Ok, haven’t posted for some time ‘cause I’m bedraggled with uni work and just life in general. It’s an exciting time in that I’ve only got three or so months left before I’m finished with formal studies for what may become forever. It’s a frustrating time because the pressures of uni are inhibiting my opportunities to get alongside others. It’s also an uncertain time when what is to come remains abstract in its realisation. I’m a buoy without direction, without any destination, just hitching a ride with the current tide. Every now and then being thrown down by the violent surf. Bobbing back up, giving it another go.
I’ve been studying most of my life. The usual primary and secondary years came and went (even though time seemed to stand still throughout its duration). First year out I ventured straight into nursing. I’m not a nurse. The sterile nature of the work left me feeling suffocated and at a loss. It wasn’t a waste of a year, it just wasn’t me. So consequently I did what many unsure young adults do when they are attempting to work out their future and began a good old Arts degree. I now see this as a bit self-indulgent – years of archaeology, multiple histories, contemporary visual culture, literature studies and Renaissance Art – but damn it was a liberating time in some ways and I do miss the hours spent pouring over books in the old-carpet smelling library carrels.
So it’s finally coming to an end. If I get through these three months I’ll be a teacher. Almost 20 years of learning only to begin the cycle for others. It’s funny how you grow in your thinking over the years. If I had the chance to go back in time I would certainly take another route. I’m not even convinced that I would take on tertiary study. But that’s life isn’t it. Another moment where hindsight reveals a cache of ill-informed decisions.
Earlier this week I made my way into the city to a particularly lovely book/music store with a voucher in hand to spend at my pleasure. The voucher was from my last birthday, which was no short time ago, but I’d been saving it for a rainy day.
Well, I’m not entirely sure how long I was there, it was certainly over a couple of hours of sifting through a multitude of books, pouring over large glossy photographic records and dipping into contemporary culture critiques. I considered acquiring a book that told the escapist tale of travelling along the Mediterranean coast with the smell of crushed olives underfoot. How I would love to escape at this very moment. But no, sense got the better of me and I left that one on the shelf next to the story of a blind man racing around the world in so many days. Although the photography books were more than satisfactory for my eager eyes, they exceeded the value of my voucher and had to be closed and placed back on the shelf.
It was then that I passed the music section and a face caught my eye. Although I believe this woman has the voice of the soul of a people I have never really given her the time of day. Not since my favourite aunt’s wedding where my eleven year old self fell in love with everything about this one song she sang and returned several times to the jukebox where I ensured it was played numerous times throughout the night. We all love a jukebox hog. So just in case you were wondering the song was Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinead O’Connor. I think Sinead has produced some much finer work since. But back to the story, her face caught my eye on a promotional board and I decided to have a quick listen to her new album Theology. From this brief snippet of listening I decided it would be a worthy use of my voucher and I went home with the double CD in my possession.
I am more than happy with my rediscovery of Sinead. I know this intense feminine figure is not every individual’s cup of tea, but damn she’s blown me away with this album. It’s been a long time since I’ve found such a raw and honest look at the world through the musical medium. Antony’s I am a bird now rocked me in a similar fashion with its sadness and human frailty. Theology gives an image of God that I can thoroughly embrace. It shows God in the way that I understand this being of immense purity to be. She renders God as a God of the defeated, the broken, the lonely. A God who cries over those that have missed the point of this life.
You know the soul and you know what makes it go…
I wanna make something so lovely for you,
Cos’ I promised that’s what I’d do for you;
With the Bible I stole, I know you forgave my soul,
because such was my need on a chronic Christmas eve;
And I think we’re agreed that it should’ve been free,
and you sang to me…
“They dress the wounds of my poor people as though they’re nothing,
Saying ‘peace, peace,’ when there’s no peace.”
I love this.
Filed under: art
shadow – n. 1 a dark area or shape produced by a body coming between light rays and a surface. >partial or complete darkness. >a dark patch or area. 2 an air or expression of sadness and gloom. 3 a position of relative inferiority or obscurity. 4 the slightest trace. 5 a weak or inferior remnant or version of something. 6 an inseparable attendant or companion.
