This is it, it's finally happening.
I'm apprehensive, but oh, so excited for the roller-coaster ride of my life :) God speed.
Take care.
Friday, 28 January 2011
Thursday, 27 January 2011
When you ask people about love, they tell you about heartbreak. When you ask people about belonging, they'll tell you about the most excruciating experiences of being excluded. And when you ask people about connection, the stories they told me were about disconnection.
- Brene Brown, social worker, researcher, storyteller; June 2010, Houston
- Brene Brown, social worker, researcher, storyteller; June 2010, Houston
Saturday, 15 January 2011
Saturday is cleaning day
...and naturally, I gravitate towards procrastination. Hoozah!
Well, the washing machine is going at full speed and the sun is beaming down on us after a week of heavy rain and flooding. Victoria - at least the country Wimmera region - is said to be braced for major flooding akin to contemporary Queensland floods, and metropolitan Victoria is also predicted to experience floods more severe than the March 2010 flash floods. All this rain and flood reminds me of home, where this is a common occurrence and part of daily life especially during the rainy seasons. It feels odd, though, that this is happening so soon after we've overcome our long period of drought. Just about a year ago, parts of Melbourne was faced with the threat of going into stage 3 water restrictions, and cars weren't allowed to be washed with a hose and gardens could only be watered on certain days. Oh mon dieu!
So, I used up my monthly quota of alcoholic 'beverages' last night, even though I had a headache and only drank one Little Creatures bright ale. To add to that, we got bounced out of a bar because of 'inappropriate' summer footwear. Still, it was so worth it; great company never fails to put a cheeky spin on anything even slightly negative, so it was a great evening out indeed! Now my quota for January is up, deym. Al, it and cb - I'm so proud of all you mad ones and I wish I were still there to watch you grow and celebrate your victories with you - congrats! Thank you for your endless encouragement and support :)
After having a revelation a few days ago about the next step in my career, I have commenced my research and seeking advice from different people. Notwithstanding that this area is actually not a recommended field for those who want to work in London, I realised that every step I've taken thus far is leading me towards this field. After browsing through the LIV website, I'm astounded, and indeed appalled, by the fact that out of the 40 accredited specialists in this field in the CBD, only 4 of them are women! Why is it such that in this day and age, where there are more female law graduates than their male counterparts, and where there are currently 3 out of 7 High Court judges who are female, women are still so incredibly under-represented so many areas of law? And I thought the Bar was bad enough, but at least they're actively taking steps to increase the number of female barristers. I have much work to do to scratch deeper than the surface to find out how/where I'm going to penetrate into this field, but I'm so excited for what lies ahead!
Meanwhile, the weather forecast for tomorrow is sunny and 27deg - perfect weather for the Federer, Nadal and friends' Rally for Reflief! Bring on the tennis baby!
Take care.
Well, the washing machine is going at full speed and the sun is beaming down on us after a week of heavy rain and flooding. Victoria - at least the country Wimmera region - is said to be braced for major flooding akin to contemporary Queensland floods, and metropolitan Victoria is also predicted to experience floods more severe than the March 2010 flash floods. All this rain and flood reminds me of home, where this is a common occurrence and part of daily life especially during the rainy seasons. It feels odd, though, that this is happening so soon after we've overcome our long period of drought. Just about a year ago, parts of Melbourne was faced with the threat of going into stage 3 water restrictions, and cars weren't allowed to be washed with a hose and gardens could only be watered on certain days. Oh mon dieu!
