mother's cupboard. *Could have been anything!*

The baby I am saying come on to at the moment is the job baby. The one that brings a job to you. I get the concept of 'if I sit and do nothing, I won't get a job' but it's really hard. You get your positions from the government when they're damn good and ready.

I know I will get one I love in the long run.

We need rarely cover!

That means you mister!

The Abbey. One of the best days in South East Queensland. Ever. I mean it. It's just great.

There is nothing better than eating $10 lamb shanks (which I don't eat, you know, not eating lamb), walking around looking at swords and armour and watching grown men wail on each other with weapons.

Just as long as they don't drink while they're holding their 8ft tall axe.

My house doesn't

look like this. I love it though.

I am currently staying with my Dad and Stepmother while I am sans employment. They've been away for the school holidays and I've had the house all to myself! So great.

I am waiting for the government to issue me with a suitability ranking... interview. I know that I need to do that interview and it is scaring me more than lots of things have done in the past.

I think I made a mistake in going straight to the U.K. without having completed the interview first, but seriously, it was the best decision I could have made at the time. I could not have come out of doing the interview intact at that time.

I am positive I can now.

So - any of you 21 (!21! 21 people like reading this? Thanks!) followers, or any lurkers who haven't followed me that are high school teachers in the great state of QLD - any advice on 'current departmental documents' would be most welcome.

Otherwise I'm going in with UK based documents. Ooops.

Dating profile pictures

Looking at profile pictures on a few dating websites - antidepressants kicked in and I'm being proactive :) - and there are a few things I would like men to take heed of. Oh, ok then, women too.

1. If your favourite picture has a child in it, that's fine. As long as in the caption you explain who it is. It makes you look untruthful when you say you have no children, but are hugging one in your picture.

2. If you want to include a picture of your friends, that's all good too. We appreciate it. Just make sure it isn't your hottest female friend and you haven't got your arm around her. And again, explain who she is. It makes you look like you're a) cheating on your girlfriend, b) only friends with hot girls or c) not over your ex.

3. Don't use your wedding photo. No, I don't care if you've cut your wife's face out. I don't want to know that the photo you like of yourself is from your wedding.

4. Explain why you're in a tuxedo. I'm gonna assume it's your wedding.

5. Make sure your face is clearly visible. All good and well if I can see your ripped abs... but I want to know what you look like to others and not just without clothes on.

6. I looked better when I was 15 too. But I'm not. I'm 28. I haven't changed greatly since I was 26, so that's ok. I look like a different person from when I was 15. Post current pics; I'm not looking to date you 10 years ago.

Anyone else having problems with how people represent themselves? Let me know!

Dinner Party

I had one of the best nights that I've had in a long time. Way too much food, but (most of it) was healthy.

Four of my closest friends came over for dinner. Another friend and his lady came over for the nibbly portion of the evening. It was so good to see them all and talk. They arrived between 6 and 7 and I was left alone at midnight - 6/5 hours together, eating, chatting and just being together.

It was such a good thing. I'm even proud of the dinner I made.

1. Soup. Yes, OK, I made this soup on Thursday, then didn't eat it, but it heated up lovely. Pumpkin, potato, capsicum, corn, mushroom, celery, zucchi, broccoli, cauliflower.

2. Shepherd's pie. Beef mince, tinned tomatoes, corn, ketchup, spinach, carrot and potato, with a little bitty of cheese on the top!

3. Moist chocolate cake. Cake mix. I said therefore that I didn't make it.. but was told that I had to mix it and put it in the oven and I did bake it.

I had so much fun! And, the best bit? The men at the party did the washing up.  Ok, so they submerged  the base of my steamer... so I'll have to buy a new one, but they are only $20. And, I didn't have to clean up!

And today, I'm off to the Karate Kid (that everyone's calling the Kung Fu Kid) - whatever, it's got Jackie Chan in it. And Jaden Smith (groan.)

I am starting out again. Again. I have been on this journey for as long as I remember.

Going to 'Healthy Slimmers' with my mother and getting a prize when I got down to 48kgs. 1991 - I was 9. 9!!! My mother jumped on the overweight children bandwagon long before it was 'cool'.

Over the past 19 years, I have dieted. Many many times. And through many wierd and wonderful ways.

• Weight Watchers
• LA Weight loss (which is the only thing that has worked for me.)
• Cambridge
• Optislim
• Veganism
• One meal a day
• Hypnotism
• Weekly weigh ins and journal checks by the doctor (yay 6kgs in 1 year)

 Interestingly, doing this my way, the only thing that makes me lose weight is to have a sandwich and noodles every day. Very unhealthy.

  Essentially, my goals are:

 
SW: 139.8kgs
GW1: 125kgs

The lowest I've been in the last 15 years was 90kg - 14 hours of dancing a week.

Off to the doctor on Monday!

To be able to fit into seatbelts, showers, chairs. Oh, how glorious that would be!

**Oh, and if you are my family reading this, I would appreciate silent help. I do not need you to talk to me about it. I know that my embarrassment might make me eat chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.**

The Next Blog

So sometimes when I'm bored, I go to one of the blogs I follow and click the nifty 'next blog' link. Now, if I do this from my blog, it tends to take me to education sites. Not homeschooling, but schools who don't seem to understand the whole VLP thing sweeping the world.

