Imagery

Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragrant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments. - Jack Kerouac, On The Road

Seriously loving this book right now. Not that much time to read last week, both boys sick with tonsilitis and Sammy has a chest infection.  But I'm loving this book.

Before I started, I was listening to audio of Kerouac reading other works of his.  I have his voice in my head. I love it there.

Arabesque

ar·a·besque  

n.

1. A ballet position in which the dancer bends forward while standing on one straight leg with the arm extended forward and the other arm and leg extended backward.

2. A complex, ornate design of intertwined floral, foliate, and geometric figures.

3. Music An ornate, whimsical composition especially for piano.

4. An intricate or elaborate pattern or design: "the fluctuating shapes of a cloudscape, the complex arabesque of a camera movement, the blink of a character's eye" (Nigel Andrews).

I don't know what it is, but I was sitting here tonight, feeling lighter than I've felt in months. Joel's asleep next to me, the house is silent. All I can hear is the whirling blades of the fan and the hum of the air conditioner. My fingers dancing over the keys now as I write. 


I am in pain, of course. But my heart, for the last hours is lighter, my thoughts are lighter. I'm relaxed, as relaxed as I can be, at least. Today, I've been watching my new favourite TV show, reading Kerouac & Anne Shirley {an odd combination, if there ever was one}, and listening to Debussy and George Shearling, Dizzie Gillespie and Miles Davis, simply going wherever the mood has taken me. 


And for some reason, the word arabesque popped into my head. I don't know why. I wasn't reading it, I hadn't seen it anywhere recently, but I couldn't get it out of my head.  Do you ever get that? A word, one you love that just comes into your consciousness and stays awhile? I've always loved it; arabesque. I love the way it sounds, almost melodic I say it aloud, feeling it out with my tongue and lips ~ almost pretty enough to be a name. 

I love the images it evokes. The swirling patterns, the curves and flourishes, soft and romantic. The symmetry while appearing whimsical and carefree. I miss feeling that way. 

    

I love how the images in my mind transfer themselves so beautifully into Debussy's  Deux arabesques.


The first is my favourite..

Do you have words you love? What are they?

I don't know how I'm going to go, slipping back into blogging again. For now, it's just going to be for me, free writing, I guess. No rules, no schedule. Perhaps not even a purpose. Whatever gets me writing again though.  

It only took me 15 years....

I have a confession. Anyone who has been reading my blog for....oh, any longer than the latest 2-month-long-writers'-block, will know I'm an avid reader. I love books. Reading is undoubtedly my biggest hobby. I love to read. I loved it as a little girl.  I loved it as a teenager, though in the little town I lived in, access to decent reading material was so scarce it'd shock you.  I lost my way there for a while, more interested in being married, grieving a loss, and caring for my mother.  But in the past 10 years, my passion for the written word has returned, with a vengeance.

And I'm not gonna lie. I'm a snob. Pfft. I said it. Before my siblings beat you to it. :)  I have rules about what I read.  I can read anything I want.  But for every 'trash' or fluff book I read, I have to read something 'decent'. A classic. A piece of literature on one of those "Books you should read before you die" list (the lists all vary somewhat, but basically most of them include many of the same books).

I don't know why I care so much. I don't know why I impose stupid rules upon myself.  I do know, though, that I look at those lists, and though no one will ever see it but me, no one will ever know it but me, I feel an intense satisfaction as I tick books off. Books read by far greater minds than I. The books you dream of one day writing, though that dream is barely a flicker anymore.

So, today almost 15 years after first wanting to read it I'm finally getting down to one of them.  And I'll be honest.  There's been a LOT of back story research first.  I hate knowing a book is referring to other real people, but not knowing who is behind every pseudonym.  So I've read and read lots of articles and reviews about the book first.  It's like high school.  All of that research to read a book!  I know to many that will look like a way to ruin a perfectly good book. But I'll be honest.  It just makes me enjoy the process more. I just love knowing what was going on in the writer's life when he or she wrote the book, who influenced him, who she was married to, where she was living, how long it took him to read it.

