Lady Karma, I kiss your cheeks.

rebellion

Karma, I love you so. Today we heard on the gossip line that a former principal who had made my life miserable and destroyed the careers of some very good people, has received a massive kick in the butt from Lady Karma.

After chewing up and spitting out a number of people he broke his contract to leave our school  early for what he thought was going to be his ticket into the upper echelons of education. Well, the people he had to work with mutinied, revolted, and just rose up against up on mass – he always plucked his victims off one by one – and he was fired!

Sadly it is not total revenge as he has enough clout to be assisted into a principal’s position at a nearby school – but not ours!

He’s still on my stick list [the people I am going to hit with a stick on my last day], but at least I know his ego has been trimmed. I smiled all day. I am still smiling.

right place

red-typewriter

Do you have a favourite writing place? So many writers say they love writing in busy places. I have read that J.K. Rowling and John Green both wrote in cafes. I don’t think that would work for me. I suppose being an introvert to start with, I seek quiet spaces.

I have imagined two scenarios of writers writing – one that would not suit me, and one that certainly does. I am writing this in that very spot!

Venue not suited to me:

She sat in the shopping mall café, surrounded by the pell-mell of human existence. The notebook was open before her, but her attention was focused on the coffee cup beside it, more that the blank pages. Every time someone walked into the café she looked at them, perhaps searching for inspiration, but finding none she would return to the coffee cup. Lifting it to her lips for the umpteenth time she discovered it was now empty. Lifting the hand with the unused pen in it, she signalled to the waitress for a refill. Obviously, this was not to be her writing place today.

Venue suited to me:

The bed was wide and she was the sole occupant. The day stretched before her and she has nowhere to be but there. One, two, three large pillows were lifted from the floor beside the bed and placed, just so, behind her back and head. Then the laptop and tray were placed, also just so, upon her lap as she lay back against her pillow bed throne. She knew she would get lots of work done today.

facts and some fiction

red-typewriter

I have registered for a short online writing course through the Open University as part of my being creative year, my Red Shoe Project. I hope also that it will assist me in teaching my students creative writing.

The first task was to write a paragraph with three fiction elements and one fact.  Then, the task was to write a paragraph with three facts and one fictional element.

FICTION Paragraph.

I find peace in the rain. It drowns out the voices, and the memories of what went before. It is only when the rain falls that I also know that they won’t be searching the streets, sniffing the dark spaces where I might possibly seek protection. Chasing me. The rain is the one thing that halts their progression. I pray for rain, every day. Today, I rise to blue skies and sunshine. The pursuit resumes.

 

FACT Paragraph.

I lost my eye on Friday the thirteenth. By lost, I don’t mean that I forgetfully left it on the bus, or sitting on the bathroom shelf. I mean that it my eye was surgically removed on Friday the thirteenth. The next day, propped up in my hospital bed, a mile of bandages covering the right side of my head, a religious minister appeared at the door of my shared room to visit the old woman, slowly dying in the next bed. The sight of a young girl, for I was only eighteen, head swathed in bandages, must have prompted him to think he had to speak.

“Did you lose your eye on Friday the thirteenth?” he chuckled.

“Yes,” I replied.

He turned and fled the room.

“What about my dying?” asked the old woman.

just 45 days at a time

side-woman

The rain falling today has been very symbolic for the way I am feeling, facing the last day of vacation before the school term starts. Just 45 school days but its approach feels like 45 years approaching. Maybe something wonderful will happen in those 45 days.

If not, I was able to increase my income protection insurance if I am finally driven to total collapse! Actually, just completing the application form to upgrade my coverage almost drove me to a mental breakdown.

What is it about forms that bring out the worst in us. No sooner do I open the online application and I start swearing and become a person even I don’t recognise. I had to open the link to the form, but the form has to be printed and completed by hand as it can only be mailed. Then I had to reset passwords and retrieve membership numbers, plus find my plastic membership card, and print out several payslips. It was a three cup of tea job, with a side dose of yelling at Mr FD because he was not answering my questions the way I needed them answered. Mr FD also had the temerity to act as those I was just randomly making up queries just to get my big Monday jollies.

Eventually, the paperwork was completed, then I had to source an envelope and a stamp. Do you know how long it is since I needed either? Luckily I had one sad, soiled stamp in my purse, though I am not sure if it is the right denomination. I am not sure how much a letter costs to post these days! How times have changed – I can remember when we purchased stamps in rolls of 100!

Now to remember to post the letter – and to get out from under my bed tomorrow and front the school day.

 

 

letting the clouds go sailing by

http://www.thecoolhunter.net:

I’ve been away forever, haven’t I? We have just arrived home from 10 days in Western Australia, combining a visit with Peppercorn and her parents, with a few days touring the wine area of Margaret River. A little piece of paradise, especially with the spring flowering of the wildflowers.

A public holiday tomorrow, and then the last term of our school year commences – a nine week term. I feel like self medicating at the very thought, but since we have toured the wine area, I am not so confident in my choice of drink.