90%* of the blogs I have found are by mothers. I like them. I'm learning some things. But I have nothing in common with them.

95%* of them are from married people, or those getting married. Again, I like living vicariously, but that's not me.

50%* of them are from devout religious people. Probably my four favourite blogs are written by LDS women and (a new found one) a deeply Christian woman who 'submits' to her husband (to the point of losing weight if he asks.) and a friend's who is also Christian. I admire them. I am envious of their faith. But again, that's not me.

Does anyone know of any blogs that are from people similar to me:

• single
• lonely
• very obese
• unemployed
• childless
• living at home with a parent.

No? I'm not surprised.

I'm in wallow land... and I apologise. I just can't seem to lift myself out.

* denotes a made up (probably overexaggerated) number. Not scientific.

Dinner

To honour my promise of a positive post, this is my dinner:

I boiled it all together for an hour and then blitzed it with a hand held bliztery-thing. It looks extremely yummy, even if it is much runnier than I would've expected. Who would have known that veges have so much water in them?

Now, I didn't actually eat it. That would be far too logical. It's in the saucepan in the fridge waiting for tomorrow.

Now, what I did eat? A full size chocolate bavarian.

*shame*

NOTE: It's 2 days later and the soup is still sitting untouched in the fridge. If it tastes alright, I think it may just be the entree' at my dinner party tomorrow night. Ewww.

Icy-cles

I don't own this pretty picture. I would've found one of my own, but I'm on my Dad's computer

http://cva.stanford.edu/images/events/cva_ski_2006/slides/IMG_6637%20sugar%20bowl%20cold%20snow%20clouds%20landscape.JPG

It's bloomin' cold. I mean it. It's like that above should be in my town. It's not though. I live in the 'northern' part of Australia. I say 'northern' cause on a map it's pretty much the middle of the country vertically. But it's still counted as north. Well, all the people from the soaps set down south either are killed off or go to 'Queensland' for the sun... not unlike the weak ending on Ugly Betty. (Which shall remain for another story)

I understand this blog is starting to be negative. (I just said, "I understand" in my head like the lovely cross-eyed beauty on the 'Say yes to the dress' ad: I know she want's mermaid shape, I understand.) I don't mean it to be; honestly, I really really don't.

On a positive note, I've added some followers because of the 50 Things post link - - quick! Go to blogthis and vote for me. Don't enter- that will decrease my chances of winning. ;)

But the chilly air is invigorating me to sleep. I just can't seem to face doing anything. Third day in a row, and I slept until 10am. Yesterday, I slept until 12:45 pm. I have to go and get my student I.D. from UQ, but am thinking it's going to be too cold to get changed.

You know that whole, "I live in the north" thing? Apparently, it doesn't get cold enough here to own a heater. Even though it's 12.2 degrees celsius.

*I feel I need to include a postscript as I am aware that 12.2 degrees is, in fact, not cold. I will attempt to explain like I have everytime I've been overseas. I live in a house that is 6-8 feet off the ground, to allow the air to circulate under the house to cool it down. It also have insulation (that didn't kill anyone) keep the heat out. Because of afore-mentioned stumps in this post-war marvel, the single pane windows don't close airtight and the open plan living means I can't close a door and be cosy. I PROMISE the next post will be positive*

Baked potato

If I had a camera, I would show you the potato I 'had' for dinner tonight. I didn't, I threw it away.

I cooked it in the oven for 40 minutes and it was still hard. I shoved it in the microwave for an additional ten minutes.

Well, the bowl is black, the house still smells of smoke and I had cheese on toast.

50 things of Reverse Culture Shock

Reverse culture shock? A lot of people don't believe in it. They've heard of culture shock, but having a culture shock (which by the way, I have an unerring desire to spell: schock - damn using German, my spelling in English is going down the drain!) when returning to the country you grew up in? How's that?

I can tell you, after three sojourns living elsewhere than Australia and living with my sister once when she returned after living overseas reverse culture shock not only exists, it makes people angry. Really angry. Bottled rage, annoyance and constant-talking-about-how-the-other-country-is-better/different-anger.

This is for the blogthis challenge '50 Things'. Now the brief was incredibly non-specific. 50 Things...


""Take your pick, this one is open. 50 things I want you to know about me; 50 things I would do if I won lotto; 50 things I want to cook; 50 things I have photographed; 50 things I want for my birthday; 50 things I would like to tell my ex.... It's up to you, whatever you want to tell your readers""

So, I thought, 50 things? What in the whole wide world am I going to write about? I just listed things about my ex and how I am better now, I hate cooking, I photograph my friends and building exclusively (which, actually, doesn't sound too bad, but I don't have files of them all), I just ask for money for my birthday.

Then I thought, hang on, what's the now-title of this blog? It's resettlement in Australia. I lived elsewhere and was going to use the blog that documented that journey to document the chaos that I felt inside when I came home. What better challenge than this one to use my blog for its 'proper' use.

I know that I am going to annoy some people, for that I am sorry. Remember the rage? Blame that.

Here goes:

Reverse culture shock on returning from the UK. 2010.