There are half a dozen books on almost every Top 100 list that I'm genuinely embarrassed not to have read yet. I haven't read the Sound and the Fury, I haven't read Proust, I haven't read all of War and Peace (despite 3 attempts, all in high school). I haven't read Don Quixote or anything by C.S Lewis(!). That one bugs me. Obviously there are many more I haven't read. But those, and this one are the ones most pressing to me for this year.

I've been fascinated reading up on Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady and Alan Ginsberg. Obviously they were well before my time, so my understanding of the intricacies of the time needed a bit of research for me. It's been a lot of fun learning about them, and those they associated with - the works of all of them (am fascinated with "Howl" as well).  I know a bit of the history of the time, the politics..what was going on in the world.  But it makes for a far richer tapestry to also place these amazing works of art (well so far...I haven't read this book yet) in their respective places of the time.

So.  I'll be immersed back in the late 40s and the 50s for a while. See you on the flip side. :)

Took me long enough..

Ok. There's a post finally up on the other blog.  For those that haven't emailed me, but still want to read, shoot me a message at melissa.mitchell@live.com.au and I'll send an invitation.

It's scary. Being this honest about my body and how I'm feeling at the moment. But it's got to help, right?

Source: dailyfatspiration.tumblr.com via Melissa on Pinterest

Where to do this?

                                                                                Source: modernhepburn.tumblr.com via Melissa on Pinterest

Sorry, it's been a few days since I promised to come back and update.  I have had a migraine since Wednesday night and I can't shake it.

I was thinking long and hard about whether or not it was time to shut down this blog. Too much of my life, sadly at the moment, is about my health, or lack thereof.  Too much woe-is-me, sadness and pain. And I'm not sure that everyone (or anyone) wants to read that. And I'm embarrassed, dumping that on everyone at the moment.

There are other sides to me, but it's hard at the moment to see past it. When I write about other things, I feel fake, as though I'm pretending the big elephant in the room isn't me there. But then I don't write anything at all, because surely everyone' had enough.

So. Here's what I'm thinking.  I have another blog. I used it a couple of years ago, before I got this sick, to talk about my weight loss and trying to get healthy again.  As that is what I am focusing on right now, I'm thinking of taking my health related musings over there.

It's a private blog, invitation only.  If this is something you're interested in reading, or keeping up with, send me an email to melissa.mitchell@live.com.au and I will shoot you an invitation. If you're related to me, don't bother. Sorry. Too personal. Too judgemental.

Over at the other blog Taking Back Control, I will be able to fill you in on The Big Plan™ and my journey towards good health. It has sat untouched for a couple of years, unfortunately. But I think it might be good to have a safe place to get back into it.

Let me know if you're interested. And no offence taken if you're not. I completely understand that it gets more than a little wearisome.

                                                                                             Source: katearends.com via Melissa on Pinterest

But for me, I know I want to write again. I want to talk about controversy and things that are meaningful. I want to be free to post music and pictures, tell you about the books I'm reading and the poetry I'm discovering.  I want this to be my happy place again, honest still, but about more than pain and hurt.

There will still be pain and hurt.  No matter how healthy I become, I won't necessarily find myself without Bipolar, or anxiety, or maybe even (but please, please, please) agoraphobia. But I'll try to at least give the physical stuff it's own safe place. And turn this one back into my creative outlet. Beautiful and meaningful and personal again.

It's slightly embarrassing to restart the other blog. I was about to actually close it, delete it when it occurred to me that I really ought to use it again. So you'll see when you get there (I don't know if I will get much time to go there this weekend) that the last post was 2 years ago.  I admit it. I got slack and I was wrong about the things I said in there.  But I don't care.  I have decided not to let shame and fear of failure stop me from trying again.

                                                                           Source: overdresstoimpress.tumblr.com via Melissa on Pinterest

                     

Not so much a respill as a minor leak..

It's all done and dusted, and beating the crap out of your colleagues works. A leadership challenge is forced, the opinion of the public is ignored and the sitting, woefully unpopular PM holds her job.

And I'm left with a bad taste in my mouth, even before the announcement today. The first day or two I was intrigued. But by yesterday, it was all just embarrassing.



Not much more to say, I guess.

I keep Trying

It's 11.30pm. Still another couple of hours til sleep. But the house is quiet, save the gentle hum of the dishwasher.

