a turtle life

December 11, 2012

it’s really frustrating that i won’t be able to volunteer my time at percy’s (and eventually tally’s) public school next year.

early this year i queried whether ethics classes are offered at the school, for those kids that are not attending the loathed (by me) special religious education (aka scripture) class.  p.s. there’s nothing special about religion- it’s a wet sop of dangerous, idiotic ideas and actions generally carried out by those who need a crutch just to breathe.

anyways, back to the story, off the high horse.  i’m not a good rider so i’ll rein in for a bit.

unfortunately there has not been enough interest or lobbying from parents to get the classes going at the school.  percy’s teacher approached me a few weeks back to re-affirm my interest in the classes and it is likely that they could be set up next year.  yippee! but i won’t be available.  double damn.  hope it happens regardless of my presence.

percy and i chat about her day while driving to pick tally up from his pre-school.  a couple of weeks ago percy asked me (not for the first time) if i believed in god.  i replied “no.”  she then informed me that i will not have a turtle life.  she was confident about this fact and seemed concerned for me.  i absolutely did not let her see me laughing fit to drive off the road.  instead i calmly enquired what a turtle life is, and where did she hear about it?  no, she hasn’t been back to scripture, this information and concern came from the playground.  i then asked her if maybe she meant a “total” life.  no, no, a turtle.  what about “eternal” life.  still a turtle.  poor dear.  what followed was the same explanation i’ve given her every time this topic has come up.  …i don’t believe in god however other people do.  they may think that without believing in god you won’t have a good life.  they think you go to heaven when you die and live by the side of god forever.  i don’t.  i believe when you die, you die.  that’s it.  when you are older and can think about these things better i will try to help you understand religion.  in the meantime if it comes up in the playground just tell your friends that you don’t want to talk about it and suggest you do something else.

it’s not that i don’t want percy to be free to discuss whatever she likes with her peers, i don’t want her subjected to the re-spouted drivel that her friends probably heard from some evil, dogmatic, proselytising scripture volunteer.  at five years old i think there are other things she can talk about.  we can wait a little longer for her brain to develop sound logic and reasoning abilities and her courage to be strong enough to let her tell other people to stop recruiting her and let her make up her own mind.  information welcome, evangelicism is not.

 

Advertisements

the worth of a woman

December 10, 2012

what is the worth of a woman?  many, many better minds than mine have given answers to this question.  whether those answers applied to anyone beyond the author is debatable.  can one person’s experience of life and their skills either meagre or limitless at describing it, match, sympathise or do justice to anothers?

as writing is often my solace and today my tears are my qualification i’m going to provide an answer too.

the worth of a 36 year old unemployed, incompetant mother with next-to-none prospects of ever being employed again, is nothing.

sounds all dramatic i know.  there’s a truth to it that makes me feel better to write it down.  i’m bound to to be held accountable later.  now i have peace.  quiet.  time.  i can claim these ten minutes as my own.  nothing and no-one can insist this ten minutes belongs to them more than it does to me.  i will breathe thru my ten minutes.  i will temporarily be the centre of my life.

did i plan to be worth nothing at 36?  no, not at all, but perhaps i didn’t plan enough on being worth more than that.  what should i have done different to be worth more?  spent effort on being proactive rather than reactive?  more of what?  less of the other?  it’s somewhat moot now.

i am aware of all the contrary arguments. they might count in the light of another day.  in fact, i’m sure they will because i’m too stupid to stay sad.  my naturally sunny disposition will assert and i’ll be all chipper again.  today, i’ll take the slough and the bog and the morass, the weight, the cavern, the lack of toe-holds.

do you ever think what you’ll do or how you will do it when your youth has out grown itself?  at 36 do you feel the horror of being 56 and still being worthless?  i’m not concerned with old age- 86 and 96 hold no fears for me.  but 37 and each year of nothing changing after that makes my heart pound yet my blood nearly still in my veins.

i haven’t spoken about what measurement of worth i’m so far down the scale on.  that’s not important.  i could, and perhaps later i will, explore the scales and the measurements.  right now, it’s the sinking into barbed wire, with reluctant hope that like a rip tide, if no resistance is given, i’ll be pushed out into deep waters, released from the barbs, that i want to write about.  and it is a reluctant hope… a hope that i can’t crush, yet wish i could, yet am glad it’s putting up a fight.  does that topsy-turvey feeling ever resolve without an accompanying headache?  plus i don’t trust deep waters.  irrationality takes over and i assume there are malevolent things in deep water that intend me death.  deep waters hold no respite for me.

i can add that there is a glory in feeling worthless.  the totality of the feeling, the immensity of it, the physical transportation, the tumbling colours that accompany it, the sensation in my calves that they will spring and roil, the sucking hole behind my ribs, the tightening band around my head, the tingling in my flanks, being weightless…  all these combine to make me think there is gold around every corner, if i could just overcome the logic that tells me my lethargy to get up and actually go look is valid.  that emotion can be such a power is wonderous.  so while feeling worthless is probably not a goal to aim for, the physical and mental manifestations of overwhelming emotion has to be experienced to enable understanding of the desire not to loose that glory.  can i express it clearly that the emotion itself, whether good or bad, is irrelevant to the glory?  being able to feel such transportation is enough to make me giddy.  unfortunately as it is felt, such is it drained.  the high can only last for as long as it is sought.  once found, it is gone.  somewhat like being on the precipice of sexual orgasm, only not to be lifted to that plateau, but rather to be drunkenly dumped off your bar stool.  the ebb is not comparable to the flow.

now my ten minutes are well and truly up.  back to this day.  away from emotional rapture and its darkness.  i have home and family to attend to.  any more attention to this chocolate icecream tub won’t help my feeling of weightlessness.

have some pride!

December 7, 2012

throughout my childhood and early teens my family would take long drives in the country, often to campsites in, what i now think of as lovely rural and wild areas.

we’d pass thru a great many suburban areas and then country towns, dwindling little villages and finally single, sun-blasted homes.

and in every place there was at least one, if not a few or even many properties where the yard was chockers with rubbish.  at least i figured it was rubbish.  i couldn’t see any possible use for the rusted car bodies, tilting fridges, piles of fence palings, old brown couches, broken bookshelves, cracked flower pots, buckets of rusty nails, glinting bottles, rusting metal frames of who knows what, bundles of newspapers, jars and jars and jars with nary a lid in sight, and boxes of miscellanous crap that filled every weed-infested corner of a yard where surely those kids aren’t playing barefoot while the nearest tetnus shot is over two hours drive away, minimum.

living up the gulf and then at wellingrove i saw yet more of these mournful examples of lazy, hoarding mess.  (on occasion i even enjoyed playing and devising with the busted wonders you could find in these piles, once you’d dodged around the spiders!)

without venom or malice, just disbelief i wondered why this detritus collected and collected, never seeming to move to a more conventional place of disposal.  i did think it was the result of a lack of pride in the place you rest your head each nite.  why would you want to live surrounded by such decaying mess?  i’ve since thought there could be a multiple of reasons why the collection only ever expands, never decreases.  but in the pride and prejudice of youth i thought with derision that pride was lacking in others.

i’m so pleased that next monday council is doing a large rubbish collection so that we can get rid of these items that are currently clogging our driveway, restricting access under our house and making the shed impenetrable: nail riddled fence palings, broken furniture, rusting exercise equipment, excesses of cardboard boxes, broken bicycles and toys, cracked pots and pavers, mangled chicken wire, bed frames, decades old air conditioner boxes and various ex-reno offcuts!

are we bringing down the tone of the neighbourhood with our lack of pride?  lol.