Avoiding boredom

Failing by default

2011-04-01T07:33:00.000+10:00

I've just read a quote attributed to J K Rowling in which she said something about not being able to go through life without failing at something and that if you don't fail, you're probably living your life so cautiously you fail by default (my interpretation and paraphrasing). The concept started me thinking. Does that mean you have to fail at things regularly in order to be considered to be living life fully? I would find that demoralising.

I like to think that we learn how not to fail as we go through life; we learn how to do things better so our chances of success increase. We discover our strengths and weaknesses and exploit one and improve or compensate for the other. Of course that could also mean we also learn how not to expose ourselves to things we'll fail at; become more cautious. But is cautiousness a failure or a desirable skill?

I live cautiously. Any risks I take are calculated and manageable. I don't want to crash and burn - been there, done that, not going back. There are aspects of my life that I want to change and improve - I just don't have time to arrange it right now. Generally though, my life is where I want it to be. I'm working full time in a job I love; I'm studying in an area I enjoy; I'm writing, which I adore; and I'm even submitting work occasionally. I have family and friends - all really special people I'm proud to know. Why on earth would I want any of that to fail, just so I could say I 'live', at least according to the definition in that quote?

Queensland floods

2011-01-13T16:43:00.000+10:00

A huge chunk of Queensland is under water. I've been through floods before but I've never seen anything on this scale before. It's so huge, it's difficult to keep remembering that New South Wales and Victoria are also experiencing floods from the same weather systems that have devastated Queensland.

Yesterday significant areas of Brisbane went under water. The CBD and other business areas have been shut down completely. Power was switched off in the CBD at 7am yesterday and now it's deserted. The waters peaked at about 1 metre lower than predicted and that saved a lot of properties but there are still a huge number of people and communities that have lost everything.

My sister lives in Chinchilla, four hours west of Brisbane, and they're in the middle of the second major flood since Christmas. Most of the time since then, the town has been completely cut off. I have friends in Dalby, three hours west of Brisbane, who have fared well as far as the water is concerned, even though significant parts of the town are under water for the second or third time since Christmas. Dalby is cut off. Supplies of food are approaching a concerning level and the availability of fuel is such that only emergency service vehicles have access. Similar stories have come from friends in Goombungee (15 mins west of Toowoomba which is 1.5 hours west of Brisbane) and Gatton (one hour west of Brisbane). They're safe but cut off.

I've been worried about a friend who lives in Murphys Creek (at the bottom of the range east of Toowoomba) with her family, as I haven't been able to contact them yet. There are twelve missing from that area after flash flooding swept down the mountain from Toowoomba. The twelve are apparently from just two families. From what I can gather from the news and what nearby Grantham is like, the entire community is decimated. My friend isn't registered on the Red Cross database at this point.

Before today, I've watched the news about the progress of the flooding in Queensland and felt interested and concerned for the people there. Up until a few days ago it was only property being damaged and livelihoods lost. On Tuesday lives were lost and more people have died since then. Until then, I never had any doubt we, as a community, a state and a country, would manage. Queenslanders, particularly primary producers, have had to deal with a lot of extremes affecting their livelihoods in the last decade. We've just recently come out of ten years of drought and now this. Whole industries have come to a standstill and will take years to rebuild. The Queensland economy has taken a devastating blow which will affect the whole of Australia and overseas industries as well. But it's possible to come through all that and rebuild as long as we're alive to do it.

With the deaths has come a sense of hopelessness. Nothing can fix that.

Last days and coming home

2010-11-22T14:38:00.000+10:00

What do most people buy when they travel and are faced with weight restrictions? Me? I buy books. I simply can’t help myself. If there’s a bookshop in front of me, I’m there. I spent time in Borders this afternoon. Much bigger than I’m used to at home with a wider range of products available – not just books.

Senior 'chill out' area, Australian International School.

On Thursday I visited the Australian International School and had a quick look around. It’s amazing the sense of space they’ve achieved inside the buildings when the outside space is so limited. The buildings are very different to what I’m used to but it still felt like a school, with the focus being the students and their needs.

Afterwards I went back to Orchard Road as I hadn’t seen the other end of it earlier. I don’t know why, I know I’m not a shopper, but apparently it’s the place to go. The Christmas decorations are going up at a rate of knots. I went past one huge tree inside a centre and could feel the heat from the fairy lights about two metres away. The only shop I actually went into was the Longines shop. I should have tried to find the bird park as I’d intended. Next time.

The flight home was mostly uneventful. The Captain put the seat-belt sign on every time there was the slightest turbulance so I felt a bit like a jack-in-the-box. Again, I had three seats to myself so I raised the armrests, stacked the pillows behind me and stretched out to read. Not a bad way to travel. I thought I should buy something duty-free so I spent some time going through the catalogue and eventually chose four fragrances to buy. Unfortunately they wouldn't take my debit-VISA cards. Why would they prefer to do business with people who are using borrowed money? The reason I was given was they would land and process the sales and they would bounce. I would have thought they'd have the same problem with credit cards being over the limit. Ah well, all it means for me is I came home with a slightly lighter bag and $400 richer than I planned.

Since getting home I've dropped straight back into my routine. That basically means I'm alternating between reading (and hibernating) and picking up and cleaning up after other people (one of my least favourite things and the reason I read so much). Tonight I need to write. There are just six days left of NaNo. I know there's no way I'll make the 50K but I want to do something more than I did in the first week.

The museum and shopping in Singapore

2010-11-17T20:18:00.000+10:00

Singapore museum

I spent most of today on my feet. From 10.00 am to 1.30 pm I visited the museum. The Pompei exhibit was there. Most of it was resin casts and copies of things but I still walked out of there feeling for all the people who were there. They had a time-lapse (computerised) film of the eruption of Vesuvius at that time and I kept thinking ‘get out, get out’ until the 1.00 am eruption with the pyroclastic flows and then I thought, ‘too late’. Even if they’d left before that they might not have made it, not with all the ash rain 20m deep.

The next exhibit I went through was the history of Singapore. Just brilliant. The detail and the explanations behind every decision made, particularly since independence in the 60s was amazing. The foresight required to push for such drastic (at the time) measures is mind-boggling. I can’t decide how to make things happen for me tomorrow, let alone plan for a whole country for the next 50-odd years.

I left the museum because I’d been on my feet for four hours (I walked from the hotel) and still hadn’t had breakfast. Like the library, I could stay there for a couple of days and still have new things to look at.

After the museum came Orchard Road, the up-market shopping district. I didn’t last long. I’m not a shopper at the best of times and the idea of miles upon miles of shops doesn’t thrill me. I stayed there long enough to browse through two shopping centres and buy a few things and lunch (finally had the chicken rice everyone keeps recommending to me) and then decided enough was enough. I didn’t go through all the really expensive shops. It would be interesting but I know it’s not for me so other things keep being more important. I went back to Selangor Pewter and exchanged the pate knife I bought on Monday and then back to Chinatown to pick up my suit.

Tomorrow is my visit to the Australian International School. I’m really looking forward to that although getting there is a bit problematic. I have three maps and none of them show me exactly where the school is. I know the MRT stop to get off and the street name but that’s it. I guess I just need to look at it as another adventure, albeit one that has a time restriction since I have to be there by 11.30 am.

Round-the-island tour, Singapore

2010-11-16T19:31:00.000+10:00

Today was amazing. The round-island tour is the best I’ve been on, along with the hop-on-hop-off tours. The guide gave a lot of basic information about how Singapore is organised. Things like the public housing system where 20% of income is put into a fund and that’s used to help you buy a house and provide for retirement. We drove through all the industrial areas and the sections of land that have been reclaimed from the sea were pointed out – there’s a lot of reclaimed land.

It’s absolutely amazing what has been done with such a small island in 45 years. The planning and organisation required to make it all work, and work so successfully, is just mind-boggling. Today was the first time I’d seen anything resembling a military presence too. Even then, even though areas were pointed out and I saw a lot of ‘restricted area’ signs, the only military personnel I saw apart from the guards at gates were National Service boys just finished their basic training and waiting at a bus stop. There are highways that can be turned into airfield within an hour or two. What a clever use of space.

We were told a story about two brothers who built a house in 1937. When the Japanese came, the house was bombed. One brother died during the Japanese occupation, the other survived to return to the house and witness the destruction of his home. He demolished the house and built a garden that showed 101 ways to behave well. The garden also included the ten gates of hell. The garden has pretty much been abandoned now and is slowly decaying. They’re trying to find sponsors to provide funding for the upkeep.

At one point I stood at the water’s edge and looked over the sea to another country. I’ve never done that before. In Australia, everywhere you look, there’s more Australia. To know that the land you’re looking at belongs to someone else with different rules and regulations, language and culture emphasised the transitory nature of life.

British barracks, Changi.

Changi museum and chapel was emotive. The British barracks are still there, untouched. Even though everything’s falling apart, you can still sense the lives of those lived there during that time. There’s still a prison on the site. We didn’t have access to that, of course, or to the original site of the prison that was there during WWII (it’s a huge tract of land). I had thought I’d be disappointed that there was so little left of what had happened, but I wasn’t. I’m glad there’s the memorial, but I’m even more glad that things have moved on from that time. They’ve taken the lessons to be learned and put things in place to try to prevent it happening again, but they’re not letting it control the lives of everyone living in Singapore. There’s a sense of the past underpinning the present but the future driving direction.

Raffles Tour, Singapore

2010-11-15T22:39:00.000+10:00

Today has been a day of misunderstandings. The tour today was Raffles footsteps followed by high tea at Raffles Hotel and a boat ride from Clarke Quay. They were to pick me up from the hotel at 1.30pm. I was there from 1.15 – 1.45 but no one turned up. The Concierge knew nothing about it when I asked him at 1.40 so I walked to Raffles Hotel, totally forgetting about the Raffles footsteps part of the tour.

Raffles Hotel knew nothing about the tour either but let me ring the tour company from the lobby and wait in the lobby until the bus picked me up. The tour company weren’t happy with me and spent the rest of the afternoon checking where I was. Everybody knew my name because it was called out at every stop and I was given specific instructions separately!

The Writers Bar at Raffles Hotel

The main lobby, Raffles Hotel

Waiting in the lobby of Raffles Hotel was a treat. No one gets into the lobby of Raffles Hotel unless they’re staying there. They even let me take a photograph (I took two). Who could resist the sign! I nearly took three but the bird was too fast for me.

As I was sitting in the lobby I looked up to the balcony above and found a small bird perched on the ledge. He was leaning forward, ready for take-off and his gaze was firmly focused on the front door. When someone went through the door, the bird dropped from the ledge and swooped through the opening, the door closing regally behind him. He’s obviously done it before.

High tea at Raffles Hotel was different to the high teas I’ve had in Australia. Not as much food on the trays for one thing but the food was also different and offered differently. There was the usual trio with sandwiches, cake and petit fours (eight small sandwiches and four of each of the others). Tea was never-ending, leaf tea and freshly made. I’ve been missing my tea. Once the tea part was over there was a buffet on offer. There was a supply of steamed Asian things – little dumpling things with different fillings. The sweet and sour chilli sauce was good. The buffet also offered a range of cakes and desserts and fruit.

After Raffles Hotel was a boat tour. I’d taken a boat tour the other day and this was similar but I love being on the water. It’s such a relaxing way to spend time.

The Selangor Pewter shop was a must-see according to our guide. I didn’t mind because I like pewter and bought a pate knife with a sunflower pattern and a little merlion. I saw a gorgeous tea set that I would have loved. It was designed for the 125th anniversary of Selangor Pewter. A little out of my price range though. When I unpacked the pewter I found I’d been given the wrong knife pattern. I’ll have to take it back and change it.

The next misunderstanding came in Chinatown when I went for a fitting. I had arranged to fit the jacket being made today because I’m out all day tomorrow but the jacket wasn’t there. He’d written down tomorrow’s date in his book. I know I didn’t agree to that because I’m out all day. Now I have to go back again on Wednesday and hope there are no alterations required for the jacket. Otherwise I’ll have to go back again on Thursday. I’m spending more time in Chinatown than I am anywhere else. I'm starting to know my way around - and those of you who know my sense of direction will be amazed by that!

Singapore Zoo

2010-11-14T18:22:00.000+10:00

At nearly 7am there were barely half a dozen cars on the road and two pigeons on the ledge outside my window – the first pigeons I’ve seen here. Noisy minahs (the brown ones with black heads) are the only birds I’ve seen here so far.

There are so many images that flash like strobe lights as I drive around. A tray-back truck full of men sitting in the back on their way to a construction site. A church, the grounds turned into a parking lot, regimented rows of people neatly filling inside. A man and a woman standing on a street corner, she coming barely to his chest, his upper body twisted towards her, leaning over her, eyes focused on her face. She, for that moment in time, is the whole focus of his being. A girl, riding pillion on a motor bike, light-weight skirt flying half-way up her back, white legs flashing in the light. The rider in front of her wearing protective clothing.

An Orang Utan

I went to the zoo this morning. We had two and a half hours there, including breakfast. In that time I managed to see only one third of the zoo and still nearly missed my bus – the only one for the day. I took a few good photos and a lot of really bad ones. I managed to get some shots of orang utans for Lois but unfortunately didn’t see the komodo dragon. On the bus there was a family from the Isle of Mann and another, three generations travelling together for a holiday, from Australia (Ipswich, Adelaide, Gold Coast, Melbourne).

It started raining on our way home. Thunder, lightning and heavy rain just as I was crossing the street. Now my shoes are wet and nothing dries here. I spent the afternoon watching the rain from my room and dozing.

Hands on Literacy Conference

2010-11-13T19:59:00.000+10:00

The train trip this morning was interesting. Contrary to all evidence gathered here so far, there are people up and moving at 7am. Of course most of the people on the train (predominantly men) were asleep. How they managed to wake up just in time for their stop I don’t know.

Once off the train I headed for the bus stop and was almost immediately waylaid by a woman in baggy Adidas running shorts, a crushed t-shirt and thongs. “Are you going to the Hands on Literacy Conference too?” she asked. Is it tattooed to my forehead? No. I’m white. It was obvious I was there for a reason. We caught a taxi together to the school. It was obvious she’d spent the last 20 years in the US from the way she berated people who got into line ahead of us when we’d been standing there a while. She made no apology for it but I think she toned it down a lot for me because she kept telling me it was really obvious I was Australian. I didn’t get angry or angsty when the taxis didn’t stop immediately, happy just to enjoy the warm morning (sweltering, actually) and watch life go by.

The conference was an eye-opener. It’s organised by a very small group of people in the International Teacher Librarian Association. This was the second ever conference and there were probably 300 participants. Not bad for the second time around for a group of nine people. The focus of the conference was literacy, primarily ways to engage students in literacy, particularly when so many of them have English as a second language. By far the majority of the attendees were from international schools around the world and who teach English to students from varied backgrounds.

Ross Todd was absolutely brilliant, both as a keynote speaker and a seminar presenter. He’s so fired up and animated – so ‘into’ his topic. I wish I could be so enamoured of a field, the fire burns for years like that. His keynote and seminar segued so smoothly I barely noticed the room change. I have lots of Web 2.0 bits and pieces to share with the staff when I get back: ways to change students’ searching from information dumps to critical thinking strategies.

Fiction reading area, Senior Library, Tanglin Trust Schoo, Singapore

The school here is amazing. I haven’t seen much of it as we were inside all day but the fiction section in the senior library where Ross Todd’s seminar was held is amazing. What a great space. It’s also used for classes and committee meetings. The screen retracts.

The second guided inquiry seminar was interesting. It was good to see that the theory could be applied with successful outcomes but I think the presenter could have gone into more depth regarding student reactions and engagement in the project and how teachers found the process. She certainly had the time.

The storytelling workshop was a last minute change for me. I was sure it was just going to be a fun filler as the other seminar I wanted to attend had been cancelled. How wrong could I have been? Roger Jenkins’ story-time might have been aimed at the primary level but I could see so many applications at my school, simply because so many of our students have English as a second (or sixth) language and the stories would be a great way to engage them in a topic from the beginning and teach them some language skills at the same time. He showed us three different story styles and I could see applications in English, SOSE, Science, ESL and Tourism just from them. The possibilities are endless.

I met some lovely women at lunch who invited me to visit their school next week. I’ll email tomorrow to try to set that up. What a buzz.

Tonight is the after-conference dinner. I’m going partly because I met some lovely people today and might meet some more tonight but also because I need practice in social situations. I’m a social misfit so need all the practice I can get.

Singapore

2010-11-12T21:39:00.000+10:00

I'm visiting Singapore, ostensibly for a conference, but the conference is one day and I'm staying ten. I started this on Facebook but it was fiddly because I talk too much, so from today I'll post here. My photos will still mostly go on Facebook with a single sentence or two about what I've done.

I decided my blog would be easier for this as I talk a lot. Facebook is more for small news flashes.

Entrance to the National Library Singapore

I spent this morning in the National Library of Singapore. It’s a bright, airy silent place. There were lots of people there, mostly students from the look of them, but not one conversation, no study groups, even in the study room. Everyone sat individually and worked silently.

There’s no photography allowed so I sat and read a book on tea. It described the teas from each major region: India, Ceylon, China and Yassam, and how the growing conditions make the flavours so different. Anyone who knows me would be rolling their eyes about now, knowing I had a brilliant morning and wondering how it could be possible. Mix libraries/books and tea and I’m in heaven.

After the library I went back the Chinatown for a fitting. I took the bus this time and they dropped me at a different place from where I got off the train on Wednesday. I found Food Street. I swear that’s what the sign said. The narrow street was lined both sides with shops selling food. In front of most of the shops were booths selling food. A lot of those were closed. I expect they would open in the late afternoon: that seems to be when most things happen in Singapore. I wasn’t hungry so didn’t stop. Perhaps I’ll go back there for dinner one evening and see if I can match any of the smells to the food. Even though a lot of the places were closed there were still smells wafting around. Most of them I recognised but there was one strongly astringent one that almost bordered on rancid. I’ll try to make sure I never eat what made that smell.

I went back to the overpass where I sat for a time on Wednesday. I swear the same group of men were sitting in the pagoda – the only place guaranteed of shade. There are trees over most of the other tables but shade is patchy and the best ones were occupied. The tables have a game board etched into the centre. At least I think it was a game board. I can imagine those men in the pagoda coming out when the sun loses much of its heat and playing games in the garden. I sat under my umbrella, sweat dripping from my elbow, and drank the last of my water.

I saw Australian mangoes for sale: $5.60 each. I didn’t get one as all the fruit I’ve eaten here so far tastes slightly fermented. I think it would be difficult to prevent that in this heat. Nothing feels cold when I buy it. Food is kept cold: there are often thermometers on the glass to tell you how cold it is inside, but the drinks aren’t. I’ve bought bottled water and canned drinks a couple of times and they don’t develop any condensation and don’t feel cold to the touch. And everything’s small. The cans are 330ml. Lots of places have fridges at the entrance, filled with cans and water but the fridges are only about 60cm wide with half a dozen shelves. Half those shelves are stacked with water, the rest a mix of cans, most of which I don’t recognise. Coke and Pepsi are sold but you have to look for them and then it’s just the small cans and usually only one variety available. I haven’t seen any big Coke or Pepsi fridges like we have at home. I haven’t even seen a full-sized Mars bar. Chocolate is devilishly difficult to find just wandering around. And I’ve looked!

I think I need to go to the business district. There’s a busy-ness here, wherever I’ve been; a quiet desperation to make money, but there’s also a sense of calm. Didn’t I say yesterday that Singapore is a city of contrasts? I wonder what those who already make or have money feel like. I was going to Orchard Road this afternoon as it’s the other place that screams wealth but didn’t make it. I decided I’d drop in at my hotel to freshen up a bit (and pick up some more cash) before going to Orchard Road but I picked the absolute worst time to go back to the hotel for a break.

No sooner had I sat down than there was an announcement that the annual fire drill would be happening. Annual fire drill, and I walked in right then. I rushed around, thinking I’d get out before the alarm sounded but no such luck. I couldn’t even hide in my room and pretend I wasn’t there because I was standing in the lift area with a staff member when the alarm went off and the lifts disabled.

I asked what I should do but none of the three staff members on my floor seemed to know for sure. It seems the fire drill was mainly for staff. I asked if I had to go down the stairs and they all nodded and agreed with me and showed me where to go. I got down to the bottom to be told guests aren’t allowed to use the stairs. It took a while for me to get them to understand I was directed to do so because of the fire drill. I thought it odd that I was the only person in the stairwell the whole eight floors down, except for the ladder blocking access on the seventh floor, and have the distinct impression that guests were exempt from the drill. That seems a little odd. I’d like to think someone would at least check to see if I was out of the building if it came to that.

By the time I got to the lobby I was even more hot and exhausted than I’d been before. I sat there for a while contemplating my dilemma: go back to my room, go out as I was, go to the bar. The bar looked pretty good.

