Special Memories of Special People

Wandered around my current favourite haunt - took a fair while - and my mind just wandered around as well.  Mayhap it's the upcoming 30 year High School Anniversary Reunion that is loosening these memories but I realised today just how precious and special they are.  While I've been thinking back a lot since starting Lovan, today was special.

Today was about those first tentative teenage kisses, the bold as brass because you haza de alkyhole inside you....the one where "The D's" were heading down the street towards two underage teenagers who had already had a bit too much alcohol.....the kiss that only has me left to remember it because during some school holidays, he was killed in a tragic vehicle accident.  I figured that as Shaun was most definately more inebriated than myself, the D's would be rather interested....so we did the whole fake hot and heavy in an empty lot just down the street. They didn't seem to notice that I was the same girl who plonked herself on the lap of another over-inebriated teenage male to stop him from getting up and having a go at them.  The D's - in case you didn't figure it - were the Police, and unlike the band, were very much inclined to turn  up to Elizabeth College dances because we happened to be the rowdiest of the Colleges.

If I 'went home' with anyone that night, it was only as far as the bus stop, and it was with the boy that had my heart through most of high school and college. Yes, I did have huge feelings for the boyfriends I had in grade 10.  It scared me how much love I felt....and I guess in a way, still do.  But this fellow...there's still a soft and gooey spot inside for him. He literally was the first boy who made my toes curl and my foot lift.  

Gosh if I didn't have to go and put my children to bed, I could go on forever.
.

THEN-TIME

Today I was having a while of contemplation (is this why they call it whiling away the hours?) waiting for the bus to take me home after dropping our pretty girl off at the service station for a service.  As I relaxed in the cool air, I began to wonder, at what point did we start seeing in our memory, our youthful selves in the locations frequented (or even just a single time) at that time? At what point did making memories become remembering them?  Some places just require a scent of significance, others a brief memory of an event and still others, a ritual or habit of the then-time.

Yesterday....I popped into an op shop for a browse (to remind myself I'm not a size 10 anymore lol) and picked up a little sachet of lavender.  I don't even know when lavender stopped being an 'old' person's plant and became one of my favourites but I found it amazing when I sniffed this particular sachet, I was instantly transported in my memory, back to 1979 - the Strathgordon Primary School trip to Melbourne.  In particular, Sovereign Hill - Ballarat.  The lolly shop....to be even more precise.  More than that - I don't know if the lavender inside was mixed with another herb, just plain old or, a different variety but I had purchased another sachet of lavender only a week earlier and it's scent was different.

The way our brains are wired is just awesome.  Once in a while I will smell just the right smell of Sunsilk shampoo or Pears shampoo, both of which remind my of my Nan.  As does the smell of Ponds cream when the right person uses it. There are so many types of creams available now that I don't even know which one is the one she used. And it is the body's chemistry that affects a change in how we smell - and how something smells to us!

We can take..........Brut 33!  I remember smelling it in the bottle - and it was yummy.  Then the bathroom at home - when dad had had a shower.....if I didn't know it was Brut 33 I would never have guessed.  Then a high school boyfriend (or possibly more than one since it was a popular after shavey thing), John Snare - the smell of it on his New Town High School cardy/jacket - SO much nice than smelling it elsewhere, not to mention how it smelled on him!  We shall stop there.

Sadly, my computer time has come to an end again - children!  They're fed, and will soon be pyjama'd and tooth brushed and I might get 10 m inutes of peace before they start mucking around in their bedrooms.
I never seem to be able to find that moment wherer I can let all my thoughts loose in my brain.  The sound of my children calling 'mummy' seems to wipe my mind like a magnet did to a cassette tape.

