I’ve been thinking about the stars. I’d not paid much attention to these sparkly night time lights until recently. Sure I found them astounding, perhaps even overwhelming, but I’d never really pondered them. And then I went on a night walk with friends whilst away earlier this month and the stars were so brilliant in the inky night sky. And there were lots of them. It’s only when you get away from the artificial lights that you can really get a true picture of the massive span of these natural luminosities. A bit like life.
So my friend informed me that each star, everyone one of these brilliant little lights, is actually a similar body to our sun. A big ball of hot hot heat. That’s probably old time news for the most of you, but I’d never realised this. That the sun that warms us, the sun that allows us to eat, that provides us with a healthy balance, that also allows us to make earthly rotations and upholds our very planet is a star. Wow.
The same night my friend revealed to me another little bit of astronomical trivia. We were watching for shooting stars when what I initially thought was a shooting star caught my eye. This was in fact not a piece of meteor entering our atmosphere, leaving a burning trail in its wake, but a satellite on its course of orbit. In the time we sat there I noticed lots of these lit up machines on their geometrical course. Apparently there are a hell of a lot of them put up by governments and phone companies, etc. Again, this is probably nothing new to you. But it surprised me that the clear night sky is actually littered with our technological rubbish (be it currently in use or not). Anyway, I’m not sure of the long term affects of our galactic spacefill, but I am sure that someone will find out sooner or later and we’ll be sad because the damage will be irreparable.
So it’s been a while since I’ve graced the pages of the blogosphere. It’s not been intentional, just coincidental. I have the best of intentions to come and write and comment. Then I get to the computer and hesitate, I slightly consider the enjoyment of sharing thoughts and ideas, before I jump into the online job applications (which take forever), or get distracted by the plethora of people congregating in this study, one of the smallest rooms in our house. On the rare occasion that I do contribute to a post of another it’s often misunderstood anyhow.
Enough of this though. Now that my course has come to an end I intend to write a bit more online in one way or another.
Today I had the freedom to draw all day. Well, perhaps this is a slight warping of the truth. I do have certain pending matters to deal with – such as finding a job and cleaning for the arrival of foreign dwelling brother and sister in law. But today, the beautiful wet weather called for green tea and letter writing and the pleasure of mark making. My drawing ventured to subject matter once very familiar. As a kid I drew a truckload of fairies and small folk. Sketchbooks and computer paper overflowing with them. I loved their delicacy, their inconspicuous nature and their playground. I think it was their dwellings that seized my imagination best. That and the ability to fly. Tiny people living among the natural wonderland of my wild garden. I vividly recall my neighbour creating a tiny structure out of the thinnest twigs and grasses to provide shelter for the little beasts. I was captivated.
Anyway, these days I don’t tend to spend much time thinking about such things. But I was sketching a face today and this one just jumped out at me. So this goes out to the winged folk.
My time and inclination for writing has slowed down to something of a trickle over the past month. A busy schedule is the main culprit. When a little time becomes available in between the planning, the early rises, the later nights and the changing of flat, nail-embedded, tyres (that one was Sunday’s adventure) I attempt to enjoy it. In these little moments, rather than write I tend to have opted for having a lie down to listen to a few tunes on the old cd player, for soaking in the new spring sun and for picking up the charcoal and having a bit of a draw. This last one is probably because my beloved camera is broken and in much need of a good service. How I miss picking up my new packet of prints and perusing the pictorial contents… it’s always been one of those sweet surprises.
I’ve also found I’m over willing to take up opportunities to get out of the house and to escape the turbulence of full time teaching (as student teacher). These flighty diversions seem to regularly fall on Saturday’s nights and seeing as I work every Saturday night I’m finding I’m getting to bed later and later as the weeks roll by. Probably not ‘late’ for some of you night owls out there, but this bird is generally a true dawn chorus hatchling. The thing is I’m still waking up ultra early because my body clock has adjusted to the 5:30am starts with school. The sense-driven vegetarian in me is saying I need to up the sleep or get some iron into the veins. In the past lack of sleep has quickly escalated my consciousness into zombie status throughout the waking hours. Despite this reasoning my immune system has been holding up unexpectedly well. My mind seems to be thriving on the learning occurring in the classroom and I’m really not feeling the slightest bit lethargic. I’ve just under two weeks left and here’s to hoping that it all continues in this fashion.
Filed under: life
Life’s busy and the days are sneaking by undetected by me. I don’t know where the past few weeks have disappeared to. Where do they go? Where do the moments hide? Just got off the phone from a friend who’s just waaayyyy too busy for living. She’s working morning to evening six days a week. I crumple under a five-day week. Don’t know how (or why) some do it.
Anyway, just wanted to post something because a couple of weeks have dropped from the radar without my knowing. I’ve been reading a few blogs here and there, just not finding time to respond. Thought I’d leave you with a pic of my boy Billy. He’s a carefree little fella. Only concerned about the people he faithfully waits for at the coming of dusk. He doesn’t waste his precious time on deadlines or running from fears of ill success. He just snuffs for compost and a warm lap. If only we could all be so free.
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.