Eventually I decided to go out for dinner. I found a little restaurant around the corner from the hotel and had Black bean beef, Stir-fried vegetables and rice. It was like eating at a different restaurant at home. The food was similar enough that I recognised it instantly but there was a slight difference in flavour. The beef had lots of garlic – sliced not crushed – and big slices of ginger too. There are about five other similar looking restaurants in the same block so I’ll try a few of them.

Tomorrow’s the conference I came here for. I’m having such a good time looking around and doing my own thing I keep having to convince myself I really do need to go to this conference. They’re going to want feedback at the first staff meeting when I get back. It means getting up early. I have to be there between 8.30 and 9.00am. That in itself is odd for Singapore as nothing opens before 11.00am usually. The school I have to go to is on the opposite side of the city. A taxi would be the easiest but probably the most expensive too. I’m thinking of taking the MRT (love Singapore’s train system) to Orchard Road and then a taxi the rest of the way.

My new toy

2010-10-29T18:10:00.000+10:00

I admit it. I like new toys to play with. Several weeks ago I bought a crepe make, a pie maker and an omelete make. Aside from the obvious storage issues, they're great to play with.

Canon G12

My newest toy is a new camera. I wanted something that had a lot of similar features to a SLR but without the bulk or the weight. I've ended up with a Canon G12 (pic from this site) and have spent every spare minute today (not many with work in the middle) playing with it to learn what to do.

It's been ages since I've had a camera to use. The last one I used regularly, a lovely compact Nikon I gave David for his birthday one year, I lost. I've been feeling guilty about that ever since.

David got a new camera a little while ago and is very happy with it and, as I'm going to Singapore soon, I thought I needed one. No way am I borrowing his camera again! If I'm going to lose another camera, it'll be my own.

A world of contrasts

2010-09-20T23:40:00.000+10:00

A friend of mine is currently touring Ireland and is posting gorgeous photos on her blog. The country-side in the photos is nothing at all like I'm used to seeing here in Australia and I've started making comparisons.

I spent my very early years, and some time during my teenage years, in sheep country out west (way out west: 12 hours' drive west of Brisbane; about 1100km). It's the beginnings of desert out there with a few lonely Marino sheep - until shearing time and they're all rounded up and you realise there're thousands of them. The desert changes just as dramatically too when the floods come. There's no or little rain out there - just drought and then flood from the Channel Country up north. Then the country becomes a carpet of colourful wildflowers, the colours so strong that when the sun rises, your eyes hurt.

I have a photo taken in 1989 of a paddock full of golden daisies. If you're not sure how large a paddock is, just imagine those thousands of sheep and how much space they need in dry country that offers little food or water. There's no such thing as a half-acre plot out there; most stations are thousands of square kilometres. Usually the bright red soil is mostly covered by coarse grey-green grass and pock-marked with scraggly eucalyptus trees, but when there's rain or a flood the flowers come out and suddenly you begin to wonder if you're really as far west as you thought.

The photo is from so long ago partially because I don't go out there any more and partially because the area rarely gets enough water for the flowers to bloom. Those sorts of floods happen once a decade.

What a difference a decade makes

2010-09-08T12:11:00.000+10:00

Ten years ago, getting passport photos done meant I walked into the Post Office and asked for them. I stood against the wall, stared at the camera, paid my money, collected the photos and I was done.

I tried that two days ago. The process was the same but the results weren't.

Getting passport photos today means I need to have my eyebrows and eyelashes tinted and wear a foundation to even my skin tone. I even have to brush my hair - something I usually only do at night before bed.

I don't usually pay into the vanity shit for women, but then I've always been a reasonably good looking woman (and it's amazing what a difference smiling makes to your face). Now I'm seeing signs of aging. There's some grey coming in: not enough to colour my hair but enough to notice. My eyebrows were hit first, oddly enough. I also have sagging skin under my eyes that's a different colour to the rest of my face - hence the need for foundation. It's disheartening.

I don't mind getting older. I really like the person I am now and know I wouldn't be that person without all my life experiences. But I don't want to LOOK it.

Father's Day

2010-09-05T09:22:00.034+10:00

I always get a Father's Day present. I know it seems strange because I also get a Mother's Day present. Yes, it's double-dipping, but I've done both jobs for so long I think I deserve the recognition for it.

Tomorrow is Father's Day here and Lauren gave me my present tonight.

F111 during afterburn

Tonight was the annual Riverfire celebration. Basically it's an hour of fireworks along the river that bisects the city. Before and after we have an F111 fly over and afterburn. It's a spectacular sight and this year was the last year for the F111s before they're retired from active service. Lauren rang at 5pm to see what my plans for the evening were.

The fireworks.

"Want to come up to Mt Gravatt and watch the fireworks from there?"

"Sure, sounds fun. What time?"

"I'll meet you at the bottom of the mountain at 6."

That's right. The bottom of the mountain. The road was closed off for the night as Mt Gravatt is a popular place to go to view the fireworks over the city. It's far enough away from the city so we can see the whole show without the interference of the bends in the river or the crowds. We can't hear the music either but that's not such a big problem. We get the birds' eye view. But it's nearly 2km from the road closure up to the top, and with the road closed we had to walk.

It took us nearly half an hour to walk up to the top. We were more interested in chatting so we just took our time and enjoyed the evening. The view from the top is spectacular with the city laid out all around us. Spring has just begun so the breeze was cool with a promise of rain later. Cool here in Queensland means that about half the people up there with us needed long sleeved shirts but mostly short sleeves were fine, even at night.

Afterwards we started the walk down again. Someone in the crowd called out 'shortcut' and, like sheep, we all followed a narrow, barely visible path down the mountain in the pitch black. The path was so steep it was like walking down a very steep flight of steps, only there weren't any steps, just slippery grass and gravel. And did I mention it was night time and dark?

Of course I can't ever suffer in silence.

Me: "We'll never find our way out. We'll still be wandering around the bush in three days."

Lauren: "You didn't bring any water with you, did you?"

Me: "No, but I know how to gather the dew from leaves in the morning."

Lauren: "Oh good. We'll be fine then."

Me: "They'll probably find our bodies next week."

Lauren: "No. With so many of us going missing at the same time, they'll find us before then."

You can't argue with that logic. It took less than 15 minutes to reach the road again.

Just to put it in perspective Mt Gravatt is a popular destination for walkers, runners and cyclists, and it's surrounded by suburbia. I've walked up there fairly often myself and have used the shortcut - in the daylight. It feels different at night because there's no perspective on distance or direction. And there were kids in the group I could scare. Couldn't miss that opportunity!

To dragon or not

2010-06-15T22:28:00.000+10:00

I have a pet dragon. Not a tangible one, one in my book. She's based on a little pewter dragon a friend gave me years ago. She's portly and naive and unaware of her own strength, but totally aware of her appeal. She eats amber and grows exponentially. Her interactions with my characters provide humour in dire situations. I want to keep her.

The problem is she doesn't seem to have a role to play. In my head she's important and the four main characters can't achieve their goal without her but it's not coming through one way or the other. At the moment she's a little light relief, popping up at unusual moments and then disappearing just as suddenly, only to come back again when all the people seem to be doing is travelling on a long journey. She nearly drowns a couple of them - by accident, of course - and deafens and kills a whole heap of bad guys but mostly she's used to get my characters out of situations they can't get out of themselves and, therefore, probably weakening them. At the end of the book she has a major role to play but none of that is clear until right at the end (which I haven't written yet because I haven't worked it out).

Judging on the feedback, she's not working the way I wanted her to at all. All the critiques so far have said 'get rid of her' and 'she's detracting from the story', 'has no purpose'. So now I have a dilemma. Do I go back and write her out of the story completely so my characters can find their own way forward and save themselves, or do I go back and change her character so she ups the ante, so she makes life just that bit more difficult for everyone and no one knows if she's a good guy or a bad guy until right at the end?

I'll have to spend some time on the weekend plotting out both scenarios to see which one will travel the best.

The way writing works

2010-06-10T19:47:00.000+10:00

I've always known my mind works differently when I'm writing but I had a graphic reminder of that today.

Last night I was working on my story - the one I've been trying to finish since Christmas. I'm so close I don't know why I don't just write it and be done with it - until the editing starts, of course. Anyway I had all my characters in a huge cavern, just finished a battle and killed lots of people. Then in an off-hand way, one of the characters says something to the others. Another character spins around and says, "You know the second verse of the Pledge!"

Nothing unusual in that. My response though was to throw my hands in the air and exclaim, "Oh no, there's another verse to the Pledge? I didn't know that. Now I have to write it and find out what it says."

That didn't surprise me - I often have similar sorts of things happen when I'm writing. I don't plan ahead very well; I'm more of a reactor than a proactor, if that makes sense.

The graphic reminder I mentioned before came when I was relating this to a couple of people at work. If the looks on their faces could be translated into actions I would be languishing in a 19th Century mental asylum by now. :)

I've written the second verse of the poem. It's second draft at the moment. I need to do some more work on it but it's good enough for me to continue with the story the way it is. I won't post it here - I have no illusions as to my talent as a poet no matter how much I enjoy playing with rhyming patterns and syllabic rhythms. I write really BAD poetry.

Retreat

2010-06-10T19:35:00.000+10:00

A couple of weeks ago I went on a retreat with one of my writers' groups. It was brilliant. Half of us arrived during the day and the rest in the evening of Friday. When we entered the apartment, it became 2015 and we were in character.

I don't expect a lot to change in my life in just five years. I'll have finished my Grad Cert, hopefully finished my PhD as well and, with a bit of luck and more persistence than I've shown so far, have a book accepted for publication. That's it. I was absolutely fascinated to hear the five year plans of the other writers in the group. They ranged from having two books on the NY Times bestseller list simultaneously, to making a success of a new small business to having multiple books published with local (ie Australian) publishers to becoming totally self-sustaining as far as providing food and energy for the household. Brilliant.

One of the activities we did was a creative collage exercise. A few weeks before we spent a day at a cemetary and chose some people as a focus for a short story. The collage was to help us flesh out those characters and put them in situations that could build into story. It's been a long time since I've spent a couple of hours cutting out pictures and sticking them on cardboard. It's very soothing.

This is the result of my efforts. I didn't use all the pictures I cut out but I've kept them and will use them for other stories.

When I came home, I put the collage on the dining table and left it there for a few days. Every one who came to visit stopped at the table and examined the board. Every one of them came up with their own explanation of who the people were and how they related to each other. The only thing these stories had in commone was the fact that every one of them picked the same person as the villian!

A reason to travel

2010-05-26T18:57:00.000+10:00

I've thought about travelling overseas for years. I even made a list of must-see places. Antarctica, Nova Scotia, Hadrian's Wall, Tintagel Castle and Marakesh are all on that list. I've planned itineraries and chosen hotels, picked the best time of year to go and checked that I have enough leave accrued to do it. But, except for a week in Fiji in 1993, I've never actually gone anywhere. I look at the cost and decide I have a better way to spend that money - a way that would leave me something concrete to show for it at the end of it.

Last week that all changed. I finally found a reason to travel. I found the one thing that has spurred me into applying for the leave, although I haven't actually booked flights yet. I've seen my boss and have tacit approval for the leave and I've told my colleagues and students to expect me to be away at that time. I'm going. It's decided.

And I'm going to a place I've never had the slightest interest in even visiting. Singapore.

Sure Singapore is an interesting place, if for no other reason than Changi prison is there, but I don't like crowds and have never wanted to travel in Asia or anywhere else that's crowded - think of the population of Antarctica, my number one place to visit. So what is it about Singapore that has me almost on the plane right now? Sad to say, it's a conference. I know, my students have already told me I'm more than a little strange. But the keynote speakers are the 'bees knees' in their field, I've read a lot of their work and I desperately need to hear them speak.

Who is it? No one any of my friends would know, but that's just because they're all in different fields to me. Professor Carol Kuhlthau and Associate Professor Ross Todd. Yes, it's them; world leaders in the field of information literacy and guided inquiry learning. I'm so excited I can't sleep, and the conference isn't until November.

My new Kindle

2010-04-09T23:07:00.000+10:00

I just bought a Kindle and I've been so excited I'm showing everyone I know. I bought the 6" one because I didn't want anything larger than an A5 size book to carry around and it's the perfect size. I've spent the last two days doing very little other than playing with my new toy. So far, for the most part, it does exactly what I expected it to do. I can see me carrying it everywhere and using it all the time. I love the screen. It's small but I can change the size of the text and it's much easier to stay focused on than a computer screen.

It's been an interesting experience so far. Of course, only having it for a couple of days, some of the problems I've had could just be me not knowing how to use it properly yet.

My first attempt to buy the Kindle met with a message saying Amazon didn't ship to Australia. I found that odd because I'd done the research and Australia was definitely on the Kindle shipping list. It turned out I had to go into a specific International section to buy it (you can probably tell I rarely buy things like this). Once I got that, it was super-easy. The eight day shipping time turned out to be three days so it all came as a pleasant surprise.
I'd like to be able to choose which songs I want to play as I read. As far as I can find out so far from the user guide, the Kindle simply plays the songs from the first one downloaded to the last, picking up where it left off at last use. That's fine most of the time but I play music to suit my mood and I can't do that with the Kindle. I guess I'll still have to carry my iPod with me.
I'd like to be able to see the comments I add to the books I'm reading when I'm actually in the book. I can see where there is a comment but I haven't worked out how to see the comment at the same time the page is opened, like a footnote or something. It seems to just open a new screen to show the comment then flips back to the page. I'll play with that feature some more.
The text to speech function malfunctioned tonight. For about an hour it wouldn't play at all, just gave me (eventually) an error message then suddenly it decided to work and played from the first page I tried to play at the beginning of the evening, even though I was by then in a completely different book. I had to just let it play through until it caught up with where I was. Hopefully that won't happen again.
The battery doesn't last as long as all the advertising material said it would. I've had it three days and have already had to recharge it and the battery is back to half-charged now. I'll have to recharge again tomorrow. Perhaps I'm just doing a lot more reading than expected. I'm on holidays so I'm spending around eight hours a day reading.
When I first researched the Kindle I decided I probably wouldn't be downloading books directly to it but by the time I actually bought it I'd forgotten why. I worked it out yesterday when I was out and decided to try the direct access to the Kindle store. It was really easy to operate and shopping in the store was very convenient. I bought two books then, when I got home, checked my bank account. With the download charges, those two books ended up more expensive than buying two paper books. In the future I'll stick to my other methods of buying books and download them to the Kindle from my computer. It's good to know I have the connectivity if I need it but I'll certainly try not to need it often.

Overall, I'm really happy with it. I've been wanting one for absolutely ages. I had wanted to buy an e-reader in Australia because I like to try before I buy and I like to know I have access to people in case of a warranty claim. Unfortunately the only one I could find didn't have half the features the Kindle offers. I just hope nothing goes wrong with it because getting it fixed is going to be problematic.

The things you do for children

2010-03-28T20:27:00.001+10:00

Lauren is 26 but that doesn't mean she's any less my child than she was twenty years ago. The only difference is, while I'm still doing all the "Mum" things, what constitutes a "Mum" thing has changed.

Lauren and most of her work colleagues and miscellaneous spouses are going to Malaysia and Thailand for a week. She's spent the last month packing and scrubbing her house from top to bottom (can't go away and leave the house dirty). Part of her packing has been for her and her partner but the largest part has been for her pets. That's my "Mum" thing at the moment. I'm the pet babysitter while she's away.

This afternoon Lauren and Andrew turned up in two cars and started pulling things out from in the boot and behind the seats. The first thing to come out was the cage of birds. Two budgerigars named Clive and Hummingbird. While Andrew took them into the house I collected the next wave - Logan the dog. Then Lauren brought Jesse the cat in. While Lauren and I sat in my office letting Jesse acclimatise, Andrew brought the big things in. There was

the dog house with its associated bedding;
the yellow "Mr Happy" bag with Logan's food, rewards, chains, leashes, dishes and toys;
the green bag with the birds' toys, seed and treats; and
the blue bag with the cat's food, dishes, blankets, toys and litter tray.

The birds are the easiest. They're sitting on the dining table. I'll just uncover them in the mornings, make sure they have food and water, clean the cage when it needs it and cover them again at night.

I already have two dogs in the back yard, one of whom is not at all socialised and who attacks any other animal that goes near him. This means that my own cat, Bridgit, can no longer go into the back yard and neither can Logan.

Logan is inside the house. He's a good dog but he has a tendency to follow me around and, as soon as I stop moving, he flops down and goes to sleep next to my feet. If I move, I step on him. His play mat is in the entry with all his toys and his house is in the dining room. I have to make sure he goes outside at regular intervals - on the lead as he doesn't come very well. I have to take him for daily walks and also take him back over to his place every morning and pick him up from there every afternoon so he has some free off-lead time.

Jesse is in my office with two blankets, food and water bowls and litter tray. I have to keep him confined at least for a few days to let him settle in and also to keep him away from Bridgit. Neither Jesse nor Bridgit appreciate the competition of another cat. He's used to having other people and Logan around all the time so he cries when he's left alone for too long.

Bridgit is confined to my bedroom. She doesn't get on with either Jesse or Logan; one being a rival cat and the other being a big, boisterous, over-friendly dog. Luckily she spends a lot of time sleeping on the bed anyway and has food and water there so hasn't really noticed she can't get out yet.

I've had the visitors here for three hours now and haven't had a moment to myself. I'm not sure I'm going to last the week.

Work sorted

2010-02-27T14:29:00.000+10:00

My work situation is finally sorted. What a relief. I'll be teaching two classes (three fewer than usual) and the rest of the time will be filled with other things. I'll be responsible for administering two Vocational Education Training certificate courses and I'll also be doing some policy writing and presenting some inservice to staff. That'll be fun. I've wanted to do this sort of thing for a while but it hasn't worked out that way. Hopefully now I have the opportunity I'll be able to show my worth in that area as well. With a bit of luck that sort of thing will become a permanent part of my role.

I had planned on spending a chunk of the weekend working out how my first week in the position is going to roll out but, of course, that's not going to happen. As often happens, the release of the stress has resulted in a massive headache. I'm onto day 2 and, if it runs the same course as most of my headaches, I won't be fully functional until Monday. I'm spending my day sleeping, only waking to take medication and fluids - and write the occasional blog post.

Working full time

2010-02-06T07:50:00.000+10:00

I've just gone back to work full time after being part-time 0.8 for four years. The last two years my part time was in bits and pieces, never a full day off or even two half-days. It had become annoying because my extra time wasn't in a usable chunk. I decided it would be just as easy to be working full time.

And now I'm surprised at how much work that extra day over the course of a week really takes. I'm exhausted. While there's still no word on what I'll actually be doing all year, I'm taking another teacher's classes while she's on leave for a couple of weeks. The full time table means I have five classes instead of four. I've also taken responsibility for all the preparation for a program offered to the senior students that I don't actually teach. So that means six different subjects to prepare for. I've had between three and four for the last four years and hadn't realised how much extra work that one or two subjects would be. Even though I'd been studying that whole time, I'd become complacent about my work load.

Going back full time has also given me a greater sense of belonging. It's not as if I didn't feel part of the place before, it's just that I missed a lot of meetings because of the hours I worked. I was always running to catch up with the information. Now I'm there all the time, I find out things at the same time everyone else does.

Mood writing

2010-01-24T18:55:00.000+10:00

I'm a mood writer. I knew it but it's really been brought home to me this week.

On Friday I spoke to a Staffing Officer about my position at my school because I still hadn't heard anything. Apparently I've just been transferred to the school I've spent the last three years at. I'm not holding my breath that that will stay that way because I don't have a timetable - no classes; nothing to do. I'll probably get transferred somewhere else in the next couple of weeks. One positive thing is that they confirmed that I've been place on a full-time load, up from the part-time I've been doing for the last four years. I'd requested the part-time position because I wanted time to study and it worked really well but I've wanted to return to full-time for 12 months now. At least that much has worked.

And what has this to do with mood writing? I've done more writing or working on writing this weekend since I've had that small thing settled, than I've done in the whole six weeks beforehand. If that isn't mood writing, I don't know what is. It annoys me that I let something like job security affect my writing. Writing is hugely important to me. I don't feel truly happy unless I'm writing and if something stops me writing my whole world collapses. Logically, it's silly. Emotionally, it's devastating.

This weekend I've been working on Warrior Pledge. What started as a sub-plot has become the main plot, the motivation for one main character. What was the main plot has become the motivation for one race and a twist and slightly humourous for another. I've added (or re-added) 12000 words in the edits and picked up little things that need tweeking to make it work better. I'm 110 pages in and it's a much stronger story - as well as being closer to my target word-length. I'm excited about it again. The ending doesn't feel so weak now so I'll probably actually write the last few chapters when I get back to that stage.