So, I used up my monthly quota of alcoholic 'beverages' last night, even though I had a headache and only drank one Little Creatures bright ale. To add to that, we got bounced out of a bar because of 'inappropriate' summer footwear. Still, it was so worth it; great company never fails to put a cheeky spin on anything even slightly negative, so it was a great evening out indeed! Now my quota for January is up, deym. Al, it and cb - I'm so proud of all you mad ones and I wish I were still there to watch you grow and celebrate your victories with you - congrats! Thank you for your endless encouragement and support :)
After having a revelation a few days ago about the next step in my career, I have commenced my research and seeking advice from different people. Notwithstanding that this area is actually not a recommended field for those who want to work in London, I realised that every step I've taken thus far is leading me towards this field. After browsing through the LIV website, I'm astounded, and indeed appalled, by the fact that out of the 40 accredited specialists in this field in the CBD, only 4 of them are women! Why is it such that in this day and age, where there are more female law graduates than their male counterparts, and where there are currently 3 out of 7 High Court judges who are female, women are still so incredibly under-represented so many areas of law? And I thought the Bar was bad enough, but at least they're actively taking steps to increase the number of female barristers. I have much work to do to scratch deeper than the surface to find out how/where I'm going to penetrate into this field, but I'm so excited for what lies ahead!
Meanwhile, the weather forecast for tomorrow is sunny and 27deg - perfect weather for the Federer, Nadal and friends' Rally for Reflief! Bring on the tennis baby!
Take care.
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Migraine
Over the weekend that just passed, I was struck by my worst migraine attack thus far. I've been getting migraines all my life - some of my earliest memories are of me running to the toilet to throw up - so pain is not the new kid on the block. But this migraine, was like a dark, gigantine and most wicked monster from the ashes, complete with sharp fingernails and horrendously disgusting breath. And the most piercing bellow ever.
I woke up with the searing pain on the top right-side of my head. I knew immediately that the migraine was too advanced for any medication to take effect. After many, many hours of excruciating pain, the migraine then spread to the left-side of my head, where it proceeded to set its imprint on my already sore brain. I felt bed-ridden and nearly paralysed. Every beam of light coming from beneath the curtains was torturous. The heat was playing games with me whereby one moment it would be baking hot and another, freezing cold. I used my pillow to cover my head in futile attempt to soothe the pain. I kept thinking good thoughts and happy moments, and listed a few of my favourite things. But before long, I resorted to hitting my head where the migraine seemed to be coming from, hoping that the pain emanating from the hitting would hurt more than the slicing knife that was the migraine. The thought of self-harm came so naturally, and with no ill-intent whatsoever of, well, self-harm. The monster was just too overbearing.
This continued throughout the rest of the day whilst I battled to practise mind over matter. Pain is, after all, just a conjuration of the mind, isn't it? I only realised the impact that the migraine had on my body when I got up to make a cup of Milo in the evening, which took me a good hour as every simple act was interrupted by a ten-minute rest with my head on the table. I could not even finish the drink.
Luckily, by divine intervention or otherwise, the migraine subsided by the next day. Needless to say, there was a bad lingering headache which threatened to convert into a migraine numerous times, but at least the worst was over.
I guess that having lived with migraines all my life, I'm not surprised when it strikes. The pain, however, only gets worse, and I suspect, will only get worse in time to come. I know someone who has lived with migraines all her life, and hers could last up to a week. But I live each day thankful that migraines are not a sickness nor an illness nor a deformity, but mere pain which, with hibernation, will go away.
Take care.
I woke up with the searing pain on the top right-side of my head. I knew immediately that the migraine was too advanced for any medication to take effect. After many, many hours of excruciating pain, the migraine then spread to the left-side of my head, where it proceeded to set its imprint on my already sore brain. I felt bed-ridden and nearly paralysed. Every beam of light coming from beneath the curtains was torturous. The heat was playing games with me whereby one moment it would be baking hot and another, freezing cold. I used my pillow to cover my head in futile attempt to soothe the pain. I kept thinking good thoughts and happy moments, and listed a few of my favourite things. But before long, I resorted to hitting my head where the migraine seemed to be coming from, hoping that the pain emanating from the hitting would hurt more than the slicing knife that was the migraine. The thought of self-harm came so naturally, and with no ill-intent whatsoever of, well, self-harm. The monster was just too overbearing.
