Bare of foot, squishing on the grass

Mum and Dad, along with Darren, are moving back into the little corner terrace house we once lived in years and years ago, way before Darren was born. They've been talking about it for some time now. I had hoped it won't happen, but it looks like they will be moving back to that house.

"You're not coming home to live, are you? Not anytime soon," said Mum reasonably.

"No, I suppose not."

"This house is huge now that all of you have left." It's true - the only time the second floor is ever used is when I'm home for the summer, and even then I usually have the entire floor to myself. "The other house is so much cosier, smaller, and so comfortable now that we've finished the renovations. All the fixings are in now, apart from the curtains. I haven't finish sewing those yet."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"It means that you won't have your own room when you come home for holidays and things."

I nearly broke down in tears at that. I won't be coming back to the bed I've had since I was eight? I won't be seeing that antique dressing table that has been in that room for years? I won't be coming home to the white walls that use to have newspaper cuttings, inspirational quotes on the walls? I won't be sleeping in that white room again?

I don't know why I was so upset. It hasn't been my room since I left at fifteen. It has been kept for me, but really, it isn't my room any more.

I suppose it's more that it was my childhood room. To lose it, even though I have known it was coming for some time now, is sad and upsetting. It meant changes. It meant that I would have to let go of yet another of those anchoring lines. I have to take a deep breath, leap out of the nest and fly on my own.

How I hate changes when they first come. You would think I would be accustomed to leaping out and taking chances by now.

Because I want to hold the week in my hand one more time

1. What was your most memorable moment from the last week?
There were so many. Swing dancing with Simon from Indonesia, who patiently taught me some nifty steps that lifted me from pathetic to passable dancer. Sitting on a high rock ledge with my project girls yesterday, watching the shuttle boats cruise on the Yarra, and talking about this and that. Finally getting a hold of my parents very late last night and having a good grumble and chat with them. Hanging over the rail, looking at the view spread before me from the seventh floor of the Economics & Commerce Building at uni on Wednesday. The sweetness of bubble tea to keep me going when I was dying to lie down and have a nap on Thursday. But my favourite? P and I sitting companionably together side by side as we took a breather at Friday's social, watching the more experienced dancers do their thing on the dancefloor.

2. What one person touched your life this week?
Everyone I met this week, new and old, touched my life in one way or another. But naturally, P and my project girls had more input than most. "A friend is, as it were, a second self." Cicero

3. How have you helped someone this week?
What, apart from convincing P to have new foodie experiences? I'm terribly selfish, I help myself first before thinking to help others. I've learnt not to give pieces of myself away too freely.

4. What one thing do you need to get done by this time next week?
I need to do everything by next week. However, the first draft of the proposal we're working on for next year's Summer School - I want that done by the end of the week.

5. What one thing will you do over the next seven days to make your world a better place?
Go to the M.I.L.K. exhibition at Federation Square again. There is a collection of photos, depicting the last weeks of a cancer patient I want to cry over. There's a picture of a bunch of boys at play by the banks of a river in my home state I want to smile at again. A picture of a wedding party dancing at the reception, laughing at a joke. Pictures that affirm life, hope, love, humanity. "Joy is not in things; it is in us." Richard Wagner. Next week, I shall be joyful.

Brought to you by Friday Five.

As usual, I have fifty million things to do today and only twenty-four hours to do them all. But I'm ignoring all that right now to remember last night.

I worked (as in to pay the bills, not studying) all day yesterday without a coffee or lunch break. There were just waves of people and a great deal of walking and talking. So, by the time I got off work at 4.45pm, I was exhausted. P rang me while I was doing 110km/hr on the freeway. I had programmed a distinctive tone for his number, so I knew it was him. I reached over to my bag, rummaged around for Vanessa, glanced at the display and pressed "No". I was on the freeway, I needed all my concentration on the road considering how low my blood sugar was. Besides, he probably rang to see if I was coming to the Swing Social at uni, I thought.