I’m now at my final school for teaching rounds and have a class of awesome kids to work with for about eight weeks. It’s always good getting to know the characters within a new bunch of children, slowly associating their little ways with the names and finding out what makes them tick. I found myself being talked to 10mins straight on all the car names this one kid wanted to relay to me and then about another 10 on another boy’s grandma’s sister’s dog named Buddy. Yep… But all that stuff is important background info for when I’m teaching them. If cars and dogs will tune them in to the learning, I’m using it. I did have an interesting conversation about flying cars too but won’t diverge.
Okay so enough about my adventures in kiddo land. What I really wanted to write about was something I heard another child say. This little person is moving to the Middle East with family because, “Dad can make three times as much money working a whole lot less.” In fact where they’re moving is not far from Sudan. Not entirely sure what Daddy’s doing over there to make this packet of money not doing much but here’s to hoping it involves helping the country get back on track after the refuse of crap resulting from civil war. The ironic moment came when this little person completed her explanation as to why they were leaving the school then went to sit down next to her friend who had only joined the school last term as a refugee from Sudan. One flees the land because she’s no longer welcome at home, the other is whisked off to the foreign land because this is where the money is for Daddy. It’s a rather upside down world.
There is something so powerful in sharing life with others. Something profound in the simple act of sitting and listening and partaking in and understanding and not understanding and forming those deeper bonds which allow an unspoken trust between individuals. It takes time, but it is so worthwhile.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing indeed. In the past I’ve held irrational and debilitating fears about spending the time necessary to allow such relationships to form. I’ve (subconsciously?) not allowed myself to disclose too much of me. But vulnerability and admitting one does not have it all together is a base, and I believe necessary, human trait.
Anyway, at 24 I’m finally learning the beauty of facing some of these fears and just taking risks with myself. Hey, it’s just one little step in working out this life and my place in it, but it feels so good to be free of old weights and to see the affect of weightlessness.
I spent a large portion of my yesterday having to look for ‘nice’ clothes. Many of these clothes I would never choose to wear but for the fact that I am required to place on my body garments that are considered aesthetically appealing and of a suitable standard for the classroom.
I’m not certain if I have mentioned it before but I am in the final year of study to become a primary school teacher. My last eight weeks of rounds are looming and jeans, or anything slightly comfortable and well-worn, are strictly no-goers. Necklines have to be of a minimum depth and bare shoulders are strictly advised against. No we wouldn’t want to go harming the poor little souls with a bit of shoulder.
Instead we are required to find the money to purchase a wardrobe of neat, clean cut, office-appropriate wear that truly does not lend itself to getting down to the level of the children and encouraging them to explore their world.
There is a huge push for the role of teaching to be seen as a profession and I suppose the dress code is indicative of this. It just goes against many of the integral fibres within me to subtly give children the message that particular dress is unsuitable and that they are to conform to what the world says is ‘nice’ and appropriate. They get enough of this from the crap presented via all means of pop culture. It’s a sickness. I guess it is the uniform of the Western world over.
Over the past week my frame of mind and many of the thoughts that come to me have been consumed by the sadness and loneliness felt by the towns at the end of my train line. I have often wondered whether places are flavoured by the people that habituate them, or whether an area and its history flavours the people that reside within its space.
I remember walking up a mountain in Germany in the Heidelberg valley. My brother and I had just explored the ruins of some ancient monastery and took a path further into the beech woods to find a huge old amphitheatre built under our fave evil dictator, Mr. Hitler. The stone structure had a cold feel to it and I really don’t think that I was feeling this just as a response to my knowledge of its prior use. I later discovered that it had been an ancient pagan gathering place and had been chosen by the man because he warmed to this kinda stuff.
A couple of weeks ago two sixteen year old girls climbed up a tree nearby and hung themselves in a united endeavour. The media has blamed the emo culture, but of course there is so so much more behind this event than just talking death and listening to music expressing typical teenage angst. Suicide is frequently looked upon as a potential solution for people of this age. From the best of my knowledge it has for quite some time now. When I was sixteen it was grunge that ran through our veins and was used to express this state of being. The culture is a means to expressing a shared dissatisfaction with life as it is.
I presume that it’s a combination of a shared mindset and the nature of a place’s history, weaved in as one big stuffed-up tapestry, that brushes off onto the human spirit. Nevertheless, there is something very wrong and it has got to me.
I saw the title and words of a mortgage broker splashed across a building today…Chocolate Home Loans “Life is for Living”.
Initially I thought that maybe it was a joke, but no it’s for real. There exists a loan company that associates their service with the luxury food product of cacao pods.
So, life is for living… life is for enjoying the oral pleasures of chocolate and committing your earnings to a lifelong weekly deposit. Perhaps I’m cynical because I’m a student that lives by her weekly earnings and has stubborn ideas of using her time for worthwhile cause. Next year I graduate and there opens the possibility of a secure profession and a stable income that might allow me to commit to the mainstream dreaming of fast cars and mortgages… but how could I?
Honestly, how could I wake up and eat my cereal each morning knowing that I had ‘security’, knowing that I could keep paying my money to the money lenders and have a pretty home over my being? How could I possibly settle down with another and have 2.5 happy little children just for them to do the very same?
Since when is overindulging and overlooking others living?