This continued throughout the rest of the day whilst I battled to practise mind over matter. Pain is, after all, just a conjuration of the mind, isn't it? I only realised the impact that the migraine had on my body when I got up to make a cup of Milo in the evening, which took me a good hour as every simple act was interrupted by a ten-minute rest with my head on the table. I could not even finish the drink.
Luckily, by divine intervention or otherwise, the migraine subsided by the next day. Needless to say, there was a bad lingering headache which threatened to convert into a migraine numerous times, but at least the worst was over.
I guess that having lived with migraines all my life, I'm not surprised when it strikes. The pain, however, only gets worse, and I suspect, will only get worse in time to come. I know someone who has lived with migraines all her life, and hers could last up to a week. But I live each day thankful that migraines are not a sickness nor an illness nor a deformity, but mere pain which, with hibernation, will go away.
Take care.
Badabing!
You should have maybe one day a month when you let the abstinence rule sit at home in a lead box. Or give yourself 12 days per year and accumulate. Badabing!
I pissed myself laughing at this. Sounds like a plan indeed. Thank you :)
Take care.
I pissed myself laughing at this. Sounds like a plan indeed. Thank you :)
Take care.
Thursday, 6 January 2011
Case 123456
One
Ten o'clock. She hurried back from the courtroom to the little office they had at the court. Navigating her way to her desk space, the senior said to her in passing, 'A, when you have a minute, I need to speak to you.' She acknowledged, and continued back to her files, where two other clients were waiting for her.
She asked which client was for the case with the baby with withdrawal symptoms. One protective worker stepped forward, and handed her a pile of documents, explaining that they were medical records from the event at the hospital the previous night. She'd only managed to get them faxed over this morning, hence the delayed submission. That's fine, she said, give me a brief synopsis of what has happened since the last occasion. Her client began, only to be interrupted by the blaring overhead paging system. 'Ms Smith, Ms Smith, to Courtroom 2, please. Ms Smith, to Courtroom 2.'
She sought momentary solace in that moment between the end of the page and when the loud lawyer-client conversations commenced again in the tiny office. She took a deep breath and readied herself for the information that her client was going to give her.
They hadn't gotten far before they were interrupted again. 'A, I need to speak to you now,' a voice yelled over everybody else's in the room. She excused herself and approached the senior.
'I'm giving you a new case. An child who was found absconding last night. Alcohol and drug abuse. No violence. Here's the file.' A near-empty file was handed to her.
'Alright, I've got my hands full now, but I'll get to it,' she replied.
'Your client will be here in a while.'
'Great, thanks.'
'Oh, and, your client is not the delegated worker, she's just a fill-in.'
'Even better, thanks.'
Two
It was noon. She knew more or less how her four other cases were going to pan out. It was time to deal with the new matter. She opened the file and skimmed the initial documents, completed in messy handwriting that only suggested urgency and duty. Twelve-year-old. Found outside a shopping centre with a group of older adults. Alcohol. Marijuana. Family history of protective concerns. She needed more instructions.
She stood from her chair and walked towards the microphone to page the client for that case. After the page, she approached the Legal Aid counter to ask which lawyers have been appointed to the case. The boy was going to be represented. The boy's father was at court in the morning, but he'd left. His mother was a no-show.
Back in the office, she found her client waiting for her. What are we seeking, what does the boy want, and what happened last night in chronological order - go.
We want him in boys' secure welfare. For three weeks. We need a psychological assessment of him. He just can't stay at one place for long enough. He has been in out of home care. He hates it and keps absconding. We're trying to hard to accomodate his wishes, but he's not happy. The first one had occupants who were too young. The second one was too far from his friends. The third one was too strict. Alcohol and drug abuse. Streetworks has spotted him on several occasions late at night, and sent him home. His father is an alcoholic. His mother is a severe alcoholic. Constantly puts himself at risk of harm. He carries knives on him wherever he goes. Puts his friends at risk of harm, too. Anger management problem.