1. uncapped internet. Oh how I miss thee.
2. no ATM fees. They are the bane of Australian existence.
3. convenient public transport (OK, this one is glorifying it - I once stood in the snow for 1.5 hours waiting for the damn bus on which some old man's pee-bag was leaking, but the bus network went down every main road.)
4. Heating.
5. powerful education unions
6. 7 quid prescriptions, no matter what it was for
7. comprehensive TV streaming on the internet
8. Grocery stores open 24 hours
9. Multi-buys - 1.5kg Cheese for the price of 750g? Hell yes, please!
10. no swearing
11. intelligent comedies and comedians
12. the Beeb
13. excellent plays and musicals in the West End.
14. The opportunity for good-quality music festivals and A-List bands
15. History
16. Cheap groceries - 70p for a loaf of bread, that lasted for over 7 days?
17. Cashback and using your credit card at any shop - including the kebab kiosk at the local shopping centre
18. Debit Visa cards accepted everywhere
19. Decently priced, lovely clothes for fat people
20. Acceptable train service, on which you can eat and drink
21. intelligent conversations about politics, and things other than sport, the weather and pride in our nation.

Reverse culture shock from returning from Germany, 2005
22.  Having a government made up from the two main parties without any name calling
23.  Living in dorms with autonomy
24.  Inexpensive beer
25.  Being able to buy afore-mentioned cheap beer at the servo.
26.  Eis-Cafe's
27.  Living in a place steeped in culture - our favourite cafe was across the road from the Brothers Grimm's house
28.  Not hearing the Australian accent
29.  Cheap cafes
30.  German comedy
31.  Maturity from everyone undergoing national service

Reverse culture shock in entering back into the education system here

32. Less systemic apathy
33. Outcomes-led reporting
34. Supportive staff and behaviour support
35. No play ground duty without extra pay
36. Form class for 5 consecutive years - you become their mother (almost)!
37. Union conferences for free (weekends away purely for being a member.)
38. Being included in union decisions by monthly meetings with area rep.
39. Mentoring program
40. Students having to interview to get back into Senior (A-Level)
41. Privileging of MFL - 'Oxbridge' not accepting students without a foreign language GCSE
42. Lunches with other staff due to not having department staff rooms
43. Contacting schools directly and getting a job on my own merit and not through the department
44. Lots of supply work due to 'rarely cover'

Reverse culture shock in entering back into the lives of people here.

45. Lots of changes have happened and I don't really fit in.
46. Two of my closest friends being even closer
47. Receeding back to where I was 10 years ago
48. Having lots of experience, but nothing I want
49. Not going out to the pub/cafes every few days
50. Not being happy.

There! Done it. I hope you made it through to the end. I know I probably wouldn't have!

Ms Gillard

Ms Gillard.

It has come to my attention that you are our first female Prime Minister. I feel so strongly regarding this news that I felt I needed to write about it on my blog. After reading another blogger's open letter I thought that this was the best way in which to communicate my opinion.

Firstly, congratulations on being written onto 'history's page'. Let's hope it's a positive one in the end. I know that I am annoyed by the fact that Australia receives its first female Prime Minister without any input. Hopefully when my children read in their National Curriculum History lessons about how you were self-appointed into this role it's a positive spin. Let's not hope that it conveys true history; you were willing to undercut your people-appointed leader who was making tough decisions, at 10pm so the least amount of people knew about it. Let's hope it doesn't say that you chose to use your "female-given" right to change your mind and after weeks of denying a possible challenge, spearhead a coup on the government and the people you had sworn to govern with/for.

Secondly, I hope that you continue to follow the agenda of the AWU. I mean, if you don't know how ruthless they can be when they don't like the government's decisions, I'm sure there's an ex-Prime Minister who can let you know.

Thirdly, I hope you have vastly differing, substantial and worthy policies. I know it's only a few months until you'll go to the polls, but it might be a tad embarrassing if all you do is run with policies gotten up and running by the man you decided, while voted for by the public, was incapable of doing the job he was charged with.

Lastly, I hope you've thought through the idea that you've most likely handed the Liberals the government on a silver platter. One with inherent support for the richest men on Earth (who aren't even necessarily Australian) and where they look like (even with their own leadership battles) that they are all friends and totally on the same page.

I am most disgruntled by and disappointed in your decisions over the last 24 hours.  I am ashamed that I did not have the choice of my next Prime Minister. I am angry that that choice was taken away from me. I understand it's still the same party but it is not the same faction. You are not what I was promised.

Do not compound your behaviour by calling the polls after the end of the term. Go to the polls as we expect; before the end of the year. While we are still angry at you.




**** And now, the letter I actually sent her... after seeing the media reactions and calming the heck down ****

I welcome you to your new post. I hope to not sound bitter; I do not think that the way you arrived at this position inhabits the ideals of 'fair go' and 'mateship - ideals that you posit throughout your party.


You must hit the ground running and I hope that, while you must have some different policies than Mr Rudd (otherwise, the coup performed today was rather irrelevant, don't you think?) you keep some the same.

The mining tax must be pursued at length and with minimal compromise. You were not willing to budge on MySchool, and just because the Education Departments in this country do not have multi-billion dollar sway within parliament, you must treat the mining companies with the same disrespect you showed thousands of honest hard-working citizens of your country, worried for their students and communities.