Apart from my shoulders and neck burning and seizing up because I've been at the computer all weekend, I feel great.

Jobs and imbalance

2010-01-22T16:22:00.000+10:00

I'm a teacher. It's not just something I do, it's something I am. I can't help myself. If someone asks a question and I have even half an idea about the topic I force them to endure a long-winded and involved explanation of how everything works and why it should be so. If I don't know something, I find out and then tell them. Of course the story-teller in me usually makes it interesting too. Teaching is such an integral part of who I am that when it isn't working right everything in my life feels off balance.

At the end of every year we're given a timetable that tells us which classes we'll be teaching the next year. Last year I didn't get one. They had no classes for me to teach, nothing for me to do. It's not really a big deal. I'm still employed and still getting paid. The department has to find something for me to do. I keep telling myself that, but I don't really believe it. For me, it is a big deal. I've proven that by sitting around for five weeks doing absolutely nothing, simply because I don't know what direction my job is going in.

Today was the first day back at work after the summer holiday. I've felt flat all day because there's still no word on where I'll be or what I'll be doing. This afternoon I rang staffing to query my position and finished the phone call laughing so much I was almost in tears. I've been put back on full time after four years part time (my request so I would have time to study). That's terrific, just what I wanted. The thing that had me laughing is that, according to the staffing officer, I've been transferred to my school as from today. I've been there for three years now and hadn't realised I hadn't been transferred already.

In all that, there's no guarantee I'll be spending this year there. I still have no classes. I still feel unsettled and out of balance because of that.

Job requirements and discrimination

2010-01-14T09:39:00.000+10:00

I keep an eye on different jobs available around the area. A lot of it's for my students so I can tell them what they need to know when preparing for work, but it's also for me. I'd like a job as a teacher-librarian in a school so I have specific searches for those positions.

I read of a job position this morning at a local Christian school. It sounded perfect, just what I'm looking for, so I pulled up the application forms and started reading. Within a very short period of time I was so angry I shut everything down and walked away. There is no way I'm going to apply for a position at any place like that.

I'm sure the school itself is fine but one of the criteria I would have to make a statement about hit every anti-discrimination button I have. They want me to state that I believe the only 'proper' relationship is a "monogomous heterosexual marriage"! What utter rubbish. How do they get away with this sort of discrimination? I thought we had laws against it but they're hiding behind the religion banner.

Of course Australian law doesn't recognise homosexual marriages because some narrow-minded bigots in Canberra decided the only reason anyone gets married is to have children. Some moron even said same-sex marriages end in divorce half the time. I thought that was a bit odd because we don't have any recognised same-sex marriages in Australia. Where did he get his figures from? My aunt married at 84. I sure she never intended to have children from that union! But she was allowed to get married because she married a man. I know a lot of couples who are totally committed to each other but can't get married simply because they're the same sex. It's ridiculous. And have they checked out the divorce rate lately? Nearly half of those married, get divorced. And, as only heterosexual marriages are recognised, those statistics show only those figures.

Why do so many people shut their brains down when they're confronted with something outside their own experience? All I can think of is they must be terribly insecure within themselves and feel threatened by anything different.

Becoming tiny

2010-01-06T20:11:00.000+10:00

I think I've finally managed to relax after finishing work just before Christmas. I spent two weeks preserving every type of food I looked at - at least that's what it felt like. I made twelve different preserves this year: three chutneys, two pickles, three jams, two jellies, two butters. I impressed myself, but the main result of the preserving obsession was to give me time to avoid everything else, even thinking.

Today was the most productive day I've had since the middle of December too. I've washed and cleaned and shopped and, in between it all, I've written 1500 words. That's the best I've done since NaNo finished. I finally started work on the sub-plot I've been thinking about for about four months. It's slow going. I can't just write it all. I have to keep thinking about when things are happening and how it fits in with the bits I've already written. I don't want the other characters to suddenly be in the way - they can't meet each other for a while yet.

After all that, I needed a break, so I put my favourite Fleetwood Mac on to play (I don't know anyone else who can layer rhythms like that. Absolute magic.) and decided to learn how to make a URL tiny. It's one of those little, simple things that I've been meaning to do for a long while, knowing it'll make my work much easier, but I never got around to it. So along came Father Google to help out and now I know what to do. It'll be great when I go back to work and need to send links to people.

Also on the topic of becoming tiny: I started dieting again and have managed to stick to it for two whole days. I don't do fad diets; I like my food too much. I usually eat very healthy, lots of fresh fruit and veg and homemade stuff. I just eat too much and don't exercise enough. Cutting down the volume of food and exercising regularly is a trial. If I stick to it, by March I should be 10kg lighter. I know that sounds a lot but according to all the medical texts I should lose 30kg. I won't though. I don't like myself too thin; it's too hard to maintain and I like curves on women. The 10kg is just enough for me to fit into my comfy clothes and move without my knees protesting.

Hair

2009-12-17T07:48:00.000+10:00

Isn't it amazing how much better the day looks when your hair is cut and no longer flopping in your eyes? At least that happens for me. I feel much more in control. That probably sounds like I'm a control freak and I'm not really. I can hear my family and friends gasping at that comment, imploring me to tell the truth, but each of them only sees the parts of me I show them. Sometimes I play it up, just for a reaction.

Anyway, back to the hair. My hairdresser fitted me into his lunch break yesterday and didn't even charge me for the appointment I missed. Of course I took him a bottle of homemade chutney and a bottle of wine as a peace offering so that might have helped. Now I can wash my hair, shake it and leave it - I rarely brush it before night time - and I can focus on the rest of my day and not on keeping my hair out of my face. Calm has once again descended.

Distractions

2009-12-15T07:05:00.000+10:00

I always thought that I'd get more done over the holidays just because I have more time, but it's not the case. If I'm not so busy I need to stay super-organised I seem to be prone to distractions.

Yesterday was a perfect case in point. I had one place to be - the hairdresser at 2.30pm. So what did I do all day? I admired the beetroot chutney I'd made the day before - several times because I love it when new recipes work out. I read a couple of e-books - I REALLY need to get myself an ereader; my laptop is way too heavy and hot. I made apricot jam, which didn't set. That or course had me running into the kitchen every ten minutes just to make sure it didn't set. It set on the saucer and what was left in the pan but not in the bottles. Go figure. That kept me occupied for a good many hours - I really hate it when recipes don't work, especially when I've been so careful with measurements. Sigh - that means I'm spending time today fixing the apricot jam. I did a bit of tidying as well. The cleaners come on Tuesday and it's always nice for them to have access to things so they can actually clean them and not spend their time putting things away - I can do that.

And where in all this was the hairdresser? On my calendar, written in the correct day and with the correct time. My head just kept telling me the 14th of January was Tuesday. I looked at the calendar at least a dozen times during the day. I worked with files on the computer that had been saved on the 14th. I checked the date on the computer several times too, and never once did it click that Monday was the 14th and I should go out.

And this close to Christmas, my chances of getting another appointment are slim. Looks like I'm growing my hair longer for a while. Great - I hate hair flopping in my face so I'll be pinning it back and looking like some over-aged preschooler.

Coconut Ice and anniversaries

2009-12-12T11:55:00.000+10:00

I just realised why I have a sudden urge to make coconut ice when it's not my favourite sweet and my sister was always much better at it that I'll ever be.

Today is the 19th anniversary of the death of my father. He was one of life's true gentlemen. He was kind and thoughtful and gentle in his dealings with others. He was the person who taught me never to judge someone else, and especially not because they were different to me. According to my father, if I didn't make friends with people who were different professions, social status, races, cultures or sexual orientation, I would be the poorer for it. In 1960s/70s small-town Australia, that was a difficult stance to have, but he was right. My life is richer because of the man he was. I still miss him every single day.

Christmas Cooking

2009-12-12T11:22:00.000+10:00

For the third year in a row I've made the same thing to give to people at Christmas. Spicy Tomato Chutney, Apple Jelly and Lemon Butter. I need to do another intensive cook-off before Christmas for the family gifts.

These preserves are all really easy to make and always popular so it's not a disaster that I keep doing the same thing, but I think I need to try something different. I should pull out my old sweets thermometer and make something like coconut ice. That was always my dad's favourite - until my sister decided pale pink was boring and made a bright green batch.

The only problem with cooking at this time of year is the weather. We're regularly over 30oC every day with the nights rarely going below 25oC so it gets very hot in the kitchen. I've done most of my preserving in the middle of the night as it's simply too hot to do anything during the day.

I'm thinking about getting a Lilly Pilly tree for the back yard. That way when it fruits I can make Lilly Pilly Jelly. You never see it around anymore. It's one of those things that reached its peak during the 1930s depression and has gradually slid into obscurity. It's a pity because Lilly Pillies make a fantastic jelly, deep pinkish red with a slight tartness underneath the sweetness.

I've thought about other fruiting trees but I'm not really much of a gardner. Anything that can't survive my neglect won't do well in my garden. I have enough trouble remembering to water the chilli bushes, let along remembering when to spray for bugs - and where to find a natural spray because I don't like to use chemicals if I can avoid them. I keep bugs and grubs out of my garden by companion planting. Everything is mixed together: vegetables, herbs and some flowers. All of them are planted next to things that will either help them grow better or keep bugs at bay. I'm happy with the yield I get, especially since more often than not I forget to water.

NaNo comparisons

2009-12-02T15:31:00.001+10:00

I just opened the novel I was working on before I began NaNo.

In twenty months writing Warrior Pledge I've written just over 50000 words.
In thirty days of writing No Evil Star, I've written just over 50000 words.

Of course Warrior Pledge is a much better story so far because I've been editing and plotting story arcs and character arcs and all those sorts of things along the way but it doesn't change the fact that it's taken me nearly two years to write the same amount I wrote in a month.

And I have exactly the same problems with both of them, even with all the preparation and editing that's gone into Warrior Pledge. Apparently all my characters sound the same. I can't see it which is why it's a problem. In my head they all come across as totally different people but I'm obviously having a problem getting that across on the page.

I'm not going to worry about it tonight. I've given myself the rest of this week to just fudge around, writing a word here, a paragraph there and thinking about the research I need to do and reading an article here and there. Next week I'll begin a program of mimimum standards:

Minimum one hour writing
Minimum one article read
EVERY night

I made it!

2009-11-29T09:30:00.000+10:00

I hit the 50k mark this morning. I was beginning to wonder if I had time to do it, this week's just been crazy. I've validated at 50518 and I'll leave it at that for the moment. The book's not finished. I've written a chunk of it and then this morning I skipped to the final scene and wrote that. That was enough to slip me over the 50k. I need to do some plot sketching to make sure the plot arc flows. I have to work out exactly where everything fits so I don't leave any great gaping holes in the logic - there are heaps there now. But all that will take time that I don't have at the moment.

There's a workshop on at uni next week that I really need to go to. That requires a whole heap of reading and 'serious thinking' and I have only two evenings to do it all in. Normally I'd take a couple of weeks to do it and feel prepared but I don't have that time.

Today is another family day. It was my birthday last week so Lauren has been spending lots of time with me. We went shopping yesterday. It was only going to be for an hour or so but it ended up being for most of the day. We both hate shopping, particularly close to Christmas, so it was a real feat to do it. I now have a new chair for my office - a nice red leather one that makes me sit straight. And I have new eyebrows. Lauren says I'm at the age now where I looked washed out so I needed to get my eyebrows coloured. Lovely child.

NaNoWriMo Day 26

2009-11-26T21:49:00.000+10:00

The last two weeks have been all up and down. Last week I struggled to fit writing in with the research and this week I've had a killer headache. Serves me right for sitting at the computer for five hours straight on Sunday, I suppose. All my muscles are still frozen solid but at least the pain's gone for a while. Just over 46000 tonight. Only 4000 to go to target.

This week is also my birthday so I have a lot of family-oriented stuff happening. Last night Lauren took us to dinner. I walked into the Modern Thai restaurant and she had everything organised. She works at the restaurant so she'd set the table herself, chosen the wine and the food and tea. It was wonderful. All I had to do was sit there and enjoy the company. I know I've said it before but I'm so lucky she's mine. I can't think of a better daughter or a better friend. She's fantastic.

I floated an idea with Lauren at dinner last night. I've been thinking of selling all my property and consolidating, buying two houses in the same street so she can live in one and I can have the other. She looked at me in total disbelief, then snapped, "We had that and you left." She's right. When she bought her first house and moved out of home, she bought a house at the other end of the street from me. Then a couple of years later I moved to another suburb. She's obviously still not happy about it! Now that's love. ;)

NaNoWriMo Day 21

2009-11-21T07:11:00.000+10:00

I went to the library yesterday and borrowed about a dozen books for my research. By the end of the weekend I'll have a list of others I want to buy. I figure if I'm going to spend three years analysing them I'll want to writing notes in the margin - can't do that with library books. When NaNo finishes I'll begin compiling the annotated bibliography and doing the literature review. I'm really looking foward to it, but I've made myself put it away for a while. I'll keep reading and making notes but it won't be my focus until after NaNo.

Making that decision and getting that little bit organised has helped me get back into my book as well. I've struggled all week to write anything and have only managed around 600-700 words a day. Last night with the issue of the research decided, I wrote 2440 words. Much better. I'm hoping for 3000-4000 each day this weekend to get me back on track for hitting the 50000 by the end of next week.

I created another wordle from what I wrote last night. I like the wordles: they give you an idea of what is happening without showing how bad the writing is because I haven't thought about it much or edited it.

NaNoWriMo Day 19

2009-11-19T18:08:00.000+10:00

I've had a week of 600 word days. A lot of that is because I've been focused on some research and trying to pull a proposal together out of thin air. I've reread a lot of material from a year or two ago and started working on the context and purpose of the study but there's still heaps to do, and an interview to get through tomorrow.

As far as my novel is concerned, I've been playing with Wordle. What a fantastic procrastination tool. I think it could also be used to help with quicksand plots too. Just putting a couple of paragraphs into Wordle and letting it do its thing could bring a whole new idea to light. Check out the wordle I created from the first couple of paragraphs of the novel. What pictures does it bring to mind? What assumptions can you make about where the story and characters are heading?

Image (cc) Wordle.

NaNoWriMo Day 15

2009-11-15T21:59:00.000+10:00

I wrote just over 3000 words today, going just past the 30000 word mark. I probably could have done more if I'd forced myself to stay at the computer but I work better if my mind gets to percolate ideas for a while in between writing jags. Today I've written both a sex scene and a panic attack, both highly emotional things. I haven't portrayed the emotion at all well and I'm not looking forward to editing it to put it all in.

Sometimes I think there's just too much emotion in the world and not enough of just sucking it up and getting the damned job done.

A lot of my friends and family shake their heads at me and tell me I have too much testosterone to be a real woman. I wonder if I'm supposed to go through life on an emotional roller coaster, never be able to make a logical decision and be totally drained at the end of every day. I much prefer the ordered routine I have where I have plans of action for possibilities and fix problems logically and calmly.

No excerpt again today. The writing's not good enough to share.

NaNoWriMo Day 14

2009-11-14T09:09:00.000+10:00

I missed the deadline to add my word count to the NaNo website last night. I wrote until about 12.30am and my word count for the day added onto today's record. That's disappointing, mostly because I don't like seeing that records show I didn't do any work one day but also because I passed the magical half-way mark (25000 words) and when I put my entry in tonight, there's not going to be a record of exactly that time. I know - build a bridge.

At my writers' meeting last night we talked briefly about what to do when the plot stalls and you don't know where to go. One of the girls suggested changing the morality of one of the characters. I thought about that for a while, trying to decide who it would work best with, what way their morality could change and how it would work best. That's where I got 1500 words last night in just on an hour. That small change has also given me the set-up for the next chapter and a way for all the major characters to begin to deal with their internal conflicts. What a fantastic way to get things moving again.

I'm not putting an excerpt in today. As I've become less sure of where I'm going with the book, my writing has become less ... less everything. There is the occasional phrase that's pretty good, but the rest is telling, not showing and, basically, absolute rubbish.

NaNoWriMo Day 13

2009-11-13T17:17:00.000+10:00

I'm to the stage where I'm so tired I can't remember what day it is. It took me a full five seconds to realise that the date is also the day we're in on NaNoWriMo. I suppose it goes with putting my Berocca tablet into my cup of tea this morning instead of in the glass of water beside it.

November is one of the busiest months at work and having my book stuck in my head constantly has made it more difficult to concentrate and get things done. I'm also not sleeping well, barely getting five hours a night this week. I think I'll sleep in tomorrow morning before going to a write-in. I'll be in a place where I have no choice but to sit and write. Hopefully that means I'll get a lot done.

What I wrote last night is rubbish so I'm not putting it up here. Today's extract is from the middle of a previous chapter. As usual it's not great writing but it's not the rubbish I wrote last night either.

When Starr came here, he came face to face with his childhood. Every time. He knew Natch loved to play with that. When Starr walked in there Natch would be sitting behind his desk with the thick crop beside his hand.
Starr entered the corridor, strode to the end and went down the stairs. He never hesitated. Not now. He had once. Only once. He knocked briefly on the double sized black door and pushed it open. Once he was in front of Natch’s desk he stopped, hands clasped over his crotch in a futile attempt to protect it.
It was long minutes before the fleshy man on the other side of the desk looked up.
“You’ve been busy Starr.”
Starr nodded but kept his mouth shut. Natch had plenty more to say yet and Starr needed to find out what he was supposed to have done wrong this time.
“I’ve been getting reports in from all over about you and your pyromaniac tendencies.”
Starr frowned. He had no idea what Natch was talking about. He hadn’t set fire to anything since his last visit here. Not unless you counted Freema’s ship.
“Those were your pirates?” When Natch glared at him, Starr realised that one question had earned him a beating. Not that it took much to convince Natch he should beat Starr.
The crop was snatched up as Natch pushed himself up from his chair. Starr almost didn’t feel the first slice; his suit protecting his upper arms. The second one landed across his chest as Natch rounded his desk. The third, across his abdomen and crossed forearms.

NaNoWriMo Day 11

2009-11-11T22:07:00.001+10:00

I almost didn't write anything today. I had a super busy day at work and then a job interview that I'd only had 24 hours to prepare for and was exhausted by the end of it. Not having a clue where my story had to go from where it was didn't help either. Then I get onto my blog and find my widgit from a few days ago has gone. I'll worry about it later.

But I sat down at the computer about an hour ago and told myself that I was going to write 500 words, even if it was all rubbish. So I've now written 1400 words and moved my characters forward another step. It's not great writing but the bones are there.

Here's today's excerpt:
“We’re not stowaways,” exclaimed Freema indignantly. “You rescued us.”
“You didn’t leave at Tolifax, told no one you were here. In the eyes of governmental law, that makes you stowaways, whether the pilot is aware of you or not.”
Lonnar nodded. This obviously wasn’t news to him.
Freema looked devastated.
“What?” Starr asked. “Didn’t you consider you might be breaking a law just by staying on board?”
She shook her head, her eyes welling. Then she broke down into noisy tears, her hands covering her mouth, making the sobs echo weirdly in her mouth.
“Jeesis.” Starr landed on his knees beside her, leaning over her lap, drawing her body close to him.
Lonnar leaned around her from behind, his arms looped over her shoulders and around Starr's head, holding them all in a fierce embrace.
And overhead, a haunting melody began. Eventually Starr recognised it as Bussey’s Luna, the prelude Starr often played to go to sleep by. He almost broke out of the hug to tell Brett to turn it off, but he felt comfortable; comforting and comforted at the same time and he didn’t want to move.
Manipulative bastard.

NaNoWriMo Day 9

2009-11-09T21:27:00.000+10:00

Today's been difficult. I realised at lunch time I'd totally forgotten about applying for a job I wanted to apply for and had to write responses to ten selection criteria in a bit more than two hours with about one hour to plan. I don't expect to short-list, but that's not because I rushed the application. I don't have the experience they want, just the qualifications. We'll see.

Anyway, after all that writing I couldn't stay sitting at the computer and switch to NaNo. I needed a break. And then I needed a longer break. Consequently I haven't written a lot tonight. I pushed myself til I broke the 20000 word mark and then I stopped. One more chapter down. It's a dreadful chapter - all choppy and missing bits but it's the best I could do today. I'll work on it again tomorrow before starting the next chapter, maybe fill in some of the missing bits - as soon as I work out what they are.