Joel's next to me, his quiet snoring a comfort, the sounds of the night on which  my body has come to depend. Ceiling fan on low. Air conditioner cutting in and out as the temperature changes - even the changes are dependable.  And Joel, quietly beside me, dead to the all the world, but not to my movements on the bed. A movement too slow, too drawn out, and in his sleep an arm reaches over to rub my leg or my back; "I love you" maybe it's muscle memory talking. He always reaches out at midnight, touching to see if it is my feet or my head at the top of the bed - wanting to know if my body or my mind have mercifully let me sleep yet. It's never my head.

"Come to bed, my sweet", comes a sleepy yawn.  'You need to try to get some sleep'. But he knows - none of the drugs are working now. The muscle spasms won't let me rest, the restless legs syndrome worse than it's ever been, the self hatred most glaring in the quiet.

I'm so often on this page. Or at least, this and a dozen others. Always with dozens of pages open, tabs upon tabs in window upon window.  Anything to stop my mind slowing down to focus on what it wants. What it knows.  I'm here trying to write it, trying to write anything, trying to fake it.

I can't. It's the elephant in the room. I'm pathetic. I'm a swollen, pained, pathetic mess. For months now, it's been so fake. The depersonalisation are settling over me like a veil. I've had this before, a few times & even derealisation, but can usually, upon reflection, work out the difference. But now, I feel like maybe it's aspects of both. I can't tell right now what's happening. I think it's the former.

I feel like I'm completely withdrawn, cut off. I struggle to feel an emotional connection to anything or anyone. It's a flatness, a 'spaciness' that I can't shake.  I can't concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two at a time. I keep coming back to blog here. Every day for the past two weeks, I've clicked on this page and started to write. Not once have I been able to follow through the thoughts.

I don't feel panicky or anxious even. Just....nothing. Flat, unfocused, inability to concentrate, loss of appetite, I can't remember whether I have taken my medication or not (that'd be fine if it were just panadol.  But when it's stronger pain killers or anti depressants, or scarier-insulin, it becomes problematic.  I've missed doses of my Cymbalta - swearing I've taken it, but proven wrong when the vertigo kicks in. Certain I've not had my insulin yet, I've doubled up three times now this month. I've screwed up my night doses more often than I can count. I've been unable to remember if I've taken my Mersyndol or Ibuprofen. I generally err on the side of caution with these and not take another dose. But it's so unlike me.

I forgot a Doctors appointment earlier this month.  It was the first time in a year.  In 09, when things were at their worst, I forgot several. Or backed out of several. I was terrified of leaving the house. I was terrified (even more so) of the sound of the telephone and could not pick one up.  I couldn't open mail or even remember where I'd hidden it. So much so that I lost my license because I didn't renew it. I just shoved it in a draw, unopened where it sat for a year.

I feel like I'm there again.  I missed this appointment in Alexander's first week of school.  Brisbane had flooded that day, and I was fretting because our suburb was cut off, so noone could come get Alexander from school.  I hated that his very first day of walking was going to be in a torrential downpour.  Joel wasn't able to get back (he was taking me to the Dr, as I can't drive anymore because of my vision) and in all of the excitement I missed the appt.  Apparently (I have no memory of this), I missed one last April too.

So I got a letter and it said that I was no longer accepted as a patient in the practice that had been seeing me for more than 15 years. I called. I pleaded.  I tried to at least speak to my GP, to ask him about a specialist referral he'd written me and ask for a recommendation for another doctor.  The receptionists won't even let me talk to him.

It spiralled. I had just finally had contact completely cut off with my former best friends. They'd moved on and made it clear that it was without me. In the end, the hurt was too much, the silence heartbreaking, and I knew I had to hide them on my Facebook. I couldn't keep replying to facebook statuses and getting ignored, sending them messages asking after them and being ignored. Watching them be together and missing them every day. So I deleted them. I can't describe how hard that was.  I did a huge FB cull, but really, it was about them.  As though somehow my heart wouldn't notice that I'd culled two of the women I loved most in the world, with the other 130 people who I don't interact with online.