The Education Revolution needs to be continued and, while investigation is important (there are some horrid practices being perpetrated on teachers and students throughout this country,) scrapping spending on state schools would be negligent. While I understand that the word 'state' confers responsibility onto state governments for funding, the funding of State Schools at a federal level must be increased. It is not an equitable dispersal of funds to have privately-owned schools funded at a higher rate than those educating the majority of your population.
I have noticed that the media is already singing your praises. I hope that it continues, because if it does not, I fear you have handed the government, nicely gift-wrapped, to the conservative parties in this country.

Please go to the polls while the people in this country are being mesmerised by the 'first female Prime Minister' spin and before they realise that you stopped them choosing you.



Regards

Dear Meg in 2009

I made a letter in 1999 to open in 2009 on Christmas Day. Not unlike a time capsule.

I didn't open it in 2009 'cause I'd forgotten about it (oh, and I was in England.) I opened it earlier this year. The contents made me so mad and annoyed I forgot about it straight away.

Basically, the contents that my 17 year old self wrote to my 27 year old self were - I hope that you are happy with X. He was in every sentence.

He was the boy I was obsessed with in year 12 and for the first part of the year following. He's who I now call 'knob boy' and my dad always called 'that thing in black.' The one who had little ol' gullible me thinking he was actually going around killing people. So of course, you know, I'd be all sympathetic and allow him to do 'whatever he wanted' and 'needed'. The guy who couldn't have me over to his house, 'because I've got a contract out on my life and I care for you too much to have you here' Yeah, him.

He was my first everything and while I am grateful to have had the typical high school experiences, I am so glad that I dodged that crazy-arse bullet.

So what have I done in the intervening ten years since dumping his lazy be-hind?

2009 - living in England. Saw lots of things, made friends I never would have and seen a 'better' education system

2008 - graduated university

2007 - was involved in my best friend's wedding. In which I got right stressed and, because of panic attacks, made a fool of myself. I also went home with a friend and had some of the best 'comfort' of my life.

2005 - studied in Germany for a semester. Made friends from all over the world, lived in dorms, fended totally for myself. Saw an inordinate amount of movies, fell in love with Indian food, dabbled with the idea of veganism (which in 2007 was a reality), went to Amsterdam and generally had a great time.

2002 - departed from my TAFE diploma and started a teaching degree. A degree! Something that only two or three others of my extended family have (at this time, in 2010 every man and his dog has one), something I never would have had the passion for in 1999.

2001 - doing a TAFE diploma. Boring as hell. But it was study, I was getting Austudy and could hang out with my friends a lot. And I did. Some of the things I did this year make me wonder how we didn't die.

2000 - dumped his sorry arse. Found out the moron was cheating and I moved to Germany. Not the best experience in my life, but I got to fulfill my dream of living in Europe. I also got to see Paris and Italy.

So, if I am to talk to my 17 year old self, I would say this. He's not worth it. He's a little obsession now. Don't let him take over your life. Think of yourself, and what you want. Don't give it all away.

What would you?

Rory

So any of you good people who drop in when I bother to write on here might know that I am addicted to three things: food, facebook and T.V. I can't remember when it started, and I really wish I wasn't, but man, I get soooo bored.

Anyhoo. One of my favourite shows is Dr. Who. (The new one; not that old stuff) I liked Chris Eccleston, loved David Tennant and am falling in love with Matt Smith as well.

I feel a traitor. I spent all last year going, "No one, I repeat NO ONE is going to replace David Tennant. He is the doctor and all others will be only pretending." Yes, I would say that damned loud - capitals were required. But I have been just in love with the new incarnation.

You know what though? I don't think it's Matt Smith. I think it was the dynamic of having Amy and Rory along for the ride. I know that Rose and Micky were along for the ride for a while, but it felt forced; the doctor sooo didn't want Micky there. Rose also didn't seem to want him there. So it felt wrong. Amy on the other hand (or Amelia, which is what I always say in my head after someone says Amy) was in love with Rory; she only wanted him, she was in pure joy sharing this experience with him. He was who she wanted - the doctor was a man who gave them lots of fun, scares and the universe.

Then they did it.

Stop reading right now if you don't know what happened with the Homo Reptilia. I mean it, stop. There will be spoilers.



When Rory died for the second episode in a row, I thought, "Hey, maybe he'll get resurrected like last week." Nope. Dead. As a doornail. Havin built up the character and making me fall in love with him, it was not fair. To tell you the truth, I like when there's a shock death. Doyle on Angel being one of my all-time favourites. I like it when characters die. Even the ones I am irrevocably in love with. I think it's the mark of good writing, directing and acting to have the viewer sobbing along - I don't think it's ever been done as well as with Ianto Jones. I cried for days - and I'd only seen about four episodes of Torchwood before. It's the sole point of making a character die. If the viewer isn't upset and in grief, you may as well as have sent them to move to the Gold Coast (Word up Neighbours!)

Even though, regarding Rose being sent to an alternate universe, it was said, "It's a happy series, it's about hope, no one can die," (I'm paraphrasing here and it might have been Russell T Davies, who jumped ship for America and Torchwood, who said it, but isn't the premise the same? ) they killed one of the companions off.