And today's excerpt:
“Starr, you need to come back to the bridge.”
“Kryste, can’t a man take a piss without being interrupted?” Starr finished, then squirted cleansing gel on his hands as he left the bathroom. “This better be important Brett because I really don’t want to have to deal with anything more from you three right now.”
“It’s important.” Brett’s voice sounded more serious than it had since they’d lost nearly half their ship in the fight to rescue Freema.
Starr started running.
Three ships filled the view-screen. “What the fuck is this about?” Starr exclaimed.
“They were waiting for us,” Brett said.
Jeesis. They weren’t where they were supposed to be. They’d told no one what they were doing beyond the first jump, yet three pirate ships knew enough to be sitting there waiting for them when they came out of the second unplanned jump.
“Can you read anything, Brett?”
“They’re Natch’s men.”
Starr flicked a look at Lonnar but the older man was standing beside Freema staring out the view-screen. He had a fierce frown on his face and his fists were clenched by his sides.
Freema slipped into Starr's chair and pushed her hands into the control manacles. “Brett, what do you think their reaction would be if we did this?” She punched in code as she spoke.
“I think at least two of them would shoot each other and the other one’s pilot would probably shit his pants,” replied Brett.
“What are you two talking about?” Starr demanded. “Freema, get out of my seat. And Brett, stop encouraging her.” He began to walk over to his seat but at that moment an orange light flared on the hull of one of the ships.

Dog people

2009-11-09T20:52:00.000+10:00

I'm not a dog person. I think dogs are fine and friendly and all that. I've owned a dog and absolutely adored him. But dogs are time-consuming and smelly.

I much prefer cats. I love their independence and their dominant nature; their absolute acceptance of their superiority. According to David, my cat, Bridgit is very dog-like. She comes and tells me when she's hungry - usually every 10 minutes - and waits until I get up. Then she walks in heel position, checking on me constantly until we get to her bowl and I give her more food.

I can't see what's dog-like about that. She's not the one in heel position - I am.

I love widgits

2009-11-09T08:10:00.000+10:00

I'm stuck with my writing at the moment - trying to make a fight scene different from the other two I've already done - so I've been browsing the NaNo page. I found this fantastic widgit. I love widgits. It's like having a new toy to play with. The pale blue isn't one of my favourite colours but the choice isn't mine. I just love having a visual to see how I'm going. It's supposed to update every five minutes so I'll come back tomorrow to see if the word count has changed.

NaNoWriMo Day 8

2009-11-08T20:43:00.000+10:00

I went to a write-in today. What an interesting exprience. I was torn between chatting with people, some I have met before, some I haven't, and writing to get my word-count up. As being social isn't one of my strong points, I chose the latter. It was really good - I wasn't at home so I couldn't be distracted by all the things at home. My seat was surrounded by others so it was difficult to get in and out, so I just had to sit there in front of my laptop and write. I wrote over 3500 words before I left a few hours later. That makes something like 4200 for the day so far. I'm going to spend another hour this evening on it. I'm looking for another 500 words to get over my personal target for today. I think I have the scene forming in my head so it should work.

I'm a slow writer, probably because I don't plot very well. I can't seem to see what will happen next unless I have what has happened before mapped out. I know it will need some serious editing before it's good but one scene has to be on paper before I can move onto the next one. I can't even visualise the next one until the previous one is done. That slows me down.

I'm enjoying this book, although I enjoy all of them when I'm writing them. It's very different to anything I've written before in that it's set mostly in space, in a confined area and the four main characters are tripping over themselves with nothing to do. It's a challenge to make it interesting and not fall into a rut. Speaking of ruts, I'm coming up to my third attack from pirates. I'll have to handle this one differently, make sure the reason for the attack is different from the others, make the stakes higher, otherwise it will read like I'm in a rut. That's the reason I haven't just written the 500 words I'm looking for. I need to get the beginning of the scene clear in my head before I can begin. Once I start, it seems to flow fairly smoothly until I run out of scene in my head, then I have to stop and think again. Sometimes that's 3000 words, sometimes, like last night, it's 200.

Below is today's excerpt from what I wrote today. I'm trying to choose dialogue as it's more difficult to stuff up dialogue and it's more likely to be a little bit interesting. I think it also shows the characters better than exposition. Total so far: 17767.

“Starr. Starr, wake up. She’s doing it again.”
Starr heard the words and groaned. “Who’s doing what, Brett?”
“Freema’s hacking me.”
"I thought you had that under control.”
“She won’t stop.”
Starr pushed himself out of bed, wincing at the tightness in his skin. The pain was better, just an ache in his muscles when he moved. Moving around would help that.
“Starr.”
“Alright. I’m coming. Don’t get your knicks twisted.”
Starr pulled on his ‘recovery’ clothes; a soft cotton knit shirt and almost threadbare cotton knit sweat pants. They hung loose and didn’t rub. He’d wear a suit tomorrow. He padded barefoot to the bridge and found Freema sitting in his seat.
He tilted his head, trying to see around the back of the seat, to the holo-screen, wondering what she was doing, or trying to do.
“Starr, make her stop.”
Freema jumped and spun around. If her skin was lighter, Starr thought her face would be bright red. He leaned on the back of the chair. “Watcha doing, Freema?”
“She’s hacking me, Starr. I told you.” Brett interjected.
“I am not,” retorted Freema.
“Are to,” returned Brett.
“You started it,” she exclaimed.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Enough!” Starr exploded. “Jeesis, what’s wrong with you two?” He reached over and pulled Freema’s hands out of the control manacles. He kept hold of her wrists as he turned her to look at him. Her dark eyes were wide, wary. “Freema, this is my ship, not yours.” He thought of revealing that he knew she was a soldier but decided not to. He’d play this cool and see how she reacted. “I don’t know what sort of thing you’re used to doing but on my ship we respect privacy and ownership.” His thumbs circled on the skin of her hands, warm and smooth. “You’re here as a guest, under my protection until we can sort out why those pirates wanted you and get you to safety, but that doesn’t mean you can upset Brett.” His thumbs circled and circled, the warmth from her hands filling him, calming him. “If you can’t respect that, then you’ll have to leave my ship.” He looked deep into her eyes and forgot what he’d been saying. He dropped her hands and stepped back. “Do you understand?”
She stared at him, her hands still resting in front of her where he’s been holding them.
“Freema? Do you understand?”
She swallowed and lowered her hands and her eyes. “Yes, I understand. No more hacking Brett.” She didn’t sound happy about it. “But he started it.”

NaNoWriMo Day 7

2009-11-07T21:50:00.000+10:00

I've written every day for a week. The last two days feel like I've been unravelling my small intestine to get words on the paper. What I've been writing is absolute rubbish. I keep forgetting particular character quirks and have to go back and try to make them sound the same all the way through. I also have absolutely no idea where the plot is going. The really worst part is that the really good interaction between the characters, particularly the computer with separation anxiety and his pilot, has gone flat. The moment my pilot was beaten and raped, I lost it.

I'm still ahead on the daily word count (sitting around 13500 words) but that's the only good thing happening with it today. I'm going to a write-in tomorrow. With a bit of luck some interaction with real people and other writers (I mean both, not either/or) will help me work out not only where the plot is going but how to get there in the most interesting way. All the pieces are in place, I just need to know what to do with them.
And just to bore people to tears, I'm putting another poorly-worked extract below.

His wrist beeped. The sensor he’d set two days ago told him he had nine hours oxygen left. He stared at it, willing it to change. Grimly he released the belt and floated off the bridge. His suit, in the forward hatch, would give him another three hours. He settled again in his seat on the bridge, the legs of his suit snugged under his thighs and jammed the torch into one of the drive manacles. Across the useless control desk the blackness outside ate at his sanity.

After some time, he realised that one thing on this ship did still work. He retrieved the torch and shoved in between the manacle and the gauntlet it secured so the beam shone on his face. He lifted his wrist and tapped in a code. The small square screen flashed green, then a face appeared on it.
"Hey, Momma,” he said, smiling even as more tears burned his eyes.
“Nalen!” His mother’s face turned away. “Papa, it’s Nalen.” She turned back to him. “He wants to see you too. Rogan, go get Papa. It’s Nalen.” Finally she settled and looked at him. Went silent. “What’s wrong?”
“I was just sitting here and thought I’d give you a call, that’s all.” His voice was as even as it usually was, betraying no emotion.
“Nalen Lonnar Pedrig, don’t you speak to your mother like that. I can tell when something’s wrong so you just tell me and we’ll save a lot of time.”
The screen on his wrist band split and his father’s face joined his mother’s. “Nalen boy, it’s good to see you. I told Momma you’d call and let us know when you’ll be arriving. It’s family day soon.”
“Hey Papa. I just rang to talk for a while. I won’t be coming home.” He wondered if they heard the finality of that statement the way he did.
Silence greeted him. They did.
“Where are you? We’ll come.” Momma’s voice had gone still and quiet, just like his.
He shook his head but couldn’t get the words out.
“How long?” his father asked, sitting on a chair and pulling Momma with him. They didn’t know exactly what he did for a living but knew he faced danger every day. That was the reality of space travel.
He sucked in a breath. They were there for him, just as they’d always been. He wouldn’t be alone. “Twelve hours.”
Momma gasped, smashing a hand over her mouth to mute the sound. When she lifted it away, she was calm again. “What happened?”
“I ran into some pirates.” He huffed a laugh. “I managed to escape just fine but they hit me a few good ones. Directional control was gone. I crashed onto an asteroid which managed to destroy everything the pirates didn’t. I’ve tried everything but there’s nothing left to do.”
Their breathing was the only thing Lonnar heard for a long time then his Momma sat up straighter and patted her hair.
“Mother Meecham down the road was telling me the other day that the farmers were having trouble selling their crops in town. Old man Goo insists on putting his pigs on top of the hay when he takes it in to sell and punches anyone who complains about the smell.” And so it began. After a while Papa joined in and soon they were all laughing and reminiscing. Gods, he loved his family.

NaNoWriMo, day 5

2009-11-05T18:19:00.000+10:00

I think I've lost my momentum. Either that or the headache I woke with has mushed my brain. I've written maybe 50 words so far today and those took me all day to think of. Still, I'm happy with my progress. It's so exciting to push myself into achieving a certain level of writing every day. I'm proving I can do something I'd always told myself was impossible.

My excuses have always revolved around lack of time and too many things to do and to a degree that's true. I'm not accomplishing anything else, that's for sure. The headache is probably from too many hours at the computer and not enough time doing something else - anything else that gets me moving. Poor sleep because I keep thinking about the book has probably contributed to it as well. My response? Too bad. I had a massage and a rest and now I'm getting back into the writing. I want to write at least 1000 words tonight to make sure I stay above the daily target.

I've been posting the first 200 words of each day onto the nano site but I thought I'd start doing that here too. Here's the excerpt from Day 1 - it's probably the best thought-out part and therefore the best written. Expect it to go downhill from here.

The blast knocked Starr sideways, wrenching his wrists against the drive manacles. The ship lurched, evening out as he regained his seat and settled his grip on the controls. Too close.
“Brett, we’re going to have to disengage.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
Starr gritted his teeth against the annoyance rising in him. Seven years and he still couldn’t get the control system to volunteer information.
“Tell me why disengaging when we’re under attack would be a bad idea in this instance.”
“There’s a life form on board. Faint.”
Fuck. He sighed and released his wrists from the drive. “Brett, hold position and protect us the best you can until I get back.”
“That’s it then? You’re leaving?”
All that programming and the only thing Starr’d managed to achieve with Brett was a slight lisp in the system’s morose tone. “I’ll just grab this person and come straight back. You’ll be monitoring me so you won’t be totally alone.” The words came automatically as he snapped a blaster into his hip holster and checked the position of his knives and explosives. “I’ll be back soon. Try to keep them from destroying us.”

New Projects

2009-10-30T14:19:00.003+10:00

I love starting a new project. I've just submitted the last assignments for the semester and have the first draft for a presentation at a job interview prepared so I've begun plotting a new book.

I love the journey, finding out what the characters I have in my head a doing and thinking and feeling is a buzz. This new book is SF again because that's what I love but it's shaping up to be different again from the last three books. The first two were set on the same worlds and had the same characters so they were similar and familiar. The third one has the same race as the first two but a different world and different problems. This one is totally different. So far it's shaping up to be more Science Fiction than the others but that'll probably change as I go through and realise my knowledge of science isn't enough to maintain it all.

I'm constantly amazed that I can pull these things out of my head. Yesterday my mind was blank. Not an idea to be found. This morning I had a beginning scene in my head and that was it. I had absolutely no idea what anyone was going to do. Now I have a planet, pirates, government authorities, missing 'objects of military desirability' (haven't quite worked out what they are yet, but I will), a secret mission and a computer with separation anxiety. My mind is buzzing with ideas.

And all this is for NaNoWriMo. It's a challenge to write 50000 words in thirty days and it starts on Sunday. I know lots of people who've registered so we'll be able to chat and support each other along the way. Now the assignments are done, I'm starting to get really excited.

Eye-hand coordination

2009-10-24T18:46:00.003+10:00

I don't have any. Lauren's the same. We drove to Fernvale today (about an hour west) and spent an hour at the tennis courts there. Most of the time there we were running after the ball. About half the shots that should have been easy, we either missed completely or hit with just the edge of our racquets and the ball shot off on a tangent. I think there were only three or four times we actually managed a reasonable volley - 5-6 hits in a row. Of course we didn't bother with any rules. There's not much point when hitting the ball is a challenge in itself, so we had lots of double-bounces and a few returns from under the net, and services from the middle of the court (just to make sure the ball went over the net a few times).

After the 'tennis' we went to the pub and shared a fish-and-chip lunch. And the whole time we talked. We haven't actually seen each other for a couple of weeks, even though we've phoned and emailed. Our words tumbled over themselves, eager to get out. Most of the things we talked about couldn't be considered 'important' but we simply had to share it all.

When we came back home we lounged around and drank tea, dozed and chatted some more. We had the best day.

When Lauren walked into my house this morning, I felt the release. My world was once again in balance; everything that could be right, was. That's the effect she has had on me from the first moment I saw her.

Lauren feels the same, but she's not sure if the feeling is due to me or the fact that I hadn't lost the tennis racquets afterall!

Tantrums

2009-09-11T07:50:00.002+10:00

I've just realised I still throw childish tantrums. Oh, I don't rant and rave or throw things or make noise at all. My tantrums manifest in more subtle and self-destructive ways.

I discovered this when I got my first assignment for the new course back - and found out I had a 4(pass+). I've spent the last few years getting MUCH better results than that and the 4 has totally thrown me. I expected better from the assignment and from myself.

Consequently, for the last ten days - since I picked up the assignment - I haven't done any study at all. I've been finding books I 'desparately have' to read and sitting in bed and reading every night. I'm not even reading the books I need to for uni. I've totally shut down. How self-destructive is that?

I've given myself until this afternoon to get over myself. Avoiding the issue isn't going to improve things. I've had an interview with the tutor about the marking of the assignment and I've identified what I need to do to do better next time. Now I have to get off my butt and do it. That's beginning this afternoon. By Monday I'll be ready to move on.

At least that's the theory ...

On writing

2009-08-23T21:11:00.005+10:00

I've started back at uni. This time I'm doing a Graduate Certificate in Creative Industries (Creative Writing) and I'm having a ball. I haven't written a short story in four or five years and in the first week of term I wrote three. I've written a few more since then as well. I'm trying to find an interesting story premise for around the 1500 word length that doesn't end up being a conversation between two people or a monologue. It's not long enough to have a lot of characters in so I'm not sure how I'll do it. Meanwhile, trying means I've begun a series of short stories that are exploring relationships between women - to the extreme, of course; I could do nothing less.

I'm also doing a subject that focuses on the novel. The major assignment is to prepare a partial which I think is extremely useful. My only problem is I need a partial now, not the end of semester.

I went to the RWAustralia conference last week and pitched a book to a publisher and an editor. They've both asked to see a partial even though they don't really deal with the kind of books I write. I assumed that to mean I talked the talk really well and they want to see if I can actually write. Even if both reject the manuscript I'll at least have a polished partial available. My problem is knowing when to stop polishing. I hate writing synopses and know I'm not good at it but I've finally got one that sounds close to what I want it to - but the first three chapters don't match it that well. I'll have to go back to the book and ramp up the tension a bit so that what I said in the synopsis is actually happening.

Meanwhile the clock is ticking. I can't leave it too long before sending it in or they'll forget all about me, but I don't want to send inferior work either. And that's the end of my break time. Time to get back to work.

My new computer

2009-06-20T18:16:00.002+10:00

I've decided I don't know as much as I used to. I haven't maintained my currency. For several years now, my use of computers has become just that - usage. I haven't been teaching any of the technical stuff, haven't needed to pull a computer apart, diagnose problems or rebuild it. Other people have looked after that aspect at work and I've had the same computer for eight years at home so it's just needed basic maintenance and the occasional upgrade.

Last week that all changed. My old computer had been annoying me for a while. It had become very slow, freezing regularly and shutting down spontaneously. Rather than try to fix the problem I decided it was time for a new computer. So I sat down with Lauren's boyfriend and talked RAM and graphics cards and other things with unintelligible letter/number model numbers. I knew what I wanted the computer to do and I knew enough to decide on the parts I wanted and I could have put it all together if Adam didn't do it for me but I really have no interest in all that any more. I've been happy to hand all that over to him and let him be my 'tech advisor'.

The things I'm struggling with now are the gliches that have been arising all week. My printers, having been bought at the same time as my old computer, were eight years old. While I could find drivers for both of them on the internet I was at an absolute loss as to how to get them to work. Downloading and installing didn't work. I ended up losing patience with it and bought a new printer this morning. It's a colour laser so it's taken the place of both the laser printer and the bubblejet. Even then I had trouble. The driver that came with it wouldn't work - for some reason it was looking for someone with administrator access or the usual user of the computer. Both me, but it still didn't want to work. Of course just plugging the printer in and connecting it worked just fine but the installation instructions that specified several times in big red writing that I wasn't to do that confused me.

I'm also having a weird problem saving things. Word thinks it saves a document but I go back into it the next day and all my changes are gone. I can check a document in a couple of different ways. In the "Open an office document" window, the document won't appear, but in my directory folders it will. Neither place shows a document has saved; at least not consistently. Sometimes the save date changes, sometimes it doesn't. I know enough about computers to know how to save things, and I'm saving my work in as many different places as possible at the moment because I'm not sure my files are going to be there the next day. This problem has defeated me - and it irritates me. I need something I can rely on. I don't want to have to spend nearly an hour every night checking to make sure the document I've been working on has saved somewhere - anywhere, as long as I can find it again - before I can close it and go to bed.

All this is a huge change from my position years ago when I used to build and repair computers on a daily basis, used Linux and C every day and was the person everyone went to when they had a problem. People still come to me when they have a problem but it's differen. The problems are different; user problems with software, not hardware or technical problems. Isn't it amazing how interests and aptitudes change throughout life?

Puppy school graduate

2009-06-10T17:22:00.003+10:00

Logan has graduated puppy school. We're so proud of him. Through the six week course he's learned that Lauren is his human and he has to listen to what she says - that's the most important lesson.

He now sits perfectly, leaves things alone on command, waits for things, drops onto his belly, and, most of the time, comes when called. He's also learning to bring things to Lauren.

Lauren's yard looks like a disaster area, strewn with Logan's bones and toys and the grass worn thin, but if it keeps him happy and not digging under the fence no one cares much.

Lauren has also learned to accommodate Logan into her life. It had been four years since she'd had a dog so it was a big adjustment for her - particularly as she's never dealt well with change. It's good to see them happy together. It was a stressful time for a while.

Sometime soon, Lauren will get him into some agility training so he has an opportunity to run some of that excess energy off.

Writing activities 2

2009-06-08T10:18:00.006+10:00

These activities were timed. The exercise gave us a word or phrase and I had to write for 60 seconds and see what I ended up with. I forgot to time the first one so it's longer than it should be.

I'm beginning to think I'll do ok at this course. It has a reputation for preferring 'literary' writing and I've never seen myself as a literary writer - I'm speculative fiction to the bones - but maybe, if I work on increasing my vocabulary a bit, it'll be fine.

Here are today's activities:

Mushrooms:
They were long and thin and frilled, shaped a little like a woman's vulva, and bright irridescent orange. They fascinated me so much I sat on the log next to them and stared at them for ages, wishing I'd brought a camera or pen and paper to draw them. They clung to the rough bark of the fallen tree, two thirds down the side, hiding in the damp mustiness of the southern side of the trunk. The lips grew out from the trunk, curling lace waving along the grooves, glistening in the low light of the forest.

Gorgeous:
The way the light filtered through the water and bounced around the coral and gorgeous fish made me forget I needed to stay near the surface. I ducked my head and breathed in water as the top of the snorkle ...

Telephone:
The telephone rang at 11pm. It was enough to send shivers down my spine and fracture my breathing. The stalker always range between 2 and 3 am so it wasn't him but 11pm was never a good time. Something bad had happened.

Shout:
My gut twisted with the fear. My throat was so tight I couldn't get the shout for help out at all. No sound louder than a whimper or a tummy rumbling in sweat soaked terror ...

Fur:
The fur was all that was left amidst a smear of thick red blood. The bones and guts were gone, just those scraps of fur trailing towards the edge of the road ...

