So what was my other piece of news?

Well how is this for pretty amazing.

My friend, Amy, is going through a tough trot. Her marriage is breaking up, and although it is pretty amicable (as best as these things can be) it has still been confusing and hurtful for her. Both Paul and I have been through marriage breakups (gee isn't that a great qualification to have on one's resumé) and so we've been, if not actually offering advice, certainly giving her a space to vent and question and try to work out where she is going now her life as suddenly taken a huge departure from the path she thought she was on.

The other night she tells me she wants to talk to us about something. I am a little concerned. But I needn't have been. I should have been jumping up and down with excitement. And I was.

Amy's (soon to be former) husband does a huge amount of travelling (and from Australia, everywhere is a long way away, so that is a lot of frequent flyer points). He had always said she could use those points as she was always left keeping the home fires burning. So she went to him and said, yep, I'll take those. She has already reserved flights for Paul, me, and herself, to Uluru, plus car hire. We just need to pay for accommodation (and as we're willing to share a room that makes it, well, if not cheaper, certainly less expensive).

How generous is that!! Amy had discreetly asked both of us, at different times, where we would like to go in Australia that we hadn't been to before. And we had both said Uluru.

Now we just have to wait for a time when it won't be 45°C... so probably four months or so, after our summer has passed.

For those who don't know what Uluru is... it used to be called Ayer's Rock, but was reverted to its traditional name when the traditional owners took back the management of the park. I have never seen it, but it is somewhere I have wanted to visit for as long as I can remember.

Some information on Uluru

Friday night was a magical night...


The view from my friend, Paul's, balcony

I went out with my friend Amy, and another friend Paul, who we work with. I don't think I've mentioned him before. He and Amy are great friends, and slowly he and I are developing a friendship as well. In many ways he is like the naughty younger brother that you forgive of pretty much anything. He is a fun friend, but would be a lousy boyfriend (way to keen to sample everything in the sweet shop). Fortunately neither of us is attracted to each other.


After the acid had kicked in

Ok. That was a joke. I had one or two beers the whole evening. Honest!

Anyway. Paul organised for the three of us to go and see Cirque du Soleil !!!!

I love this style of performance... and the feel. I love the humour and quirkiness. The beautiful music. The heartstopping acts that seem beyond physical endurance. The ease with which it is done, tauntingly, drawing you to the edge of your seat.

Here's a link for them, but it might be a bit bandwidth intensive for those not on broadband. Cirque du Soleil

It was an amazing evening. Spectacular. Breathtaking. Beautiful. Literally moved me to tears. I am not articulate enough to express how much I enjoyed the evening. I was even brave enough to ask the couple who talked continuously through the first half to shut it during the second half. Which they did! Kinda.

It is Sunday night, and I am still buzzing from that performance.

There was another surprise in store for the evening, but it is late now, so I will tell you tomorrow.

Until then.

Apologies for being a little quiet... things are pottering on with their usual highs and lows, and more so, the comfortable days of inbetween.
I thought I'd quickly just pop up a couple of photos from a week or so ago when I went into The Rocks for a walk about (and to sample a beverage or two in the welcoming pubs).

I love wondering around with tourists. I did it a lot when I lived around Manly as well. There is something special about walking through an area you take for granted, and seeing it through the eyes of someone who is experiencing it for the first time.

Our famous landmark from a different angle.

And again.

One thing you will see a lot of, around the more popular sites of Sydney, is the (predominantly) Japanese wedding. A lot of couples, rather than dealing with the incredible expense and ceremony (and family obligations) of having a wedding at home, have a package wedding here. It is completely coordinated, so there is no need for the bride and groom to speak to a single soul outside the 'chaperoning' tour company, if they don't wish to. It often seems that they have a friend or two as witnesses, but there are certainly few people who actually attend. They drive up, have some photos taken by the tour company's photographer, and then are whisked to the next landmark. They always seem so happy and enthusiastic (well I suppose it is their wedding, so why shouldn't they!!) I love seeing them; it makes me smile to see them so happy.
No point to this post. Just checking in.

Till next time.

For Dirk...


The terrible twins... Ziggy and Chloe


Ziggy on the prowl


Chloe during a brief contemplative moment (before racing off to clobber her brother)

The kittens are indoor cats, except for the occassional Sunday when I let them out into the sun for a few hours. These were taken last weekend. Nina, their mother, and Kirby, the old-fart cat, are outdoors during the day (if I can convince them to get out of their beds) and come in at night.

Thank you for the support during my little hiccough last week. As per usual, I am rather embarrassed by the melodramatic thoughts I have when I have a low (and hooley dooley, for a few hours there I had trouble seeing a speck of light. Sobbing in the work toilets really isn't a good look for anyone.)