But did Stephen Moffett et al let me have that grief? Did he hell. No sooner than Rory uttered his last, "But we were on the hill" did the time energy (or some such Dr Who nonsense) come out of the crack in the wall to remove his existence from the world. Amy no longer remembers him, so we can't go through the mourning with her. I am so mad. They removed one of (I think) the best character devices from the series ever and we aren't alllowed to mourn. What a load of codswallop.

But then, last night, the Dr showed us he remembered - "Amy, Rory" Amy answered "who?" So someone remembers him, I just wish we were allowed time to let him go.

And I hope that Amy doesn't become another Dr-lover simpering around for his affection. Like Rose and Martha. Keep her Donna-esque.

Surrender

I've been toying with the idea of surrender over the past few months. I read it on one of the blogs I lurk on; the lady was desperate to have a baby and in the end surrended it over to her God to 'let it happen when it's the best time' and fell pregnant within a couple of months. (As an interesting aside, while I don't need euphemisms for many things being 'up the duff' is definitely one of them. Pregnant is, to me, one of the scariest and ugliest words in the English language. The German 'schwanger' isn't much better)

I pray when I think of it. I go through periods where I speak all the time to Archangel Michael and the others, and then I can not talk to them for weeks. I also kinda think that if I think, 'please' then it's assumed to be directed to him.

The day that I read her blog, it seared into my flesh. I surrended entirely to them and knew - as certain as I was that I was breathing - that they were going to come to the party with what I wanted. This has all but disappeared now. I knew it wouldn't be a miracle salve, but I had hoped that I would see some movement towards it.

And then, I think, I'm doubting them, why would they help? Does your God help you, guide you, even if you're doubting he is? I'm worried that mine don't.

weight loss

What has worked for you? What hasn't?

I need guidance.

Drive

In less than 24 hours, I've driven to Brisbane and back. So tired.

And I get to do it again on the weekend!

**But I love that I have a car, and I'm only 2 hours away from those I love... beats a 24hr plane ride!**

black and canine-like

I'm sorry I haven't posted regularly. I keep forgetting. I am sitting at home doing nothing and feeling very blergh. I know that I should be happy with my life. I've travelled, I have a degree, I have three extremely close friends and quite a few acquaintances, I have a job and I am (relatively) healthy.

But I seem unable to dwell on the positives and am being chased by the black dog.

Yes, I have a job, until the end of June and then I am not sure what will happen. Also, in that job I am yelled at every single day, looked at like I'm scum and not listened to. I understand that there is a 'test' period, but at what point do they fucking calm down and stop treating me like I am worth less than the poo on your shoe.

Yes, I've travelled, I have that life experience, but I have no money (to the point of wanting to kick something.) I cannot do anything. I want to join the local concert band, but I don't have the money to service my instrument (no double entendre intended) and I want to join a gym, but can't commit to the year. I hate being itinerant when you want to not be. When you're travelling, the ability to pick up and move in the moment is a blessing, but when you're stuck in a place with no telling if you'll be able to continue that in a month and a bit, it's totally demoralising.

I have a degree. And, I believe, have gotten in to my masters come July. But I feel like a fraud. Taking so long to get my degree and then going overseas, I have no idea about what's current in my own state. I hate to think that doctors are as nervous and unconfident as me.

My close friends are great and I would go insane without them. In saying that, they are married, living out of state, and pregnant. I don't really have the same things as them, and in all honesty am very jealous of them. I love them and would do anything for them, but to have just a smidge of their lives would be great.

I am not going to die soon. But I am 140kgs heavy. I have no life. I don't fit in seatbelts, I don't fit through gates, I don't fit in small shower door spaces. I am unattractive to everyone on the planet. So I will not be getting any of that stuff I want.

Why the hell can't life just be easy for once?

Public Holiday

Had a day off today. Why? To celebrate those men and women who fought valiantly... for our right to have fair working conditions, anti-unfair dismissal and our right to protest.

Now, I will be honest. I don't fully understand unions. I don't fully understand why some people think that they are the representation of the devil on Earth. All I know is that I belong to one, and get stuff out of it.

So for those people who fought for us to have unions, I thank you.

I also apologise in shame.

My generation is so apathetic. And pathetic. I have ideals and want to do something, but when it gets to the crunch, there's something on TV I want to watch, or blogs on here I want to read. I am pathetic.

I think it is also something to do with the Australian psyche - the abhorrent 'She'll be right'. In the UK, I went to every union meeting I could, went to conferences, was ready to become a union rep if I was going to stay there... but here, I don't feel like I should bother. And you know why?

The IRC. Teachers have a valid viewpoint about the moratorium on NAPLAN. If people (and I mean lay people and government here) actually bothered to listen to teachers, be that their child's teacher, their friend who is a teacher or the teaching councils of Australia, they would find out that we are not protesting against the test, but what Gillard and her 'teaching experts' are going to do with the data collected. They are going to create a website which lists the data from each school in the country. That also is not what teachers are protesting.

What we are protesting is how the 'media' in this country and parents will interpret and use these data lists (parents may use this data naively.) These tables will not show that the cohort is unsuccessful because of the low socio-economic area, or the high rate of non-English speakers. They will not show what is going on in the classroom towards achievement, but what happens on one day in a child's life.

Now the union has been told that they are not 'allowed' to put a moratorium on the tests. Why not?