Never:
Most people wouldn't use James Bond to formulate life philosophy but that's exactly what I did with "Never Say Never". Just the phrase opens up a whole host of possibilities ...

You wouldn't have thought
so many things of significance could happen in one life and how memories of them can be triggered. Snippets, images, things that last less than a second can cause life-changing decisions to be made ...

She wasn't a
friend and never would be. Her need to control everything and everyone around her was understandable given her life circumstances but very irritating. She never gave an inch, never accepted that others could also be right ...

Lying face down
on the bed, the woman slept with her head turned towards the crib. When the baby first stirred her eyes snapped open. This child wouldn't cry, he was too ill for that, but he still needed care ...

Writing activities

2009-06-08T10:05:00.005+10:00

I'm starting a new uni course next month and have bought some of the books I need. One of the books is "The Writing Book" by Kate Grenville. Each chapter finishes with some writing exerices. I love this sort of thing. It gets my mind working in different ways and challenges my imagination.

So far I've completed four of the thirteen activities at the end of Chapter one and haven't delved into the fiction world once. I had no idea that there were so many things from my life floating around in my head that could be used as potential stories. Of course as most of the things are written in first person they're coming out a bit like a diary or memoirs but that's fine. I'll still be able to use some of them in fiction stories later.

Here's a sample of what I've been doing. The instructions were to write two paragraphs. One paragraph had to start with "I remember" and the other with "Yesterday I". The paragraphs don't have to be linked in any way. This is what I wrote:

I remember reading through an old composition book from primary school. I loved those times where we could create stories and write them down but I never finished any of the stories started in class. I had it in my head that when the teacher said 'stop' the story had to stop as well. Play time at home was never writing time so even then the stories were left half done, languishing one on top of the other in the back corner of a kitchen cupboard. They hid there, those compostion books, moldering over the years, tempting the desires of a young mind that was at that point incapable of considering completing them. I've forgotten what any of the stories were about; I no longer have any of the books, but I remember the joy of creating a different world to live in, even if just for a short time, and I remember the disappointment and disatisfaction I felt when I couldn't stay in that world and see what happened.

Yesterday I had a great day. I was out all day. It's unusual for me to be out all day and still feel the entire day has been good. Usually I can't wait to get home and dive into one of my fantasy worlds for a time. But yesterday I spent more than two hours with other writers, critiquing and talking about writing. It's invigorating, to speak with other people who think it's perfectly normal for a woman to go to a topless bar with female pole dancers and sit there taking notes on technique and body piercings.

Star Trek Heaven

2009-05-13T20:23:00.003+10:00

I know - in some circles it simply isn't 'cool' to love Star Trek, but I do. Always have, always will.

I went to see the latest movie this afternoon and came out bouncing and smiling. They matched the faces and personalities of the original characters really well. I know this because I've watched all 72 episodes of the original series - over and over again. And it was SO good to see the real Spock there too. My heart still goes pitter-pat whenever I see him, I don't care how many wrinkles he has.

I loved that they kept throwing in lines from the original series too. After the first few, I was 'look, watch this, he's going to say ...' and he did. I felt like we should have got up and danced in the aisles, like Rocky Horror, or something. I would have worn a Star Trek costume but the only costumes I own are NextGen and they're all too small for me now. Yes - I went to the last Star Trek movie in costume, as Dr Beverley Crusher, red wig and all.

I know the black hole just couldn't have happened with such little impact in the universe, and there were a few other things that didn't fit with the science, but it's SF (the F stands for 'fiction') so I can overlook an anomoly or two. And I really liked the alternative reality idea - it sets things up for a totally different 'original' series or next movie. Brilliant.

Logan's Run

2009-04-10T09:17:00.004+10:00

We have a new member in our family. His name is Logan and he's a black and tan 10 month old Kelpie cross. Judging by the size of him he might be crossed with a great dane! He has a lovely nature - really quiet and friendly. He's a really intelligent dog too, which is a blessing as that means he'll be easy to train. That's the theory anyway. First of all we have to get him to come to his name and pay attention when we give him a command.

Logan is Lauren's new dog so he's living with her. She's just spent months and a fortune getting her yard landscaped and fenced so she could have a dog and Logan has already worked out how to escape the six foot fence. On Wednesday he went for an unsupervised run for 4-1/2 hours. Lauren chased him on foot for two suburbs but then lost him. He was eventually picked up another two suburbs away. Thankfully he's microchipped and wearing a tag so that made it a bit easier. The good news was, the walk tired him enough that he paid attention to training for a little while.

I suspect part of the problem is that he's 10 months old and hasn't had much training at all. He has bad habits. He's a working dog so will need lots of exercise and stimulation.

Poor Lauren is at wit's end, even after only three days with the new dog. He's digging up her new grass, digging under the fence and not paying attention to her. I suspect that's what's bothering Lauren the most - she like to be in control. It's been 14 years since she had a puppy and she's forgotten about all the work, and all the years, she put in to get her dog to be the perfectly behaved companion. She needs support.

So, even though I'm not a dog person, and I'm not an outdoors person, I went with her last night to take Logan for a run. We took turns running him around the park just to wear him out enough that he might pay attention when we speak his name and realise he has to listen. We met with mixed success.

He doesn't like his 'halti', the harness over his head we use to lead him with, but we won't use anything else that might hurt him. He'll just have to get used to it.
He doesn't want to pay attention to anything other than all the interesting smells in the dog park. Too bad - he has to learn to do as he's told.
He was just starting to get the routine of going for a jog and then back to one of us when we called 'come' and it started raining. He would have kept going but Lauren has a bad cold and I didn't want her out in the rain with it.

Lauren has bought Logan a whole heap of toys to keep him occupied when she's at work and she's booked in for dog obedience classes, starting the 20th, so that'll be good. She'll learn a lot of tricks that will help her with her training. She's also contacted the RSPCA who've been really helpful and sent out a whole heap of information on keeping dogs in enclosed yards when they love digging and jumping and escaping.

Meanwhile I'll keep going with her for his runs. I won't be taking over - I'm no martyr and don't want to own a dog - but I will yell out encouragement and instructions to keep her focused on moving ahead and not on how he won't listen to her yet. Between us we should see the beginnings of a happy, well-trained dog soon.

Exercising charities

2009-03-29T14:30:00.002+10:00

Lauren and I have discovered fun runs - thanks to my sister, Linda. Earlier this month she invited us to join her for the International Women's day fun run in the city. It was 5km walk. http://sportingimages.com.au/gallery2008/2009intwomensrun/

This morning I walked 6.8km. The official length was 6km but one fellow had a GPS strapped to his ankle and told Lauren it was 6.8. My feet tell me it was 6.8! It was a really good walk, through Griffith Uni's Nathan campus which is also Toohey Forest. Really pretty, lots of birds, although the people made too much noise to be able to fully appreciate them. Still, I did hear the kookaburras and butcher birds as they stayed around for a while, even with the crowd. http://www.rotaryfunrun.org/

Next week we're all going on another fun run/walk up at Redcliffe. I haven't been to Redcliffe for years (nearly 30 years) so it'll be interesting to see how the area has changed.

What a great way to support a charity and get some exercise at the same time. Of course, going out for breakfast afterwards kind of defeats that purpose. This morning we all came back to my place and I made fresh squeezed juice, waffles, bacon, sausages and eggs - and because we're Australian and have to keep our sweet foods totally separate from our savoury foods, nearly all my china and cutlery was used and I spent the next hour cleaning the kitchen.

All I need to do now is get new shoes. Every time I walk I end up with bruised feet and hobble for the rest of the day. I think it's because my shoes have arch supports and my feet don't have arches.

Graduation

2009-03-28T09:10:00.006+10:00

I finally graduated. It's not finally, really. The course I did only took 3 years so it wasn't that bad, but I was really pleased to have finished.

I had a fun night. I met up with some of my fellow students - people I'd studied and worked with over the last three years and was pleased to see again. It was great to catch up and find out what everyone was doing and planning.

Mum, David and Lauren came to see me graduate. I saw them as soon as they entered the hall. They looked like the three bears - a little one (Mum), a middle sized one (Lauren) and a big one (David) - all in order moving along to their seats. It took them a little while to find me in the crowd of similarly dressed graduates but they did and all waved.

It was all a new experience for me. I didn't go to graduation for my undergrad degree so didn't really know what to expect. What did amaze me was the number of graduates who didn't know how to greet the Chancellor or accept their award without fumbling. Every one of them has graduated at least high school so they've had one experience of it for sure. Others have graduated a number of times or received other awards on stage. So everyone should have known to pause as they doffed their cap and to shake with their right hand while they accepted the award with their left, but no. People rushed out, didn't pause, almost tripped over their own feet and tried to shake hands and accept the award with the same hand at the same time. Maybe they just needed practice or time to think about it beforehand.

I was lucky enough to be about half way through the program so had time to watch the first group and decide what looked good and what didn't. I knew what I wanted to do once I got out onto the stage.

One fellow received a medal for excellence. His GPA (Grade point average) was 6.8 (out of a possible 7) and he received 7s throughout his last year. And he did a double degree. I really admire brains like that - and was even more impressed when they described the research he'd been doing for the honours component of his degree. What an achievement!

My sister asked me why I didn't get a medal or at least a scholarship and I had to remind her I studied part time and because of that I wasn't elligible. So my very respectable 6.5 GPA was pretty much useless in that regard.

I really enjoyed listening to the summaries of the PhD awards. Some of the research that goes on is incredible. Once they're published I'll have to find a copy of some of them and read them.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the degree. Of course I'd like to work in the field - library management - but I don't have any experience. I have mortgages so I have to keep working and have to have a certain level of income. Neither of those things work with my lack of experience in libraries unfortunately and although I know I'd be able to do the work easily (I'm bright and adaptable), proving it to strangers is a bit of a problem.

I'm still teaching part time. The idea behind that was so I could use my one day off a week to do some volunteer work in a library and get some experience. Unfortunately my one day each week has translated into bits and pieces; an hour here, an hour there which makes it pretty much useless.

Study-wise, my next step is two-fold. I've already applied to start a Graduate Certificate in Creative Industries (Creative Writing) starting in July. I'm looking forward to that and hope I can do the subjects I'm interested in. I've also made some preliminary lists of things to do to apply to begin my PhD in February next year. I know what I want to do but haven't narrowed the thesis topic enough to make it achievable. That's the task for this semester - I just have to find a weekend free so I can spend a day at the library doing research. After that I have to start talking to people and find someone to sponsor me. That won't be easy either as my undergrad and masters degrees are both in totally different fields so I'll have to convince strangers, people who know nothing of my abilities, that I'm capable of doing the work in the creative industries field to a suitable standard. That's part of the reason I've applied to do the grad cert.

I'm surprised I'm still alive!

2009-03-23T21:13:00.005+10:00

When I went to pick Lauren up to go to the gym today, the first thing she said to me was:

"I'm surprised I'm still alive!"

Exactly the type of words every mother wants to hear. All sorts of emotions tumbled through me in the split second afterwards: shock, fear, terror, relief, joy.

I don't think it ever gets easier.

Anyway, the reason for the comment is that Lauren went hiking with a friend today, up near Toowoomba on the Darling Downs. There's a mountain in the valley that has a flat , treeless top (from a distance. Up close it's rocky) and is a favourite for local hikers - Tabletop Mountain. I've climbed it once. The road in is difficult to find and often more suitable for 4WDs than normal cars. Then finding the trail becomes the problem. Of course, that's nothing to keeping to the trail. It disappears after a while and you're left with a choice of scrambling over loose gravel at a 60 degree angle or climbing a rock face.

Guess which one Lauren and her friend chose? That's right - the rock face - without ropes or climbing equipment and only a very general indication to me of where she would be today.

I know I've had conversations with her about hiking safety but when I think about it, most of them were when she was a teenager - and what parent knows anything to a teenager? At least she did have enough sense to let me know where they were going and to take enough water and food to last overnight if needed. Of course her friend didn't have much water so they ended up sharing Lauren's, and Lauren forgot about the need to wear jeans as some protection against snakes or a fall, or take a jacket just in case they did end up stranded over night.

And Lauren has lots of stories about how she made her little Toyota Echo behave like a 4WD on the steep gravelly slopes! We giggled for ages, even though I knew some of those slipping experiences could have ended badly - the roads around there have very steep drops over the sides.

Luckily it all ended well. They got up the mountain and back down again with little more than a few scrapes and some sore muscles, and I have an idea for a birthday present for Lauren - a book about easy hikes around South-east Queensland!

(Image from: www.flickr.com/photos/85581601@N00/3142934162/)

Heat wave antics

2009-02-04T15:13:00.007+10:00

Australia, like the rest of the world, has been experiencing some extreme weather.

The last few weeks most of northern Queensland has been flooded (still is) and most of the southern part of the country has been VERY hot.

These photos come from South Australia where temperatures have been more than 40 degrees C every day.

Just so you understand how unusual this is - Koalas don't drink at all. They get all the moisture they need from the eucalyptus leaves. They also don't swim - don't go near water at all.

Routine return

2009-01-29T19:52:00.004+10:00

I've been on holiday. I finished my masters, finished work for the year, got through Christmas with the family and then shut down.

Completely.

I basically spent three weeks sitting in bed reading books. I'm half way through number 35 of my tbr pile and am only now beginning to look for something else to do.

The focus has now become 'Life after Study'. What do I do with the 30 hours a week I've spent studying for the past three years? So far, the answer is 'not much'.

Of course that can't continue. I'll get very irritated with myself if I spend an entire year not achieving anything. Especially if it means I notice how untidy the house is and have to CLEAN! ::horrors:: So here's the plan:

I've joined a gym so I can get a bit more active.
I'm going to begin writing again. I've totally lost the routine of writing every day, or even thinking writing every day. I have to work at getting it back.
As soon as I get past the usual beginning-of-year bills I'm going to enrol in some writing workshops. Hopefully nos 2 and 3 will mean I get another book finished, a couple of entries sent into competitions and at least one book edited to a stage where I can send it somewhere.
I'm going to start research so I can write an application to begin my PhD next year.

That, with work and family, will probably keep me busy for a while. Anything as long as I don't have to do housework or watch tv.

Finally listed

2008-12-13T15:44:00.003+10:00

The house Lauren and I bought is finally listed for rental. Now all we have to do is hope someone who wants to live in Ipswich and also wants really good landlords sees it and grabs it.

Personally I think it's a great little house. There aren't many rooms but they're huge as well as bright and airy. The only thing I'm confused about is why they're calling the third bedroom a sleepout. Sure it's an extension to the original house but it has its own door, is as separate from the rest of the house as the other bedrooms and doesn't have any external access - just like a bedroom. It has one more window than the other two bedrooms but it's a bigger room. Go figure.

Here's the link if you want to have a look at it.

Driving in water

2008-11-16T22:23:00.003+10:00

Today I went out to the house we're renovating and (hopefully) renting out. While we were there a thunderstorm hit. It was one of the most severe storms we've had all year. There was lightning and thunder and high winds, broken power lines, power poles down, trees all over the place and flash flooding. It was magnificent.

I love storms but that's a story for another entry, I think. I hate driving in them.

We waited until the worst of it had passed - at least enough that we could see the road through the rain - then set out for home. The highway between Ipswich and Brisbane was flooded in several sections. I was absolutely amazed at how many people have no idea how to drive in water, although I suppose it's understandable - we haven't had any water for a long time. They were all just driving into the water at the same speed they'd normally drive. It's no wonder they just planed across the top of it (didn't give the tyres any time to grip the road) and slammed into other cars. There were also cars stopped along the side of the road - obviously hit the water too hard and it got into the engine and stopped the car. Nobody dried their brakes afterwards either. I'm surprised there weren't more accidents.

When we were growing up, floods were common. There was at least one every year and if we wanted to get to the next town, we had to drive through water. My father always explained to us the process of driving through water safely.

1. If there's been some rain around, check road reports before you leave. You don't want to get caught between to rising causeways and have no escape route.
2. Check the water level on the road - most country roads have signs at causeways that indicate the depth of water. If it's too deep, turn around and go back home. If it's rising, get out of there fast. If it's moving but not rising, get out and check it. If it's deep and you can feel the drag of the water when it's only a few inches deep, turn around and go back home. You don't want to be washed away.
3. Always stop and allow other cars to get clear of the water before you enter it. The last thing you want is their backwash getting into your engine.
4. Always use low gear, go slowly and never, never stop once you get into the water. Keep moving, slowly and steadily.
5. Once you're clear of the water, use your brakes. Apply slow gentle pressure repeatedly to warm the brakes and dry them out. Another last thing you want is to try to use your brakes further down the road and not have any.

That was it. Five basic things to do. I don't know if it's because we've been in a drought for so long people have forgotten, or never been taught, how to drive in water or because they think that if they're in the city they shouldn't need to worry about those things. I do know there were a lot of stalled and damaged cars out there this afternoon and I firmly believe most of it could have been avoided.

How do you get your teenager to talk to you?

2008-11-12T07:12:00.003+10:00

How do you get your teenager to talk to you? Apart from building a relationship that encourages talking and listening, I found going for a drive helped.

You can’t get out of a moving car. You have to stay there until the car stops.

Of course getting my daughter into the car when she was angry about something was impossible, so I waited, usually until we had to go somewhere. Often it was on our way to horse riding or synchronised swimming lessons. Both of those activities were about an hour’s drive from home. After the first few minutes of making sure we had everything we needed before we got too far from home to turn back, the drive became silent. Sometimes she was the one to break the silence, sometimes I was, but the silence was necessary. It gave us time to draw breath, to settle into quiet time together.

Then my daughter started chatting. Her conversation wasn’t ordered or logical, it jumped from one seemingly unrelated topic to another. It was sometimes difficult to follow exactly what she was talking about or why it was important for her to mention it. It all seemed innocuous.

Until the last ten minutes or so of the drive. That’s when the real topic came to light. Something serious and important that she was grappling with at the time. Something she hadn’t been able to sort out for herself. I used to get frustrated because we’d just get into the meat of the topic, the real problem, and we’d reach our destination. I think my daughter planned it that way. She never wanted me to tell her what she should do. She wanted to make her own decisions in life. My role was to listen and support and provide ideas she could consider while making her decision. If we never finished the conversation, I wouldn’t have time to give the ‘dreaded’ advice.

She’s 25 now and we still go for drives. Not so many any more, not so often, but a few times a year we arrange to go somewhere together that takes a while and we chat. We’ve also learned to condense our conversations into the time it takes to drive between our houses, although there’s often a half hour or more sitting in the car at the footpath when we stop because we haven't finished talking yet.

Our relationship has evolved – now she gives me advice on how to live my life.

I love being a mother

2008-11-04T17:55:00.003+10:00

Being a mother has to be one of the most fulfilling things in life. Well, at least now it is - when Lauren is grown up and I'm only occasionally responsible. This afternoon I got a phone call and as soon as I answered the cry came: "I need veges".

With Lauren that usually means she's been working too hard, not sleeping enough and not eating properly, she's on the verge of becoming ill and she wants me to cook for her and pamper her for an hour or so. Vegetables will fix most of that - they've always been Lauren's favourite food group. Tonight, it's not quite the case. Yes, she's been working too hard and not sleeping enough, but she's making a real effort to keep eating properly through it all. She's just run out of veges and wants to make a stirfry tonight.

So she's coming over to raid my fridge. I love it. I love that she feels she can call on me any time. I love that she feels at home in my home and knows anything that's mine is hers (as long as any jewellery she borrows comes back to me at some stage). I especially love that she knows she has someone she can rely on. And I love that that person is me. I don't feel any burning need to be that person all the time but it's nice that I am sometimes.

And tonight she's not asking me to cook for her. She can look after herself. I wonder if this is the beginning of a new stage in our relationship?

She misses me too.

2008-10-29T21:40:00.003+10:00

Lauren misses me too. Tonight I had a phone call from her. She was at work and wouldn't finish before 10pm. The message: I cooked food for you, come and get it.

I went to the restaurant where she works nights and in between looking after the diners she sat and chatted. It took her about 15 minutes before she went to get the food, then she walked me to my car and chatted some more.

My heart swells with love and pride every time I see her, even think of her. I know so many people who don't want to spend time with their parents but my daughter likes me enough to engineer times together.

I know I've said it before, but I'm so lucky.

Rules to live by

2008-10-28T20:39:00.000+10:00

Just before Lauren turned 12 we negotiated ‘rules to live by’. She was beginning to want to go out with friends unsupervised, or at least not fully supervised. I thought we should have some ground rules that would last her until she turned 18 and became an adult according to law.

I decided the rules would work for both of us. It seemed unreasonable for me to expect her to tell me where she was going if I wasn’t prepared to do the same for her. We formulated a series of questions that had to be answered appropriately before any request to go out would be considered. This is what we agreed upon:

1. Where are you going?
2. How are you getting there?
3. Who are you going with?
4. Who else will be there?
5. What will you be doing there?
6. Will there be adult supervision? And what form will that take?
7. How will you be getting home?
8. What time will you be home?
9. Do you feel safe going with these people?

