Topic: Australian mateship, spirituality and identity.
Rantuk lies devastated on the dirt floor. A worm wriggles its way out of the sockets of a rotting bird only a few metres away. The land around her is still, where there used to be children frolicking only a few hours prior. Her piercing wails speak on one level too many. Not only did no one dare to intrude on her moment of agony, but even the wind dared not to blow too hard. For it was evident she was going through enough pain as is. She asks 'Why?' in her native tongue, but no one is there.
3,300 miles away, Bertha tells the kids to hurry up before their father 'loses it'. After all, church with the mumbly-jumbly priest - as her son Aroona would put it, begins in ten minutes.
- - -
I hate shoelaces. I think they're stupid. Mum won't let me wear my slip ons because we have to enter the house of God in our Sunday Best. More like Sunday Stupid if you ask me.
Dad beeps the horn. The bloody horn. That's when I know he's real cranky. But it aint my fault I'm only darn five years old. It's not my fault I can't feel as well as they can!
I can't wait to be a grown up. No one to boss me around. Bein' old should be easy-peasy-japanesey.
Inside the church the mumbly-jumbly priest jabs on. I dunno if he's using big words or just talking funny. It takes ages and my bum starts to hurt.
But I'll let you in on a secret. If ya listen real closely, and ignore them old people breathing loudly, or the one time I heard someone snoring – I like to listen to the birds outside. And the rustling of the trees in the wind.
But sometimes I listen a lil too closely. You see, I start hearing this voice. A woman. She sounds upset.
- - -
Come to me. To where you belong. Come outside.
- - -
Sometimes I tell her to go away. Other times I ask her what she's talking about. But then my big brother Aarron tells me to shut the flamin' hell up. Then mum tells him to shoosh.
- - -
Ssssson! Come to meee pleassssse. Pleasssse. Before it'sssss too late.
- - -
I thought about finding the snake. Maybe it was lost. Bugger it, I thought. It was just my imaginalem… imagilation. What was that word again?
In the morning the snake was gone. Thank God. But the bread for breakfast tasted stale and yukky. Dad sad to quit complaining because other kids like me have no bread to eat, that I'm luckier than them.
Mum told him to 'quit while he's ahead'. I dunno what she's going on about. First blasphemy and now this.
I wonder what dad meant by 'like other kids'. Maybe it's because they don't have shoes with shoelaces or a Sunday Best.
After breakfast I go outside and take my shoes off from the house when I reach the grass. I love the feel of the grass under my feet. It tickles!
Mum says it's dirty. Dirt schmirt. I dun' care.
I don't like the games Aarron plays. I think balls and paper aeroplanes are boring. He says I'm too stupid to understand flying.
I hear the voice again. I follow it. 'I'm coming!' I say. She probably needs help.
- - -
Son, you're almost home. Please come. Before it's too late.
- - -
Two nine year old boys approach Aroona.
'So you hold him down, while I do the work?' says one familiar voice.
'All's fair in rock-paper-scissors', says another.
'Hurry up, he's already walking away', says the first voice.
Aroona is thrown to the ground and feels a sharp pain in his back. There is rustling, not of trees but of struggle.
Die you stupid blind Abo! Die! Die! Die! Another voice laughs.
- - -
Aarron, is that you?
- - -
The two boys, Aarron and his friend hear the loud wailing of a woman. They look around. No one is there. Scared, they flee, leaving Aroona to die.
- - -
Aarron, is that you? What's a blind Abo? Can you call mum, I don't feel too good. What's a blind Ab… Ab…
- - -
If you listen closely outside you can hear the wailing of a woman, mourning the loss of her son. 'WHY?', she cries. But no one is there.
Sunday 29 October 2006
Thursday 26 October 2006
Now Hiring
Hello HSC year!
Amidst the joy of doing well, the disappointment of doing poorly, and the absolute thrill of passing when you barely tried (ring any bells, two maybe?) – there comes a time when we need to GET REAL.
GET REAL because top marks won't determine the rest of ones life, may that be to a persons relief or disappointment. In my point of view, the marks I leave year 12 with are merely an INFLUENCE on my future.
I remember reading an article that said employers are more impressed by a candidate's outgoing personality, enthusiasm, manners, neat presentation and social skills – rather than the UAI mark, degrees and qualifications. That is unless you're applying for the secretary position of Hermits Limited.
I'm not telling every reader to stop turning up to class nor deprive themselves of homework. If it wasn't for those primary school title pages I'd never have established my love for art. I'm saying that if you genuinely try your best at school and haven't turned out to be the new Aristotle, Newton or Einstein your parents had long hoped you'd be… NEWSFLASH: ITS ALRIGHT! If everyone was academically inclined there'd be no such thing as talent.
I know it's easier said than done because of my supportively 'cool parents'. I still go to parties. I still go shopping. I still talk on the phone. I still have a part time job. And the fact that I can still manage my studies without the enforcement of their boundaries is a skill all in itself.