She listened intently, whilst flipping through the few pages of allegations. The few police records told of his responses to police interventions over the past few weeks. On the last occasion, the boy turned himself in when he saw the police. He was cooperative and undemanding. No sign of violence or aggression. Quite the contrary, he exhibited curiosity. What's the difference between jail and remand? What does it mean when someone is on bail? 'Potential' was the word the police used.
Shutting the file, she turned to her client and asked what the bottomline of the negotiation would be. They weren't backing down. They needed three weeks for the psychological assessment. And they needed to be sure that the boy would be there to attend upon appointments.
All this little boy needs is a safe home, she thought to herself.
Three
She paged for the boy's lawyer. He approached her with a wry smile on his face, and asked her what she wanted.
Twelve year old boy. We want three weeks in secure welfare. Psychological assessment.
He doesn't want to go to secure welfare. What other out of home cares are available?
We want three weeks secure welfare. He keeps absconding. We've tried to accomodate his preferences three times. We don't know where else to place him.
No way on my instructions, I'll fight you on this. He hasn't done anything wrong. Why do you want three weeks anyway?
Psychological assessment. Boy shows signs of mental instability. We're not sure how soon we can get the assessment completed.
He wants to go home to his father.
He needs some form of stability in his life, and we need to find out what's wrong.
There's nothing wrong. He's just into alcohol and drugs. Are we fighting this or are you going to give me what I want?
It's a fight, see you in court after lunch, I'll be ready to go.
It was a quarter to one. She took out the banana from her bag and started to prepare for the submission contest.
Four
Two o'clock. She took the Magistrate through the facts of the case. Her opponent highlighted different facts of the case that supported the other side's story. She rebutted. The Magistrate then asked questions of both sides.
From the front row of the public arena, the boy slouched solemnly. Quietly. Almost remorsefully. On a few occasions, his lawyer turned back to ask him a question. Yes, he did. No, he didn't. All the time, he held his head bowed down. She couldn't help but think what a bright boy he was and how he could possibly have a bright future. He wanted to be a social worker. In the alternative, he wanted to be a policeman. He wanted to help people in his position.
But he just needed to know how to help himself.
Five
The courtroom began to get heated. The boy's blood was boiling when an allegation was made of last night's incident. I didn't do it, they fuckin know I didn't do it!
Your Honour, the police report highlights that he did do it, and that there were several witnesses around to corroborate this.
Fuck this shit, I don't want to go home anymore. You're all liars - big fuckin liars!
The boy's lawyer turned back to calm his client down, attempting to reason with him quietly. The social worker sat close to him, and explained what they had spoke about before.
Her fingers twitched at the bar table. She looked down at her notes, and up at the Magistrate, who was showing a slight indication of which way the ruling would be.
Fuck this. I'll go to fuckin secure if I have to, I'm not going home anymore.
The silence in the courtroom was deafening. The Magistrate questioned the boy's lawyer with his eyes.
Your Honour, my client has just changed his instructions. Perhaps the matter could be stood down for some negotiations on the length of time and conditions.
Yes, came the somber response.
All stand please; the third division of the Court is now temporarily adjourned.
Six
The negotations didn't last too long. Frantic phone calls were made. The ruling was even quicker. Three weeks in secure welfare, and a psychological assessment. Liberty to the parents to set aside. Total abstinence.
When the matter was finalised, she gathered her papers on the bar table quickly and made her way out of the courtroom. The boy's anger had escalated. As soon as he stepped out of the courtroom, he shrieked at the top of his lungs and it echoed through the long corridor of the Court. He grabbed the black cylindrical rubbish bin outside the courtroom with both hands and threw it across to the seating area, cursing out vulgarities as he did so. There were only a few spectators, at that time of the day. The social worker approached him caringly, asking him to calm down. He continued to swear, and punched the air aggressively. The social worker, possibly one third of his size, spoke to him calmly, quietly, urging him to calm down.
He dropped to the ground, and starting sobbing uncontrollably. Fists still curled up in a ball. Like a giant teddy bear, he hugged the social worker, not realising that he was nearly crushing her. He yelled out again, and again, each time decreasing in volume. There, there, everything will be ok, everything will be ok.