Most of the time questions 2 and 7 were answered with “You’ll take me, won’t you, Mum?”.

I originally came up with this plan to try to reduce the constant pleading and arguing that accompanied every invitation for her to go somewhere. It was tiring. At least this way, she knew what I expected from the beginning, and knew I wouldn’t even consider letting her go somewhere unless each of these questions could be answered in such a way that I felt comfortable about the situation. I was surprised by how well it worked. And how long it lasted.

If Lauren really wanted to go somewhere she came to me armed with the answers to the questions. She began planning her outings, organising lifts and checking venues. I’m sure that’s part of the reason she’s such a well-organised person now she’s an adult. I’m equally sure there were a lot of outings I was never told about, simply because she couldn’t answer all the questions or she knew I wouldn’t be happy with the answers. She didn’t bother asking and didn’t go. At least with the list of questions she could gain some control over where she went and when. She became adept at manipulating situations, arranging friends’ parents (or me) to be on standby for supervision, just so she could go somewhere she really wanted to.

The situation became a bit more difficult during her senior year at school. The year before she turned 18 and the following year were difficult in comparison to previous ones because she wanted to push the boundaries. Still, the basics held. I always knew where she was and who she was with. I didn’t always know how she planned to get home but often received a phone call in the wee hours asking for a lift. She’s 25 now and she still emails or calls me if she’s going out somewhere unusual, just so I know where she is. If she travels, even overnight, I get a full itinerary with flight numbers and arrival times. She sends me a text message to let me know she’s arrived safely and another before she leaves to come home.

I follow the same rules with her. I remember when she was about 16, getting a phone call when I was at a seminar for work. I’d forgotten to tell Lauren I’d be late home so she rang to check on me – and let me know I had to tell her where I was. She was convinced I’d had an accident. It could be nothing else because we always told each other where we would be.

I didn’t forget again.

My daughter and me

2008-10-27T19:05:00.003+10:00

Lauren and I haven't seen each other much lately. It's been nearly three weeks - that's a long time when I usually see her at least once a week. We've both been really busy. Of course, we've been emailing, texting and talking on the phone but it's not the same. I know I shouldn't complain. My daughter lives just two suburbs away and actually enjoys talking with her mother. Some parents aren't so lucky.

Because I've been missing her I've decided to do a few posts of "Memories of Lauren". Things that have stuck with me for years. Defining moments that show what a special person she is. Here's the first one.

From the moment she was born Lauren showed a determination that amazed me. She could never be told to do something – not even eat. She had to be cajoled and convinced things were a good idea. She had to make the decision for herself.

I’m very much a ‘see how it goes’ kind of person. Lauren plans things meticulously. When she was about three months old I decided I’d have to have a plan for how I was going to raise her because she wouldn’t respond well to my usual ad hoc approach to life. Unfortunately I’m not what I consider a natural mother. It took me about three years to work out how to deal with this very different personality, during which time the closest I came to formulating my plan was to make a few decisions about what I didn’t want to do.

My decisions:
Don’t ever break her spirit.
Don’t ever make her feel unloved.
Don’t ever let my decisions put her in danger.

In the ten years that followed, I did each and every one of those things. Probably more than once. I could say the break-down of my marriage, the abuse and subsequent stalking was the reason she was badly done by but really it was just me reacting to the world around me instead of having that plan I knew I would need for her. I’ve been very lucky with Lauren. She’s an amazing person.

Lauren is a watchful person but basically cheerful. I knew that and, during the times things were bad, I worked hard at getting her to smile. I remember sitting by her bed each night, talking about the day. We had a little system going.

I would ask, “What was the worst thing that happened today?” and she would tell me all the awful things that happened. It was difficult to get her to express how she felt about each one and I worried about that for a time. Actually I still worry about it. At 25 she still doesn’t express emotion well.

After we’d discussed all the bad things, how she dealt with them, what would happen if she did different things and what else she might be able to do next time, I asked another question:

“What was the best thing that happened today?” It broke my heart that some days the best thing to happen in her life was that her cat purred in her ear. At least she had that much.

We did that every night. Over time, the best things began to outweigh the worst things and she started smiling spontaneously again.

I realised when she was fifteen that our evenings talking about the bad things and how to deal with them had a wider-reaching impact. It was during one of those highly-charged emotional times teenagers have.

She was standing in the front yard screaming at me:

“You’ve ruined my life!”

I went outside and asked what I did to do that and her response was:

“You made me think of consequences. Now I can’t have any fun!”

I think that was the first deep breath I’d drawn since she hit puberty.

Dream on

2008-10-18T18:31:00.008+10:00

The other night I watched a Bruce Willis movie "Striking Distance". It wasn't one of his best movies but that's ok - it was Bruce Willis. I think he has a wonderful face - chiselled and lived in and not at all 'beautiful'. Sculptured lips.

I don't watch movies with Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp - they're too pretty. I can't take them seriously as heroes. Bruce Willis has my kind of 'hero' face. So does Dennis Quaid.

Anyway, the end result of this movie was that I dreamed about Bruce Willis. 'Lucky you' you say? Not so much. While the dream made perfect sense while I was asleep the only image I was left with upon waking was Bruce Willis surfing in a port-a-potty as a way of escaping the bad guys.

Now, I can more than understand how Bruce Willis ended up the hero in my dreams, but a port-a-potty? You've got to be kidding.

Our mortal coil

2008-10-06T09:15:00.003+10:00

I've been thinking about mortality. I've just spent two weeks working at the State Archives and, while an interesting place to be, it's all about dead people. Every task I did meant looking at handwriting written by someone who was dead. I read registers of miscellaneous court cases in the 1860s and 1940s. I read lists of names of people whose wills had been probated and property transferred. I read the diary of an explorer of the 1860s and minutes of meeting from when Queensland separated from New South Wales in 1859.

It was fascinating but after a week I felt I was mired in death. These lists and minutes and diaries are all that's left of those people - something they touched and put an indelible mark on. It was a glimpse into their lives. Just reading the different styles of handwriting (and seeing how it changed over a hundred years) made me feel I could almost touch the writer. It was a bit creepy and a bit scary.

Our time here is finite and we get so absorbed in living the lives we have we barely notice the passing of it. I wonder what pieces of our lives will be left for future generations. Is it enough to be remembered by those who loved us, then fade into the fog of history, not even missed because no one in the future would even be aware of our being?

I think I noticed it more because a friend (R) had surgery for breast cancer last week. Her prognosis is good but it's hard not to think of worst case scenarios when the word 'cancer' is mentioned.

Not all of life is a choice. Some things just happen and we have to deal with it - like my friend. The way we deal with it is the only choice we have. R is dealing with it the same way she has dealt with every knock life has given her - with courage and good humour. She's an incredible person, one of the strongest, most compassionate people I know. That alone will get her through.

Fear

2008-09-29T08:08:00.003+10:00

I know some people who love horror stories - books, movies, campside tales - anything that will scare the bejesus out of them. Anything that will make them break out into a cold sweat, get their heart racing or jump so high they lose their footing and fall over.

Fear certainly offers a good physical workout but why do people enjoy it so much? I often wonder if they've never experienced real fear. Can they enjoy it because of that innate sense of safety cocooning their lives? Perhaps it's a need to prepare themselves for possibilities - planning for a disaster and making sure their body will be ready to react under pressure.

I'm a timid sort. I never liked being surprised or frightened as a child, always sought the quiet spaces when there was an argument at home. That doesn't mean I can't deal with situations that cause fear. I know how I react in situations like that - if I can get out, I grab my daughter and run and hide. If I can't, I stand in front of my daughter and talk until help arrives. I'm no hero.

As an adult I've been frightened to the stage that all my insides liquified. I lived in a situation that waking up alive meant I was having a good day. Every house I moved into, I plotted various hiding places and escape routes. That includes the house I'm living in now - a place that's very safe (both physically and emotionally). I even had a problem when I first moved in because this house is in a cul de sac - only one exit route - and that's years and years after the last time I was truly afraid. It stays with you.

Being afraid isn't fun and I simply can't understand how other people can seek those sensations and call it fun. It gives me nightmares.

Strawberries too.

2008-09-28T16:21:00.003+10:00

I just picked 15 strawberries from the two strawberry plants I have in my front yard. I've always loved fresh produce but am amazed at how different these strawberries taste from ones bought in the shop, even 'organic' shops. The strawberries are only little - about 1cm-1.5cm long - but the flavour is incredible. The juice simply bursts from the berry and smothers your taste buds in sensation. They don't keep long as I pick them ripe but I don't think I'll ever buy another strawberry, if I can avoid it. Fresh picked is so much more satisfying. We'll have them tonight for dessert.

I've also been using other things from my little garden. Tonight I'll use the last of the pak choy. It's amazing how long it's kept in the fridge. I picked the last of it - two huge armfuls - about three weeks ago and just dumped them in the vege bins in bottom of the fridge. The last bunch that I'm using tonight is still just as plump and crisp as the day it was picked. I'm sure I can credit some of that longevity to the efficiency of the fridge but some of it has to be the fact that the veges were fresh picked. The flavour is different from store-bought as well. Sometimes there's some bitterness in the stalks - not with my home-grown ones.

I haven't had a problem with pests before but I'm battling grubs for my cabbage. I think it's because I haven't planted herbs around the cabbage like I did with the other things. I tried a garlic spray last week but it didn't seem to do much so now I'm trying milk. I'm not sure yet whether it's working but we only found four grubs today compared to about 10 each day last week. I'll spray them with milk for a few more days just to see if the grubs return.

I'm not much of a gardener. I don't like digging or weeding. I'll even avoid watering if I can - we have to use recycled water bucketed from the bathroom and laundry because of water restrictions here. But I love reaping the benefits and I love the sense of satisfaction I get preparing a meal that has its basis in my own home-grown vegetables.

I have friends who say they get bored with food - it's the same things, the same flavours all the time. Even if I cook the same vegetables every day (because that's what's coming out of the garden at the moment), I never get bored. I grew those vegetables myself, as well as the herbs I cook with them. The changes in the produce coming from the garden as one vegetable finishes and the next one comes into season keep me interested. And I change the herbs I put with them and the methods of cooking so I end up with something different every day.

Tonight I think I'll make pasta as well - I have the basic ingredients and it will give me a perfect excuse to play in the kitchen for a while and not do an assignment that's due. Wouldn't it be nice to have everything served at the table home-grown or home-made? I'd love to do that.

I've made a start. I make chutneys, jams and jellies whenever I can and I make my own bread every week. The vege garden has taken that one step further.

It always works this way

2008-09-19T17:46:00.004+10:00

I don't know about other peoples' lives but in my life if I've arranged to spend a lot of money and I'm trying not to spend elsewhere to make sure I can afford whatever big thing it is I want to buy, something in the house breaks and has to be replaced.

Earlier this year it was the fridge. This month, when Lauren and I have just contracted to buy a house, it was my computer monitor. Thankfully that doesn't cost as much as a fridge, but it's still an expense I didn't want just now.

Of course buying new things can be fun. This time though, it was simply a necessity. I can't manage a day without my computer. Sure, I could use the laptop but I'm not as comfortable with that. I like my desktop with the big keyboard and ergonomic furniture. It was quite funny actually. My old monitor had been showing signs that all was not right for a couple of days, so I emailed Lauren and mentioned I'd need to get a new one soon. Of course I was hoping it would last until after we settled on the house but, no, that couldn't happen. The old monitor died yesterday morning.

Lauren phoned and laughed when I told her it died right when I was viewing her email giving me information on new monitors. I lamented that you just can't get things to last anymore. Look at my old fridge. We bought that in January 1972 and it just suddenly died earlier this year. Hmph. My darling daughter was silent for all of a second before she reminded me that I'd bought my old monitor in August 2000. I suppose, for a monitor, eight years isn't bad. It was a flat screen one - a bit special back in 2000.

I don't subscribe to the throw-away mentality so prevalent these days. I buy the best quality I can afford, and I expect it to last a long time. I don't like having to replace things too often and will only do it if they're no longer providing me with the service I want. Now that I think about it, the monitor lasted longer than my husband. Either it provided a better service, or I expected less of it.

The best bit about my new monitor is that it's bright and BIG. I know it's not big in today's terms but a 19" widescreen is a lot bigger than my little 15" square one.

Anyway I've put a picture of my new monitor below. Lauren's boyfriend isn't too impressed with it, even though he considers it a huge improvement on the old one. I think his monitor is a 26" or something equally obscene. It's a good thing I don't need mine to be big.

Samsung 943NWX 19 inch Gloss Black 5ms 8000:1 SIMPLE TILT STAND Product Code: MNSA943NWXB The 943NWX provides many adjustable movements for better ergonomics. It’s the best solution for the work environment and is designed to meet VESA standards.

My new house

2008-09-18T19:45:00.009+10:00

Lauren and I have bought a new house. It settles at the end of the month. I can't wait. As soon as it settles I want the plumber and floor sander in. The bathroom is getting replaced and the floors stripped and polished. We probably should put up a new fence as well - the current one is riddled with (thankfully now dead) white ants.

So, after listing the bad things, these are the things that made us choose to buy it.

It's on a corner block and we love corner blocks - two street frontage, only two neighbours to worry about and, even if the land isn't large, it feels it. It's actually 809m2 so it is a big block.
It's a post war house and we love that era.
It's in a nice quiet area close to the river (but not so close it'll be easily flooded).
It's close to transport (a bus stop just next door, rail and freeway into Brisbane less than 1km away).
It's in a city that is slated to boom in the next ten years so rental potential is good.
It's in good condition but needs a bit of work so value-adding is easy.

I love the whole process of buying a house although waiting for finance approval can be a bit nerve wracking when you're working to a deadline. Planning renovations is brilliant.

One thing I have been worrying about is the financial situation in the US. It's going to impact on us, that's for sure. I keep telling myself all we have to do is be able to hold onto the house long enough for prices to go back up and the economy to stabalise again. Neither of us have extended ourselves financially - at least, even though we both owe more than we ever have before it's still within reasonable limits - so it shouldn't be a problem. I just have to keep working for a bit longer than I'd hoped.

If you want to have a closer look, click here.

Tagged

2008-09-18T19:45:00.004+10:00

I've just been introduced to the concept of 'tagging'. Yet another aspect of cyberspace society I didn't know existed - and did I really want to?

I have been tagged by Danielle Ferries. I'll try to follow the rules but I'm not sure about no 4. I don't know six bloggers! See my response to no 3 for the reason why.

The rules:

Link to the person who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
List 6 unspectacular quirks you have.
Tag 6 bloggers by linking them.
Leave a comment on each person’s blog to let them know they’ve been tagged

My quirks:

I'm basically anti-social. While my job requires me to interact with a large number of people every day I don't like meeting new people socially, particularly in crowd situations. I'm terrible at all that 'getting to know you small talk' and I usually prefer to be on my own.
I can't watch people get cut or have injections. Piercing the skin freaks me out.
I had to have a child to learn how to stick to a schedule - it's not my natural state of being. I think I'd have made a good 'flower child'.
I hate chain letters/emails and anything like them with a passion. They're a waste of time and often subtly threatening. (Tagging might fall into this category too. Sorry Danielle.)
When I feel like reading, I read in bed - and stay there for days.
Inefficiency is irritating. If you've decided to do something and actually start it, finish it as quickly as possible so you can go back to doing nothing again (my comfort zone).

Now comes the hard part - how to link to other bloggers, and, even harder, finding SIX. Perhaps I could just ignore that bit and save everyone a whole heap of bother ;)

Back to work

2008-09-01T20:25:00.003+10:00

Today was my first day at work in seven weeks. It's a long time to be off work but I'm not sure it was long enough.

Today I taught a total of 1-1/2 hours with an hour break after the first 1/2 hour. It didn't seem to matter. Within 20 minutes, my voice was shot. By the end of the day it was little more than a whisper. It's incredibly frustrating and worrying. I find myself getting irritated at not being able to speak properly and I try to force it. Of course that's the worst thing I can do. I am usually a very patient and accepting person but this has worn all my patience away. I want results and I'm getting totally sick of the one-step-forward-two-steps-back that's been happening so far.

The best thing is that with speech therapy, the exercises I do help my voice to recover fairly quickly, but there's no way anyone could call it strong.

I have another hour teaching tomorrow so I'll see how I go. I'll be ringing the speech therapist after that to give her an update on my progress - we might need to rethink my presence in the classroom.

And I should mention my year 9 class was absolutely gorgeous. They were so interested in what's been happening to me and sympathetic about it. They thought the amplifier I have to wear to be heard at the back of the room was cute. And they were silent - all lesson - except for answering or asking questions about the work we were doing. Most of them even told me they were glad I was back. Isn't that sweet? It's times like this that remind me why I love teaching.

Spending money

2008-08-27T17:49:00.004+10:00

Spending money makes me feel ill. I don't mean I can't go out to dinner without throwing up. That's not a problem. But I've just signed a contract to buy a house and spent most of the morning at the bank applying for a loan. I will owe more money than I ever have in my life and the thought of being responsible for that much money makes me ill.

When I was younger and didn't have the financial capacity I have now, things like buying a new fridge had the same effect. Now it's the big amounts - big for me anyway. Spending more than $5000 in one hit is sickening. So is checking my bank account and finding I've spent that much in little bits over the course of a week. It takes time for me to get used to the idea.

It's odd. I don't worry over-much about money. I don't count every cent or panic if I don't keep strictly to my budget. But I hate owing money. I don't like being in debt. I don't even have a credit card. I like living within my income. I know everything I have, I own. It's comfortable.

I like seeing the balance in my bank account go up, not down. Adding zeros to the numbers in my bank account is enough to have me dancing around the house. Buying a house, while cause for celebration, is enough to send me to bed with a cold compress. That's where I'll be spending tonight.

House Hunting

2008-08-22T08:57:00.003+10:00

Lauren and I have been househunting. This is our first foray into investment buying together and it's fun. We spent all day Wednesday in a nearby city looking at houses and thinking about things like renovations required prior to rental, maintenance required in the near future, potential resale value.

We looked at eight houses and discounted five of them almost immediately. One was already rented which was appealing. The house itself looked great but it was too expensive, considering its nearest neighbour was the local cemetary. One was across the road from a joinery - poor resale value and only two bedrooms. One looked like good value until you noticed the kitchen benches had been painted and were now peeling and the kitchen had those awful foam tiles glued to the ceiling - too much work for the price.

The three we really like are in three different areas. One is perfect, excellent condition, good yard, reasonable area - just right at the top of our budget. One is tiny, in a great position, with loads of character and potential to add a third bedroom - but already right at the top of our budget. The third one is in a reasonable area with a good kitchen, just a horrid pink bath and tacky floor coverings. The benefit of this one is that it's cheap enough that we could change the bathroom and floor coverings and still spend less than either of the other two. Even though the first two houses appeal to us more, this one makes more sense for an investment.

It's amazing how I've had to change the way I look at houses and think about them when I'm buying purely for investment purposes. I've never done that before. Every house I've bought previously has been with a view to live in it, renovate and then, if I can afford it, rent it out when I move on to the next house. I've bought houses based on what I like and want in a house, not what would be the best financial decision.

And that's the really fun part over with. Now I have to check insurance companies to find out how safe each of the areas are, the city council to find out yearly rates charges, and spend some time with a spreadsheet calculating potential % return for each house. Then comes arranging for a building and pest inspection, sourcing the funds and engaging a solicitor to do the conveyancing. It's going to be a very expensive couple of months before the house is settled and rented and we start seeing any sort of income from it. Providing we get the house we want at the price we want in the first place.

Emotions rule

2008-08-05T09:33:00.004+10:00

I've decided I'm an emotional person. I don't mean that I'm constantly laughing, crying or screaming; I'm not THAT emotional. But emotions rule my life.

I lost my voice four weeks ago and, while it's improved somewhat, it still doesn't last a full day. I've been on sick leave because I can't teach without talking and talking makes it worse. No one can hear me anyway. I've had nearly four weeks at home with nothing wrong with me except I can't talk. You'd think it would be a perfect opportunity to accomplish things, wouldn't you.

I certainly thought so. Four weeks is enough time to get a uni assignment done early and start on another one. It's enough time to write four chapters for my book. It's enough time to clean my office. But has any of that been done?

What I have done:

I went to the doctor three times.
I've made one batch of spicy tomato chutney and one batch of lemon and lime butter.
I've baked bread and muffins.
I've written the equivalent of one chapter.
I missed lectures at uni because I'm not supposed to be talking - and still haven't listened to the recordings to catch up.
I took my mother to see her sick brother.
I've been shopping. I've looked at heaps of things but so far have only bought chocolate.
I've read books.
I've wandered around the house complaining I'm not accomplishing anything.
And I've eaten a small shop-full of chocolate because that helps me whinge more efficiently.