We are still 'teaching the test' so that the tests can go ahead if the government will actually listen. We will still conduct classroom testing of these students so we will know their progression.

Oh, and if a moratorium goes ahead on the day of NAPLAN and we refuse to conduct the tests, we will be doing what we are paid for - teaching!

Spamalot

My friends and I went and saw Blue Fish's performance of Spamalot. It. Was. Brilliant.

I saw it in the West End in 2008 and, while I was looking forward to it, I was secretly thinking, "This cannot be as good".

And it wasn't. It was worse. And Better.

Let me explain.

The sets were terrible. The 'very expensive forest' was three cardboard cut outs of trees. The West End, with its millions had trees everywhere and it looked like a forest.

The mics faded in and out. Especially on the company songs. The women weren't micced properly and you couldn't hear them most of the time. The men, while extremely fit, lost some of their oomph in the final song and you couldn't hear them over the band very well.

The costumes were designed for stick figures. Which was all very well for the two stick-figured ladies. But the one who was around a size 14 with one of the best looking bosoms this side of Dawn French (who, incidentally writes a great autobiography. I implore you to read Dear Fatty,) was jumping and dancing around with only tiny bits of cloth to cover them. It wasn't too distracting though, I'm just sympathetic about it, you know, being an E cup and all.

And yet.

I know the songs inside out and back to front. I enjoy them in the car almost every week on the drive back and forth from Toowoomba to Brisbane. Only a couple of lines were changed, and I know why. Irritating, but I can cope with that. So that was good.

The dancing was excellent (except for the Knight who stood in the background jumping up and down and throwing his arms in  the air; but that was amusing and, being Monty Python, fit right in.) I had such a buzz watching grown men throw themselves around the stage with gusto, loving dancing.

I have never, let me repeat, NEVER, heard singing of that calibre in an amateur production. I've rarely heard singing of that calibre in professional productions. Certainly not in the West End production of this show. BUT I could excuse that 'cause it was funny comedians who you went to see and laugh at.

But the best bit about the night was sitting next to one of my best friend and her husband (also one of my best friends.) I picked him up from uni about a month ago and made him listen to a few of the songs on the CD, but he hadn't heard the whole thing. He loves, I don't think it would be an understatement to say that he would become polygymous if he was allowed to marry Monty Python (expecially Mr Cleese.) He laughed for 3 hours straight. It was a pure joy to behold.

So, on the balance, I think I enjoyed this production slightly better than the West End.

I'm sorry the West End. I love you.

Specialist - TMI warning!!!!

I cried in the specialist's office yesterday. Don't worry; no bad news. Not at all. On the contrary, no news at all. She couldn't tell so I've got to go into hospital *eeek*

Anyway, back to the crying. She wanted me to have a test that all women will have at some point - every 2 years; you know what I mean - so she gave me that test. Ouch. I know people say it is uncomfortable. But it's not uncomfortable for me. It is excrutiatingly painful. The doctor always has to try three or four times, but the specialist just went, "the quicker I do this, the less pain" and plowed on through.

So I was crying and shaking. Not a good look when you come out of the specialist room into the waiting area and there are five women staring at you.

Gratitude

Today's address at church was on gratitude. It was also gratitude last fortnight. (yes, I do go to a church which has fortnightly meetings.) So in the theme of the month, what am I grateful for?

• I have a job. It may not be my ideal school, but I am teaching German which is great. I am also working so am earning. It also makes my head stay occupied so I don't get sucked into funkland.
• My close friend is having a baby and I am in this country to get all excited and live through them for a while.
• My dad has a spare room which he doesn't mind me staying in every weekend.
• I work part time. I get Tuesdays off, which is great 'cause by the time I spend two hours both ways driving on the weekend and then doing stuff it means I can have a break and wash my clothes.
• gmail is not blocked at work. I can keep in contact and get my internet fix there since I don't have it at home.
• I am alive. My body may not be my ideal (it might actually be a horrid bane in my life) but it works. I can sit on the ground comfortably, I fit behind the wheel of a car, and if I want to, I can order my clothes from the UK and feel good in them. I could also buy clothes in Australia, but the clothes off the rack here are 'older' than those available in the UK.

Famous

I'm famous!
Blogthis.com.au got in touch back in February when I had regular access to the internet, and asked me to do a profile for their new member Monday.

So, I did.

Go check it out

Busy Life

I have a busy life. Well, to an extent.

I know live 130 kms away from Brisbane and, while that's cool, I miss friends so much from being in England and have planned soooo much in advance, that I'm driving back and forth each weekend. The drive can zap my energy like nothing else.

But I'm having fun working (and I even get a day off per week!) even though they are 'testing' me and it's tiring.

I've completely blanked on sending the Happy Mail present due to the moving etc and will need to wait until Wednesday to do so (monetary issues). It will be done Wednesday!

I received my present yesterday - well, at some point in this last week, but it went to Dad's so I had to wait until the weekend to get it. It was great! Such a welcome gift - thanks!

Absence

I've been away from the internet this week. Therefore there has been no posting. Or reading. I apologise.

I got a phone call on Monday offering me a contract until the end of June, starting Wednesday morning, so I've spent the week in Toowoomba. Drove back yesterday and had a great weekend. Going back to the 'ba (I don't know if anyone calls it that... but I might just start a trend... or not) tomorrow and may not have internet for a while.

