Roundabout.

Woah… it’s been a definite while, but the system has changed to pool, school, work, planning, sleep, poolschoolworkplanningsleep. It’s good. It’s great. Prac is great. Amazing things have been said and jobs have been offered.
Things are good, great, wonderful… and tomorrow night I see a French film and eat German sausage. Aww yeah.

Why? Because I’d rather laugh than cry, thanks.

The afternoon was taken up holding my beautiful, tiny, sweet-smelling Lily Pily niece. The week was taken up with trying to find my feet at school. Finding them. Question time has been taken up with, ‘Does it make you feel old?’ in reference to my niece being born and ‘SilentFlat… why are you still single?’ And ‘Why am I still single?’ led to a conversation with a girl and a guy at work that went like this:

Me: Because I’d rather be happy than with somebody who’s less than happiness.
Her: But… you’re alone.
Me: Yep. And it’s better than being with a dick, I promise. Even someone who’s only sometimes a dick. Even with someone who’s rarely a dick but who you just don’t love That Much. This is better.
Her: But don’t you want to have a baby soon?
Me: It’s hard to want a baby when you are single… the baby isn’t really the next step in the equation.
The Man: SilentFlat, I’m serious… please will you marry me? Even just for a few months? It’ll be awesome, I promise.
Me: No. Really, no. But I appreciate you asking.
Her: SEE?! You need to just say ‘yes’ one day. JUST SAY YES.
Me: One day guys, when your friends are married to people you don’t like that much, when they have beautiful babies that become the soul focus of their worlds but have strained marriages and wrinkles that frown instead of smile and when they ALL offer the same advice of ‘Wait until it’s the right one and until You Are Happy’ THEN you’ll get it’. I can wait until I’m 60, because if it’s not right, it’s not worth it.
Her: Jesus Christ, that’s f’d.
Him: I’m going to ask you again tomorrow, you know.

See-saw of the Yin-Yang philosophy.

Wow. Side-swiped by life again. Want to curl into a tiny ball at the end of my bed and cover myself in every blanket in the house and just pretend that nothing exists outside of breathing in, out, in, out, and the feeling of warmth, and isolation, and breath.

It’s really not so bad, just presented with a rather poor set options for success right now. Quite an unpleasant feeling, that one.

Miss.

So now it’s a Saturday, and I’m again in bed, reading textbooks and journals and scouring internet resources. The rain is still pouring, and I have to deal with the knowledge that I spent my Saturday in the city, at a conference, with 50 other pre-service teachers trying to figure out the next step.

And I feel amazing.

Because for all of the reading and forfeiting of fun that I’m doing right now, it’s conferences like today’s, and the buzz I get from going through these resources, and the excitement I have about going back into school on Monday that all come together to give me by far one of the most life-affirming surges I have had in a long time. I love that I met teachers today who inspire me as people, as educators, as creative minds who love what they do and who do it because it’s important. I’m never going to be sitting on hordes of money, but I am going to have a beautiful, exciting life that is enriched by the work I do and love rather than simply funded by the work I do and loathe.

Great, great day.

Dull-drums.

It’s a Friday night. I did assignment work from 8:30am until 4pm, worked from 5-10pm, and it’s now 11:30pm and I can’t decide if I should keep studying, sleep, or get really, really drunk watching bad movies by myself while outside the rain echoes my mood with its cold, dark misery.

One week.

If you want it and you know it don’t move your head. At all. AND STOP TALKING SO LOUD.

I woke up, peeled myself and my fully-clad, bra-remaining-and-digging-into-my-tender-parts self off of my girlfriend’s couch, mostly ignored the dull ache of my dehydrated, denegrated brain, helped clear two bins of bottles from tables and floors and benches, ignored the five other people that were still strewn about on other couches, gaps of carpet, and the underside of a coffee table, and drove to the nearest cafe to get a capp and the world’s biggest bottle of water. Home and showered and out the door again in 15 minutes, and have now been sat in front of a 60cm computer screen since 9am, eyes glossy and red and hating me for keeping them open this long.
Oh yeah, good times. Good times.

chug chug chug chug chug

I have a week and a half until my life is free from the oppression of wordy, repetitive assignments and can instead refocus on things such as: renewing my passports, booking tickets to places that aren’t located within an hour of where I live, eating more than just cafeteria food each day, swimming more than once a week, and reading something other than set texts and facebook.

One great big shiny bright tunnel ahead. Going to feel amazing.

Floored.

Last night went to a cinema where they have loungers to let you lie on the floor, alcohol to keep you there, and arthouse films running until midnight. Perfect place to feel independent and powerful and inspired by the things we, the privileged, get to do in life. Bliss.

Climbing the corporate ladder.

Managed to wear a bra to work tonight. 10 points.

Good to take pride in the little things in life.

Getting everything out there.

Three thngs that, in the last month, I have forgotten to take to work.

1. My belt.
2. My shoes.
3. My bra. (This one happened tonight)

Consequences:
1. My belt – Aside from the discomfort of having your pants hang low and the threat of my knickers exposing themselves, the worst part of this forgetfulness was the look on my manager’s face as he had to explain the necessity of wearing a belt to work. Embarrassing for both of us because I then pointed out that it’s not a stipulated part of the uniform and that he hadn’t worn a belt the previous shift we worked together. Shared sheepishness.

2. My shoes – Hilarity, because instead of my black leather work flats I had to wear alligator-leather green ballet slippers, which are adorable but definiteley not right. Manager thought this was unbelievably funny.

3. A bra. Basically could not function. Nobody seemed to notice (the benefit of having very small breasts that sit nice and close to the chest) but I was mortified, distracted and mostly freaked out that I had gotten ready, driven to work, walked around the mall, and not until I stepped foot in the staff locker room did I realise… oh, that coomfort I’m feeling today? Lack of bra. So yeah… nope, the manager didn’t mention anything about that one and four hours later I was able to escape to the car, bury my head in my hands, and laugh uncontrollably as my free-as-a-jaybird lady-friends giggled along with me.