Effectively, what I've been doing is waiting (probably with a good dose of feeling sorry for myself as well). It's self-defeating and it's time-wasting. But I can't break out of it. I have the perfect day today, with no interruptions to get an assignment started, but I'm doing this instead. I'm cleaning the house instead. I'm moving papers around my desk (let's not get carried away and actually put any of them away) instead. I imagine I'm irritating other people because I'm sure irritating myself at the moment.

This isn't new. It's a pattern that I haven't worked out how to change. When I eventually get back to work there'll be an incredible backlog of things that simply have to be done because I've been avoiding them. They'll all get done and, apart from the exhaustion, I'll feel great, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm deliberately not using a golden opportunity.

What I need is some tips on encouraging self-motivation. It's my greatest weakness.

Crunching gravel

2008-07-21T21:42:00.003+10:00

Lauren and I were out walking, single file on a narrow gravel path in the forest. We stopped every half dozen metres to listen to the sounds around us: the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the sparrows and honey eaters squawking, the quiet busy-ness of nature. Then we'd move on.

I watched Lauren's feet shift and crunch the gravel as she put them down, one after the other. "How do you suppose all those people in books and movies move so silently?" The question was out of my mouth before I could think about it.

Lauren, bless her, didn't hesitate. Within half a second she'd bent her knees, slowed her stride and begun placing her feet carefully on the path, rolling heel to toe, trying to be as quiet as possible. I followed suit, but we still made too much noise. I changed my stride to match hers, only putting a foot down when she did. That helped, but nothing we did made our passage silent. After a couple of minutes the absurdity of it all struck me and I giggled. Lauren turned and we all but fell about laughing.

"This is the sort of thing my friends and I do when we're drunk," laughed Lauren.

"Who needs to drink?" was my reply. "I can be an idiot any time."

We were both still grinning when we finished our walk an hour later. I'm still smiling. Those few precious moments sharing joy are lasting a long time. I have a lot of moments like that with Lauren.

I must be the luckiest woman on earth.

Do not go gentle

2008-07-20T22:54:00.002+10:00

The father of a friend of mine suffered a massive stroke a couple of days ago. Prognosis isn't good. How I hate this. The lives of so many people are turned upside down, pierced with pain and uncertainty. For them, the grief starts now, even though he's still alive and they suddenly have to deal with the horror of his illness and care. I wish there was something I could do to help them, to make things easier for them, but this is a time for family and holding it all together, dealing with things, because if you don't, you'll succumb to the quiet terror and never be able to cope with anything again.

I remember the day my father died. The call to say he'd been taken to hospital came at 11pm. At 11pm the next night I was standing in the grounds of the hospital with seven year old Lauren, telling her that the newest, brightest star was her grandfather; that people we love never really leave us even though we might never see them again. It didn't work then, for either of us; it doesn't work now. The grief never ends, it never diminishes. It just gets easier to hide, easier to pretend that it doesn't hurt all the time anymore.

Dylan Thomas's "Do not go gentle into that goodnight" lives with me at times like this:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Sometimes I think it would be better not to fight it, but to just gently slip away, then those who loved can begin their raging sooner, come to terms with it sooner. Hide the grief sooner.

My sound of choice

2008-07-16T20:27:00.003+10:00

My sound of choice is silence - well as silent as I can get in my little part of the world. It annoys me when I wake up at 3am and can hear the trains go by. I don't live anywhere near a train station but the prevailing wind at 3am seems to be in exactly the right direction to bring the sounds straight to my bedroom window.

I'm always the one who turns the tv off if no one is sitting in front of it actively watching (that includes the times someone falls asleep in front of the tv). What's the point? You're either watching it, or you're not. Using it as white noise is irritating.

This week I got a little more silence than I usually ask for. I lost my voice. I'm not talking croaky or husky, I'm talking no volume at all, not even a whisper. It's amazing how much difference it makes to my world. Because I'm silent, most people around me become quieter. A lot of people even whisper at me - I can't make a noise therefore my hearing must be acute. Other people come right up close to me and speak slowly like my hearing has been affected along with my voice. My sense of humour is having a ball.

It's not the first time this has happened. I spent most of my 20s losing my voice three or four times a year, then in my 30s I had 12 months without a voice. I had no volume at all for nearly five months, then had to use a portable voice amplifier for another eight months before my voice was back to normal volume. I've had to do voice exercises every day since to maintain easy volume.

With all this difficulty I have even getting a speaking voice to work, you can imagine what my singing voice is like! It's not that I can't hold a note - I'm just never sure which note I'll get or how long it'll last.

Lauren was 11 or 12 during that year and very quickly learned to respond to a click of my fingers. We developed our own sign language and had quite involved conversations with me not saying a word and her talking in shorthand. She can still say an awful lot to me just by raising an eyebrow. It actually fitted in really well with the dog obedience techniques I used throughout her childhood. I know it sounds odd to say I used dog obedience to raise a child but I did: lots and lots of praise when she did something good and growled at her when she did something wrong, just like we learned when we were training our dog. Of course I didn't realise until we took the dog obedience classes that that's what I was doing.

Now I have a few days of absolute silence inside my head. It's come at the most inconvenient time of the semester - right at the beginning - but there's nothing I can do about that. I'm scared if I don't take the time to rest and get it all working again I'll have another year with no voice. While it was an interesting experience, it's not something I want to repeat.

Walk like a dog

2008-07-12T16:56:00.003+10:00

My daughter walks like a dog. I'm serious, it's not a joke.

The last few months Lauren has been getting some work done in her yard - major earthworks. She's still waiting for the digging to be finished so she can lay a lawn. She misses her grass and plants. She's the kind of person who will spend a couple of hours a day sitting in the grass destressing, and she hasn't been able to do that for nearly four months. It's driving her crazy.

Yesterday we went to a native forest for a long walk, just so we could get close to some trees. Today we visited a friend who lives on a mountain that has a significant national park, and went for walk around the neighbourhood.

I realised today that Lauren walks like a dog. We'll be walking along and she'll suddenly deviate from the path a few metres to sniff a flower or feel the texture of a particular leaf. Then she'll return to the path only to slide off the other side after a few metres to press her hand to the bark of a tree to feel the roughness and the warmth left by the sun. She'll get down on hands and knees to watch the dappled sunlight under the fronds of a tree fern. That was the pattern for our walks yesterday and today. If something catches her eye, Lauren will go and investigate, just like an inquisitive dog would.

It's a beautiful thing to watch and to be part of. I remember similar walks when she was a child. I always loved the way she saw the world - as a thing of peace and beauty, to be nurtured and enjoyed. I no longer have to field the never-ending questions of 'why' and 'how', but she still retains that same joy of nature around her. Spending time with her has reminded me of the simple joys in life.

Looking at the world the way Lauren does really works. I haven't felt so relaxed and happy for a long time.

Gems and jewellery

2008-06-30T15:37:00.003+10:00

I love gemstones and I love designing jewellery. I have absolutely no training other than what seven years working in a jewellery store gave me but I love it anyway. I have a small collection of gemstones I've bought, mostly from e-bay.

As with nearly everything else I do, I have a system. I have found a few sellers on e-bay I trust and I generally stick with them. I'll even pay over my limit with them sometimes because I know I'll get what I expect. I have a limit to pay for items. Generally it's $20 including postage. Sometimes I'll go over but not often. I know $20 isn't much, especially when you include postage. Usually the adage 'you get what you paid for' works true as well so my little stash of gems isn't exactly a treasure trove.

Occasionally something really special will come through and it'll be a total fluke. I have a ruby that fits into that category. It's 1.35ct pear shaped and the most gorgeous pigeon blood colour. I have another ruby that definitely doesn't fit that description. It's 6ct oval cabachon and has some very interesting pink and white striations through it. No one could even suggest it's a good stone, but it is interesting.

When I can I have items made using my gems. I designed a set (pendant, earrings, ring) for Lauren using some lovely blue sapphires I got a couple of years ago. David has a ring with a 1ct black star sapphire set in it. The star is a bit iffy unless you get it in the right light but the ring looks great. The stone cost me 99cUS + postage so I'm really pleased with the result.

The last couple of weeks I've been buying for my sister, Sandra. Tomorrow I'll be posting the little stash I've collected for her. By the end of the week she'll be having fun designing jewellery for two matching blue sapphires, 10 coloured sapphires and 17 little amethysts. I'll send a couple of drawings of my own with them. Sandra and I don't see each other very often and don't really have a lot in common either. I'm enjoying buying gems for her because it gives us some time to be together, albeit via email, that we haven't had for a long time. It's lovely to touch base with her and share something with her.

Bookcases and efficiency

2008-06-22T16:34:00.005+10:00

I love bookcases. When I decided to convert my spare bedroom into an office I had three bookcases made to fit into the built-in wardrobe (almost floor to ceiling). I had a smaller one made to fit under the window and a double-sided one on wheels made so I could pull it over to my desk and pick books from it as I worked. They're gorgeous. When I moved house, I had the bookcases pulled out and brought them with me. This office (another spare bedroom) is a different size and shape but I've managed to fit two of the bookcases into the built-in wardrobe and the rest around the room.

My only problem is the bookcases are over-full. I suspect it wouldn't matter how many bookcases I had, there'd always be more books than shelves. I spent all day today tidying one bookcase. Before I moved I had all my fiction books sorted alphabetically by author and my non-fiction by subject and then alphabetically by title. The system was brilliant. I've been studying since I moved here and haven't sorted my books yet. Having one bookcase sorted doesn't really mean much in the scheme of things. It's one of the fiction cases and, while it's not yet in alphabetical order, I do have all the books by one author together. That way when I get around to doing the alphabetical bit I won't have to search all over the room for each author.

It's exciting. I can look up now and see a whole shelf of Asimov, another of Eddings and Irvine and Dart-Thornton. Still another has Kevin J Anderson and W A Harbinson and Matthew Reilly. Whenever I'm looking for a book by any of those authors I'll know exactly where to find it. Only two large and three smaller bookcases to go. At least the fiction and non-fiction is already separated. That makes it easier. The non-fiction is also already arranged by subject, except for a couple of books that haven't been put away yet.

Having books easier to find makes it easier for me to read exactly what I want as well as making research easier. With all my gardening and herbal law books together and near all my medieval history books, I can find just about anything I need for my current w-i-ps. They're all just behind me too, so I can roll my chair back, grab a book and roll back to the computer, all in just a couple of seconds. I love being able to use things efficiently.

Bedtime stories

2008-06-14T09:07:00.004+10:00

I don't write short stories much any more; I've focused on novels for a while now. But this week I wrote a short story, just for Black Friday. A murder mystery.

My daughter, Lauren, rang after work last night. She finished around 10pm so the phone rang about 11 - lucky I was still up. We haven't seen each other for a while - nearly two weeks - so there was a lot to catch up on. She told me about work and how busy she's been. I told her about my new short story.

Immediately the response was "read it to me?". I picked up the papers, she crawled into bed with her cat and I read her the story over the phone. It's been a long time since I read her a bedtime story.

It reminded me of when she was little. Most nights she'd already have the book picked out and on the pillow next to her when she got into bed. Some nights she couldn't decide which story she wanted to hear so she asked me to make one up. We had a system where she'd say a sentence to start the story off, then I'd continue with a few sentences. Then it was her turn again. By the end of it we'd created a story that often dealt with all the problems she'd faced during the day or the week and found solutions for all of them - and all in the guise of an adventure story we made up ourselves.

It was fun. Just like last night was. I might not have gone to bed until nearly 1am but the time spent chatting with Lauren was precious. I am so lucky. I think just about anything else in my life could fall apart and, as long as Lauren was still part of my life, I'd feel like the luckiest person in the world.

btw: Lauren loved my murder story. She said it was scary and was so graphic she could imagine it happening in her home. High praise from someone who is usually stoicism personified.

A good reason to kill your mother

2008-06-12T19:26:00.003+10:00

It's black Friday tomorrow and I have a meeting with fellow writers. We get together twice a month to critique each others' work, each chocolate and chat. It works well. We usually try to do something different on special occasions and black Friday is one of those times. We'll dress in black, have candles and maybe some wine.

Being the bright spark I am, I suggested those who had time could write a murder mystery to share on the evening. Now I have to do it. It was my bright idea, afterall.

I have a great scene for the victim (already dead at the beginning of the story). I have a murderer and a method of discovering who she is and how she gets what she deserves. I just can't think of one believable reason for her to kill her mother. I know she did it, I know it was planned and deliberate; I was there.

So far I've thought of:

Her mother refused to give her money to go to America to be discovered (time line too great)
Her mother told her she had to move out and make her own way in the world (who wouldn't want to)
The girl was abused and blames her mother for allowing it (done to death)
Her mother was co-trustee of a trust fund from her grandfather and wouldn't release the principal before she turned 25 (the other trustee had agreed to release the principal)

I'm still thinking about the last one. It might work if I can tweak it a little. I'm still looking for a logical reason. In my brain, everything has to have a reason; a logical reason. This girl is obviously crazy, so her reason won't be logical to me, but it has to be for her. I keep circling around greed and power as reasons for murder - they make sense to me - but I'm missing something here. This girl's motivation is something different and I can't grasp it. Maybe I should look at passion too.

And I have to finish this story tonight - the meeting's tomorrow and I've promised home baking so won't have any time tomorrow for writing.

Any ideas?

The murderers I have taught with

2008-06-09T17:58:00.004+10:00

Last week the news was full of a massive raid for pedophiles. Four teachers were involved (so far there have been more than 80 arrests nation-wide). Every time something like that happens (thank heaven, not very often) a wave of dismay, disgust and disbelief washes through my workplace. It doesn't matter what school I'm in, the emotions and questions are the same. How could anyone think for a minute that treating children like that coud be right? How could we (as in someone close to the people) not realise and stop it earlier? Those poor children.

We don't dwell on the topic long. It's too upsetting. Just the thought of what the children have gone through and still have to go through in their lives because of it squeezes the heart and brings tears. We move onto other macabre topics that can have a humourous (bizarre humour, that is) twist when viewed from the distance of years. Last week, Nola, a lady I work with, came out with a classic phrase: "The murderers I have taught with".

The woman should have a blog with that title. She has enough stories to keep it going at least twelve months if she blogs a couple of times a week. Last week we heard of a teacher who apparently killed his wife, chopped her into pieces and put her in a garbage bag in the boot (trunk) of his car. At the weekend he took members of his family on a bushwalk in a forest and while they went ahead, he dumped the body. Bizarre. (My apologies, Nola, if I have any of the facts wrong.)

It's amazing what people don't notice about others around them. Even if things are noticed, they're often dismissed. No one wants to intrude. No one wants to get involved. Everyone wants to believe there's some reasonable and logical explanation. No one wants to believe that ordinary looking people do terrible things. It would mean we'd have to suspect everyone. We'd have to admit our life isn't as safe as we want it to be.

On one radio show, I listened to the announcer suggest an interview during the application process for a blue card (child safety certificate) would identify dangerous people. Everyone in Australia who works with children has to have a 'blue card'. It's basically a criminal check to make sure no convicted pedophiles get jobs close to children. I'm still wondering how an interview would help. People are innocent until proven guilty. If they don't have a conviction we can't accuse without reasonable evidence. We can't conduct an interview and say "You look odd; I think you're a pedophile". It's not as if they have tattoos on their foreheads proclaiming it so.

I feel very strongly about children being treated well, but I also feel strongly about making sure we don't set up a system of discrimination or harassment in our efforts to protect them. The system might need a review and we all know the law is years behind the technology, but everyone's rights have to be protected, not only childrens'.

Knee-jerk reactions have to be avoided. Everyone (ie most people) is horrified and upset that such a thing can go on under our very noses but we have to make sure our reaction is responsible, reasonable and rational. Witch hunts don't work. All they do is set up situations so that society becomes a scary place. People become afraid to express themselves in case it's mis-interpreted. That's not what our democratic lifestyle is about.

Olympic Dreams

2008-06-07T01:18:00.002+10:00

This semester at uni I was fortunate enough to be part of a wonderful team of people. No doubt they'll all make their way into the blog at some stage. Tonight I want to talk about Heather.

Heather has booked tickets to China for the Olympics. She has clothing and banners in Australian colours and is getting really excited about seeing her daughter compete in the water polo. And they don't even know yet if she's made the team. It'll be another two weeks before it's announced.

I can remember Heather mentioning the training schedule early in the semester but it didn't click that it was serious training. I just assumed it was a fun thing, two or three times a week with a weekend game. But no, we're talking six to eight hours a day, seven days a week for months and months, just for a chance.

Heather's daughter is overseas now, training with the team and it's looking positive. Looking at Heather's face, the smile that never quite settles, the eyes darting with excitement and apprehension together, I began feeling some of the thrill of possibility. What a brilliant experience.

I hope Heather's daughter makes it. The whole family has worked really hard for this chance to compete at this level. Her daughter deserves to be able to get out there and strut her stuff. And Heather deserves to be able to watch it and let her pride in her daughter overflow.

Perspectives and perceptions

2008-05-31T18:16:00.004+10:00

Today I presented a paper at a conference. It was a really short paper - only 10 minutes - so it wasn't a big deal but it was really interesting to get feedback later.

When I stood up to make my way to the podium I inhaled and ended up with a coughing fit. Great way to impress the audience from the beginning. It took a few minutes to recover, then I started. The technology wasn't with me. Every time I moved, the powerpoint skipped a few slides and I had to stop and backtrack. I'm used to technology failing me so I just rabbited on for a while about nothing in particular so there wasn't an uncomfortable silence, then continued with my presentation. I lost my place with my notes, got sidetracked with a remark about how much I enjoyed reading a particular article when I was preparing the presentation and finally finished about 20 seconds over time. I mentioned most of the salient points but I don't recall any eye-to-eye contact with the audience and I got tongue-tied a few times when particular words just failed me and I had to reword the sentence for it to make sense. To me it was terrible - not quite a disaster, but definitely not a polished professional performance.

During lunch and after the conference finished I had a number of people come up to me and congratulate me on a professional presentation. They thought it was informative, interesting and well-paced. They loved that I was relaxed enough to add a personal comment and that I didn't get at all fazed by the technology glitch.

Isn't it amazing how different people see the same thing in different ways? I would have loved for the proceedings to have been recorded so I could review it myself - see what the audience saw. I think that would be a good thing for a lot of things we do in our lives. Obviously our own perception of ourselves and our actions is often very different to the way others see us. If we could see the other perspective as well, we might develop a more balanced view of ourselves.

What is art?

2008-05-29T15:36:00.002+10:00

I've just been catching up on the recent news articles. I'm not very motivated to keep up with the news - it's always depressing and negative. But once a week or so I read the headlines and read further into those that grab my attention.

The articles I've been reading today are about Bill Henson's most recent art exhibition. This situation disturbs me on so many levels I'm not sure what to feel. I am a great believer in fence-sitting - letting other people live their lives and make no personal judgements on them. That doesn't mean I don't feel strongly about some things. I cringe at the thought of censorship, particularly of art and literature. Freedom of expression is important.

But there is one thing I feel even more strongly about - the right of children to be innocent. Every time someone even suggests a child might have been mistreated or their innocence abused in some way, I feel the hackles rise on the back of my neck. My blood races through my body, readying me for a fight.

I go to art galleries regularly and over the years I've seen a lot of lovely photos of children, even naked children, that show various aspects of childhood and growth and society while still maintaining the beautiful innocence that childhood should be. The photographs in question apparently depict "a child under the age of 16 years of age in a sexual context." It worries me - and that's a typical British-style understatement made when you're so upset you can't think of an appropriate thing to say.

Yet the fact remains that I haven't seen the photographs, so can't judge for myself if they're art or pornography. I'm left with no option but to trust in the authorities to do their job properly and not persecute someone with little reason.

That worries me too.

Old friends

2008-05-23T23:36:00.003+10:00

Wendy and I met when we were seven. I took one look at the new kid and knew she'd be my best friend. Eventually. She was short and round and had the straightest, whitest teeth I'd ever seen. Her smile made me want to smile. Still does.

The early years weren't all smooth sailing. We didn't become bosom-buddies immediately and stay that way. There were fights and arguments and long periods when we simply didn't talk to each other. But by the time we started high school, we were inseparable. I thought we'd be like that forever.

Then Wendy left town.

I remember writing long letters to her and waiting anxiously for a reply. I understood she had things happening in her life that meant she wouldn't write immediately but a letter always arrived and it brightened my days. She meant the world to me.

She came back home for a visit once and I remember spotting her down the end of our street. Both of us just squeeled and took off running - towards each other - and ended up collapsing in a heap of laughter in the middle of the street. It's always like that when I see her. The sheer joy of being alive and with her.