Then my Dr dumped me. Then the sister in law I had such an incredible rift with moved back, only months after moving away. The heaviness moved in. Things feel less real. My pain is worse, but even I can see that my body is reacting to the tension, the sadness. And the more research I've done this month on inflammation, the more I have learned. My body, (aside from the FM and arthritis) is crippled under the extra weight that the Prednisone piled onto me. That's why I got so much sicker after stopping the Pred. That's why there is so much pain.  It's the 30 extra kgs - too much on my already obese frame.

It's humiliating to write this. Just put it out there like this.  But here's the problem.  I can't budge it.  Since stopping the Pred, almost 5 months ago now, my appetite has dropped. A lot. Which is to be expected.  So I'm eating far healthier, and less.  Though admittedly, erratically. But the weight hasn't gone.  The fluid hasn't gone - my hand is still twice the size of the other every morning and every night. My feet are still swollen every night (my BP is fine). The extra fat at the back of my neck - the worst physical part of the Pred. Hasn't budged. They told me it would. That Cushings caused by Pred could be reversed once you stop the Pred.

Apparently, not for me.  No period since October. No weight reduction, despite efforts to correct my diet. And absolutely a huge increase in pain. I'm never going to get better like this.  I feel like there's nothing for me.  I feel like I can't be hopeful. I'm pathetic. A ridiculous caricature of myself.  Beyond hope.

Well. Almost beyond hope. I'll try to come back tomorrow. With a plan. Which hopefully (since I've deliberately written it on here, so I'll be accountable) I'll have already set in motion tomorrow morning, first thing.

I'm sorry I've been quiet. I'm more sorry I haven't been commenting or reading blogs. I just don't have the attention span. I read 9 books in January, devouring pages. I've read not a one this month. Not a single book. My brain just won't take it in.

I'll be back.  I just had to start. Somewhere.

Sunday Sessions & Piquing my Interest - Was there any other choice?

I'm late again to Sunday Sessions and Piquing My Interest, but was offline mostly yesterday (for someone who is never late for anything IRL, it's so strange how often I am with blog posts. My mojo is GONE).

So, American time, February 11, my son's birthday, the world loses an icon. Whitney Houston found dead in her bathtub hours before her Pre-Grammy performance at Clive Davis' party. Dead at 48. It's hard to fathom. Such a waste.

And cruel as it may sound, I have just 4 words. Screw You, Bobby Brown.

Onto Sunday Sessions and Piquing My Interest though.

I guess it's a no brainer today, isn't it?  There can be no other choice but the amazing voice of Whitney Houston for today's Sunday Sessions.  I can't think of a single other singer that has more memories attached to my teenage years, and to happier times with my sisters than Whitney. (There are others possibly as close, but none MORE, IYKWIM).

I sat, trying to pick a favourite.  There are so many to choose from. I first came to know of her when I was 9 or 10 - with The Greatest Love of All.  At 11 I want to Dance with Somebody was my favourite song of the year. I remember playing netball at lunch time with all of us kind of singing along to someone's tape deck with that as we played.

There are so many huge singles, it's hard to separate them - All at once; Didn't we almost have it all?; Saving all my love for you; So emotional; How Will I Know?; Where do Broken Hearts Go?; Run to You; I'm Every Woman; Queen of the Night;

Bodyguard is one of the movies that most reminds me of my sisters. I can't imagine how many times we watched it together. It was one of our go-to movies. I remember having such a crush on Kevin Costner, but mostly thinking (I remember saying to Mum) that Whitney Houston might possibly be the most beautiful woman in the world - she was very much a childhood idol.

So picking just 3 songs?  Harder than you might think.  But pick them I have. I've taken an early one, a song from Bodyguard and one a bit later. All songs I love.

Welcome to another edition of Piquing my Pinterest - a weekly Pinterest link up where Pinterest {hearters} share some of the things they have been pinning on their virtual pinboards.

I don’t like to enforce rules so these are just…guidelines….

• Blog about your favourite pins from the past week. They can be random pins or themed. Totally up to you. Sometimes mine are themed. Sometimes they are totally random.
• Grab the button (from my sidebar) and add it to your post and/or your sidebar. Because it’s good karma. A little link love didn’t hurt anyone 
• Add your blog link to the linky below - so other Pinners can come visit you.
• Visit some of the other links and give some comment love.

Happy Pinning!