So set aside this mumbo jumbo (because even I haven't grasped the concept of them yet) about ranks and scales of up and scales of down. I mean, does anyone know exactly how it works? Because at the moment it's all a game of Chinese whispers in the playground about what one teacher against another, about what someone's graduated sister said against someone else's graduated cousin. If such a formula about ranks and scales existed, why haven't we received a newsletter about it? They can update us monthly about incorrect uniform but they can't inform us about the scaling/ranking system.
Geez, if I was that kid that didn't talk to anyone, I'd never have heard about it. But heck, at least I'd have a chance at that secretary position of Hermits Limited, right? SCORE!
I say your best bet is to try your hardest in the subjects you've chosen. Because only Tryhards are allowed to say 'At least I tried my best'.
No matter what you do, NEVER be too busy to have a nice big laugh, to listen to a friend in need, and attend to those boring family trips to the middle of nowhere. Don't be the person who gained a career but lost all else. Because with your $50 000 pay and your one-man mansion, the joke's only on you.
Good luck to all readers undergoing their HSC, and the others counting it down a year from now.
Amidst the joy of doing well, the disappointment of doing poorly, and the absolute thrill of passing when you barely tried (ring any bells, two maybe?) – there comes a time when we need to GET REAL.
GET REAL because top marks won't determine the rest of ones life, may that be to a persons relief or disappointment. In my point of view, the marks I leave year 12 with are merely an INFLUENCE on my future.
I remember reading an article that said employers are more impressed by a candidate's outgoing personality, enthusiasm, manners, neat presentation and social skills – rather than the UAI mark, degrees and qualifications. That is unless you're applying for the secretary position of Hermits Limited.
I'm not telling every reader to stop turning up to class nor deprive themselves of homework. If it wasn't for those primary school title pages I'd never have established my love for art. I'm saying that if you genuinely try your best at school and haven't turned out to be the new Aristotle, Newton or Einstein your parents had long hoped you'd be… NEWSFLASH: ITS ALRIGHT! If everyone was academically inclined there'd be no such thing as talent.
I know it's easier said than done because of my supportively 'cool parents'. I still go to parties. I still go shopping. I still talk on the phone. I still have a part time job. And the fact that I can still manage my studies without the enforcement of their boundaries is a skill all in itself.
So set aside this mumbo jumbo (because even I haven't grasped the concept of them yet) about ranks and scales of up and scales of down. I mean, does anyone know exactly how it works? Because at the moment it's all a game of Chinese whispers in the playground about what one teacher against another, about what someone's graduated sister said against someone else's graduated cousin. If such a formula about ranks and scales existed, why haven't we received a newsletter about it? They can update us monthly about incorrect uniform but they can't inform us about the scaling/ranking system.
Geez, if I was that kid that didn't talk to anyone, I'd never have heard about it. But heck, at least I'd have a chance at that secretary position of Hermits Limited, right? SCORE!
I say your best bet is to try your hardest in the subjects you've chosen. Because only Tryhards are allowed to say 'At least I tried my best'.
No matter what you do, NEVER be too busy to have a nice big laugh, to listen to a friend in need, and attend to those boring family trips to the middle of nowhere. Don't be the person who gained a career but lost all else. Because with your $50 000 pay and your one-man mansion, the joke's only on you.
Good luck to all readers undergoing their HSC, and the others counting it down a year from now.
Saturday 7 October 2006
Relationship Ghosts
Hello Blogosphere! I feel like a bear fresh out of hibernation. In between my part time job, reading the Everest of books assigned to us for English extension, being charged for offences of excessive phone usage by Officer Mum, hanging out with friends and watching five consecutive episodes of Sex & the City with my boyfriend, I have longed to dispel my thoughts into an entry just like a deer pants for the water.
I've been monogamously loyal to one dick for a whole year. To me, couples who had been together for more than six months held the same ranks as superheroes, magicians and those super-flexible super-humans on cirque-du-soleil. I thought that to hold a relationship for that long required a showbag of x-ray vision, the pulling of a rabbit out of a hat and working your way across a suspended rope on a unicycle. And now that I can FINALLY speak from experience, I know it does.
You do, after all, need to be a bit of a superhero. It takes a superhero to pull her back when you're both out in public because she's too busy talking to realise where she's going. It takes a superhero to ask her back when she's walked out on the relationship completely. It takes a superhero to remember what days she works, what time she starts walking to the bus stop, what time she wakes up and what time she has dinner… even the time she's to expect her next period. It takes a superhero to know how she's feeling just by the tone of her voice, at times with a tendency to ridiculously over read into things.
You do, after all, need to be a bit of a magician. With a trick up your sleeve to bring a smile to their dial. May it be calling her on the house phone and mobile phone at the same time giving the illusion that your voice is echoing (ok, so I find it funny, so what?!). Or dancing to the opening credits of her favourite soapie before it starts – if you call swinging her around until she's out of breath and shouting incoherent ramblings dancing. I believe the best tricks are those that never die, no matter how many times they're performed.
You do, after all, need to be a super-flexible super-human. It requires swallowing a knife for every time you take in information that hurts – about their past, about their thoughts, about their feelings. It requires jumping through a hoop of fire for every time you take a risk – like giving them a chance against all odds, and against everything you stand for. It requires riding a unicycle across a tightrope for every time you balance each other out, for every time you agree to disagree.