When I rang him back, he said, "Where are you?!! I need you to come and explain what all these strange food are at the Night Market!!"

I laughed in spite of my cranky self, "I just got home from work, I'm walking throught the door right now. I'll be there in an hour and a half. Just .. hang on till I get there!"

"Aww .. okay."

In the crush of people at the Night Market, with the smells of home food hanging in the air, I introduced P to some of the people I knew from youth group. Jo, the cheeky girl said in an aside, "So that's the guy you can't stop talking about."

We wandered around for a bit, with him going once in a while, "Oh, there's one of my students. Come and meet them."

"NO. That feels weird. I'm not meeting any more of your students," and I'd drag him away to try some Japanese jelly or have a look at the Loh Mai Kai in a rice pot. I felt unusually shy.

He met Denning. He asked to meet Denning. I'm not sure how I feel about that. "He seems alright," P said to me later. I'll wait awhile before I'll introduce Jason. Jason's a different kettle of fish altogether from Denning.

We went swing-dancing after the Night Market, but not with each other. I avoided him like the plague and went off to dance with other folks I didn't know. I had tremendous fun going up to unfamiliar guys and asking, "Would you like to dance?" So much so, my feet were hurting (and I was wearing flats!) and my top was damp, by the end of the night. I had an absolute ball of a time.

P said, "You got away with not dancing with me again!" Truth be told, he's too tall for me to be dancing comfortably with him, unless I was wearing heels. But one day, one day when we both feel confident enough with our steps, we may eventually dance with each other. I have a sneaking suspicion if we were to dance together now when we are still unsure of our steps, we'll frustrate each other enough to come to blows.

I had an excellent night, and I was pretty much dead by the end of it. P could barely get two coherent sentences out of me on the way home, so tired I was. The silence in the car was ... it was one of the few times I wasn't analysing anything, but instead just feeling the moment. I'm finally comfortable enough to not think anything about the silence.

I like this guy. I like him a lot.

I like his unconscious influence on me.

I've just realised (duh!) that I'm very easy to find online if someone in the "real" world knew what my online moniker is.

You, the person who bruised my heart, made me hate you and move away from in.a.minute so I could control my reactions to you, read all you want. I no longer care if you do read this. You can't hurt me anymore.

Quotes from class this morning

"I am independent. Um, what do I do now?"
- Megan, on a student's transition from Year 12 to uni.

"You must believe that middle years kids are generally okay. They're not kids you lock away in a cupboard and let out three years later. They're really not that bad."
- Peter, the workshop leader, on the "problem" kids of Years 6 - 9.

How effective do you reckon a student strike would be?

I mean, the public transport system is crippled everytime the tram, bus and train drivers decide they'll stop work for a day. But students? What world collapses if students go on strike?

YAY!!!! You go, Nicole!!!!!!!!

An example of momentary abstraction as demonstrated by Liv

It took me three seconds to realise that the train had pulled in at Melbourne Central.

"Next station, next station, next station, I get off at the next station. Uni, uni, got to do uni stuff. E-bulletin, must send that off today. Thinking curriculum, gender issues, thinking curriculum, gender issues. When's Kat's actual birthday again? Latin dance class in an hour. I like this shirt. Good shirt, lovely skin. I might have to schedule another facial next month. Next station, next station. Hang on, this station looks familiar. Blue, open platform, familiar escalators. OMG!!! I HAVE TO GET OFF HERE!!!!"

I nearly stumbled at the door in my rush.

I organised facials for some of the girls yesterday. My skin is positively glowing now. I've also caught up, magnificently, on all the goss.

"Daniel had to book months in advance to see me," said Cyn.

"When are you seeing him?" I asked.

"May."

"May?!!" I burst out laughing. "Compared to yours, my life isn't that bad now. Are you seriously completely booked out, every weekend, till May?"

"Yep."