The two police escorts who'd just arrived at the Court came running up the stairs towards the scene. The social worker assured them that everything was ok, and requested that they escorted him to the boys' secure welfare.
She rushed upstairs to the registry to request for a typed out version of the orders that were made. They were handed to her, fresh from the printer. Three copies - one for the police, one for her and one for the boy's lawyer. She hurried back downstairs and handed the police officer a copy.
The social worker helped the boy to his feet. He wiped his tears from his face with the back of his hand. Head down, he followed the police officers downstairs, and into their car.
Take care.
Ten o'clock. She hurried back from the courtroom to the little office they had at the court. Navigating her way to her desk space, the senior said to her in passing, 'A, when you have a minute, I need to speak to you.' She acknowledged, and continued back to her files, where two other clients were waiting for her.
She asked which client was for the case with the baby with withdrawal symptoms. One protective worker stepped forward, and handed her a pile of documents, explaining that they were medical records from the event at the hospital the previous night. She'd only managed to get them faxed over this morning, hence the delayed submission. That's fine, she said, give me a brief synopsis of what has happened since the last occasion. Her client began, only to be interrupted by the blaring overhead paging system. 'Ms Smith, Ms Smith, to Courtroom 2, please. Ms Smith, to Courtroom 2.'
She sought momentary solace in that moment between the end of the page and when the loud lawyer-client conversations commenced again in the tiny office. She took a deep breath and readied herself for the information that her client was going to give her.
They hadn't gotten far before they were interrupted again. 'A, I need to speak to you now,' a voice yelled over everybody else's in the room. She excused herself and approached the senior.
'I'm giving you a new case. An child who was found absconding last night. Alcohol and drug abuse. No violence. Here's the file.' A near-empty file was handed to her.
'Alright, I've got my hands full now, but I'll get to it,' she replied.
'Your client will be here in a while.'
'Great, thanks.'
'Oh, and, your client is not the delegated worker, she's just a fill-in.'
'Even better, thanks.'
Two
It was noon. She knew more or less how her four other cases were going to pan out. It was time to deal with the new matter. She opened the file and skimmed the initial documents, completed in messy handwriting that only suggested urgency and duty. Twelve-year-old. Found outside a shopping centre with a group of older adults. Alcohol. Marijuana. Family history of protective concerns. She needed more instructions.
She stood from her chair and walked towards the microphone to page the client for that case. After the page, she approached the Legal Aid counter to ask which lawyers have been appointed to the case. The boy was going to be represented. The boy's father was at court in the morning, but he'd left. His mother was a no-show.
Back in the office, she found her client waiting for her. What are we seeking, what does the boy want, and what happened last night in chronological order - go.
We want him in boys' secure welfare. For three weeks. We need a psychological assessment of him. He just can't stay at one place for long enough. He has been in out of home care. He hates it and keps absconding. We're trying to hard to accomodate his wishes, but he's not happy. The first one had occupants who were too young. The second one was too far from his friends. The third one was too strict. Alcohol and drug abuse. Streetworks has spotted him on several occasions late at night, and sent him home. His father is an alcoholic. His mother is a severe alcoholic. Constantly puts himself at risk of harm. He carries knives on him wherever he goes. Puts his friends at risk of harm, too. Anger management problem.
She listened intently, whilst flipping through the few pages of allegations. The few police records told of his responses to police interventions over the past few weeks. On the last occasion, the boy turned himself in when he saw the police. He was cooperative and undemanding. No sign of violence or aggression. Quite the contrary, he exhibited curiosity. What's the difference between jail and remand? What does it mean when someone is on bail? 'Potential' was the word the police used.
Shutting the file, she turned to her client and asked what the bottomline of the negotiation would be. They weren't backing down. They needed three weeks for the psychological assessment. And they needed to be sure that the boy would be there to attend upon appointments.