I mean before, I just ignorantly drank what I liked. However, now that I have tippled my way around numerous wineries, I feel like I should have an educated opinion, but I don’t. Drink anxiety, I am sure it is a real condition.

 

“Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe
Rain may fall, and wind may blow
And many miles be still to go
But under a tall tree will I lie
And let the clouds go sailing by”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

The I don’t need it, I don’t want it, get out of my face revolution

no

Maybe it’s just me but I need to ask: is anyone else not only tired of, truly exhausted by the sheer numbers of people trying to make money from every facet of our lives?

So many so called health gurus, education experts, lifestyle experts… Even people writing books to show us how to show our kids how to use Lego once they are tired of their kit style. Can’t we downsize for ourselves? Can’t we create and innovate for ourselves?

What is happening to us?

Today, I feel like one of those characters in those predictable Hollywood movies where in one day, a man has to face a job loss, wife leaving, kids moving away, car repossessed, locked out of all bank accounts and savings and he just goes mental and rejects society.

Today, I want to go mountain woman and reject capitalistic consumerism and this society that just wants to make money out of every aspect of my daily existence.

I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do anything or everything. I can do it for myself, and I don’t need to make myself poor making another person rich.

really, I mean really, they are just a pair of jeans

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Processed with VSCOcam with m5 preset

I bought a new pair of jeans and they declared undying love to me.

Well, what they actually “said”, what was written on the label, was:

I don’t want a personal relationship with my jeans. And if they really cared they would accommodate to meet my individual needs such as a muffin top.

I bought a new pair of jeans and they declared undying love to me. Well, what they actually “said” was:

We all need a people and things in our life we can depend on. A friend who’s in it for the long haul . A partner that’s strong and resilient and makes you feel great. … A partner, that just like you, gets better with age.

 

I don’t want a personal relationship with my jeans. And if they really cared they would accommodate to meet my individual needs such as a muffin top.

 

Why do we still say a pair of pants or a pair of jeans when they no longer come in two pieces like Queen Victoria’s bloomers?

 

I shouldn’t have got to my age without knowing these things

red shoes 1

Immerse myself

Cherish imperfections

Take whatever time it needs

Play with the elements

Know what I can control and what I need to let go

Pay attention to my world

Embrace experiences, big and small, negative and positive

It doesn’t have to be complicated

Slow can be give unexpected gifts

Trying thing you aren’t good at, can help you find your talents

Time and motion proceed together, so just start

Expect rejection

Expect success

Use the tension

Capture moments

Use the ugly

What is today, may not be tomorrow, so try again, again and again

Nurture your need, your passion, your obstinacy

Show my flaws

Pick up the pieces and start something new

 

Where does creativity hide?

girl 1

Where does creativity hide? In deep, dark, unfathomable places I have never really been able to fully uncover. I think my self-censor has dug a hole and buried it so deep it may never see the full light of day.

I have had no deep childhood trauma and maybe that sealed my creativity’s fate. There are few tales to tell from a happy childhood. Too much balance, nothing to work out through words, on paper, or in art. Such a fate.

I am a multidimensional person, we all are. There in should lie creative spaces; I am sure they must. However, I also allow ambiguity to dwell beside creative intentions. Happily, though, this is counteracted by the universe sending me messages, or what I think are hints, or messages. This focuses me for a few moments, maybe ever a span of hours, before uncertainty, that ever present chorus of negative voices in my head, and the pressure of being observer of my own self, sends creativity back to whence it came.

So any creativity by this time is pretty dizzy from forces turning it in circles, up and down and all around. Somewhere in the middle, the vortex, is a small individual who still remains committed, but not wholly steady, feet not yet fixed on the right path. A clock is ticking her hand, the only sound inside her space. Tick Tock, the days go by, the weeks go by, your life goes by; so much uncommitted.

 

Tick Tock.

totally corrupted by NASA

A crazy politician, who has been able to enter the Australia senate with just 77 votes due to the Prime Minister calling a double dissolution of both houses of parliament, was on a televised panel discussion show. Pollie is a climate denier who says he will only believe when the “empirical evidence” proves it. Professor Brian Cox was on the panel also and produced the empirical evidence, but Pollie said he couldn’t believe it as all climate science has been “corrupted by NASA”. Good one NASA. Power to ya!

I love the “corrupted by NASA” claim. It has become my new go-to excuse. My day is ruined because it was corrupted by NASA. The dinner is late because my cooking was corrupted by NASA. I am late because I was corrupted by NASA. I love NASA. I think they should have their budget increased.

Actually, they should increase their budget, and then put Pollie and the other closed minded, racist, fear mongering, deniers of everything, into a space ship and shoot it to the moon. No, not the moon, into the sun. Trump can go too. It’s the least NASA can do after corrupting my day.

 

And how a pollie gets in with just 77 votes is also a mystery to most of the voting Australian public too. The good old Westminster system; irritating one day, completely baffling the next.