"And so when are we going to do that dinner thing with the girls?"

"June/July?"

"I'm not available - summer school thing. Easter break?"

"I'm on conference. End of May?"

"Too near the exams, and I might be going to camp."

"September break?"

"Internship. Absolutely not available."

"Damn, I'm on conference then too. December?"

"You have GOT to be kidding me. If you're seriously suggesting December, forget it. Besides, the month before summer school?!!"

"You're right. Hmm. I'll get back to you."

"You'd better."

I'm starting on academic work in earnest tomorrow. I have set myself a personal deadline: my research topic must be firmed up by the end of the week. The Thinking Curriculum or gender issues - more specifically, the education of boys. Which will it be?

Not that I don't care about the war in Iraq. It's more that there's nothing that I can do about it, so why should I get all het up and stomp down Swanston Street yelling, "We don't want your racist war." The decisions have been made. We may not think it's the right decision, but nevertheless it doesn't change the fact that they have been made. There's really nothing that the common man on the street can do about it (though I suspect many will argue with me on that one), so stop with the rallies already.

I mused this afternoon to my usual partner(s)-in-crime, "We were talking about this the other day on the way home from camp. We agreed that it's rather like primary school bullying tactics out on the playground. You know, 'You don't want to do it my way? Fine, I won't play with you anymore' mentality."

Funny how some people seem to be ignoring the lessons learnt from past wars, too.

"So you don't care because it doesn't affect you in any way?"

"No, not really. There's nothing I can do about it. I really don't think those rallies are going to do much good. Besides, I don't want to get too emotionally attached to the issue." Too much emotion clouds the mind, and rational reasoning usually flys out the window.

I'd rather quietly light a candle and say a heartfelt prayer, alone. There is still some of that "milk of human kindness" left, I'm sure of it.

The boys kept me up till 2am with the cricket. Who on earth was playing who last night?!

*glare*

It's been a strange, happy day. I'm looking out the window, watching the end of the day meander before me, and thinking, "It's been a strange, happy day."

I'm feeling happy. Perhaps that's why it's feeling strange. It's been awhile since I could say "I am happy".

P noticed the difference straight away. For as long as we have known each other, I have had a perpetually stressed look on my face from one thing or another. He's always trying to get me to relax, to chill, to put my evil diary away, to distract me from whatever it was that was stressing me that day. Today, he said in his quiet way, "Yeah, you look better today."

He saw me in my element today at the information session I was doing with a few other people. I was trying very hard to ignore him, to pretend he wasn't there at all. You know how it is when you really like someone, and you're in denial. But he told me later, "That was good. You looked, sounded good. Very at home up there."

He also said, "Ange's wearing orange today, isn't she? You've got me noticing what others are wearing!" Then a little pause, as he opened the door for me, "You look good in black. It really suits you."

I was trying my darnest not to blush as we walked into the labs to find Ange.

The information session went very well. My tutoring session with one of my project girls went very well. I met a dozen people today, and I didn't snap at anyone. Not once. I didn't even roll my eyes at anyone, not once. I had to lecture-bash (something that is against my principles but it had to be done), but that's one bad thing in a sea of good things.

It has been a happy, happy day, and I get paid on Thursday!

"You have no idea how much I need that money coming in on Thursday!"

I ran into Finn (a regular occurence these days, since we're both in the same faculty this year) after my morning lecture, and stopped to say hi. As I was leaving, he said, "I like your outfit."

I'm dressed semi-formally in my dark grey "teaching" skirt, a black halter top and a black 3/4 length cardigan today. My hair is up and off my neck because it's 33°C.

I looked back and automatically said, "Thanks!" After a little pause I said, "I'm doing an information session later. Thought I better look the part."

I'm instantly slightly suspicious and ever so slightly defensive whenever someone pays me a compliment. I wonder why that is.

I'm telling very bad jokes.