But I'm working and earning. Back in the real world now.

Excellent weekend

I am so grateful for a couple of my friends this weekend. We went to the pub on Friday night for $2 cocktails... which, unsurprisingly, were weak as. But hey, $2 isn't to be sniffed at! Had so much fun and had my first foray into the dating world in Australia. :) It was so great.

We went back to their house and I kicked butt on Guitar Hero on the Wii. Excellent fun. We were up until 4am... and man, I felt it today.

I went to the Believing Women for a Culture of Peace and we spent 4 hours planning an anti violence towards women project. It was fun and so great to be involved in something like that. I will be returning.

Then we (the same friends) went to Fasta Pasta for dinner. *Yummy* Such nice food and great value. Lemon Lime and Bitters like only Australians can make. Saw the younger sister of an old friend and she has grown up!

The Blind Side was the next thing that we did. It was a brilliant movie. Don't know she deserves an Oscar, but it was definitely the best movie I've ever seen her in. And in case you don't know who I'm talking about = Sandra Bullock.

Questions that have been bugging me.

As previously posted, I watch a lot of TV. Being unemployed makes that level just soar. While I've been watching in the past few days, I've had some questions that are bugging me.

When is 42 attendants at your wedding just too much?
 And when is it acceptable?
 And when can you not decide between your friends who to include?

Does the only little person in the children of the Roloff family get jealous of his brothers and sisters?

Why do we think it's phenomenal when someone in the olympics has a mother die close to the performance and they decide to compete?

Why do we say 'lost' somebody when someone dies? I always think, "Well, that was pretty careless of them."

What woman, even with God's love, is happy to have 18 children a la the Duggar family?

Why do women getting c-sections get their arms tied down?
And why is the father outside until the spinal is in and said arms tied down?
(This one, I could answer if I googled...)

Why, when thousands of people are paying for the TV channel, do pay tv stations buy 5 episodes and just play them on a loop?

What kind of questions pop into your heads when you are watching television?

Intolerance

is the bane of my life.

I went to the 'church' (which they call a fellowship) that I have been investigating for a bit on Sunday. Yes, today's Tuesday, I know; this is a little late, but better late than never, right? It was so welcoming - getting there at 9.30 for coffee, service at 10 - 11.30 and then lunch together until almost one. It was a gorgeous service, and I felt right at home. I will return.

I do, however, have one bone to pick with one of the fellowship (congregation?) The first principle of this church is the 'inherent dignity and worth of every being'. I really got that from all of the other members - so welcoming, didn't feel judged in the slightest, and they just seemed genuinely happy to have me with them. I can understand why people fall into cults. But this woman. Well... I asked her what she did - I'm a doctor. What do you do? I'm a teacher. What kind of teacher? An English teacher.

Wow. I have never had anyone unleash such venom on being told I'm a teacher. I get all the time - you get lots of holidays, you don't work a full day. These are things you just expect and tolerate when you choose this profession. It's a calling after all and anyone who is in it because they can't 'do' something else needs their head checked.

This woman, who states she is following a spiritually enlightened path through unitarian universalism, used words such as 'pathetic', 'lower than scum', 'unintelligent', 'useless', 'fake job' and 'moronic' to describe me. Not my profession. Me. After having spoken to me for less than one minute. And then, after I'd been pulled away from her by another member of the church followed me to keep the tirade up.

And then, after I told her that I believed in what I did and told her I was going to go talk to someone else, said, "I hope that you will come back because we're so welcoming."

Well. I will be returning. For the rest of the congregation. Definitely not you.

I wouldn't even expect that from the most right person in the world at their church. Trying to convert me, yes. Telling me I was silly because I don't believe in God, but think Archangel Michael is the link to the supreme energy of the world, yes. Telling me off because I chose to serve the community (a choice not unlike you, Miss 'I'm a GP and have a degree and many postdoctoral qualifications), no. Something I did not expect.

She is not an example to follow in any faith. Let alone one who holds the 'inherent dignity' of all as their highest goal.

My mojo

I'm like Austin Powers. I was frozen and some incredibly fat man came and stole my mojo. I don't like to think that my mojo is pink and goopy - it's more like rainbow coloured and swirling like glitter... or some such nonsense.

What mojo has been stolen? My blog mojo. I just don't know what to write about. I don't have the interest in other peoples' blogs that I did even a week ago.

I'm still reading you all, don't worry. I am still following and still commenting (sporadically). I just have lost something this week about this whole thing.

Now. I'm off on a time-travelling extravaganza to steal my mojo back!

Redesign

I figure it was time to change my blog title and therefore the background as I am no longer in Peterborough. And then I remembered the experience this week with Amy's blog - she changed her blog around and the title. Now, I have more than one Amy on my blogroll and was about to comment thinking it was not Amy's... then she mentioned her delightful little boy and I thought, woah hang on there!

So, that's what this post is about - I changed my layout and don't want people gettin' confused.

The first way I knew I was changed

 - I am not jealous of my sisters' weight.

I am being totally honest here - and am at a risk of getting in trouble here 'cause my Dad reads this and I think the sister does too - but it needs to be said.