All this little boy needs is a safe home, she thought to herself.
Three
She paged for the boy's lawyer. He approached her with a wry smile on his face, and asked her what she wanted.
Twelve year old boy. We want three weeks in secure welfare. Psychological assessment.
He doesn't want to go to secure welfare. What other out of home cares are available?
We want three weeks secure welfare. He keeps absconding. We've tried to accomodate his preferences three times. We don't know where else to place him.
No way on my instructions, I'll fight you on this. He hasn't done anything wrong. Why do you want three weeks anyway?
Psychological assessment. Boy shows signs of mental instability. We're not sure how soon we can get the assessment completed.
He wants to go home to his father.
He needs some form of stability in his life, and we need to find out what's wrong.
There's nothing wrong. He's just into alcohol and drugs. Are we fighting this or are you going to give me what I want?
It's a fight, see you in court after lunch, I'll be ready to go.
It was a quarter to one. She took out the banana from her bag and started to prepare for the submission contest.
Four
Two o'clock. She took the Magistrate through the facts of the case. Her opponent highlighted different facts of the case that supported the other side's story. She rebutted. The Magistrate then asked questions of both sides.
From the front row of the public arena, the boy slouched solemnly. Quietly. Almost remorsefully. On a few occasions, his lawyer turned back to ask him a question. Yes, he did. No, he didn't. All the time, he held his head bowed down. She couldn't help but think what a bright boy he was and how he could possibly have a bright future. He wanted to be a social worker. In the alternative, he wanted to be a policeman. He wanted to help people in his position.
But he just needed to know how to help himself.
Five
The courtroom began to get heated. The boy's blood was boiling when an allegation was made of last night's incident. I didn't do it, they fuckin know I didn't do it!
Your Honour, the police report highlights that he did do it, and that there were several witnesses around to corroborate this.
Fuck this shit, I don't want to go home anymore. You're all liars - big fuckin liars!
The boy's lawyer turned back to calm his client down, attempting to reason with him quietly. The social worker sat close to him, and explained what they had spoke about before.
Her fingers twitched at the bar table. She looked down at her notes, and up at the Magistrate, who was showing a slight indication of which way the ruling would be.
Fuck this. I'll go to fuckin secure if I have to, I'm not going home anymore.
The silence in the courtroom was deafening. The Magistrate questioned the boy's lawyer with his eyes.
Your Honour, my client has just changed his instructions. Perhaps the matter could be stood down for some negotiations on the length of time and conditions.
Yes, came the somber response.
All stand please; the third division of the Court is now temporarily adjourned.
Six
The negotations didn't last too long. Frantic phone calls were made. The ruling was even quicker. Three weeks in secure welfare, and a psychological assessment. Liberty to the parents to set aside. Total abstinence.
When the matter was finalised, she gathered her papers on the bar table quickly and made her way out of the courtroom. The boy's anger had escalated. As soon as he stepped out of the courtroom, he shrieked at the top of his lungs and it echoed through the long corridor of the Court. He grabbed the black cylindrical rubbish bin outside the courtroom with both hands and threw it across to the seating area, cursing out vulgarities as he did so. There were only a few spectators, at that time of the day. The social worker approached him caringly, asking him to calm down. He continued to swear, and punched the air aggressively. The social worker, possibly one third of his size, spoke to him calmly, quietly, urging him to calm down.
He dropped to the ground, and starting sobbing uncontrollably. Fists still curled up in a ball. Like a giant teddy bear, he hugged the social worker, not realising that he was nearly crushing her. He yelled out again, and again, each time decreasing in volume. There, there, everything will be ok, everything will be ok.
The two police escorts who'd just arrived at the Court came running up the stairs towards the scene. The social worker assured them that everything was ok, and requested that they escorted him to the boys' secure welfare.
She rushed upstairs to the registry to request for a typed out version of the orders that were made. They were handed to her, fresh from the printer. Three copies - one for the police, one for her and one for the boy's lawyer. She hurried back downstairs and handed the police officer a copy.