I’m in a bit of a visual mood at the moment. Just over the last few days I haven’t really had the time for words. I believe I actually think more in images than words in general. That may be why I tend to struggle to find the words to describe what I’m thinking quite often. So I might just have a little break from an overabundance of words in my posting and use a few of my sketches and photos to create some visual records of my thinking.
Filed under: stuff
I haven’t been able to get online for last couple of days because of this mega storm that hit the mountain. It was wild. I’ve never ever seen such force behind the wind up here. It all began when I went to collect my new car on Wednesday eve. It was about 5pm when I picked him up and the rain was hitting hard. The driving rain thoroughly soaked my clothes to the inner layers after running the short distance from my old china blue box car to the new vehicle. I signed all the necessary paper work then jumped into my newly acquired possession. I then proceeded to drive up and along the winding road that scales the mountain. I was almost blissfully unaware of the rain, that hadn’t stopped violently thrashing out at the surrounding landscape since 1am the previous morning, which continued to fall hard and fast. I thought I was doing pretty well and was oh-so-grateful for the new tyres (considering my old car had slid out from underneath me the previous week with a bit of wet asphalt underneath minimum tread) then, about 2km from home the fun began.
My eyes caught a glimpse of the flashing emergency vehicle’s lights before I rounded the bend to see the fallen eucalypt that had attracted its presence. One giant of the mountain laid to rest to be carved up and burnt in the willing wood scavengers’ log fires. I deviated from the main drag and took one of the side roads that would eventually take me back to the route home. As I ventured further along I noticed that my path was thick with debris from the neighbouring trees – a fresh deep green and earthy brown refuse – evidence of angry megafauna wombats barging through and leaving a trail of destruction. A couple of bends on, where much of the red earth had crumbled down onto the road, unable to hold the weight of water being absorbed, there were more flashing yellow lights. I took a left and once again found myself driving very slowly over branches and bark and ripped up gum leaves. There was a bit of a makeshift road block stopping me from taking Ridge Rd down to my place, but the sign was facing the other side of the road so I assumed that it was a detour for the mess I’d just avoided, and I drove my way around the unmanned block. Hmmm. Yeah well that block was actually for me, not the other cars and I found myself face to face with another unhappy trunk who had surrendered to the downpour. By this point I was unsure if getting home was a possibility and began to think where I could park my car with minimum risk of a tree falling on me. But I backtracked and finally found another way through to the road home.
A few hundred metres from my home is a roundabout. As I approached this I was comforted by the belief that I would soon be able to snuggle up with a warm cup of tea and my dog Billy and be free of this stormy mess. These hopes were soon to dissipate with the presence of three more sets of emergency vehicles, flashing swords of yellow light cutting through the chilled and rain driven night. I drove up to one of the emergency workers and asked if I could get through to my road. Not a possibility. Three huge pines had fallen over the foot of my terrace wrenching out all available electric wires. I was advised to park at the lookout carpark, where there are no overhead trees, and attempt to find an alternative way up to my place. After all this (it’s come to my attention that this post has gone on far too long and am impressed if you’re still reading) I parked my car and braved the horizontal rain and hardcore winds and was directed by authorities to tentatively make my way over the fallen electric lines sitting over a chicken wire fence in pools of mud. I was a little unsure about this bit. In the First Aid course I took earlier in the year I was warned to keep a distance of at least 10metres between me and the power lines – especially in the wet – but I figured they must know what they’re doing.
It was sweet to be home after all that. And unbelievably we still had power for about and hour until it went off for a couple of days. But I do like candlelight and the enforced rest from technology was actually a little mini-retreat. I managed to take a couple of photos before the camera battery ran out.
So the long anticipated rain, much needed by the farmers has come, and damn its come with a bang. Amazon jungle monsoon torrents style. Hats off to the SES and CFA crew who volunteered out there on Weds night.
Candle reading.
The bottom of my road.