Images synonymous with my childhood...

                                                                                         Source: google.com via Melissa on Pinterest

                                                                                        Source: google.com via Melissa on Pinterest

                                                                                          Source: google.com via Melissa on Pinterest

                                                                                Source: youtube.com via Melissa on Pinterest

Source: youtube.com via Melissa on Pinterest

What do you think about this?

I briefly saw something about this on FB yesterday, but I'm stick stuck in Rescue:Special Ops vortex, so I forgot to actually check it out until today.

This story, it seems has gone viral, so I'm not entirely sure how behind I am or whether everyone has blogged about this already. But I'd still like to chat about it, see where others stand.  I'm in two minds (kind of) on this one.

So. This is the original video. Daughter publicly and pretty bitchily (that is so a word, so shut up!) has a go at her parents on FB. Does the sneaky thing (Pfft...don't pretend we haven't all done it) and hides it from the people she doesn't want to see it, including dear old Mum and Dad.

Dad finds it. And has a little something to say about it.....(cue Jaws music)....

What say you? Do you think he was completely out of line? a) reading her computer status and b) responding to it in this way? Or do you agree with him, that she had it coming? Reading the responses on FB, other sites and parenting forums, there seems to be an incredibly mixed bag of responses (as is so often the case when discipline is the topic). There is a further response a day or so later found here.

I'm going to cut and paste & paraphrase some of what I wrote elsewhere. Mostly because it hurts to type today. A little bit because I'm lazy.

I noticed a LOT of people reacted negatively and said that he was childish and angry and bullying her.  And in some respects, I don't disagree.  I think he was slightly rash, and do think there might have been other, more appropriate ways of handling things.  Initially (other than the gun), I was inclined to think I agreed with him.  But having listened to other people, I can see their points. I'm not sure that this wouldn't just have made me escalate my behaviour when I was her age. 


But, in his defence, I don't think he was only angry. I think he was hurting. I think you could hear it in his voice and see it in his body language. I think that his hand was shaking and he was hurt that she showed such disrespect and humiliated him. 

I think there's a huge disparity between what she says she has to do every day and what he says she has to do every day. If she IS washing floors, doing dishes, making everyone's bed and doing everyone's laundry, then Yes. It's a lot to do while carrying a Year 10/11 course load. But if it's what HE says she has to do then she can suck it. 

I would not have shot the computer. It was stupid, pointless and childish (though again. Clearly he was hurting, badly). But I think I WOULD have given it away - probably to the 'cleaning lady'. I certainly think she deserved to lose the computer. 


But it worries me that he owns a gun and is prepared to use it in anger. That is the kind of thing that goes all kinds of wrong.  Now, to be fair. I make no bones about the fact that I think the 2nd Amendment is a crock, and needs to be torn up.  I think it was for a different time and a different place.  

Don't give me "guns don't kill people, people kill people".  I'll take that and raise you a "No. People with GUNS kill people. People with easy access to guns and the type of ammunition this man own (hollow points are illegal in many states, nicknamed 'cop killers' for the fact that a)they piece body armour and b) they are designed to blow apart and make maximum damage once they enter the body) kill people. Countries that don't enforce strict gun laws kill people. Ok. Sorry. Another rant for another time.

I cringed at the gun. I know it's judgemental of me,  but it made me look at him differently, the second he said "I came so close to putting a bullet through it last time". It made me think 'stupid, southern rednecks'. But that's just me. 

I think going on FB and giving her a taste of her own medicine was warranted. I'm not sure I could do it it to my boys (am pretty sure I couldn't), but I don't think he was wrong. I think giving the laptop to someone who really DOES have a hard life would have been better though.




I think more than being focused on whether his response was appropriate, I really feel that his point was spot on. I think my generation had it far easier than that of my parents. Who had it far easier than their parents. But this generation we're raising? It's insane how easy they have it. The sense of entitlement they seem to feel. How easy they think they should have it. How little respect they have for their peers (I'm not going to lie. I was the worst, most horrible teenager. I argued and screamed and yelled at my parents a LOT. But I never, ever said any of those things to anyone outside of the family. I didn't go to other people and bitch about my parents. I would never have wanted anyone to think ill of them).