The social worker helped the boy to his feet. He wiped his tears from his face with the back of his hand. Head down, he followed the police officers downstairs, and into their car.
Take care.
Changeover
She glanced at the clock, conscious that time was coming up. Four fifty-five. It was later than she'd thought. Hurriedly, she gathered the children's belongings and placed them in their respective bags. She called out to the children who were still engrossed with the afternoon cartoon on TV. Hurry along now, kids, it's nearly time. Reluctantly, the eldest girl pushed the red button on the remote. The television blacked out with an abrupt click of static electricity. She stood up and rounded up her younger siblings - Ron, 7; Becky, 5 and Sam, 3. Taking Becky and Sam by their hands, she led them through the hallway whilst Ron followed closely behind.
This was the hardest part, when they had to part with their mother. They had to do it every week, but it never got any easier. In fact, she thought that it got more and more difficult as time went by, as her siblings were growing up fast and always asked her why they had to say goodbye so many times. But, at 9, she had figured out a way to make things easier. She thought of her own room in their father's house, and of her big, comfortable bed with all her teddy bears and Sesame Street friends. Not of her stepmother, no, because that only made it worse.
Their mother hugged and kissed the children, tears welling up in her eyes. Goodbye, my loves, I'll see you next week. Be good, and listen to your sister and your father. Mummy loves you very much. She opened the front door and the children filed outside, dragging their feet reluctantly. She looked up and saw their father standing by his car. He was always on time, she reminisced. She could always count on him that way.
Daddy, daddy, can we stay a while longer? We want to watch our cartoons!
Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, once again. No, children, you have to go home now, ok? Dinner is waiting for your at home.
But we want to stay with you, Mummy. Ron and Becky were clinging onto her with a force so gentle that she knew they were saying it with such futility.
She ushered them into the car, trying her hardest not to let them see how torn she was. To their father, she said, 'The communication book is in Ron's bag. Sammy needs to take her meds at 6pm, please don't forget. Becky's gastro is getting better, but please keep an eye out for her, especially at night, ok? Oh, and they didn't get a chance to watch Oliver Twist this weekend, so I bought the DVD and put it into Ron's bag just in case they wanted to watch it during the week.'
'Thanks, Al. I'll bring them back on Friday night. Bye.'
He checked that the doors were all shut, before he stepped into the driver's seat. 'Say goodbye to Mummy now, kids.'
Bye, Mum. I love you, Mum.
Their eldest daughter stared straight ahead, eyes fixated on the road. She bit her lip and clutched at her seatbelt with all her might, refusing to allow the tears to come out.
Take care.
This was the hardest part, when they had to part with their mother. They had to do it every week, but it never got any easier. In fact, she thought that it got more and more difficult as time went by, as her siblings were growing up fast and always asked her why they had to say goodbye so many times. But, at 9, she had figured out a way to make things easier. She thought of her own room in their father's house, and of her big, comfortable bed with all her teddy bears and Sesame Street friends. Not of her stepmother, no, because that only made it worse.
Their mother hugged and kissed the children, tears welling up in her eyes. Goodbye, my loves, I'll see you next week. Be good, and listen to your sister and your father. Mummy loves you very much. She opened the front door and the children filed outside, dragging their feet reluctantly. She looked up and saw their father standing by his car. He was always on time, she reminisced. She could always count on him that way.
Daddy, daddy, can we stay a while longer? We want to watch our cartoons!
Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, once again. No, children, you have to go home now, ok? Dinner is waiting for your at home.
But we want to stay with you, Mummy. Ron and Becky were clinging onto her with a force so gentle that she knew they were saying it with such futility.
She ushered them into the car, trying her hardest not to let them see how torn she was. To their father, she said, 'The communication book is in Ron's bag. Sammy needs to take her meds at 6pm, please don't forget. Becky's gastro is getting better, but please keep an eye out for her, especially at night, ok? Oh, and they didn't get a chance to watch Oliver Twist this weekend, so I bought the DVD and put it into Ron's bag just in case they wanted to watch it during the week.'