Why did the koala fall from the tree?
Because it was drunk.
Why did the second koala fall from the tree?
Because it was stapled to the first one.
Why did the third koala fall from the tree?
Peer pressure.

That joke is up there with the following joke.

How many first year Arts students does it take to change a light bulb?
It's a second year subject.

My heart is very glad. I'm finally on top of things, and I'm getting paid on Thursday!

When I met Sharon this morning for a bit of retail therapy, she asked, "So, any developments?"

"Developments?"

"Yes, woman. Between you and that guy .. "

"Oh. Umm. Hmm. Umm .... I was with him when you rang last night."

"Oh. I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Nah. We had a talk."

"A talk?! That kind of talk ...

"NO!"

" .... is it official?!"

"Omg, no no no. We were just hanging out."

I meant to stay only an hour last night. I really did. I had lots of work to do at home. But it was half past eight when we made our way down from the Loft to the tram stop on Swanston Street, and nearly ten before I dumped my things on the floor of my bedroom.

I think both of us are thinking very soberly about the other, right now.

I have lots of work to do. I shall go do work.

Safe as safe can be

When someone gets too close, I tend to push them away. Something about walls and barriers and the clichéd fragile heart. But I suppose it's a test. If they persisted and came back, then the process of trust may begin.

My Chemistry supervisor on my last rounds talked about the students being in a "safe" place. Those kids who are insecure, suffering from low self-esteem, etc., are more prone to be "troublemakers" or disruptors in the classroom. They need to feel in control, because for them, being in control is safe. So if being in control meant that they were in constant power struggles with the teacher, or with their peers in the form of bullying, so be it. As a teacher, I needed to be aware of this, and work towards creating a secure, safe environment for these students, so they wouldn't feel threatened and begin disrupting the class.

I have worked for the past two years to be "safe". That meant being in constant control of myself and of my surroundings. I know exactly what's going to happen (to a certain extent) and there are no big surprises. Even though I moan about the stresses of my life, I am in a safe place. I am secure in myself and I use that to forge ahead.

P's presence is threatening that.

"I think I'm slowly figuring you out. It's not what you say: It's what you don't say, or say in passing ... "

Part of me is thrilled. Another part of me is terrified. That terrified part had contemplated pushing him away, which I did last night. Then I extended a small olive branch, and he came back immediately.

I don't know what to think. Maybe I shouldn't think at all.

I'm crying (briefly) in the middle of the lawn, my head cushioned by my arms and the sun warming my legs. When I'm not sniffling into the wind, I'm staring at the sky, refusing to speak.

I had a really long day, that's all, and I was very tired. I wasn't in the mood to talk much.

P couldn't understand it at all. "Tonight's going to be alright. Just go talk to the people who won't talk shop," he said. I've just spent an entire week doing leadership stuff, on top of uni stuff, and it had made me quite tense.

"It's not that. I can handle that." I can. Facades are easy.

"What is it then? Come on, tell me."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You do want to talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it." I must have said that five times in an hour. "I don't want to talk about it."

How could I tell the poor guy that he was somehow mixed up in my tired misery? I told him to go because I was this close to tears. He went, but then came back. I didn't understand that at all. I still don't understand it.

I was monosyllabic and was a complete moron, but he stayed there on the lawn for nearly an hour, keeping me company. Why on earth would he do that, when he could have gone off and found more congenial company?

"You're my best relaxing buddy, Liv."

I'm confused, bemused, bewildered, and a hundred other emotions.

"We've seen each other four times this week. We don't have to see each other every day."

"Okay, I won't call you next week then."

A little distance, a week or so, might be good.

Lawn gazing is really good for de-stressing. It is even better when you throw in a few friends, a balmy breeze and loads of light-hearted teasing.

"I'm kinda seeing someone, but I'm not?"

"Hmm. That's kinda like me. I'm seeing someone, but we're not together together."

We girls talk trash when we get together.