I don't think many of the children and teens at the moment have an idea of earning anything, the fact that money doesn't grow on trees and the concept of working for things. My own son not that long ago put his iPod through the washing machine (it was a cheap one, one of the earliest iPods, and it was given to us) and rather than be upset, as we had expected, he shocked us by shrugging his shoulders and saying "Well we can just get another one". My jaw dropped.  He had NO clue whatsoever that these things can cost a lot and that it wasn't a given that he would simply have it replaced. 


Something I want to fix.  I'm trying, hard, to talk to him and teach him about responsibility and that he has chores he has to do. It's not something that sits well with him. He resents them. I have to ask him every single day to do the (very small number of) chores he is expected to do (at this point he is responsible for : keeping his room clean, filling up all water bottles belonging to him and Sam and putting them in the fridge and emptying out his lunch box each afternoon and putting the ice pack and drink bottle back in the freezer. He also has to put away his clothes after I've folded them for him. It's really not a lot. (Is it?). I want him to understand that as a part of a family, everyone has to pull their weight. Even Sam has chores (he has to tidy the living room with his brother, tidy his room, though with help and put away his lunch box and water bottles etc). 


What I noticed though is how many people were upset that he accessed her facebook account - crying her right to privacy. I've seen it before when people have checked their teenager's mobile phones as well.


This comes to mind. 

                                                                                                                Source: etsy.com via Melissa on Pinterest

It's trite, I know. I know it's doing the rounds so now we're seeing it everywhere. But to a point, this holds true. I have no problem being honest with Alexander (I have already had this conversation with him) that while he is still a minor, I reserve the right to have access to his internet accounts. I reserve the right to see who he is talking to, and who is contacting him. He's only 9 (TODAY!!), so he doesn't have a FB account. He isn't allowed on any websites that have chat sites attached to them (even the 'kids' ones). He wants a FB account (a lot of kids do), he wants to join game sites that have chat functions (he wants them for the games, not the chats, but that won't always be the case). He trusts everyone. He has his own email account, but I have the password and he usually sits with me while he emails the few people (family members, mostly) that he is allowed to correspond with.

I know it sounds heavy. But Alexander is our responsibility. And it's one we take seriously. And to me, that isn't just about ensuring his safety, though of course there's nothing more important.  But I also think we're responsible for his behaviour.  As far as it is possible, I want to know the kind of person he is, the way he speaks and acts. The number of children suffering (some going to the extremes of suicide) as a result of cyber-bullying is becoming a real problem.  I think as parents, we have a responsibility to be that involved in our child's internet use.  I don't just want to know if my kid is being cyber bullied by some little turd on the internet.  I want to know if he is that little turd on the internet. 


Anyway. I know I strayed a little off point (something new for me, right?) but I really am curious about what you think about this. The video, the follow up responses. Would you have done it? Would you have posted a response online where her friends could see it? Would you have taken her computer away (I'm not even going to say shoot it. I don't want to know if the answer is yes). 


And what are your thoughts about our child's right to privacy Vs our right/need to keep them safe and know what they're up to?  Where is the line? Is there one? Where is yours? Or at least, (for those of us not at that stage yet, with younger children) where do you think yours might be?

*I'm not saying I agree with everything he said or did.  Clearly from his FB page he is a gun-toting republican who is blaming the current President for everything,lol (Damn Tork. Now I can't write LOL without thinking you're growling at me! For those who don't know Tork, he HATES the term Lol - can we call it a term?). But Child Protective Services and the Police have been to his home, interviewed him and his daughter and are apparently satisfied that there is no problem in that household. So while I have issues with the gun, I'm more interested in your thoughts about the rest.

Help! I need an intervention!

You know that whole "I don't really watch TV thing?".  It's true, mostly.  I do not remember the last time I sat in front of the television and watched scheduled programming. A few years ago I noticed that the TV went on in the morning for the news at 6ish and stayed on until about midnight. It was a constant presence in our home, and I'd stopped reading. I was resistant to making plans because such-and-such was on this week and I just had to know what was going to happen to whomever... I have such an addictive personality and I decided to just go cold turkey for a year.  It stuck. The addiction was broken (it took weeks and weeks for it not to be hard) and it's lasted pretty much ever since.