I have finally started going through the pile of photographs that my father left with me to sort out (over a year ago *eek*)... some of them date back to the late 1800s. Just handed over in an envelope. That might not seem that old, and relatively I suppose it isn't, but even so... holding these photos of my Great Grandmother as a baby in 1892 is impressive. Especially considering that the area of Australia my father's family settled in wasn't 'settled' until the mid 1800s. I think looking at these photos suddenly makes history contract... Australian Federation seemed an eon ago (it was 1901), but my Great Grandmother, who I remember vaguely from my childhood, was alive to witness it. She was young, but she was alive. So suddenly, I have a direct link to Federation. Time becomes flexible... history becomes flexible...

There is a lot I'd like to write about history, and families... but it is very late, so I shall leave it until another time.

Until then.

Black Dog, you creep up so quietly

Saturday Week Ago

Back in my corner, and things don’t seem so luminous today. No reason why they shouldn’t. I’ve bought a Roald Dahl illustrated children’s book "Dirty Beasts" and Michael Leunig’s "Strange Creature". I want to lose myself in interesting ideas.

I am making some plans for next year, which is frightening for me. A short course on Writing and Editing through OTEN (correspondence) and a longer course on photography at TAFE. Something where the completion of the course will be industry recognised (hopefully).


Right in my line of fire. I sit at my regular café and hope to look out at the world from a distance, a focus far enough away that noone will notice me watching. Instead they (two attractive men) sit right in my line of vision, and I have to keep my eyes averted. But why do I? Now there’s a very good question!

How do we keep doing it. Getting up every morning, knowing that the world is being torn to pieces, and that we are a part of it. How do we buy homes, raise families, plan careers, when we see the horror every night. Why do we buy, buy, buy, buy? A spiralling addiction to dull the pain and distract us from the enormity of it all.



Last Tuesday

Ani diFranco*…she gets me thinking. She stirs up my inner song. She doesn’t apologise for her anger, and she doesn’t purify her love.

*American Folk/Indie Singer, incredibly powerful and prolific. Set up her own music label at some ridiculous age like 16. Saw her live in July and was mesmerised.



I rang up about the Photography course today. 2 years part-time. 10 hours a week. Plus projects. Frightening. An interview, portfolio, references, other relevant material. That is VERY frightening. So, I have a lot of work to do by January. Good. I need a project to get me motivated, and not afraid.



Last Wednesday

Now, of course, predictably, I am questioning if I should, indeed, be pursuing photography. After all, words are something I’m equally, if not more passionate about… but there doesn’t seem to be writing courses that aren’t directly linked to PR, and I know I wouldn’t get into any university courses with my track record. OK, I’m doing the Writing and Editing course, so perhaps I should investigate my options after I’ve finished that… if there is an online tutor, I might be able to pick their brains about it all. Calm down Hooch… breathe.



Last Thursday – Lunch

I had an interesting email conversation with Amy today about the lives we have lived. In some ways we seem to be similar people. But I think she has lived her life fare more bravely than me. I used the phrase "I’ve lived a very cowardly life", and it is so true. All my life has been based on a foundation of fear.

I’ve been reading a book by Barbara Sher. Well, there, that’s an example of my optimism… or stupidity. It is her third book that I’ve read. And every time, I am too afraid to truly invest myself into it. I’m not brave enough to face those demons. Maybe deep down I know the answer… that everything that I fear about myself is true, and I should just settle for a boring office job and filling my life with bad TV programs until I die of the heart attach I already feel twitching in my chest.

Why worry about it all. Accept this is the best I’m capable of. That I am a below-average person. That I won’t amount to anything or achieve anything on even the lowest rung of societal achievement. No education. No travel. No career. No relationship. No children. Once I pass, there will not even be the memory of me being here. That is being invisible, something I tried to explain to Amy.

At what point does a swimmer who is caught in a rip give up struggling and just let herself slide under? Does she know it is her last breath? Is there peace, or just fear? And is there hatred towards yourself for this weakness that is the final self betrayal… that need to take one last breath.

Sometimes it feels like I’m living my whole life like a temper tantrum, throwing myself on the ground and turning blue, kicking and screaming inside my head…waiting for someone to pick me up. But of course that isn’t going to happen. It never did. How stupid must I be if I haven’t learnt that yet.

Sometimes I just want out. No more worry. No more fear of what next week will bring, that I won’t be able to cope with. Sometimes I just want quiet. To not do anything. Think anything. Feel anything.

There is a level of anxiety that constantly hums through me, tensing my stomach, shortening my breath, making my nerves screech. Sometimes, just sometimes, I’d like to do something…anything…to make it all stop. But if I do that…what of my responsibilities…what of the little lives that rely on me to come home. How do I ensure they are all right for the rest of their lives. How much would I need in dollar terms to bequeath to keep them safe? Once my debts are covered, there isn’t much left over for them. What can I do to address that?

Once I know they will be ok, there’s nothing to keep me here any more. I could just stop swimming as well.