I have dealt with jealousy forever. I hate it, but I have been insanely jealous of my younger sister for probably my entire life. She knows this. We've talked about it. I've written apologies.

I was soooo worried about coming home because she is looking so good. Phenomenal. She just shines.

I walked through that door at the airport and just felt... proud. She's done so much work and looks happy. I'm happy for her and I'm proud of what she's done.

I am a different person.

Proactivity

It's never really sat well with me. I've always been the person sitting on the couch lamenting. I'm now 27 and wish I'd gotten antidepressants when I was 16. Maybe I'd be a stronger person.

I forget very easily how far I've come on my journey. I slip very easily into 'woe is me' mode. I will get there; of course I will. This week though I'm feeling lost. I keep making decisions and then not following them through. I will eat healthier. I will ....

I have followed a couple through - I sent off my application to teaching on Friday, so I am hoping that within the month I can do some supply work. I finally called the doctor today and am hoping to get my body back on track and off the track it's currently on. *Oopps, that metaphor didn't really work*

I am not the same person I was when I last lived in this house. Just because I've had to move back (due to my own financial mess-ups) does not mean that I am who I was ten years ago. I am a graduate. I am a strong person. I am confident. I am a friend. I am an adult.

Lost in translation

I am lost in translation. I hate feel that movie. I'm in a no-man's land. Like being between the two wall waiting to be shot. Really.

I don't know who I am anymore. I made choices. I made decisions. My life wasn't perfect, but it was mine. Now I am someone else's. I am the government's. I am my parents'. I am my sisters'. I am my friends'.

I am lost in the absence of the ability to make decisions. I didn't make the choice to come back here, but here I am. I didn't make the choice to live where I am, but here I am. I desperately want to go back.

I know that really, I did make the decision to come back here. I didn't try and get a contract so that I could stay. I didn't manage to save enough money so that I could live where I wanted.

I'm floating. I don't know who I am.

Shameless Plug *updated*

I was looking over my blog and thought, "hey, how nice it would be, after getting my bloggie this week to win the Blogthis challenge?"

It would, indeed, be rather rad. Cool. Hip. All that jazz.

So, hey - go vote!!!  There will be a prize for all those who can prove they voted for me*

Oh, and you don't really need to have read my entry, but if you want to, it's here. Update: It was pointed out that it wouldn't exactly be a fair race unless you read all the others... so go do that too... then vote for mine!


* I don't, of course, know what the prize will be. Or how you will prove you voted for me. But go ahead, try. Oh, and thanks for Kellyansapansa for the idea of shamelessly plugging my entry! Thanks. :)

lies

When does a slight mistruth become a big nose-stretching lie?

Is it ethically OK to tell a prospective employer that you can commit to a year contract while knowing full well that if you get a teaching position you will be out of there like lightning?

Is it ethically responsible to tell someone you're extremely happy for them when inside you're being eaten by jealousy (I would say, yes.)

When you've lost something, is it acceptable to tell the person who needs to get it to you again that the plane lost it? I'm not claiming on insurance...

Is it OK to make an excuse to not do something instead of just saying, "Hey, thanks for the invite, but I don't want to."?

What are the little lies that are confusing you at the moment?

Sunshine!

Just for something different, it's raining today. It's quite a good thing for me really; I don't have to deal with the humidity without being able to go out into the rain and 'cool' down. It's also 'raining' metaphorically.

I seem to have lost all my documentation from England. Not good, and I don't think I have enough 'pull' to get them all again! A few times my old programming of 'why does this always happen to me?' and 'what's the point of my life?' jumped up. But the new me went NO. You are not going to go into this old programming. I still cried, but that was frustration... rather than 'wow is me'.

I went to Sarina Russo as part of my Centrelink signing on and was told, 'Oh, you've got a degree. We can't really help you.' Oh well.

So all in all not a great day. But then I checked my blog and kellyansapansa has given me a blog award. It's my first one. I have lost my 'blog award' cherry. ;) I read lots of blogs (but have been really lax in the last two weeks due to travel) and love love to receive comments. So, I need to post the picture, and then pass the award to 12 people.

Thank you so much for making my day Kelly!

Fat Mum Slim - gorgeous blog!

A Little Time for Me - my honourary sister. All about her, her uni and her lovely little boy Will!

Sunny Side Up - a lovely blog honouring a journey through life with infertility. Very touching and honest.

Meaningless Meanderings of a Madmother - great blog from a woman who is as random as me. :)

I want to give it back to Kellyansapansa, cause her blog is brilliant and she's a great commentator, but I don't think I really should.

The Daily Nail - a blog of 365 new nail designs.

Erica at Tartraz - a well written blog about her life and renovations. Found through Natalie (below)

Natalie - found through Blogger's 'Blog of Note'. Before I found blogthis, my favourite blog. I tend to read lots of Mormon blogs. They are sooo gorgeous - her dogs are cute. This is so well written, I would buy this as a book.

Chronicles of Sharnia - I think I read this 'cause of the phenomenal header. Not that she's uninteresting though.

Alliecat at In a Beautiful Pea Green Boat. Just gorgeous.

So I know it's not 12 and I apologise. There are other blogs that I lurk on and may read, but the ones above are the ones I really like to read. But again, this made my day.