Joel and I do though, get seasons of  TV shows that we like and watch them together at night. We love NCIS (sigh...Very, very, VERY Special Agent Gibbs), Criminal Minds (Oh Derek!) and we got hooked on Homeland - watching it in a week (VERY Fast for us).

Anyway, I recently did a search of Australian TV shows that had been on in the past 5 years (It's been about that long since I switched off.  So I have never seen MKR (I think that's the one people are talking about atm?), Packed to the Rafters, Master Chef, Underbelly etc). But I read about Rescue: Special Ops, and both of us having loved Police Rescue, we thought we'd give it a go.

Joel was Meh. I was hooked from Episode 1. So in the past 7 days I have watched every single episode. It's insanity. Obsessed.  (I can't find Season 3. I'm dying). I read 9 books in January. I was so chuffed and SOOOO in reading mode. (My next post will review those).

It's the 8th of January and I have read a total of 1 page of my latest book. 1 measly page.  What to doooo? So much for my good start to the year. I thought I was well on my way to my 52 in 52. Stupid decent-quality-programming-for-a-change! :D

I'm all out now. Done.  So hopefully I'll get back on track. I have 3 other TV shows waiting for me to watch. Downton Abbey. Lost in Austen and the several seasons of NCIS that we're behind (we're just finishing season 5).

Intervention Time. Tell me NOT to start them! :D My IQ is dropping by the day. ;-)

Make me feel better - what TV shows had you hooked?  And are there any ABC or SBS dramas that look good (see - there I go, asking for more!!)? I hate reality TV now (there were some Foxtel shows I liked. I loved Deliver me and Grand Designs and some of the wedding ones, but am happy to have ditched Foxtel). Was Crownies any good? What do you watch?

UGH. Stop me! I've fallen and I can't get up.....

Something to Talk About - MY first week at school

This is my on my very first day of school.  I was 5.  I went to a tiny little school, a school that catered only for Years 1 and 2 (I actually love this idea, I don't think there are any around anymore, at least in Brisbane).

I remember almost nothing of my first day. I remember the afternoon though.  My mother didn't have her drivers license, and she had 2 girls under 3 at home and was 7 months pregnant with my brother. So I caught the bus to and from school.  On our first day, we were all given coloured round tags to pin to our uniforms to indicate which bus we were to take.

I remember it being madness at 3pm at the gates. There were buses everywhere and a couple of teacher managing hundreds of children (well, it felt like hundreds. Who knows? It probably wasn't nearly that many.  There were at least 4 buses though).  I remember thinking that it seems so chaotic, so disorganised. How will they possibly get it all straight.  Someone is going to be put on the wrong bus.

Of course, that someone was me. That's my luck, right? Right from the word go. Having weeks prior been rescued from an attempted abduction (have I ever told that story?), my mother lost me again that day, for a few hours.

I noticed during the bus route that nothing was remotely familiar to me. I had a terrible feeling at the pit of my stomach, but was also painfully shy and polite, so I bear to bring attention to myself and stop the driver. I curled up, made myself small and stayed silent.

An hour later, the poor driver, after dropping off the last of the children, noticed he still had one left. I didn't know my address (something I made sure Alexander knew on Day 1 of Prep, even though I was driving him to school and picking him up) and wasn't able to tell him our phone number. In the end, he took me home to the bus depot. He and his wife fed me ice cream while they contacted police, who had already been contacted by my mother.

He was a lovely man, and his wife was so kind. They took wonderful care of me, and made me feel safe.  It was about 5 o'clock before anyone was able to pick me up and bring me home. I don't remember being traumatised and I don't think I said much. But I do remember, funnily enough on my second day of school, biting into an apple and losing my first tooth.  I remember that being the straw that broke the camel's back and I quietly cried in the office for the rest of the afternoon.

I still wonder, 30 years later, what ever happened to that teacher. Can you imagine the kind of trouble a teacher would get into for that kind of mistake now?

Not the most auspicious start to my school career.  But I loved my teacher (Miss Partridge) and my best friend (who had even more ringlets than me!) Kirri-Lee and remember the blessed simplicity of those early school days.

Me just a few weeks earlier.  A carbon copy (well, with longer hair) of Alexander at the same age!