'Thanks, Al. I'll bring them back on Friday night. Bye.'
He checked that the doors were all shut, before he stepped into the driver's seat. 'Say goodbye to Mummy now, kids.'
Bye, Mum. I love you, Mum.
Their eldest daughter stared straight ahead, eyes fixated on the road. She bit her lip and clutched at her seatbelt with all her might, refusing to allow the tears to come out.
Take care.
N: So, what is your new year's resolution?
A: (with much gusto) Total alcohol abstinence!
N & D: Total??? Really??? For how long?
A: Why, a year!
N & D: HAHAHA!
[Pensive pause]
N: Why don't you open your present now.
[A opens present to reveal a bottle of authentic hand-made ouzo and two little porcelain shotties]
D: Facepalm! Good luck with your resolution!
A: Alright, alright, maybe not total abstinence... And maybe not for a year...
N: You might want to try a week of non-accidental abstinence and let me know how you go, before you even attempt it for a month! But a year? Pffft!
A: That's great guys, doubt me more and I'll try even harder to prove you wrong.
N & D: We know you too well, sweetie.
Take care.
A: (with much gusto) Total alcohol abstinence!
N & D: Total??? Really??? For how long?
A: Why, a year!
N & D: HAHAHA!
[Pensive pause]
N: Why don't you open your present now.
[A opens present to reveal a bottle of authentic hand-made ouzo and two little porcelain shotties]
D: Facepalm! Good luck with your resolution!
A: Alright, alright, maybe not total abstinence... And maybe not for a year...
N: You might want to try a week of non-accidental abstinence and let me know how you go, before you even attempt it for a month! But a year? Pffft!
A: That's great guys, doubt me more and I'll try even harder to prove you wrong.
N & D: We know you too well, sweetie.
Take care.
Society - Eddie Vedder
Oh it's a mystery to me
We have a greed, with which we have agreed
And you think you have to want more than you need
Until you have it all, you won't be free
Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
When you want more than you have, you think you need
And when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed
I think I need to find a bigger place
'Cause when you have more than you think, you need more space
Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me
There's those thinking more or less, less is more
But if less is more, how're you keeping score?
It means for every point you make, your level drops
Kinda like you're starting from the top
And you can't do that
Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, have mercy on me
I hope you're not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely
Without me.
- from the motion picture, Into the Wild
Take care.
We have a greed, with which we have agreed
And you think you have to want more than you need
Until you have it all, you won't be free
Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
When you want more than you have, you think you need
And when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed
I think I need to find a bigger place
'Cause when you have more than you think, you need more space
Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me
There's those thinking more or less, less is more
But if less is more, how're you keeping score?
It means for every point you make, your level drops
Kinda like you're starting from the top
And you can't do that
Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, have mercy on me
I hope you're not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely
Without me.
- from the motion picture, Into the Wild
Take care.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Happy New Year!
To everyone out there, may you have the happiest new year filled with many pleasant surprises! May 2011 have in store for you an abundance of love, good health, peace, joy and prosperity!
2010 has indeed been an year filled with awesomeness - dotted with plenty of ups and downs, decorated with friendships old and new, and highlighted with travel stories from near and far. I'm happy that I've managed to accomplish the four things that I'd resolved to do at the beginning of the year, which makes me so much more optimistic about making new year's resolutions! Not quite sure how I did it, but suffice to say that when I fell asleep on the floor at my brother's place yesterday, my friend asked me, upon my awakening, if I used any eye shadow. Apparently my eyes have become so dark that I now look like I've got eye make up on. Go figure.
2011 will be an even more exciting and adventurous year, with so many open-ended choices and decisions to make. Come what may, the world is my scallop, as I'll have it, and hopefully I'll come out at the other side in one piece. With this, I'll leave you with part of a poem that means a lot to me:
God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
(originally Anon)
Take care.
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