How are we going today? Hopefully we are having the fantastic summer weather that seems to be gracing the sunny coast of CA (bastards. While I freeze my arse off in winter!) to the rather tragic story of yet another tornado hitting OK again. My thoughts and feelings go out to them again and along with those people that have been scared out of the minds with yet another gun shooting in America.
It seems that every week that I am in my little hole/home (?) at Work, watching my Residents’ eating with an ever watchful eye in case one of them chokes. And therefore need to perform my duty of carer by becoming wonder woman and lunge across the room to perform an amazing up chuck move. And when seeing that they are busily munching away and I am depressingly thinking of the time before I have to go to The Dark Side of The Moon, I glance at the television to see what delightful yet tragic news is being brought into my world. I can honestly say that in my whole twenty three years of life, I cannot remember when my television news had ever brought me positive news.
Unless the adverts for chocolate comes on the television and a Gorilla is playing the drums. That is the amount of joy I used to experience before all of this started. I think the time started of depressing ‘Death’ notices being reported by journalists started when my Mum woke me up and told me to come downstairs. There we sat along with my cousin who lived with us, watching the journalist report that the Princess of Wales had been killed in a motor vehicle crash along with her passengers.
At the moment even from someone so tiny, I could feel the world slipping a little and it coming to a holt at the news of someone so lovely had been killed. Add a few more years, I woke up on the morning of September 11 2011, feeling that something terrible was either going to happen or had happened. Feeling as if the answer that I seek lied somewhere with the Television, I turned it on and remembered my Mother shaking me. I had been screaming on the top of my lungs at the sight of two planes crashing into two buildings in America.
That was the day that Terrorism graced the holy lands of America, brought the economy to crashing and shuddering stand still and the ever present fear of boarding a plane. In case that plane was the one that would never bring you back to your family. That was the day that we sat huddled in our lounge room, reminding each other that we loved one another and how we were so blessed to be there until the ending moment.
Six years later I did my final assignment for year 12 which was based on ideologies. To which this day I have no idea what an ideology is and I am 100% sure if you ask me, I will refer you to a dictionary. I sat down with 48 hours before it was due and wrote my deepest and darkest feelings onto a piece of paper and read it out to the class. During this period of time, I researched information on 9/11 and found recordings that had now become public property of people calling up the police and saying that they had just witnessed two planes going into the twin towers.
And lets just say that I did not become the class speaker for the graduating ceremony for the Class of 2007.
However when researching, I don’t remember how long I sat there listening to the recordings of voices that belonged to other people, who had been a part of that tragic and emotionally draining day. I listened to the horror, panic, worry and fear in their voice and wanting to scream out “Run! Don’t look back, RUN!”. To this day, I cannot remember what I wrote or what I said but I remember that all I could think about was the emotions that those poor people were feeling when…. I just hope that they were carried swiftly away.
That was the day that I stopped reading the stories in the newspapers and only glancing at the pretty pictures of sceneries that looked ever so pretty, Greece and Italy were particular favourites of mine or looking at the comic section for kids. But even then as I grew up, I become interested in the wedding section to see who wore the most ugliest of gowns, which grooms outfit was the most attractive and secretly judging how long their marriage were going to last for. I’m sure if we did a “where are they now?” most would be still married, separated or divorced.
It was also the day that I stopped watching the news and become more focused on reading my Harry Potter books because we knew that good was always going to conquer evil. While it seemed that outside of my four little walls that I called home, evil appeared to be conquering good and it still is. I have not sat in front of a television screen in my 12 years post 9/11 and watched more then 4 minutes of news. It appears that I may be listening to what they are saying while my Dad is nodding his head along with them and seems to be more engrossed if the local weather man is going to tell us the clouds are going to shit themselves from fright and let some rain pour onto our heads.
But I am more engrossed in the little play that I run while the news is blaring through the tiny speakers, and in my head I am either picturing a beautiful landscape that is filled with poppies or sunflowers beyond what the eye can see. The crystal blue and ever enchanting blue seas of Greece, to the amazing sarees I see in Bollywood films to images of Harry and Voldermort going head to head against one another. And Harry winning of across.
Or I am busily watching the documentaries that SBS seems to be playing just for me which are based on the women giving birth to their babies and hoping that that baby knows they are loved and are reminded. For me unlike some other people, it is not the fact of watching a camera up between some ladies legs, but rather the reaction when that little hot body comes shooting out, the look of joy on both her face and her partners face when that little someone is placed on her stomach and the look on the baby’s face like: “Oh, so that’s what you look like. Right, well.”
I have no idea where I want to go with this nursing degree but the thought of helping someone give birth is amazing, but then also I think are more nurses needed in paeds and oncology. And depending on where I feel that this area is going to bring the need of constant learning while being hands on, I can’t wait.
However, back to those four minutes and counting which seems to be all that I can handle. Which seems to me, the news company is producing the same news nightly but in a different country or rather the same country the night before. For what I can hear being blasted from the lounge room which is next to me, I can almost write word for word what could be possibly and will probably be said by the news anchor person so then my Dad wouldn’t have to watch the news. And quote “The news is interesting and besides, I need to know what the weather is going to be like”. Well Dad here is your answer for the question:
It is going to be freezing tomorrow as the weather is now winter and the sun is playing silly bastards and hiding behind the clouds. Therefore that means the temperature is going to range between 6 degrees to 18 degrees during the day and maybe 2 degrees at night.
The reoccurring themes for this evening for which we are going to bring to you, while looking all serious and moody are: Death, death, propaganda, death, terrorism, interest rates increasing/decreasing, the commodities of the market decreasing, Greece/Cyprus/England needing bail outs or their banks locking people out of their money/investments, people being murdered, gun shootings in America/Sydney/Brisbane/Melbourne, the Baden-Clay package that seems to have disappeared from the media, Patel disappearing after not being found guilty (which he is!), terrorism, the fight in Iraq, refugees fleeing their countries and camping in Australia or rather Christmas Island, the death of refugees trying to come to Australia, Syria at war again with the rebels, refugees, more death and another mass shooting in America.