And why do I need to be sitting at the bus stop with just a teeny keyboard for such complex thoughts that requires scribing app I don't forget.
I like my "BUS STOP" moments....good for clearing the cranial dustbunnies away

Shards

Always back up your data.  Always. Always. Always.  I was taught better than what I had been practising.  Thank God I had at some point managed to back up most of my website writing documents onto my external hard drive.  There would have been a lot inaccessible until I'd managed to mount my other HD into this particular computer.  So, now that I'm breathing a little easier....and because it's Monday Morning and I'm 2 bodies short of awake children....a cheat.  This one is a song - with no music....as is usual

SHARDS

Running on the edge of a razor blade
wondering which side Is the bed I made
Don't look forwards, don't look back
thoughts in-turned to keep on track
Dancing on the edge of razor wire
one side hell and one side fire
Can't move to the back nor to the for
When did we begin this war.

Sitting still I often wonder
sit so still and linger longer
on memories and all the times
I felt the need to apologise
For things I did and didn't do,
for things I thought and hoped were true
Like watching shapes within the clouds
but all they were, were crying clowns.

Standing on the shards of broken glass
Being brave and being crass
Breaking up inside myself
I put myself back on the shelf.
Stepping on the tips of rusty nails
I thought I looked beyond the pale
found myself locked within its gates
It's gone to far it's far too late.

Blowing wishes in the air
Watch them float without a care
To become a weed in someone's life
Create a mess of grief and strife
Wishing that the grass was green
This side of the fence it seems
Pandora's box is opened wide
And all but hope is left inside

Running on the edge of a razor blade
wondering which side Is the bed I made
Don't look forwards, don't look back
thoughts in-turned to keep on track
Standing on the shards of broken glass
Being brave and being crass
Breaking up inside myself
I put myself back on the shelf.
Stepping on the tips of rusty nails
I thought I looked beyond the pale
found myself locked within it's gates
It's gone to far it's far too late.
Dancing on the edge of razor wire
one side hell and one side fire
Can't move to the back nor to the for
When did we begin this war.

Cats cradle with a spiders web
Stuck by fear inside my head
In case of fire please break the glass
All good things they will come to pass
Til that time it's barbed wire fences
Idle thoughts and idle dances
watching through a mirror so dark
reflecting what is inside my heart

Running on the edge of a razor blade
wondering which side Is the bed I made
Don't look forwards, don't look back
thoughts in-turned to keep on track
Dancing on the edge of razor wire
one side hell and one side fire
Can't move to the back nor to the for
When did we begin this war.

 .

Sea Glass

Today I sat and listened.

 

 I went on a mission for sea glass and came away so relaxed it didn't hurt to climb the hill back home.

More than that...I listened to the water. To the different sounds it makes as it's waves form, crest and break.....and the sound the rocks make on this section of foreshore. The rocks here croak. Yes, they do!  As the water runs back out into the river, the movement of the water and rocks together sound very much like Kermit with a head cold.

With realising that I was not hearing frogs and an extended amount of time on hands and knees as I searched for sea glass (and gave some walkers the sea glass bug it seemed), I also realised the cyclical nature of that which is glass and that which becomes sea glass.





And of the tactile nature of sand....and grit....and stones....such a soothing hand massage I had as I rubbed my hands thoroughly through the shell grit and pebbles.  It's a shame that it was still too cool a spring morning to be taking my boots off and giving my feet the same sort of 'pebble rub therapy'.  Can I patent this or has it already been done!??

....and a catfish named Francis.

As part of my new found sanity....or new found obsessiveness, I bought a lovely, huge, fully glazed pottery bowl from Mitre 10 in Kingston.  For the record - I had it on lay-by because it was the only way it was affordable.  My plan was to grow water plants and gold fish in it.  So I get it all set up and go get me some gold fish whom I named Thelma and Louise ( but of course) and thought - right - that's it.  However it became clear after a few days, that these fish were depressed....and so began my quest for a fish tank.

I've not had fish for over a decade so I had to start over and the best thing I could think of that might get things moving was a post on Hobart Freecycle.  It  worked and I ended up with a tank or two (both needing extra silicon), multiple pumps and in one instance - I got a fish as well.

Once the children realised there were goldfish in the bowl outside they became a little difficult to tear away from watching these poor fish in the tank.  Yes, Thelma and Louise perked right up once they got in the tank - and the water temperature was the same....and the pH level was also the same - perfect.  I bought two more fish in the hopes of cheering Thelma and Louise up even more - and a catfish.  And so began the children's naming of the fish.  