This is the song Alister, Euan and I wrote on the last night at camp, to the tune of an old army song.

Chorus:
It's the end of 7B camp life
Gee I don't wanna go home.

On Monday we went walking
we saw a tiger snake
Ned Johnson walked right past it
and threw it in the lake

[Chorus]

On Wednesday we went hiking
it was really really long
the kids are all weaklings
the teachers are so strong

[Chorus]

On Thursday we went riding
our legs are really sore
we've had lots of fun
we wish for one week more

[Chorus]

The kids groaned when we sang that to them, deliberately off-key. Then they entertained us with a cute accounting of our four hour bushwalk on Wednesday, a wrestling match (the kids were all bundled up in their sleeping bags to bash each other - obviously an item by the boys), a rather avant-garde (no one understood it) performance by George, and a red cordial sculling competition (red cordial is bad, the kids get all hypo on it).

I had fun.

I came home to almost perfect marks for my teaching rounds, and 65 emails in my Inbox. I glowed for a bit. I trashed the junk and then read the remainder 'business' emails. Now, I'm tensing up at the very thought of the next month or so. It's enough to drive anyone to drink.

Uni starts up again for me on Tuesday. I'm wrinkling my nose and sighing morosely enough to beat the band.

Monday
Drop by uni to pick posters for faculty poster run. Do administrative stuff before classes start on Tuesday. Do other adminstrative stuff for program. Email people. Ring people.

Tuesday
9am. Introduction to Children with Special Needs, lecture
12pm. Introduction to Children with Special Needs, tutorial
1pm. Information session for program
4pm. Tutoring

Wednesday
9am. Current Issues in Education, workshop.
1pm. Internship information session.
5pm. McKinsey & Co. graduate information session.

Thursday
9am. Challenges and innovations in schools, workshop
1pm. Touch-base/progress meeting for program.
2pm. Communications meeting.
6pm. Pizza with program people.

Friday
4pm. Coffee with project girls.

I have bitten off more than I can chew. Stupid, stupid Liv.

I wish I was still on camp with the Year 7s.

Georgina, who made my heart ache because she reminded me of me in less cynical times.

I'll be on camp with the Year 7s till Friday. Go read the archives or something. Better yet, write me emails of your doings. I'll be back in a week.

If you'd only say the words, so I shall be healed

Sometimes I forget I have this. I have been so involved in the with-out, that of late, I've forgotten about the with-in. That post was about this preoccupation with this without-ness. I am, by nature, a deeply reflective person. But I haven't been reflective of late, and that's because I've forgotten that I have this. My paper journal is half forgotten, buried under the paper mountains of the past six weeks. In the hurry hurry quality of my current lifestyle, I have forgotten that I use to write, that I once needed to write. I have forgotten that the reflective writings that I wrote were what revealed me to me. I have forgotten to be centred, to remain centred, in my quest to be me.

No wonder I've been so lost of late.

I've let the spiritual side of me go without sustenance for a fair while now. I haven't meditated in a fair while, I haven't cried. I haven't even used Reiki in a fair while. I am living with the stresses of the past year and a half contained within me, and there's no way for it to get out. So it builds, and it builds. It hasn't come to a head (Saturday night was a symptom), as yet, since I am such a control freak. Perhaps it never will. I am far too conscious of watching eyes, and your reactions, to ever break down in public.

Insomniac has been lecturing me since Friday. I should relax, I should slow down, I should actually get some sleep, I should start saying no. I said, yes, yes, yes, I will, but let me just get all these things done first. She gets all riled up at my response, she starts lecturing again. It is amusing me no end, much to her disgust.

I am grateful, though. I am grateful that this beautiful, wonderful, thoughtful Man brought her and half a dozen more people into my life at exactly the right moments in my life. He is definitely watching over me, and He is definitely loving me. He shall never, ever forsake me.

It's very cold. Very, very cold.
Wasn't it supposed to be summer?