I'm now part of the super-flexible-magicians club.
RANDOMLY ABOVE: Long story =)
Although not married (due to reasons of circumstance) I am in a de-facto relationship with my Sex & the City DVD's. Three cheers to mother dearest for the birthday gift.
I think everyone is entitled to their past. But to what extent are they allowed to determine the now? The now feelings. The now girlfriend. The now relationship. I ask because I'm definitely not in the know, if anything I'm in the think.
So maybe I'm too nice, but I believe it's to the discretion of the couple. NOT the discretion of how they deal with it on The OC or Home & Away.
Remember when you first started sleeping on your own? The bed was either too high or too big, and the darkness left you vulnerable to ghosts and monsters. I remember thinking that there was always a man staring at me from the darkest corner of my room, and that my brother's Hercules action figurine would move its arm by itself. But after many sleepless nights, I learned to distinguish between my imagination and reality.
But then there are people who need the comfort of someone else to be their Sandman, the means of a good night and the means of any sweet dreams.
Should relationship ghosts be any different? I know where I stand may I be hypothetically single, in a relationship or cheating. Is it bad that unlike myself, others need a new partner to know where they're at?
Someone told me that you never really 'get over' someone until you surpass and outdo your last one. For example, you never really get over the girl who kissed you on the cheek and made you blush, until another girl kisses you on the mouth and gives you a boner. You never really get over the girl you loved until you love another more.
But then again, isn't that the mentality that's made relationships the game it is today? A continuous competition of the now partners trying to outdo the relationship ghosts.
You decide.
I've been monogamously loyal to one dick for a whole year. To me, couples who had been together for more than six months held the same ranks as superheroes, magicians and those super-flexible super-humans on cirque-du-soleil. I thought that to hold a relationship for that long required a showbag of x-ray vision, the pulling of a rabbit out of a hat and working your way across a suspended rope on a unicycle. And now that I can FINALLY speak from experience, I know it does.
You do, after all, need to be a bit of a superhero. It takes a superhero to pull her back when you're both out in public because she's too busy talking to realise where she's going. It takes a superhero to ask her back when she's walked out on the relationship completely. It takes a superhero to remember what days she works, what time she starts walking to the bus stop, what time she wakes up and what time she has dinner… even the time she's to expect her next period. It takes a superhero to know how she's feeling just by the tone of her voice, at times with a tendency to ridiculously over read into things.
You do, after all, need to be a bit of a magician. With a trick up your sleeve to bring a smile to their dial. May it be calling her on the house phone and mobile phone at the same time giving the illusion that your voice is echoing (ok, so I find it funny, so what?!). Or dancing to the opening credits of her favourite soapie before it starts – if you call swinging her around until she's out of breath and shouting incoherent ramblings dancing. I believe the best tricks are those that never die, no matter how many times they're performed.
You do, after all, need to be a super-flexible super-human. It requires swallowing a knife for every time you take in information that hurts – about their past, about their thoughts, about their feelings. It requires jumping through a hoop of fire for every time you take a risk – like giving them a chance against all odds, and against everything you stand for. It requires riding a unicycle across a tightrope for every time you balance each other out, for every time you agree to disagree.
I'm now part of the super-flexible-magicians club.
RANDOMLY ABOVE: Long story =)
Although not married (due to reasons of circumstance) I am in a de-facto relationship with my Sex & the City DVD's. Three cheers to mother dearest for the birthday gift.
Old lovers, ex boyfriends, anyone you have unresolved issues with… When a relationship dies, do we ever really give up the ghost? Or are we forever haunted by our relationship past? - Sex & the City
I think everyone is entitled to their past. But to what extent are they allowed to determine the now? The now feelings. The now girlfriend. The now relationship. I ask because I'm definitely not in the know, if anything I'm in the think.
So maybe I'm too nice, but I believe it's to the discretion of the couple. NOT the discretion of how they deal with it on The OC or Home & Away.
Remember when you first started sleeping on your own? The bed was either too high or too big, and the darkness left you vulnerable to ghosts and monsters. I remember thinking that there was always a man staring at me from the darkest corner of my room, and that my brother's Hercules action figurine would move its arm by itself. But after many sleepless nights, I learned to distinguish between my imagination and reality.
But then there are people who need the comfort of someone else to be their Sandman, the means of a good night and the means of any sweet dreams.
Should relationship ghosts be any different? I know where I stand may I be hypothetically single, in a relationship or cheating. Is it bad that unlike myself, others need a new partner to know where they're at?
In a world where you can date without sex, screw without dating, and in the end, keep most of your sex partners as friends long after a relationship is over, what really defines a relationship?... Maybe… what ultimately defines a relationship is another relationship - Sex & the City
Someone told me that you never really 'get over' someone until you surpass and outdo your last one. For example, you never really get over the girl who kissed you on the cheek and made you blush, until another girl kisses you on the mouth and gives you a boner. You never really get over the girl you loved until you love another more.
But then again, isn't that the mentality that's made relationships the game it is today? A continuous competition of the now partners trying to outdo the relationship ghosts.
You decide.
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