And wow, that seems to be the four minutes of news watching that I have done in the last three months all listed together. And in that stage apart from the Queen’s 60th Anniversary for sitting on the throne and looking good, Cate being pregnant with the next heir to the throne, Harry’s wild ways with alcohol and being naked to Kim Kardashian expecting a girl: is it me or is there an occurring theme going on here?
Speaking of death and the occurring theme, I don’t think I could ever be a journalist, flying over a city that had just witnessed blood shed at the thought of some idiot trying to gain the city for their own purpose. Syria are you paying attention?
But then I am facing my own mini death situation working in an aged care facility and staring death in the face at each passing moment I am there. Strangely enough, I find it comforting seeing it lurking around the corners, hugging the tight lines between dark and light and the ever increasing warmth knowing that I am being protected by my angels. Both alive and dead. However, I curse when it strikes and takes those that are not meant to go and are meant to linger around to fulfil the moments that we need them the most. Yet, I think they are meant to not linger in front of our faces but rather in our hearts for where we can seek the answers to the questions that we once again are sitting there, asking ourselves and not wanting to seek the answer.
I know that for the past couple of months I seem to be asking myself the same questions both out loud and silently in my head. With the constant pressure of doubt, wonder and when everything is turned around and it appears to be glowing, once again my mind is changed. With that secret hope that everything will be changed and having to sit there and be patient is starting to wear thin and I am yet, ever the pessimistic person in this situation trying to be optimistic.
For this I can almost point of a scenario out of a movie that would be totally acceptable and that would be when Samantha is sitting with the girls from SATC, in the movie talking about chemo while eating cake. Hate to admit it, but I fucking hate that bitch and what that scene represents. But then I go back to being me and sit there and become hopeful again.
So you are probably sitting there with your mouths open as the normal “happy” person typing this has seemed to disappear and is now replaced with a weirdo taking over the show. All I can put it down to is the fact the weather is changing and therefore so is my mood along with my hormones and the ever lurking and racing towards me, is The End.
So while most people are studying their little hearts out, trying to get that High Distinction so then they can get Alumnus of the year, to which their dicky looking picture will be tapped onto a brick wall in the staircase heading towards the library while people are busily running to and fro from classes. I have actually taken time out to look at their photos and wonder why someone would spend so long pouring themselves into a textbook rather then associating with other people when a textbook won’t rub your tummy when its sore. Rather it will land on your face, knock a few teeth out or rather give you a black eye.
For me, I struggle as it is to finish my prereading to which I have hardly done at all this semester since I have been so busy running around trying to do my other courses, assessments, assignments, Quizzes, CMAs (which are computer based multi answer quizzes), lectures, tutorials, Labs, assignments and might I include: Work?. I have not been able to make out with a textbook and draw delicate little love hearts with the name of my boyfriend on every page and write Mrs Last Name with a heart drawn about the I as I have not had the time nor am I going to do that to a 200 dollar textbook.
No, for me along with the ever increasing comfort food that has been expanding my stomach capacity back to where it should be rather then the size of a peanut, thanks to the amount of running I used to do at work before being placed on the somewhat crazy swim for your life situation, The End is Nigh and so is my exam block.
In this regards, I have no idea how to describe the emotional psychotic rate that I am feeling as there are not enough words to describe it. However if I could find a few, I would list myself next to the category of: SHITTING MYSELF SHITLESS! Yes and capital letters are really indeed necessary. Apart from the point of staring at my lecture notes like they are coded into some mystical language that I have not quite learnt but am not quiet an expert at reading them, even though they are in my own handwriting. Strange times indeed, my fellow readers.
But I have the HUGE (yes, that is necessary also) feeling in the bottom of my stomach that I am going to study so much and my brain is going to retain it. And if you ask me a question, I will be able to give you the answer you want. But once I step into the room where the exam is going to place, my brain is going to lock its self in Harry’s cupboard under the stairs and I am not going to be able to remember nor know how to speak English. I guess I better start learning parsel tongue as I am going to have to ship myself off to the Russian Circus or rather, go under Witness Protection for idiots and be called Deliah or something along the lines of that.
I can put the blame on my Grade three teacher for installing that fear when she told me that I performed like a monkey and needed to be taught better manners. After my delightful six months of Miss Beggley and her horrible wardrobe choices and Miss Abberfield, who both were on the man hunt and therefore thought they oozed sexual attraction but rather oozed “FUCK OFF!”, yes. Both were quite delightful indeed, especially after Miss Abberfield got punched by a parent for chatting up her husband after a social encounter.
I think is where I misplace my tear ducts and the ever needing feeling to cry and am not somewhat semi emotional-less when it comes to such things and tending to laugh at funerals and when people get hurt. I let the other people cry for me while I snigger into a hankie and appear like I am in fact crying into it. The only time that I have indeed cried and become human was at my dear Uncle and Aunt’s Father’s funeral and when my beloved Resident passed away.
Otherwise, I cannot cry or rather no, I can cry but I just find it to be annoyingly feminine and down right weak. Which will no doubt, one day I will wake up surrounded by four lovely white and ever so comfy appearing walls and the little voice in my head telling me that the local nut house is now “home.” Where is my ever lovely T with her xanax when you need them? Brisbane is where.
With the lack of xanax in my position, I am going to sign off with what I think is relevant:
“I can’t believe the news todayOh, I can’t close my eyes
And make it go away
How long must we sing this song
How long, how long…
’cause tonight…we can be as one
Until next time,