1 - Princess Yellow (Isaiah) 

2 - Boo (Elijah)

3 - Prince Gold (Micah)

4 - Bill - the Freecycle fish ( Malachi)

5 - Thelma or Louise (me)

6 - Francis the catfish (Malachi)

To date - each child has requested to feed the fish at various times of the day.  They've also taken to schmoodling the elderly cat, Fifi and, it's not strange to see the three younger ones perched on the desk next to the fish tank, watching the fish swim.  This, I think, is a good thing.  It is calming them.  Alas - the one who needs it right now due to his reaction to his asthma steroids, isn't doing it.  Poor sausage!  

Anyway - I'm starting to feel blissed out with my plants and fish.  I wish the body felt the same as today I have an overload of cold sores that developed overnight, a whopper headache and my sinuses are cactus plus, mouse number 6 was caught in the trap.  First one in a week but still!

Cheers

M.

Getting Motivated

Several things have fallen by the wayside when it comes to so called New Years Resolutions, either because physically there's a problem or mentally there's a problem.  After another month of feeling almost murderous, I went to the doctor and told him I felt a little psycho and described various things to him and came away with a prescription for Lovan to try and assist.  I get home and find out it's another name for Prozac.  So here I am, the Prozac Princess, wondering what else is going to happen.

Turns out - I should have gone to the doctor months ago - if not years ago.  After two weeks on the drug, I started feeling like I wanted to 'create' something - do something....anything!  Then one morning I woke  up with a smile on my face....and I was happy, not just having a great sleep - but I was happy.  I had an epiphany that felt rather shocking to me.  I'd been suffering depression, not just premenstrual dysphoric disorder but depression as well. And the drug was helping.  I was really and truly shocked because I hadn't necessarily 'felt' depressed all the time.  Takes a while to remember and realise that that in itself was a problem because I'd been denying a lot!  Anyway.....we shall see how it goes at 'that' time of the month, whether or not the drug assists with PMDD as well as it's worked on my moods so far.  I'm noticing a slight change in how I'm feeling so I'm continuing to monitor as I go.

So on to the reason behind the blog.  I decided I wanted to get creative again so joined a Paint Shop Pro learning group.  I don't necessarily need to learn, but refresh - and I needed somewhere to post my results of my lessons - so this is it!  Hahahaha!   I might add - this first one below - that is NOT one from my course.  It's just one I did.  Doll by Cybrea Stock.  I've long since lost most of the 'how-to' so I've got to relearn so much!

Cheers!

Dog Days....

Dog Days....

A couple of times a year, I get the miseries up.   Don't know why - don't really care, I just wish they'd go away because they're not welcome.  They turn me introspective in a way that is not conducive to happiness. Random things pop into my head and make me wonder, was anything done in the past, actually worth the effort?  The question...no...the statement  that decided to take a stroll round my head was the realisation that I had become what I feared, and I feared what I had become. But when I thought about it - really thought about it, I didn't actually know what it was that I feared in the first place!  

If I go back to teenage-hood where at least if I said something, sometimes it did actually matter and have an impact, I couldn't really pinpoint what I feared.  I mean, I feared the dentist - but I did not become a dentist. That's not quite what I mean....it's something less tangible - like being alone in a crowd and lonely in a room full of friends. I now can see I'm not happy with what I've become and although many would say it's never too late to change, for me, I think it is.  I am too opinionated and too mercurial so if people are going to remember me, it's not necessarily for anything good. There will always be a qualifying "but" in every remembrance. 

Maybe it's the old dog, new tricks scenario. Maybe it's the realisation that if I have to break myself down into my 'component' selves, at some point, maybe some really important bits will get lost, or what friends that remain from my teenage days may either realise they were fooled, or that they really don't like certain components after all. That's what adulthood permits us to do. Walk away from our mistakes and hopefully, if we can't face them head on in the future, we at least can verbalise our reasons for walking away instead of staying and persisting to see if the whatever the problem is that creates the mistake, can be fixed.


Oh well, I guess I'll see.