We've known each other 40 years now. We've had our children and lived our very separate lives. Sometimes we've lived in the same town, sometimes not. Once we didn't contact each other for 18 months. I think I lost her address and she thought I was angry about something. I don't remember. I just know when we found each other again everything was the same. Something in my life clicked into place and became whole again.

We have absolutely nothing in common. She like cutesy poetry, chain emails and country-western music. I like antique furniture and symphonies. She looks at me as though she thinks I was abandoned by aliens. She calls me a snob (in the nicest possible way). I look at her and think surely only abduction by aliens could sort her head out. I call her mad (in the nicest possible way). But none of it matters. Underneath all the teasing and the differences we hold the same values close to our hearts. I admire her and respect her more than I do most people I've known, even if I don't agree with all of the decisions she's made. I know she feels the same about me.

I think you only have so much time in your life for friends so the number of friends you have are necessarily limited. Wendy and I don't need each other in our daily lives, we just need to know we're there, each for the other. And if I ever run out of time for friends, she'll be the last to be crossed off the list.

The eyes have it

2008-05-23T20:10:00.004+10:00

I always remember peoples' eyes. Their mouths and hands too, but the eyes have it. That doesn't mean I know what colour their eyes are but I always remember what emotions they portrayed.

My father had eyes of the palest blue, like the sky directly above on a hot summer day. Bleached blue. They always smiled when he saw one of us (me and my sisters) like he couldn't imagine a better thing to look at. They often looked sad when he didn't think we were looking. Sometimes overwhelmed - I guess raising four girls in the 60s and 70s pretty much on his own can do that to a man. Once, only once they looked both scared and angry.

I was 16 and two hours late coming home from the movies with my boyfriend. We'd driven to a town an hour away on the open highway and on the way home the fan belt broke. We had to keep stopping at farm houses to fill the radiator with water. Not once did it occur to me to ask one of the farmers if I could ring Dad and let him know what had happened. It was in the days before mobile phones, even before car phones.

When I walked in the front door he came towards me and the look in his eyes terrified me. He crowded me until I backed into a wall and wagged his finger less than an inch away from my face. It was the most violent I'd ever seen him. He was so out of control he was shaking. I can't remember most of what he said to me. I know he waited until I told him what happened but everything between "Where were you?" and "Don't ever scare me like that again" is lost. But I remembered his eyes and made sure I never made them look like that again.

My daughter Lauren's eyes glitter with a zest for life that encourages me to join in. I've spent a lot of years studying her eyes and know that most of the time they're brown but sometimes they're bright green. I think it has something to do with her health and what vitamins or minerals her body is lacking. I could look at her eyes for hours and never be bored. Every interest or joy or sadness is reflected there and, by just looking at her, I can share it.

I have no idea what colour David's eyes are. I've been going out with him for 7 years, living with him for two but can't remember the colour of his eyes. I know they're soft and gentle and make me want to sink into his arms and stay there. Over the years I've seen them change from tense to relaxed and content. They smile a lot now. They reflect his personality too - generous and caring.

Most eyes are like that - not generous and caring, but reflect the personality of the person.

I met one person years ago whose eyes didn't do that. It was a student I taught, a girl who was very nice and polite and worked hard. Her eyes were silver. Not grey - silver. It was a hard, solid silver, immovable, not molten or changeable. They reflected the light so strongly it was like looking into a mirror all the time, or a flourescent light. I found it very disconcerting. Even when she laughed or cried, her eyes didn't change. The tears made them look shinier but that's all. The colour was so strong that I could see it clearly from across the room, not like other people's eyes where you have to be up close to see exactly what colour they are. It was always a shock to turn from the board and look at the faces of the students in the room - all the other students were faces, their eyes just part of the shape, but with her I saw her eyes first. I remember being thankful that she was a student and I didn't have to try to get to know her or like her because I found her eyes very difficult to deal with. I also remember hoping her classmates didn't have my difficulty. It would have been awful if her friends had judged her because of her eye colour - something she didn't have any control over.

Getting old

2008-05-21T21:24:00.003+10:00

Do you remember how, when you were young, anyone over 20 seemed ancient? I remember looking at my father's friends and thinking they must be nearing retirement age and hoping they had a home (facility for the aged) picked out. And they were only in their late 30s at the time. Oddly enough I never viewed my father as old - not until just before his death when he started looking a little fragile.

All my teachers seemed old too. I was shocked when two of my female teachers got pregnant one after the other. Surely they were too old to have children. Didn't all your bits rot after the teen years?

By the time I was 15 being 20 was cool. My first boyfriend was 20 - he had deltoids and a six-pack stomach and three hairs on his chest. Impressive stuff. I look at the photos now and, while he was particularly well-built compared to the other 20-year-olds at the time, he was still skinny and weedy. His mid-20s was when he looked like he belonged in his skin. When he was 30 he'd lost the six-pack and other muscle definition but was still slim. I saw him again a few years ago when he was in his late 40s and he looked soft and rounded, passed his prime. I look around me and a lot of men follow a similar pattern. They look best in their bodies in their mid to late 20s.

But even with the body, they don't appeal to me. My tastes have changed. The skinny six-pack just looks like a kid who needs to get dressed and go back to school. Now I think hairy chests, bald heads and defined but not muscle-bound bodies look best - especially if the chest hair is salt-and-pepper.

I'm not even sure my tastes have changed because I've aged and become a little more realistic, or if I just like men closer to my own age. Maybe it's just that I couldn't stand for the man next to me to look better than I do. Can you seriously imagine a 40-something who avoids exercise and eats too much chocolate could possibly compare favourably (physically) to a 20-something who works out regularly? I suppose it would depend on who's looking.

Achievement

2008-05-19T22:10:00.004+10:00

My daughter finished the last assessment for her diploma today. She'll graduate in July. I'm so incredibly proud of her I can't hold the smiles in.

It hasn't been easy for her. The journey has been seven and a half years long. During her first year (she was 18) her best friend was kidnapped and murdered. During the 14 months that followed we lost nine close friends and family. She tried to keep going through it all but within six months dropped out of college. I'm surprised she lasted that long - and she was still achieving good grades.

Last year she went back and re-enrolled, knowing she'd be going to all the places she and her friend used to be, knowing she'd be studying the same course in the same rooms. It wasn't an easy decision to make. Add to that her uncertainty that she could finish it at all and it was incredibly brave. And today she finished the last assessment of the last subject and knows she passed.

She rang me at work, but I don't carry my phone there. She messaged me, and rang me after work. I could hear her jumping around as she spoke to me. The smile on her face was a tangible thing even though I couldn't see her. She dropped into my place when I told her I was coming home for a few minutes before I went to uni, just so she could smile at me and give me a hug - oh, and eat the pumpkin soup and cake she found in the fridge (she'd forgotten to have lunch). When she left she took a pile of books with her - she hasn't been able to read much while she's been studying.

We're going out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate. I can't wait. I want another glimpse of the joy in her face.

Knowing people

2008-05-18T20:32:00.004+10:00

My daughter is 25 today and as many of the family as could make it gathered at my place for lunch. I brought the extra table up from downstairs, put out the good china and chilled the champagne (sorry, sparkling white wine - it wasn't French). That was the limit of the formalities.

My daughter arrived and proudly showed me that she'd taken out her earrings in preparation for presents. She loves the emerald earrings I gave her - has been anticipating them since I took her pendant from her last October so I could match the stones. My mother gave her a bottle of Frangelico. It looked a lot like a $50 note to me, but my daughter swears that Nanna must have known the last bottle was finished last week and replaced it for her.

My sisters amaze me. They're so aware of other people it's humbling. I know they've known my daughter all her life but they haven't seen her regularly for a few years, and yet they still chose the perfect gifts for her. My oldest sister gave my daughter a pink leather picnic wine carrier, complete with a bottle of my daughter's favourite wine, an opener and a stopper. Perfect for my daughter and her partner to take to the byo restaurant they were going to for dinner tonight. My younger sister quilts so she handmade a kitchen set for my daughter. There was an apron, a trivet for hot dishes and two circular oven mits. The fabric was printed with psychodelic cats. The colours and the cats were absolutely perfect, as was the theme. My daughter works two jobs, studies and manages her house (with boarders) but still loves to cook whenever she can find the time.

It's not just my daughter that my sisters know well. It's everyone they meet. I don't know how they do it. I can't. I remember peoples' philosophy or attitudes towards others but I don't remember their personal tastes. People I've lived or worked with for years and know really well still draw a blank in my gift-giving mind. I can tell you how kind someone is, how intelligent, how generous, what they think about various political decisions. I can tell you how their eyes sparkle when they discuss something they're passionate about but probably couldn't tell you what sparked the passion. I can look at them from across the room and tell if they've had a good day or bad day and be willing to either listen or distract them out of it, but couldn't tell you five minutes later what the problem was. Sometimes I can tell you their hobbies, but there is no way I could discuss their current project or what they might need to further that project. Not even if I spend an hour discussing it with them. I don't remember the details. The minutae escape me. Constantly.

I don't often think about it. I don't like the picture of myself it paints. It's one of the things in my life I avoid rather than confront (exercise is another). It makes me look self-absorbed and uninterested - someone I'd rather not know. Knowing a person that well means I have to involve myself with them, offer part of myself to the relationship. I'm happy to talk about just about any topic and to share experiences but none of that, for me, requires an emotional involvement. Knowing someone well enough to know what would really please them requires an emotional commitment. I don't do that very well. I don't have a need to feel that close to a lot of people. I don't want a lot of people close in my life, so I avoid getting to know people on too personal a level, although my willingness to discuss almost anything might make that seem a little odd. That doesn't mean I don't care about people but the level of deep knowledge, sharing and trust needed to allow me to decide on the perfect gift isn't achieved with very many people.

Galway Oyster Festival and why I love reading

2008-05-15T20:18:00.003+10:00

I've been reading "A Celtic Book of Days" by Sarah Costley and Charles Kightly. I read that at the beginning of September the Galway Oyster festival is always held. There is even an account from 1802 in the book. It particularly mentions the art of opening oysters.

I used to work with a fellow who was from Galway so I at least know where it is. Naturally, I wondered if there was still an oyster festival held at Galway. So of course, I went to Google and found the festival. According to this site, the festival began in 1953 - somewhat later than the account in the book I've been reading. I've assumed it had fallen away and the townsfolk decided to resurrect the festival in 1953. It's now at the end of September, not the beginning as indicated in my book. It would be really interesting to see if they still have a connection to the Celtic origins of the festival and how that manifests in the current day.

There's an oyster opening competition with the competition winners listed from 1968 with nearly half the winners since then being Irish. I wonder if they're local as well. Australia provided 1982's winner. (They seem to have a problem with their code on that page, and one Irish fellow is flying a Norwegian flag - I might email them and let them know.)

This account illustrates very clearly exactly why I love reading (one of the reasons, anyway). I often read about things and wonder if it's still happening, or if that country is exactly as described. Then I begin the research. I've spent weeks on some projects, just finding out the answers to all the questions a book has raised in my head. Nova Scotia has been on my list of places to visit if everything in my life evolved that direction simply because I read a book that described the wind and waves and islands of that area. It's stayed in my head. I want to go. Now Galway has grabbed my attention. I think I'd need a little more than an oyster opening competition to get me to put Galway on my list of places to see, but it's certainly worth knowing about.

And that leads me to writing. A lot of the things I learn while I'm reading and researching will trigger the 'what if' question for me. I'll jot a few notes down, draw a couple of pictures and before I know what's happening I've got a new world or a new story unfolding in front of me. Tonight my writing brain is swirling with images of oysters, porridge, mermaids and uses for urine.

Mothers' Day

2008-05-11T17:28:00.003+10:00

Today is Mothers' Day and traditionally a time for as much of the family to gather as is possible. Most of us managed it today, having brunch at my sister's.

It was different today. There were quizzes. Now most people might wonder why that's so special but most people haven't seen members of my family with a quiz in front of them. We don't stop until we work it out.

The first one was famous lovers with one part (usually the second part of the couple or the least well known) given and you have to come up with the rest. It's very Australian-oriented. One couple you had to have been watching Australian television in the 80s or British television in the 90s. There are also a few royalist ones and some from the bible (I borrowed my niece's bible to get those ones). A couple of them had two possible responses. For example, for Lancelot, do they want his wife, Elaine, or Arthur's wife Guinnevere? There were a couple in there that were wrong. Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia and Donny and Maree were brother and sister, not lovers. It's like 'some of these things are not like the others'. I've taken them off my list.

(I did try to put the list on another page but haven't figured out how to do it. How difficult can it be to link to a file? I'm obviously putting in the wrong path or something.)

Of course there were discussions and arguments - that's how we work. Each of us likes to be right and each of us needs to be convinced that someone else's answer is right before we back down. It makes us present logical and convincing arguments and it makes us learn how to accept defeat, although no one expects it to be graceful.

The other quiz gave cryptic clues and we had to come up with the name of a town or suburb in Queensland that was the answer. For example, Chinchilla was the 'frozen beard'. My mother finally came up with the answer to that one. It took us quite a while and we all felt a bit silly afterwards considering we've all lived in that town or at least spent significant time visiting.

Paragliding

2008-05-10T19:26:00.001+10:00

Today I went paragliding. Well, when I say 'I went paragliding', I mean I drove over an hour up a mountain, sat and watched others take off, swirl around in the air currents and then land. My daughter, her boyfriend and best friend went up there for my daughter's birthday present. I was designated driver, caterer and support personnel. I had a ball.

We stopped at a narrow strip of green grass that disappeared over the edge of the mountain. People would lay out long narrow sails, straighten ropes, click themselves into harnesses and onto the sail, fluff the sail to fill it with air and then simply walk off the edge. It was exhilarating, and I was just watching.

The process took some time. There was one tandem flight before our group. They managed to catch a few really good thermal currents and stayed aloft for quite a while. Then we had to wait for the air to be right again. It was changeable all day, sometimes brisk, sometimes flat. My daughter was first off from our group as it's her birthday next week and this was the present from her boyfriend.

I love watching my daughter experience something new. The mix of apprehension, sometimes fright, anticipation and excitement on her face is wonderful. Her eyes were shining and she couldn't stop smiling.

The wind dropped suddenly just as they left the ground and they dropped quickly over the edge, never gaining the height some of the other flights had achieved. I've added a short film of their take-off. They even made walking off the edge of a mountain look natural and peaceful. I don't know how long they managed to stay aloft, perhaps 50 minutes, but most of it was out of view. I wandered over to a separate section of the lookout every now and then just to make sure they were still in the air (I'm a mother, I'm allowed to worry). In the end they couldn't find the right currents to bring them back up the hill and had to land at the bottom.

We drove for 40 minutes down a winding road to collect my daughter and her flight controller and then brought them back up to the top. Even losing sight of them for a time and having no response on the two-way radio for a while, I was still much calmer than I was when my daughter tried rock climbing. I don't know why. Floating around like a bird just looked like a more natural, less violent or intrusive activity that clinging to sheer rock faces.

The verdict from my daughter was that the adrenaline rush is higher with skydiving (her birthday present two years ago) but the length of enjoyment with paragliding is much better.

Emeralds and birthdays

2008-05-05T09:54:00.000+10:00

Emeralds are the birthstone for May. According to some legends they're also the symbol of truth and honesty. My daughter didn't like emeralds for a long time but I think that's mainly because the only ones she'd seen were the created emeralds in the less expensive jewellery shops. Since I gave her an emerald pendant for her 21st birthday she's been in love with them.

My daughter's 25th birthday is in a few weeks. Apart from the fact that I can't believe it's been 25 years, it's a significant time. Deserving of a special present. In October I went to see my former employer and asked him to source some emeralds for earrings. That's when the problems began. Emeralds aren't easy to match at the best of times but trying to get two exactly the same size to match in colour and quality to the pendant was almost impossible. Everything was either too light or too heavily included. Emeralds usually have a lot of inclusions. If you see a cloudy emerald, it's because of the inclusions. The one in the pendant has only one inclusion that is almost completely hidden by the setting. That made matching the stone even more difficult.

I was working in a jewellery shop at the time and the owner sourced the most gorgeous Columbian emerald for me. Emeralds are often set in yellow gold because the yellow warms the green of the stone. I was amazed at the clear green that came through when set in white gold (it's actually a little deeper green than shows in the photo).

We finally had some success last week. I'm not sure if he managed to source them from Columbia (my preference as they're the best colour) or from somewhere else but the colour is the closest we've been able to get with the clarity. It looks paler than the pendant now, but once it's set it'll be very close to the same. Yes I know it's a slightly different tone of green - emeralds are so hard to match you just can't be that fussy.

Because we've had such trouble my former boss got in a larger stone as well as the two I wanted for earrings. It makes sense to buy the one for a ring now (for my daughter's 30th birthday) while I can get it, even if it didn't come anywhere near the budget! So that's what I've done. The earrings are currently being made up but I have the stone for the ring. Unusually there's a slight band of lighter colour across it - that doesn't happen often with emeralds - but I like it. It's yet another aspect that proves it's a natural stone.

I love looking at gems and designing jewellery. I have five years now to design a ring for my daughter. The last one I had made for her was designed because of the shape of the stone. Very few variations presented themselves to me - at least ones that would suit her and that she would wear. This one is oval so there are many more possibilities. I just have to make it complement the simple setting of the pendant and earrings. I'm sure she'll forgive me if I add a couple of diamonds though.

Kookaburras

2008-05-03T22:08:00.000+10:00

There are kookaburras around here. If I wake early enough (around 3 or 4 am) I can hear them laughing around the neighbourhood. If I get up and listen carefully I can track each couple as they mark their territory and warn other mated couples away.

I'm not up that early very often.

Yesterday the local couple were in my back yard. It was 6 am so too late for the territorial laughter. There was simply the gargling warble that usually precedes the full-throated laugh of the bird and then silence. They were hunting.

I looked out my kitchen window and there they were, one perched on the edge of the trampoline, the other on top of a lattice frame. Grey-winged kookaburras, of course. The blue-wings can't laugh at all - they cough. The bird on the trampoline gargled a few times, each time thrusting its long beak forward and arching its neck to make the sound. It's a magnificent thing to watch. At once graceful and instinctive, uncontrolled. They sat there in silence then for nearly an hour. A couple of times one of them would fly the short distance to the ground and return to their temporary perch with a worm or lizard in its beak.

It doesn't matter what they catch, it always gets thrashed against the perch, even the poor worms that couldn't possibly have needed much tenderising. I've seen a kookaburra do that to a mouse. Swing its head violently to the side, slamming the mouse against the branch of a tree. Even from across the road I heard the bones crunch. Swing, thwack, swing, thwack. Again and again until the kookaburra was finally satisfied and tossed the limp bundle down its throat.

I think kookaburras might be my favourite bird. They're loyal and protective, joyful and patient. They're large enough for me to see in a tree without having to search for ages with the binoculars. The colouring in their feathers is magnificent. Every shade of grey and brown and cream, and the blue-wings have the most magnificent electric blue streaks in the primary feathers. Their laugh is infectious. It makes the cool pre-dawn darkness a thing of joy; the day ahead something to be anticipated.

Finished the book

2008-04-28T09:10:00.000+10:00

I finished writing my current book last night. Well, actually I finished it last week, but went back to it yesterday to tidy up a bit. I rewrote the last chapter so it flows better and wrote a whole heap of prophesies and extracts from books to go at the beginning of each chapter, so that all the strange terms I use make sense. I know it needs a lot of editing still, but it's such a good feeling to finally reach the end. I've been working on this one for about two years - in between working five days a week and studying and the myriad other things people fit into their lives.

I even know what book I want to write next, although I really should finish another one I started a little while ago. Actually the one I want to work on is probably top of the pile simply because I have a beautiful new notebook to use for the planning. I've already done some planning - created the world and the threatening creatures and the major characters, all with complete biology and diagrams. I have motivation and internal and external conflict, a history and a mystery to solve, good guys and bad guys and man-eating beasts and, of course, a love interest. But that's where I stop. I know where the book starts and I know where I want it to finish, sort of, but no clue at all about how to get from A to B. It will require some thinking time. The really fascinating thing is that I know by the time I do work out how to get from A to B, B will have shifted to an entirely new place and I'll be surprised all over again. I love writing.

I thought I would start writing last night, immediately after closing the file of the other one, but it didn't happen. I have the picture in my head for the first scene but after the herione captures and incarcerates the hero, I don't know where to go. I'm also having trouble letting go of the characters from the previous book. This is the second book I've written with these characters and they feel like friends. I don't want to just abandon them. I do have a third book following the lives of some of them in my head but I wanted a break from them. I wanted a totally new world with different problems to solve.

So now I have separation anxiety for people who don't even exist and I know if I don't revisit them I'll grieve for them too. My sister once told me I need to get a life but this is my life. I just have real friends AND imaginary ones. :)